San Francisco seemed deserted, dusty and desolate to Clarence after his
return from the Yosemite and the society of Mercedes. It was the step
from the sublime to the ridiculous; so he ran off to his Alameda farm
and remained there until the day before the steamer would leave for San
Diego. He then came back late to the dusty city and went in search of
Hubert to take him to dinner.
"Come for pity's sake to dine with me and talk to me. I can't eat alone,
I am too blue," said he, going to Hubert's desk.
"All right, my boy. You are the very man I wanted to see, for I have
been slashing into your stocks like all possessed;" and he made cuts and
thrusts in the air illustrative of a terrible havoc.
"What have you done?" Clarence asked, laughing.
"Well, in the first place, I have sold all your Yellow Jacket, all your
Savage and half of your Ophir, and I bought you some Consolidated
Virginia and California. What do you say to that?"
"Not one word, for I suppose you know what you are about."
"I think I do, and, as a proof of it, I made for you twenty thousand
dollars clear profit by the operation, besides buying your Consolidated
Virginia. So if that last venture is a failure, I shall not feel I have
swamped all your cash."
"I should say not. You are the prince of brokers, Berty. You have not
made a single mistake in managing my stock."
"Yes I have. I sold your Crown Point too soon."
"But that was my mistake, not yours."
"Yes it was. I ought to have sold half to fool you, and kept the other
half ten days longer to make a million with it. I was stupidly honest
that time."
"I forgive you."
"But I don't forgive myself, nor you either."
"I know that. You are only piling coals of fire on my head. Now I have
to bear twenty thousand more fresh coals, and I forbearingly say: 'Pile
on Macduff,' _et cetera_. Where shall we go to dinner--the Poodle Dog or
California?"
"Let us go to the California House. John keeps the best."
To the California House they went, and had a most excellent dinner with
Chateau Yquem and a bottle of Roderer.
"Don't you know I like some of our California wines quite as well as the
imported, if not better? I suppose I ought to be ashamed to admit it,
thus showing that my taste is not cultivated. But that is the simple
truth. There is that flavor of the real genuine grape which our
California wines have that is different from the imported. I think
sooner or later our wines will be better liked, better appreciated,"
Clarence said.
"I think so too, but for the present it is the fashion to cry down our
native wines and extol the imported. When foreigners come to California
to tell us that we can make good wines, that we have soils in which to
grow the best grapes, then we will believe it, not before."
The two friends went after dinner to Clarence's rooms, where they spent
the evening together. Twelve o'clock found them still busy talking of a
thousand things. Next morning Hubert came to breakfast with Clarence and
accompanied him to the steamer.
"Good-by, old fellow; take care of yourself."
"Good-by, my boy; good luck to you," said they, with a lingering grip of
the hands.
"I hope Fred has had a safe journey," Clarence added.
"I think so, and I hope soon to get his telegram--about his '_first
impression_'--which I shall transmit to you."
Once more Clarence was crossing San Francisco Bay--on to the Golden
Gate, on to the broad Pacific.
The surrounding scenery recalled Mercedes' image so vividly to his mind
that it made his heart long to see her, and the entire voyage was
painful to him with the keen regret of her absence.
But now, again, on the fourth morning--a lovely one in the sunlit
July--he was once more making his way between Ballast Point and the
sandy peninsula, facing La Playa and then turning to the right towards
San Diego City.
San Diego at that time--in July, 1873--be it remembered, was fresh and
rosy with bright hopes, like a healthy child just trying to stand up,
with no sickness or ill-usage to sap its vitality and weaken its limbs.
Only ten months before Col. Scott had come to say that the Texas Pacific
Railroad would be built through the shortest, most practicable route,
making San Diego the western terminus of _the shortest transcontinental
railway_. It was true that on the following winter Congress had done
nothing further to help the Texas Pacific. But many reasons were given
for this singular lack of interest in so important a matter on the part
of Congress. Among the many reasons, _the true one_ was not mentioned,
hardly suspected; it would have seemed too monstrous to have been
believed all at once; incredible if revealed without preparing the mind
for its reception. Yes, the mind had to be prepared--slowly educated
first. Now it has been. The process began about that time and it has
continued up to this day, this very moment in which I write this page.
