Part 32

To-morrow we shall arrive at Panama, which place I had not expected or hoped to see again, and I can scarcely realize the fact that since my last visit I have made the circuit of the globe, and since my departure from home have passed almost the entire length of North and South America on both sides. After fourteen winters’ travel in southern latitudes, and several years’ absence at intervals from home, I find that my table of distances amounts to six hundred thousand miles, from the snowy regions of Canada, Norway, and Finland in the north, to the barren shores of Patagonia in the south--having traversed by sea and land, at different periods, almost all the practicable portions of the earth, in making the circuit of the world. Although what has passed appears not unlike a dream, my ambition for the present is satisfied, and I have reason to thank a kind Providence, whose protecting hand has carried me through almost all the perils of life, and has been the means of preserving a constitution endangered by the severity of northern winter-climates. I shall proceed via the isthmus to Havana, and thence to New Orleans, on my way home, where I hope to arrive in the early part of June.

1853.

LXXXI.

PARIS, _Jan. 31, 1853_.

Since I left the Pacific coasts of Chili and Peru last spring, I have hesitated about afflicting you with correspondence, and thinking and hoping that my voyages around the world were complete. Time and circumstances, however, have since carried me to Cuba (by the way, it is my eighth visit), and I have traversed the waters of the Gulf of Mexico to the city of New Orleans; steamed up the mighty Mississippi and Ohio rivers for the sixth time; besides visiting Canada and Niagara. Notwithstanding the thousand incidents constantly occurring, I held my peace. Having left my native village in the latter part of November, in pursuit of a more genial climate, I find myself once again on European soil, and in the capital of the French empire. So many important events have transpired since I left home that you will pardon me for once more taking up my pen, and breaking silence. Our steamer took the southern passage in crossing the Atlantic; the early part of our voyage upon the edge of the gulf-stream was delightful, until at length a famous combat arose among the great opposing elements. For five successive days we had a continuation of the most violent gales, more properly speaking hurricanes, such as our officers had never experienced, and it was with difficulty that I could recall reminiscences of equally grand and awful scenes. The good ship Hermann, although obliged to manœuvre, or lie to, as the sailors term it, for thirty-six hours, at last got the mastery over Neptune: and when we arrived in England, we found that the steamer Washington had been disabled, and obliged to return. The same gales had carried destruction along the entire coast. The then approaching holiday season of Christmas was anxiously looked for, in England, particularly by the poor, for charities are more freely exercised at that time, and the English markets and butchers’ stalls are beautiful to gaze upon. But instances are rarely if ever known, as in our favored land, of the working classes trudging home under the weight of turkeys, geese, or chickens for a Sunday or Christmas dinner. How little do we know of the miseries of the laboring population abroad, and how slightly do we appreciate, as a people, the eminent advantages which we enjoy in our own favored land!

The universal practice of giving _étrennes_, or presents, on New Year’s day, among the Parisians, has led to the granting of privileges to _boutiques_, or temporary wooden shops, along both sidewalks of the Boulevards, for one week before, and one week after the first of January; they form a continuous bazaar for more than a mile, composed of all the indescribable knick-knacks and fancy articles that the ingenious brain of a Frenchman can contrive to gratify youthful taste or fancy, dolls and cheap jewelry figuring largely. This exhibition, with the flood of humanity to the extent of some hundreds of thousands, military, foreign, and domestic, in every variety of costume of holiday attire, added to the gay equipages and liveried servants, struck me as one of the great sights of the capital.

The season thus far has been remarkably mild; we have had much rain, but no winter, and fears are entertained for the future crops should the mild weather continue. In the _Jardin des Plantes_, some trees indicate the putting forth of new leaves.

