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prisons within there was no escape, particularly from the lower one, where the culprit passes a final trap, never to be withdrawn.
Some comfortable quarters are fitted up for the use of the governor during the heat of summer. The polite and civil colonel of the governor’s staff conducted me in his cabriolet with the aid of an extra mule, nearly to the summit. I have received, by the by, many marks of courtesy from the commandant of the marine as well as other Spanish officers in Barcelona, to whom I was recommended, notwithstanding that our national character has suffered through the acts of the filibusters in the island of Cuba. The houses and the streets of the city are clean, and the population industrious; the hotels are poor. The chief branches of industry are those of the zapateros, or shoemakers, whose work is exported to Havana, and the abundant supply of olive oil for the manufactories in the suburbs, of the famous castile soap. The exportation of wine, dried fruit, and almonds, is also very considerable. The language of the country is the Mallorquin, a patois of the Arab, Spanish, and French languages; the common people do not speak the Castilian. One of the finest estates is that of the Conde de Monte Negro, about three hours’ drive from town. The Cardinal Monte Negro, now deceased, while at Rome made a famous collection of antique statues, and founded a museum on his estate, which is surrounded by valleys of orange, almond, and olive trees, with vineyards upon amphitheatred walled patches of earth extending up the mountain side, and affording the most changeable and picturesque views imaginable.
The little town of Soler, some five leagues distant, on the north side of the island, with a population of eight thousand, is almost entirely dependent upon the culture of the orange. The high mountain over which one crosses is unproductive, but the valleys are extremely fertile, and the scenery is varied. The roads are indifferent; their zigzag windings and tropical views bring to mind the mountains of Caraccas, and the heights of Brazil, and although I rode behind a mule, in a rude sort of gig without springs, with low cover to protect me from the sun’s rays, not sufficiently elevated to wear a hat, my driver perched upon a rude box at the tail of the mule, with a cudgel in hand, now yelling hideously expecting to increase his speed, then jumping down in disgust at the obstinacy of the animal, and trudging along on foot, I felt fully compensated by the magnificent prospect in the distance, and a growing appetite for even a Spanish dinner, tinctured with oil and garlic. My driver attempted to describe the objects about us in Spanish, but finding himself embarrassed, he branched off in his own jargon, presuming that I understood him perfectly.
I had ridden through orange groves on horseback in the West Indies, plucking the fruit in passing, but I was not prepared for a league square of orange trees loaded with their golden crop, the branches extending over the walls, uniting and forming an arcade across the narrow streets on entering the town. Soler is situated about two miles from the port, along the banks of a mountain torrent, the sides of which are strewed with fallen oranges.
This is the fruit season, and many small vessels are employed in carrying cargoes to Marseilles, and other ports in France and Spain. Those that are picked by hand and delivered on board, are worth two rials vellon, say ten cents per hundred; such as fall from the trees, detached by the wind, are worth the same price for five hundred. I was struck with the fine faces of the children, and the Arabic type and complexion of the women. The people are poor but industrious, and their wants are few. They have bread, some meats, garabanzas, a species of pea much in use, with oil and wine; the latter, of the choicest quality, is called malvoisia, or alba flor, and enjoys a high reputation in Barcelona. The little port is round as a bowl, and placid as a lake, entirely protected, and landlocked with high projecting cliffs above its narrow and bold entrance, and bears resemblance in miniature to Acapulco, on the Pacific coast. A few fishermen only reside there, and a few small orange vessels are seen.
The peasants of the country are very primitive in their costume, wearing broad-brimmed conical hats, and long pantaloons, girded about the loins, with goat skins which cover their shoulders; holes are cut in the side of the undressed hide to pass their arms through, and the entire form of the reddish-brown skin, with the tail in some instances, is suspended down the back, presenting a grotesque appearance. The women wear men’s straw hats, with handkerchiefs round the head and under the chin, and round, white, expanding collars, falling a foot in length, with a priestly look, and the groups of both sexes on foot, and mounted upon donkeys, carrying panniers loaded with charcoal, wood, and products of the soil, form a droll caravan. Their copper coins are about the size of small dress-coat button, and nine of them are given for a rial vellon, valued at five cents; and singular as it may appear, the people refuse the copper coin of the main land, while the circulation of five franc pieces is current here, as also in Spain. The old-fashioned pistareen, or peseta, is in general use. In most things they are full a century behind the age, but the light of civilization is beginning to extend here as on the main land. The climate is delightful, nature prolific, and the people in general honest, civil, and polite. I could prolong my stay with pleasure, visiting other portions of the island, but I must not, as I proceed to Valencia, which lies one hundred and fifty miles opposite, on the Spanish coast.
LXXXIV.
Valencia, Spain, March 22, 1858.