Mr. Huntington's letters have taught us how San Diego was robbed,
tricked, and cheated out of its inheritance. We will look at these
letters further on.
When the steamer arrived near enough to the wharf for persons to be
recognized, Clarence's heart leaped with pleasure, for he saw the well
known, tall form of Don Mariano sitting in his buggy leaning back,
looking at the approaching steamer. A minute after, he saw Victoriano
and Everett standing together near the edge of the wharf ready to
receive him.
"Well, Mr. Runaway, welcome back!" Victoriano said, clasping Clarence's
hand as soon as he was upon the wharf. He gave the other hand to
Everett, who said:
"We will have to _lazo_ you to keep you home."
"I think we will have to put a yoke on him," added Victoriano.
"Exactly; only let me select my yokefellow," Clarence said, laughing.
As Don Mariano intended returning home that day, Clarence proposed that
Victoriano should drive with Everett, and he go with Don Mariano, an
arrangement which was very satisfactory to all parties. He was very
anxious to unburden his mind, and Don Mariano's inquiries about his
daughters and their voyage to San Francisco soon gave him the desired
opportunity. He told Don Mariano what George had said, and how firmly
and sincerely Mercedes wished to abide by her mother's wishes. Don
Mariano listened very attentively, then said:
"I had intended suggesting to you the same thing. Gabriel has spoken to
me about the matter several times, insisting that all the ladies of our
family ought to know that _you_ paid for your land. Since we cannot
divest them of the resentment they have towards squatters, let them know
the truth. Let them see that Congress, if it does not always follow
moral principles, can certainly subvert them most arbitrarily and
disastrously. Do you still wish to keep the matter from your father?"
Clarence thought for a moment, then answered:
"Yes, but only for a short time. I suppose we will have to define our
position as soon as the appeal is dismissed. Before that comes, I shall
explain all to him."
They rode on in silence for a few moments; then Don Mariano said:
"Very well, I shall tell my wife that, for the present, the matter must
not be mentioned outside the family or in the hearing of servants."
"I thank you," Clarence said: "it is very painful to me to find my
father adhering so tenaciously to his old conviction that all Mexican
grants not finally confirmed to their owners are public land, and being
so, they are open for settlement to all American citizens. Thus, he
still insists that, being an American citizen, he has the right to
locate on your land or any other unconfirmed grant. This idea has been
the bane of his life for many years, but for the very reason that in
maintaining it he has caused so much trouble to himself and to others,
he seems to cling to it most pertinaciously. He believes your land was
rejected, and that the rejection will be sustained."
"Yes, my land was reported rejected, but it was by some mistake of the
clerks, because at that time the title had not been either finally
rejected or confirmed. It had been before the Land Commission, and that
(of course) decided adversely, as it generally did. Then I appealed to
the United States District Court. This said that there was not
sufficient testimony to confirm my title, but did not affirm the opinion
of the Land Commission, nor reverse their decision, nor enter a decree
of rejection. It simply left the case in that uncertain condition until
1870, when I discharged my lawyer and engaged another to attend to the
suit. Then the case was reopened, and a decree of confirmation was
entered. In the meantime, squatters had been coming, and they now have
carried their appeal to Washington, to the United States Supreme Court,
against me."
"I see it all now," Clarence said, thoughtfully.
"And don't you know," Don Mariano continued, "that I don't find it in my
heart to blame those people for taking my land as much as I blame the
legislators who turned them loose upon me? And least of all I blame your
father, for he has not killed my cattle, as the others have."
"Of course, he couldn't, he wouldn't, he shouldn't do that. That would
be worse than the lowest theft."
"That is true, but there is a law to protect him if he did; in fact, to
_authorize_ him to do so. Thus, you see, here again come _our
legislators_ to encourage again wrong-doing--to offer a premium to one
class of citizens to go and prey upon another class. All this is wrong.
I hold that the legislators of a nation are the guardians of public
morality, the teachers of what is right and just. They should never
enact laws that are not founded upon rectitude, as Herbert Spencer says,
no matter if expedience or adventitious circumstances might seem to
demand it. But I need not tell you this, for you hold the same opinion."
