University of Virginia Library

LEAF FROM A LOG.

Pictures of sea-life generally present the two extremes
of truth. When drawn by the professional mariner, the
shadows are often kept wholly out of view, and when
depicted by one to whom the element itself and all the
associations of shipboard are uncongenial, we have Dr.
Johnson's summary opinion re-echoed with the endorsement
of experience. Life at sea, as everywhere else, is
a chequered scene. Nothing can exceed the melancholy
of a cloudy day on the ocean, to the heart of one fresh
from endeared localities. The grey sky, the chilly air
and the boundless, dark mass of water rolling in sullen
gloom, fill the mind with sombre images. And when
night comes over the deep and the voyager retires to his
cabin, to muse over the friends and sweet places of the
earth left behind,—the creaking of the strained timbers,
the swaying of the flickering lamp, and the gurgling of

the waves at the stern, deepen the desolate sensations
that weigh upon his heart. On the other hand,
what can give more buoyancy to the spirits than a
bright, clear day at sea, when with a fair wind and every
sail filled, the noble vessel rushes gallantly through the
water? It must be confessed, however, that there are
few occasions of more keen enjoyment than going on
shore, after a long voyage. Life seems renewed, and
old impressions become fresh when the loneliness of the
ocean is all at once exchanged for the busy haunts of
men, the narrow deck for the crowded street, the melancholy
expanse of waves for the variegated garniture of
earth. When naught has met the eye for many weeks
but sea and sky, when the social excellencies of a party
have been too largely drawn upon to be keenly relished,
and the novelties of voyaging have become familiar, the
hour of landing is anticipated with an eagerness only to
be realized by experience.

It was with no little impatience that we awaited the
lawn after casting anchor in the bay of Gibraltar. In
his instance delay was more irksome, as our arrangements
precluded more than a day's sojourn on the celebrated
rock. We found the town in a state of unusual
excitement from a report which was current, of the near
approach of the troops of Don Carlos. The people of
Saint Roque, the nearest Spanish town, were flocking
into the gates, many of the poorer classes laden with
their household effects. Never, to me, were the contrasts
between sea and land more striking. The wild
cry of the mariners had scarcely died away upon our