This being the gay season, and Paris full of strangers from all parts, opportunity is not wanting for the gratification of the most fastidious. One would judge, from the announcement of balls, concerts, and theatres (of which latter I think there are thirty-two, of all sizes), that they could not be sustained; but on the contrary they are fully attended. The work of Madame Beecher Stowe has caused a perfect furore in Paris. Authors and editors run a steeple-chase in their hasty translations, which pour from the press with exaggerated engravings to gratify the tastes of the eager purchasers. Two large rival theatres, the _Ambigu Comique_ and the _Theatre de la Gaité_, conceived at the same moment the idea of dramatizing Uncle Tom. The _Ambigu_ won the race by a few days with immense success, but the _Gaité_ followed close after; and now may be seen the _affiches_ everywhere, and large transparencies in front of the theatres, emblazoned in great letters, “_La Case de l’Oncle Tom_.” My curiosity as an American, besides my familiarity with the institution of slavery as it exists at the south, induced me to visit the _Ambigu_, where I found the piece well mounted, with superb decorations, but full of exaggeration. The cries of the blood-hounds in pursuit of fugitive slaves; the brutal conduct of the masters; the tender scenes of separation; the discharge of fire-arms; the sale of negroes in New Orleans, all helped to bring the ladies’ handkerchiefs into frequent use; their tears, however, were readily dispersed by some ludicrous scene not in the novel. At the _Gaité_ the scenes are entirely changed, the state of Kentucky being the theatre of action. The sale of Uncle Tom, the flight of George and his wife, Eliza with her infant child, the crossing of the Ohio upon the ice, the arrival in Canada, the land of promise, amidst the most beautiful tropical vegetation, were greatly exaggerated; but worse than all, and shocking to the moral sense, Uncle Tom, who was a perfect black, was represented as the father of Eliza, a beautiful quadroon. One of the Parisian editors lately remarked that he was not at a loss to decide which condition was the most deplorable, that of the well-fed and well-clad negro in bondage, free from care, or that of the thousands of poor creatures in Paris, who shiver in the garret of a six-story tenement, after a hard day’s service for one franc, or twenty cents, to sustain their starving families.

The Parisians are emphatically a theatre-going people, and they have juvenile theatres expressly for nurses and parents with their children; of course the latter imbibe the passion early, and Sunday being their gala day, all places of amusement are naturally crowded. It would appear that all Paris is dancing at present; the imperial court dances, the ministers of war and of state dance, and the senate is preparing to dance, all of which is gratifying to the fancy dealers of the capital. The great event of the season took place yesterday, Sunday. It was the marriage of the Emperor at the cathedral of Notre Dame. The civil marriage was performed at the Palace of the Tuileries, the evening previous, by the minister of state, in presence of the family of Napoleon. After the ceremony was concluded the Countess Montijo was reconducted to her private residence in the Champs Elysées. Yesterday presented one of the most gorgeous pageants that Paris has ever witnessed. It would occupy too much time and space to attempt a description, and it would be useless to repeat what may be found in the public journals. The distance passed by the cortège from the Tuileries to Notre Dame, more than a mile, gave the Emperor, as he proclaimed in his speech to the Senate, an opportunity of presenting as he desired, to the army, and the French people, the bride of his choice, and if one could judge from the vast multitude which thronged the streets, the quays and bridges of the Seine, the windows, balconies, and every point which could be occupied, not only Paris, but the whole country was represented. The brilliant cortège left the palace at twelve M., preceded by detachments of mounted lancers, cuirassiers, guards, and divers others, followed by the imperial family and ladies of honor, in glittering state carriages with liveried coachmen and footmen, drawn by four and six horses with beautiful caparisoned harness, and a long train of foreign ambassadors, representatives and members of the Senate; then appeared the magnificent equipage of the Emperor, surmounted by an imperial crown, with sides of plate glass, drawn by eight white steeds, with plumes and gold-gilt trappings, containing himself and beautiful bride, responding gracefully to the salutations of the multitude. The same carriage was used but once before, at the nuptial ceremonies of Napoleon I. with the Empress Josephine, so much beloved by the French people. A double hedge of bayonets on each side of the line of march, composed of the regular troops of the national guard of Paris, prevented encroachment. The interior of Notre Dame was festooned with great taste and much splendor, while the exterior was enveloped in floating banners. The archbishop having performed the imposing marriage ceremonies, the cortège returned by another route, giving the masses the opportunity of seeing their imperial majesties.

The vast interior of the _Place du Carrousel_ was one living mass of humanity, awaiting the return and appearance of the happy pair upon the balcony of the Tuileries; at length they appeared and bowed to the multitude to close the scene. While men and boys were crying the sale of effigies and medals of the Emperor and Empress, amid the anxiety and excitement of a French population, I could not forget witnessing a review of the troops by Louis Philippe, on the same ground, and his then enthusiastic reception. Time makes great changes, and what may be the fate of those in power to-day! The French are fond of pageants, and always ready for a change. As long as commerce flourishes, and the condition of the laboring classes is tolerable, things go on smoothly; but amongst the thinking and reading portions of the community, who are deprived of the liberty of speech, and the press, there must be a deep hatred of the present dynasty.