"Indeed I do, and understanding your rights better than I did, I think
you were too generous in making the offer you made to the settlers at
the meeting with them last year."
"It was rather generous, but not as much so as you perhaps think. I was
looking out for myself, too."
"I heard them talk about an appeal that was pending, and I thought it
was your appeal, not theirs."
"The position then was this: In the first place, I was willing to give
them a chance of getting good homes for their families, for I shall
always consider that the law has deluded and misled them, and helped
them to develop their natural inclination to appropriate what belonged
to some one else; so they should bear only half the blame for being
squatters--Congress must bear the other half. Then, in the second place,
about the time I had that meeting, I had just received a letter from
George, written at Washington, telling me how the Solicitor General had
disobeyed the order of the Attorney General, instructing him to dismiss
the appeal against the confirmation of my title. As I did not know that
the Solicitor General was acting thus out of pique or personal animosity
against the Attorney General, I naturally feared that he was going to
make me suffer other worse outrages, judging by his arbitrary,
irresponsible conduct. I thought that there might be many more years of
delay while waiting for the dismissal of the appeal, and while thus
waiting all my cattle would be killed. Reasoning thus, I concluded that
it would be less ruinous to me to make the concessions I offered than to
wait for tardy justice to restore my land to me--restore it when all my
cattle shall have been destroyed."
"I think your reasoning was correct--it did seem as if the Solicitor
meant mischief. It was fortunate that he dropped the matter."
"Yes, for which I am devoutly thankful. I hope the mischief he has done
may soon be corrected by the Attorney General. Of course, the additional
eighteen months of depredations on my cattle which I have had to endure,
must go unredressed together with all else I have had to suffer at the
hands of those vandals."
"At the hands of our law-givers."
"Exactly. I shall always lay it at the door of our legislators--that
they have not only caused me to suffer many outrages, but, with those
same laws, they are sapping the very life essence of public morality.
They are teaching the people to lose all respect for the rights of
others--to lose all respect for their national honor. Because we, _the
natives_ of California, the Spano-Americans, were, at the close of the
war with Mexico, left in the lap of the American nation, or, rather,
huddled at her feet like motherless, helpless children, Congress
_thought_ we might as well be kicked and cuffed as treated kindly. There
was no one to be our champion, no one to take our part and object to our
being robbed. It ought to have been sufficient that by the treaty of
Guadalupe Hidalgo the national faith, the nation's honor was pledged to
respect our property. They never thought of that. With very unbecoming
haste, Congress hurried to pass laws to legalize their despoliation of
the conquered Californians, forgetting the nation's pledge to protect
us. Of course, for opening our land to squatters and then establishing a
land commission to sanction and corroborate that outrage, _our
California delegation_ then in Washington, must bear the bulk of the
blame. They should have opposed the passage of such laws instead of
favoring their enactment."
"Why did they favor such legislation?"
"Because California was expected to be filled with a population of
farmers, of industrious settlers who would have votes and would want
their one hundred and sixty acres each of the best land to be had. As
our legislators thought that we, the Spano-American natives, had the
best lands, and but few votes, there was nothing else to be done but to
despoil us, to take our lands and give them to the coming population."
"But that was outrageous. Their motive was a political object."
"Certainly. The motive was that our politicians wanted _votes_. The
squatters were in increasing majority; the Spanish natives, in
diminishing minority. Then the cry was raised that our land grants were
too large; that a few lazy, thriftless, ignorant natives, holding such
large tracts of land, would be a hindrance to the prosperity of the
State, because such lazy people would never cultivate their lands, and
were even too sluggish to sell them. The cry was taken up and became
popular. It was so easy to upbraid, to deride, to despise the conquered
race! Then to despoil them, to make them beggars, seemed to be, if not
absolutely righteous, certainly highly justifiable. Any one not
acquainted with the real facts might have supposed that there was no
more land to be had in California but that which belonged to the
natives. Everybody seemed to have forgotten that for each acre that was
owned by them, there were thousands vacant, belonging to the Government,
and which any one can have at one dollar and twenty-five cents per acre.