ears, when they were greeted with the hum of commerce,
and the enlivening strains of martial music. As
we proceeded, groups of Jews were seen moving towards
the synagogue, their dark robes and grey beards blending
with the bright uniforms of the English officers who
gravely trod the crowded pavement. A swarthy peasant
with a steeple-crowned hat, was violently beating his
mules in the middle of the street, while directly under
the wall, a Spanish lady, with graceful steps, glided on
to mass. But our attention was soon completely absorbed
in a survey of the fortifications. Many hours
were spent in clambering over the rock, now pausing to
note the picturesque aspect of a Moorish castle, and
now to admire the marvellous vegetation of a little garden,
planted on a narrow shelf of the fortress. Here a
luxuriant aloe threw up its blue and spear-like leaves
above the grey stone; and there, a venerable goat was
perched motionless upon a projecting cliff. We wandered
through the extensive galleries cut in the solid rock,
one moment struck with the immense resources of nature,
and the next, delighted by some admirable device
of art. The light streaming the loop-holes, the large
dark cannon, and the extraordinary number and extent
of these galleries, fill the mind with a kind of awe.
At one of the most central points, we paused and gazed
down upon the bay. Our vessel seemed dwindled to the
size of a pleasure-boat. Opposite, appeared the town of
Algeciras, and immediately below, the neutral land between
the Spanish and British territory. This is the
duelling-ground of the garrison, and near by is a cluster
of graves. The water was covered with foam. The
wind swept with a melancholy roar round the immense
rock. Our voices echoed through the long, vaulted archway.
As we clustered about the cannon, looking forth
from that dizzy height upon the extensive prospect, while
our guide rehearsed the capabilities of the position, and
pointed out the memorable points of the landscape, we
fully realized the impregnable strength of Gibraltar. Before
dusk we were under way, and rounding the majestic
rock, soon lost sight of its scattered lights and huge form
towering through the twilight. The American Consul
bade us adieu at the pier, and the facilities he had afforded
us during the day, led me to reflect upon the importance
of this office abroad, and the singular neglect of our
government to its claims. Politicians, among us, are so
absorbed in temporary questions and immediate objects,
that it is difficult to attract their attention to any foreign
interest. Yet, in a patriotic point of view, there are
few subjects more worthy of the consideration of political
reformers, than our consular system. Of the utter indifference
with which these offices are regarded, there
are many evidences. A very gentlemanly man who had
fulfilled the duties of United States Consul, at one of the
Mediterranean ports, for more than twenty years, was
waited upon one morning, by a stranger, who demanded
the seal and books of the consulate, showing a commission
empowering him to fill the station. Common
decency, to say nothing of civility, would require that
this gentleman should have received some official notice
of his expulsion. But the most curious circumstance
in the case was, that, after a month had elapsed, the new
consul renewed his call, and stating he found the fees
inadequate to his support, destroyed his commission,
and departed. Another old incumbent, deservedly popular,
discovered, for the first time, through the public prints,
that his office had been abolished for more than a year.
At present, these offices are chiefly held by merchants,
whose personal interests are continually liable to conflict
with their duty as public servants. Our consuls, too,
usually depend upon fees for remuneration, and a large
part of these are paid by travellers. Those who make
several successive visits to the same city, paying, at each
departure, for the consul's signature to their passports,
cannot but feel annoyed at a tax from which other strangers
are exempt. If salaries were instituted, proportioned
to the labor and importance of each station, and liberal
enough to secure the services of able men, the result, in
every point of view, would be excellent. Generous and
enlightened views of national intercourse, are now rapidly
prevailing, and our country should be the first to give
them a practical influence. The French system is progressive,
and the consuls are, therefore, regularly educated
for their duty. The English consuls are accustomed
to furnish the home-department with useful statistica'
information, which is of eminent service to the merchant
manfacturer, and political economist. If these inquiries
were extended to scientific and other general subjects, it is
easy to perceive how extensively useful the consular office
might become. If there is any country, which, in
the present condition of the world, should be worthily represented,
it is the United States. The extent of our
commercial relations, and the rapid increase of American
travellers require it; but the honor of a young and prosperous
nation, and fidelity to the important principles of
freedom and popular education we profess, are still higher
reasons. Men of intelligence and observation, who shall
command the respect of their countrymen, and of the
courts to which they are sent, should be placed at these
posts of duty. Party feeling should be waived in such
appointments. They should be regarded not merely as
affording protection and facilitating intercourse, but as
involving high responsibility, and furnishing occasion for
various usefulness. Our consuls should have the interests
of their country at heart, not only as diplomatists
but, if possible, as men of literature and science, and, at
all events, as enlightened and generous patriots.

Day after day, we proceeded constantly in view of the
Spanish coast. It was delightful, at early morning, to
trace the fine outline of the mountains, broken, occasionally,
by a watch-tower, or, at sunset, behold the rich glow
gather upon their summits, and suffuse their misty robes
with beautiful hues. The still grandeur of the hills of
Spain thus bathed in softened tints, was in striking contrast
to the civil feud then devastating the country. Leaning
over the bulwarks, I loved to gaze upon these magnificent
boundaries of a chivalrous land, and muse upon the
decayed splendor of the Alhambra, the rich humor of Don
Quixote, or the wrongs and triumphs of Columbus. On
a clear and delightful morning, we came in view of Malta.
Perhaps there is no spot of such diminutive extent, that

