a letter from bermuda – 1902 …

From the snow of the North to the sunshine of the “Land of the Lily and the Rose”, a trip of seven hundred miles by water, in forty-eight hours, is a delightful and unique experience. The excellent accommodations afforded by the steamer Trinidad, the bright sky and the calm sea, and the pleasant passengers aboard, all contributed to a trip that was unbroken in its charms from the lifting of the anchor at New York to the dropping of the anchor in the harbor of Hamilton.

It is impossible to forget the first impressions of the Bermudas on a cloudless day. In the distance a purple haze hovers over St. George’s, the first land seen after leaving New York; the gray of the ocean melts into a sea that is now of an emerald and now of a turquoise blue: the flapping sails of the fishing boats flash in the sunlight; island after island appears on the horizon; and we pass Bailey’s Bay, Shelly Bay, Prospect Point, and Spanish Point, and enter the narrow channel leading up to Hamilton, scores of imposing buildings and hundreds of snow-white residences, nestling in the green groves, present a picture that cannot be caught by the painter’s brush.

The nine parishes of the island are St. George’s, Hamilton, Smith’s, Devonshire, Pembroke, Paget, Warwick, Southampton and Sandys. To each of which belongs a parish church, one of which is the proud possessor of a communion plate of silver, which was the gift of William and Mary, king and queen of England in the year 1684. Similar to English possessions elsewhere, the government is here vested in a Governor, an Executive Council, Legislative Council and a House of Assembly, the latter composed of thirty-six members, four from each parish, who are elected for a term of seven years.

There are only two places that can be called a “town”, namely, St. George’s, at one time the capital, and Hamilton, which is now the seat of government and the port of entry and departure for the steamers which connect these islands with the outside world. The north and south shores are two lines of travel that must be kept clearly in mind by the pleasure-seeker in Bermuda. Along the former you pass what is known as the Ducking Stool, where, in the early days of the Colony, refractory women were punished for suspected witchcraft; the Causeway, consisting of a succession of substantial wooden bridges, which is nearly two miles in length, and many fantastic caverns, which are honey-combed by the flow of the sea; along the latter you soon reach the historic Spanish rock, on which are cut the initials of Ferdinand de Camelo, and the date 1543; Castle Harbor, where are found the remains of the earliest building for defensive purposes; Walsingham House, in which Moore the Irish poet resided in 1804, while he was an official of the English Government; Gibbs’ Hill, where a great lighthouse stands upon the highest point on the islands; and Somerset, with its quaint houses, overlooking a sea as blue as the waters of Capri.

One would naturally expect to find in this delightful climate an abundance of such tropical fruit as figs, lemons, oranges and pomegranates; but in this one would be somewhat disappointed. It is supposed that parasitic and other diseases have been, in some way, introduced into the country; and consequently, for years, there has been a scarcity of the fruits. Vegetables are grown in abundance; large onion and potato farms are seen on all the islands; and acres are covered by lilies, the bulbs and buds of which are shipped North, especially as Easter approaches.

As may be imagined, the flora of the Bermudas is varied and abundant. The wistaria, geranium, heliotrope, verbena, passion-flower, violet, rose and narcissus are, in season, remarkable for their luxuriance. The morning-glory adorns the public highways through all the months of the year; and the large fleshy leaves and delicate pendulous flowers of the life-plant attract your attention in the meadow, along the roadside, and in the cultivated gardens.

Springtime in Bermuda is made brilliant and fragrant by many flowering shrubs; but these are not indigenous; and as they grow everywhere, it is with some difficulty that you decide whether they are wild or cultivated. “Belmont”, where these lines are written, is approached by a long avenue of oleander plants that, meeting at the top, form an arch of white, pink and red during the early spring; and when the shrubs are dropping their bright flowers, your walk is canopied and carpeted by a profusion of beautiful blossoms. The cedar is the most common of all the trees; fine specimens of the rubber-tree are found on several of the islands; the mahogany, banyan, calabash, tulip-tree, and the pride-of-India are not uncommon; and one of the attractions of Hamilton is the row of cabbage palms at Pembroke Hall, which reach a height of sixty feet and are capped by feathery plumes.

Amidst the brightness and beauties of these fairy islands, one can appreciate the words of Mark Twain: “When its score of good points are considered, it is a wonder that all the coughing, sneezing, epizootic population of the States have not found out Bermuda and come over to enjoy it”. The window at which I write opens upon a picturesque panorama. A grove of waving cedars slope to the sea; the waters, kissed by the playing lights and shadows, change into blue, purple and green, as they roll toward the wide ocean; scores of dark-foliaged islands sleep upon their colored beds; the full-winged sail-boat, bending to the breeze glides into the harbor; and, skirting the beach beyond, are the snow-white houses of the Capital of the Bermudas. As he looked upon a scene like this, from a neighboring grove, the muse inspired Tom Moore to sing:

Could you but view the scenery fair,
That now beneath my window lies,
You’d think that Nature lavished there,
Her purest wave, her softest skies.

H. Allen Tupper, Jr.
“Belmont”, Warwick, Bermuda
March 1902