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JUNE IN ST. AUGUSTINE
By Mrs. J. Arlington 'Riley.
N the last few months so much interest
has been aroused in the early days of
our grand republic by the Jamestown
Exposition, I feel that it will not be
inappropriate to describe a visit I paid
to an older and even more picturesque
town than that one in old Virginia.
With a small party of friends one
bright morning in June, we decided to
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take a little trip to Jacksonville and St. Augus
tine. The weather was lovely, and we were in
true holiday spirits. In going down into Florida
I was struck by the absence of farming lands, and
learned, upon inquiry, that turpentining and not
agriculture is the chief industry of the people. I
missed the broad fields of cotton, the waving corn
and tobacco plantations of my own fair state. In
stead, we passed through forests of pines, palmetto
and palms. The scenery was new to me, and,
therefore, full of interest. We arrived in Jack
sonville about 10 a. m. This is the largest city
in the state, and the entering point for Florida
from the north. It is a popular resort for tourists,
and great provision is made for the comfort and
pleasure of visitors. The streets are well paved
and have splendid shade trees of live oak and other
foliage. The great fire of 1900 swept over a large
area of the city, entirely destroying 145 blocks.
Many of the familiar land-marks were consequently
obliterated. But it has been purified, and from its
ruins a newer and more substantial Jacksonville
has risen in its stead.
We found the St. Johns River to be a broad, no
ble stream. Its banks are lined with live oas,
sweet-gum, pine, magnolia and palmetto. In its
southern portion the vegetation becomes more trop
ical. On through the odorous woods we sped, to
ward the mythical Fountain of Youth. The sun
shone and the birds sang their gladsome lay among
the banana blossoms.
Presently, we emerged from the woods and the
domes and steeples of St. Augustine arose in airy
outline against the azure sky. A few minutes
more and we were at the terminus —in the land
of our dreams. We found it to be an old
Spanish town with narrow, tortuous streets,
where only one vehicle could pass at a time. It
is quaint and full of historic interest. We passed
several buildings over three hundred years old. A
portion of the native population, distinguished by
dark eyes and swarthy complexions, are
Minorcans. In 1769, while the English were in
possession, a colony of Minorcans from the Bal
earic Islands in the Mediterranean Sea were
brought to New Smyrna on the Indian River,
south of St. Augustine, by an English planter
named Turnbull. They were deceived by him and
subjected to terrible privations and cruelty, and
finally deserted New Smyrna in a body, came to
St. and were defended against the
claims of Turnbull. Here they received an allot
ment of land in the town, built palmetto thatched
cottages and remained there after the English
emigrated.
We traversed one lone, narrow street after an
other, passed the old Franciscan Convent, built
of coquina. It has been somewhat modified, but
much of the original structure remains. The St.
Francis Barracks occupy the (building now. A
short distance south of the barracks is the Military
Cemetery, where are three low pyramids of mason
ry forming the tombs of officers and men who lost
their lives in the famous Seminole War. The me
morial shaft is commonly spoken of as Dade’s
Monument. More than one hundred of the sol
diers interred here were those who perished in
the Dade Massacre, one of the most tragic incidents
of the eSminole War. There were 110 in number
and all but three were killed by Indians in ambush.
Then we made our way to the more modern por
tion of the city, where the streets were, of neces
sity, widened considerably to accommodate the
constantly swelling traffic. Everything we saw
seemed in perfect keeping and harmony with the
character of the place. The old and new St. Au-
The Golden Age for July 11, 1907.
gustine were admirably blended together. The
necessary improvements were not made in away
to jar one’s sentiments or love for old traditions.
They seemed to clasp hands over the chasm of
the intervening years. It reminded one of a fair,
sweet-faced maiden, with an air of joy and buoy
ancy in every action, lending herself as a support
to an aged man, and acommodating her dancing
tread to his slow, feeble paces. There is some
thing beautiful in the tie which binds age and
youth together, and I felt touched by this rever
ence for Father Time as evinced by this people.
There are many evidences around St. Augustine
which bear out its Spanish character. Take the
Ponce de Leon Hotel for instance; it is built in
the style cf the Spanish Renaissance, the most
glorious period in the history of ill-fated Spain.
The historic symbolism of the decorations is to
be observed at the very gate of the court in the
lion’s mask, which ornaments each of the gate
posts. It is the heraldic lion of Leon, that sturdy
Spanish town which so long and so bravely with
stood the Moors, and an emblem, too, of 1
doughty warrior, Juan Ponce de Leon, proclaimed
in his epitaph, “Lion in name and a lion in heart.”
While the decorations of the rotunda are true to
the Spanish Renaissance style, the motives have
been found in the Spain and Florida of the six
teenth century. The symbolism is of the spirit of
that age, and the impulses which then held sway.
Below in the spandrel of the corridor is seen the
stag’s head, the barbaric emblem of the sun-wor
shipping Seloy, while shields bear the arms of
the present provinces of Spain, and on eartouches
are emblazoned the names of the great discoverers
of America.
Then came St. Joseph’s Cathedral, the oldest
church in America, completed in 1791. One of the
original bells bears the inscription, “Sancte
Josephc, Ora Pro Nobis, De-1762.”
Then we passed on to some of the principal res
idences which are dreams of loveliness, placed
well back amid a profusion of palms and ferns.