can boast an equal renown. Although a mere calcareous
rock, its commanding position early attracted the
arms of the Cathagenians, who were dispossessed by
the Romans. The island was occupied, in the middle
ages, by the Saracens and Normans, and in 1530, conferred,
by Charles V., upon the knights of Saint John,
who had been expelled from Rhodes by the Turks.
Thenceforth, Malta exhibited a new aspect. Fortifications
of great extent and admirable construction arose.
The one small stream of fresh water was carried to Valetta
by an acqueduct of a thousand arches. The noble
church dedicated to the patron saint of the order arose. A
hospital was built to accommodate two thousand patients,
and the vessels used in its service, were of solid silver.
Earth from Sicily, was spread over the rock, which soon
presented tints of lively green to contrast with the greyish-yellow
hue of the forts, and the deep blue of the sea.
As we were not permitted immediately to land, I had ample
opportunity to contemplate the interesting scene.
Several vessels of war were lying in the harbor, their large,
dark hulls casting broad and imposing shadows. The
castles of Saint Angelo and Saint Elmo, presented their
batteries at opposite angles, reviving the associations of
the memorable sieges which the knights so courageously
sustained. On one of these occasions, when the position
of the enemy intervened between the two forts, their
situation is described as trying in the extreme. The
waves were dyed with blood. The bodies of the knights
who perished at Saint Elmo, floated to the foot of Saint
Angelo, and were buried there. Many of them were horribly
mangled, and the cross cut in derision upon their
breasts. At night, the fire wheels and other engines, illuminated
the scene of battle. The brave champions of
Christianity, met, for the last time, in their council hall,
wounded and spent with fatigue, and, having partaken of
the last religious rite, vowed to sacrifice themselves, and
return once more to the defence. When the moon arose,
and poured her tranquil light upon the harbor, its peaceful
beauty rendered such retrospections more difficult to
realize. The water rippled playfully around the mossy
walls of the forts. The mild lustre fell serenely upon the
tile covered roofs of the town, and bathed the lofty dome
of the Cathedral. The crowd passed cheerfully along
the quay, and the echo of a mariner's song alone disturbed
the silence of night. Now and then a boat shot
across the bay with its complement of passengers—a
priest, a soldier, and one or two female figures, shrouded
in black silk. It was impossible to peruse the scene and
not revert to those fierce struggles between the crescent
and the cross, and dwell upon the devoted enthusiasm
which led so many of the young and the brave to assume
the black mantle and holy symbol of Christian knighthood.
The inspiration of a Southern night aided the
imagination in conjuring from the bosom of the quiet waters,
the buried tales of romantic valor. Such dreams
were soon dispelled upon landing, for the Nix Mangare
stairs leading to the town, are always thronged with the
most importunate beggars. In the principal street, some
laborers were digging the foundation of a house. The
cellar is made by merely throwing out the calcareous soil
which forms very good material for building. When
used, however, for floors, it is necessary to harden the surface
of the Malta stone with varnish or oil. A friend of
mine, at Palermo, who paved his house with this material,
and neglected thus to prepare it, discovered his mistake
in a very unpleasant manner. Soon after taking possession
of his residence, he gave a ball. After the third or
fourth dance, the gentlemen's coats were white with powder,
the air of the rooms was filled with fine dust, and the
next day, every one of the company complained of a sore
throat. We lodged at a hotel, formerly a knight's palace,
every apartment of which is of noble dimensions,
and richly decorated. The Grand Master's residence,
the splendid armory, the long lines of bastions, and the
monuments in the church of Saint John, are the most interesting
memorials of the knights. The old pits excavated
for preserving grain, which has been thus kept for
an entire century, are still used for a similar purpose.
A column on one of the ramparts, commemorates the services
of Sir Alexander Ball, to whom Coleridge pays so
high a tribute in the Friend. The gay uniforms of the
English officers give a lively air to the narrow streets of
Malta. At the opera, between the acts, the orchestra perform
“God save the King,” and every individual rises
and remains attentively standing until the music ceases
This silent recognition of national feeling, in a foreign
land is impressive and touching. Malta will not long
detain the curious traveller, when so near more interesting
localities. But while the novelty of its peculiar features
is fresh to the mind, they cannot fail to amuse.
There is a remarkable unity in the associations of the
place, connected as they are, almost exclusively with the
knights. A great variety in costume, and sundry singularities
in the habits and dialects of the natives, afford a
fund of entertainment for a few days' sojourn. The Maltese
still complain loudly of their grievances, and have
but recently succeeded in obtaining the freedom of their
press. Their African origin is strongly indicated in their
complexions and cast of features. Yet not unfrequently,
from one of the grotesque balconies, a dark eye gleams,
or a form is visible, which stays the steps, and provokes
the sigh of the stranger.