Louis Napoleon has certainly had an eventful career. An exile, a prisoner at Ham, he returned to France after the fall of Louis Philippe, under the provisionary government, and was a member of the National Assembly when I visited that noisy assemblage in the autumn of 1848. On my departure for Italy in 1847, all was quiet under the royal rule of Louis Philippe; on my return, the trees of liberty were planted throughout Paris, the public buildings proclaimed in large capitals, “_Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité_”; the press was free and untrammelled, also liberty of thought and speech, as was seen placarded upon the bulletins. Things have changed. Liberty is crushed; her name, with those of her sisters, is scrupulously effaced from the public monuments. The constitution was declared, and there was an extensive display of two hundred thousand troops, and gorgeous decorations and fireworks upon the _Place de la Concorde_. I hoped that the government would become consolidated in a true republic, but I had my misgivings. The next news brought the election of Napoleon as President for four years; afterwards his power was extended for ten years; next came his famous _coup d’état_; then followed the proclamation of the Empire, and yesterday his marriage. The telegraph has proclaimed the joyous event to all France, and now all that is required is the confirmation by the Pope, which may probably take place next spring.

Within a week the Carnival commences. I am preparing to leave for the south of France, and Spain.

LXXXII.

BARCELONA, SPAIN, _Feb. 28, 1853_.

After the marriage of the French Emperor in Paris, whence I wrote you last month, we had nothing remarkable until the Carnival, and nothing notable then except the _fête du bœuf gras_, or the Sunday promenade of the fat ox. This novel ceremony seems to be a vestige of remote antiquity, and has been preserved up to the present time, as it gives the multitude an opportunity of diverting themselves. It appears that the poor fishermen of _Lutèce_ formerly adored the zodiacal bull, and as late as 1711, in constructing a sepulchre under the choir of the church of _Notre Dame_, several _bas-reliefs_ were found, one of which represented a bull clothed in sacred orders. It is the remains of the equinoctial spring ceremonies, when the sun entered into the zodiacal sign called Taurus, and the people of the agricultural provinces conducted the bull in great pomp with the sound of various musical instruments. This being altogether novel, I must describe it to you. The procession was got up by the butchers of Paris, who formed a cavalcade of one hundred and fifty persons on horseback, provided with various costumes, from the time of the crusades down to the court robes of Louis XIV., and guards of the Emperor Napoleon. This procession, with bands of music, was followed by an immense fat ox called Père Tom, or Uncle Tom, raised in Normandy, decorated with bouquets of flowers, ribbons, and laurels, followed by an immense gilded car drawn by six white horses, with the figures of several heathen deities, Venus being surrounded by a bevy of young girls, dressed in white with garlands of flowers. The day was occupied in their visits throughout Paris, to the imperial palace, the various ministers of the empire and foreign embassies, the police departments; and finally the poor beast, having slowly dragged his heavy carcass of two thousand three hundred pounds about town for the amusement of the populace, brought up at the _abattoir_, or general slaughtering establishment of the city.

Indications of approaching cold weather after the extremely mild season, induced me turn my face towards Spain. The railroad from Paris soon conducted me to _Chalons_, upon the _Saône_, whence I took steamer the next day for Lyons, the great silk-manufacturing city of France. Small steamers are employed upon these rivers; they are constructed of iron, very long, but exceedingly narrow, not much wider than an ordinary Erie Canal boat, but with the strong current they dash along at a frightful rate when the rivers are full. They are provided with jointed smoke pipes, to pass the numerous bridges.

On one occasion descending the Rhine we were obliged to lie-to, not being able to pass under the crossings from the heavy inundations, but in this instance the want of water prevented our continuing further than Valence; I took the diligence some sixty miles to Avignon, where the railroad conducts us to Marseilles. The sail upon the Saône and Rhône, with their numerous manufactories, agricultural towns, and villages, and wine districts, is quite entertaining to the traveller. A large population is engaged in the culture of the grape, but I have seen only two drunken men since I have been in France, and those seemed to be the amusement of groups of boys and men who surrounded them. We were caught by the first snow-storm of the season, and the mistral blew with its full force. The almond trees in blossom felt its effects; it will probably shorten the crop.