White palmetto trees waved gently in the perfumed
breeze, it looked as though a fairy’s wand had
transformed it into a veritable Eden. One house
especially deserves separate mention. It was a
large house, supported by Corinthian columns,
white as alabaster, set back amid a wilderness of
tropical verdure. To the left was a beautiful or
ange grove, and in the rear, palmetto trees, wild
flowers and palms with green grass underfoot,
made what indeed it is called, a perfect “Lover’s
Lane.” One could fancy Titania holding her fairy
court here, or a proud, beautiful Spanish princess
listening to the passionate suit of some brave
Knight of the Golden Fleece. From there we vis
ited the grim, frowning fortress, San Marco. When
the United States came into possession of the
Spanish domains, the name was changed to Fort
Marion. It is at the north of the sea wall, and
commands the harbor. The fort, which is the
only example of mediaeval fortification on this
continent, is a fine specimen of the art of military
engineering as developed at the time of its con
struction. It is a massive structure of coquina
stone, with curtains, bastions, moat and out-works.
Surrounding the fort on the three land sides is an
immense artificial hill of earth called the glaces.
From the crest of the glaces on the southeast, a
bridge, formerly a draw-bridge, leads across part
of the moat to the barbacan. The barbacan is a
fortification surrounded by the moat directly in
front of the fort entrance, which it was designated
to protect. In the barbacan, at the stairway, are
the Arms of Spain. A second draw-bridge leads
from the barbacan across the wide moat to the
sally-port, which is the only entrance !o the fort.
This was provided with a heavy door, called the
portcullis. On the outer wall above the sally-port,
is the escutcheon bearing the Arms of Spain, and
the legend which, when translated, reads*
“Don Ferdinand, the Sixth, being King of Spain,
and the Field Marshal, Don Alonzo Ferdinando
Hereda being Governor and Captain-General of this
place. San Augustin, of Florida and its province.
This fort was finished in the year 1756. The works
were directed by the Captain Engineer, Don Pe
dro de Broza of Gary.”
We made an extensive tour of the fortress. I
wish I had the space to describe it in minute de
tail, but I will only touch lightly upon a few of the
points which impressed me most. Within the fort,
on the right of the entrance hall, is the old bake
room, and beyond this are two dark chambers which
were used for storage. On the left is the guard’s
room. The hall opens upon a large square court
(130x109 feet). Around this court are casemates
or rooms which were used for barracks, mess
rooms, store-rooms, etc. Some of the casemates
were divided into lower and upper apartments.
A beam of light is admitted through a narrow win
dow cr embrasure high up near the ceiling. The
arched roof is of solid masonry. There is no other
outlet than the single aperture. This is the so
called dungeon of Fort Marion. In the north
west bastion is another dark room. Casemate 100
is known as Coacoochee’s cell. Coacoochee was a
Seminole chief, who, at one time was confined
here, and with a companion made his escape by
squeezing through the embrazure and dropping to
the moat. The Seminole chief, Osceola, was also a
prisoner here. He was removed later to Charleston
Harbor, where he died.
Ancient land-marks around St. Augustine are
fast disappearing, but the pillars of the City
Gateway remain as notable monuments of the
past. Though they appear inconsequential now,
there was a time when this fair Southern city re
joiced in their strength and impregnability. Time
and again they have bravely resisted the assault
of the foe. It is now a useless but picturesque
ruin, which we point to with reverent pride. A
piece of rock from this old gateway is one of my
most cherished possessions.
From there we went over to St. Anastatia Is
land, which lies in front of the town. It extends
from St. Augustine, south, twelve miles to Man
tanzas Inlet, where there are picturesque ruins
of an old Spanish fort. Mantanzas (mantanza,
which means slaughter) commemorates the mas
sacre of the Huguenots, which occurred in 1565,
an event connected with the founding of St. Au
gustine by Pedro Menendes. After crossing the
bridge at the foot of King street, we went by rail
to the beach. We had discerned the white-cap roll
ers quite plainly from the city, and been fasci
nated thereby, we found that it compared quite
favorably with the far-famed Isle of Palms. The
gentle beat of the waves against the sand was the
sweetest of music, and as I watched the blue waves
break into foam, as I looked up into the sky, as
delicately blue as that of Seville, the sunlight as
warm and golden as that which floods the patios
of Spanish Alcazars, I "wondered how any one
could compare the works of art with the mighty
works of nature. The blue waves leaped higher,
the breakers came rolling in, and I thought of the
time when Jehovah swept them back with a move
ment of His mighty arm to make place for the
gTeen, smiling earth, and through all the ages
they have never been still, save once, when He
soothed the troubled waters of Galilee into calm,
with a whispered peace. “The winds and the
waves obey His will,” I thought; “why is it that
insignificant man alone refuses to obey Him?” I
wrote on the sand—a wave the next instant swept
up and bore the puzzling question unanswered to
the deep, to be revealed when the ocean gives up
her secrets and God makes all mysteries plain.
With a sigh I turned away and retraced my steps.
An hour later the beautiful old-world city was re
ceding in the distance, and I bore awav with me
a sweet memory of an old Spanish town, hidden
away amid palm and banana trees. One last
glimpse of the once mighty fortress, which had in
years gone by been wont to belch forth defiance
at her enemies, is now hushed, and over her crumb
ling ruins the Spanish bayonet blooms out into a
white flag of peace.