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.
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