At early dawn the steamer went its way through a broad bay
of snags, bordered with drift-wood, and with steam-trumpet and calliope
announced its arrival at the quay of Mobile, which presented a fringe of tall
warehouses, and shops along-side, over which were names indicating Scotch,
Irish, English, many Spanish, German, Italian, and French owners. Captain Maher
at once set off to his plantation, and we descended the stories of the walled
castle to the beach, and walked on towards the “Battle House,” so called from
the name of its proprietor, for Mobile has not yet had its fight, like New
Orleans. The quays, which usually, as we were told, are lined with stately
hulls and a forest of masts, were deserted; although the port was not actually
blockaded, there were squadrons of the United States ships at Pensacola, on the
east, and at New Orleans, on the west.
The hotel, a fine building of the American stamp, was the
seat of a Vigilance Committee, and as we put down our names in the book, they
were minutely inspected by some gentlemen who came out of the parlor. It was
fortunate they did not find traces of Lincolnism about us, as it appeared by
the papers that they were busy deporting “Abolitionists” after certain
preliminary processes supposed to —
“Give them a rise,
and open their eyes
To a sense of their
situation.”
The citizens were busy in drilling, marching, and
drum-beating, and the Confederate flag flew from every spire and steeple. The
day was so hot, that it was little more inviting to go out in the sun than it
would be in the dogdays at Malaga, to which, by the by, Mobile bears some “kindersorter”
resemblance; but, nevertheless, I sallied forth, and had a drive on a shell
road by the head of the bay, where there were pretty villarettes in charming
groves of magnolia, orange-trees, and lime-oaks. Wide streets of similar houses
spring out to meet the country through sandy roads; some worthy of Streatham or
Belham, and all surrounded in such vegetation as Kew might envy.
Many Mobilians called, and among them the mayor, Mr.
Forsyth, in whom I recognized the most remarkable of the Southern Commissioners
I had met at Washington. Mr. Magee, the acting British Consul, was also good
enough to wait upon me, with offers of any assistance in his power. I hear he
has most difficult questions to deal with, arising out of the claims of
distressed British subjects, and disputed nationality. In the evening, the
Consul and Dr. Nott, a savant, and physician of Mobile, well known to
the ethnologists for his work on the “Types of Mankind,” written conjointly
with the late Mr. Gliddon, dined with me, and I learned from them that,
notwithstanding the intimate commercial relations between Mobile and the great
Northern cities, the people here are of the most ultra-secessionist doctrines.
The wealth and manhood of the city will be devoted to repel the “Lincolnite
mercenaries” to the last.
After dinner we walked through the city, which abounds in
oyster saloons, drinking-houses, lager-bier and wine shops, and gambling and
dancing places. The market was well worthy of a visit — something like St. John's
at Liverpool on a Saturday night, crowded with negroes, mulattoes, quadroons,
and mestizos of all sorts, Spanish, Italian, and French, speaking their own
tongues, or a quaint lingua franca, and dressed in very striking and pretty
costumes. The fruit and vegetable stalls displayed very fine produce, and some
staples, remarkable for novelty, ugliness, and goodness. After our stroll we
went into one of the great oyster saloons, and in a room up-stairs had
opportunity of tasting those great bivalvians in the form of natural fish
puddings, fried in batter, roasted, stewed, devilled, broiled, and in many
other ways, plus raw. I am bound to observe that the Mobile people ate
them as if there was no blockade, and as' though oysters were a specific for
political indigestions and civil wars; a fierce Marseillais are they — living
in the most foreign-looking city I have yet seen in the States. My private room
in the hotel was large, well-lighted with gas, and exceedingly well furnished
in the German fashion, with French pendule and mirrors. The charge for a
private room varies from £1 to £1 5s. a day; the bedroom and board are
charged separately, from 10s. 6d. to 12s. 6d. a
day, but meals served in the private room are all charged extra, and heavily
too. Exclusiveness is an aristocratic taste which must be paid for.
SOURCE: William Howard Russell, My Diary North and
South, p. 189-91
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