This being my third visit to Marseilles, I have nothing to write about it, except its progressive condition in commercial importance. The new port, in course of construction, an extraordinary enterprise, is progressing rapidly. The old port, which was small and crowded to excess, rendering vessels liable to entire destruction in case of fire, and the difficulty of egress, induced the creating of an artificial port of solid masonry. Two days’ delay gave me an opportunity of embarking for this city, where I find a temperate climate, being sheltered from the northern blasts by the high mountains of the Pyrénées.

Barcelona, for size, is the second city in Spain, and the first in importance for manufactures. It is a walled town with ramparts as promenades around it, closely built, narrow, and rather intricate streets, and tall houses, mostly of stone. The Muralla or sea wall affords a good promenade, and a fine view of a harbor rather indifferent for vessels of heavy tonnage, with a commanding fortification called Mont Juich on the summit of a high hill overlooking the sea and the city; the latter is cleanly kept, and in good order, and well worth a visit. The suburbs of the city for some miles are occupied in part by manufacturing villages, and among the number is a large town called Gracia, resorted to by summer residents to escape the heat of the city; it is a pleasant retreat. The population of the city and suburbs is two hundred thousand. The province of Catalonia is perhaps the most industrious and enterprising portion of Spain. The Catalonians, whose language is a _patois_, pride themselves in being more advanced than the Castilians. In 1835 the first steam-engine was introduced in manufacturing, and from the unfounded prejudice of the working classes the establishment was destroyed by the populace. But at present steam is freely used, the supply of coal being brought from England; the mountains of Spain abound with the article, but the want of communication precludes a supply from this source. Railroads are being introduced moderately; the only one yet constructed in this department is from Barcelona to Mataro, a town along the coast. It runs along the sea-shore some seven leagues, passing through fishing villages.

The Spaniards are famous for their public promenades or _almedas_, and the _Rambla_ is the chief attraction. It presents a gay, picturesque sight on Sunday, when thronged with all classes in the holiday attire of the country. The two principal theatres are situated upon this promenade, as well as the great hotels, which gives one an opportunity of seeing the sights from the balconies. The Barcelonians boast of the largest theatre and the most luxurious _cafés_ in the world. Certainly the Eliseo is nearly or quite as large as La Scala in Milan. The club room, called the _circulo_, and the _casino_, adjoining the opera and theatre, are fitted up with great taste, containing libraries, and many periodicals of the day from France and England. There is a numerous French population here, and the character of the people is not so decidedly Spanish as further south. In times of reaction or opposition to the government, this place is generally at the head of the movement. This is perhaps attributable to the superior intelligence of the people, and to its proximity to France. The direct commerce is trifling with the United States in American bottoms, but the exportation of wine, oil, soap, brandy, and dried fruits, is very large; these articles are sent to Havana in Spanish vessels, which in return bring cargoes of cotton and sugar from the Southern States and Cuba.

The American corvette Levant is now here, having been detained some time with small-pox on board; her destination is our naval station at Spezzia. The health of the crew is now good, and the ship is looking finely. I was kindly received by the officers; and the Levant being the only American ship in port, and myself the only American traveller here at present, it was gratifying to be once again under the protection of the stars and stripes. The climate is mild, but the mornings and nights are cool. One would suppose, from the manner in which the Catalonians are enveloped in their large Spanish cloaks, which cover their noses, that the thermometer was below zero, while the same atmosphere in New York, in the month of April, would be considered delightful. Strange as it may appear, in our hotel, with seventy rooms, there is not a chimney; and when fire is absolutely required, we make use of _braseros_, a flat brass vessel with raised edges, which contains live coals, and ashes from well burned wood, in place of charcoal, to avoid suffocation from the gases.

The chief amusements are the promenades, _cafés_, opera, theatres, and bull fights, at all of which the fair senoritas assist. The bull fights I described fully last year from Peru. They are not so famous here either for their bulls or swordsmen as in Seville or Madrid; neither will the ladies compare for beauty with the graceful Andalusians. In all public places you are enveloped in cigar smoke; the lobbies of the opera during the scenes are filled with devotees of the weed, whose smoke penetrates throughout the house, and by common consent is tolerated in all public and private houses and conveyances.

The lower orders are poor; they fare meagrely, and are poorly rewarded for their labor. The city is not remarkable for its public monuments. The cathedral is a noble Gothic structure, and possesses some works of art, but it would be idle to compare it or the other churches with those of Italy.

LXXXIII.

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.