No, they didn't want Government land. The settlers want the lands of the
lazy, the thriftless Spaniards. Such good-for-nothing, helpless wretches
are not fit to own such lordly tracts of land. It was wicked to tolerate
the waste, the extravagance of the Mexican Government, in giving such
large tracts of land to a few individuals. The American Government never
could have been, or ever could be, guilty of such thing. No, never! But,
behold! Hardly a dozen years had passed, when this same economical,
far-seeing Congress, which was so ready to snatch away from the Spanish
people their lands (which rightfully belonged to them) on the plea that
such large tracts of land ought not to belong to _a few_ individuals,
this same Congress, mind you, goes to work and gives to railroad
companies millions upon millions of acres of land. It is true that such
gifts were for the purpose of aiding enterprises for the good of the
people. Yes, but that was exactly the same motive which guided the
Spanish and the Mexican governments--to give large tracts of land as an
inducement to those citizens who would utilize the wilderness of the
government domain--utilize it by starting ranchos which afterwards would
originate 'pueblos' or villages, and so on. The fact that these
land-owners who established large ranchos were very efficient and
faithful collaborators in the foundation of missions, was also taken
into consideration by the Spanish Government or the viceroys of Mexico.
The land-owners were useful in many ways, though to a limited extent
they attracted population by employing white labor. They also employed
Indians, who thus began to be less wild. Then in times of Indian
outbreaks, the land-owners with their servants would turn out as in
feudal times in Europe, to assist in the defense of the missions and the
sparsely settled country threatened by the savages. Thus, you see, that
it was not a foolish extravagance, but a judicious policy which induced
the viceroys and Spanish governors to begin the system of giving large
land grants."
"I never knew that this was the object of the Spanish and Mexican
governments in granting large tracts of land, but it seems to me a very
wise plan when there was so much land and so few settlers."
"Precisely. It was a good policy. In fact, the only one in those days of
a patriarchal sort of life, when raising cattle was the principal
occupation of the Californians."
"I must say that to establish the Land Commission seems to me rather a
small subterfuge for the Congress of a great nation to resort to."
"What makes this subterfuge a cold-blooded wrong, of premeditated
gravity, is the fact that at the time when we were forced to submit our
titles for revision, and pending these legal proceedings, we, the
land-owners, began to pay taxes, and the squatters were told that they
have the right to take our lands and keep them until we should prove
that we had good titles to them. If the law had obliged us to submit our
titles to the inspection of the Land Commission, but had not opened our
ranchos to settlers _until it had been proved that our titles were not
good_, and if, too, taxes were paid by those who derived the benefit
from the land, then there would be some color of equity in such laws.
But is not this a subversion of all fundamental principles of justice?
Here we are, living where we have lived for fifty or eighty years; the
squatters are turned loose upon us to take our lands, and we must pay
taxes for them, and we must go to work to prove that our lands are ours
before the squatter goes. Why doesn't the squatter prove first that the
land is his, and why doesn't he pay his own taxes? We, as plaintiffs,
have to bear heavy expenses, and as the delays and evasions of the law
are endless, the squatter has generally managed to keep the land he
took, for we have been impoverished by heavy taxation while trying to
prove our rights, and the squatter has been making money out of our
lands to fight us with. Generally the Californians have had nothing but
land to pay their taxes, besides paying their lawyers to defend their
titles. Thus, often the lawyer has taken all that was left out of the
cost of litigation and taxes.
"It makes me heartsick to think how unjustly the native Californians
have been treated. I assure you, sir, that not one American in a million
knows of this outrage. If they did, they would denounce it in the
bitterest language; they would not tolerate it."
"They would denounce it perhaps, but they would tolerate it. I used to
think as you do, that the American people had a very direct influence
upon the legislation of the country. It seems so to hear public speakers
in election times, but half of all their fire goes up in smoke, and
Congress is left coolly to do as it pleases. And the worst of it is,
that this very arbitrary Congress, so impervious to appeals of
sufferers, is also led by a few persistent men who with determination do
all things, spoil or kill good bills, and doctor up sick ones; and then
they half-fool and half-weary the nation into acquiescence, for what can
we do? The next batch that is sent to the Capitol will have the same
elements in it, and repeat history."
"It seems to me there ought to be some way to punish men for being bad
or ineffectual legislators, when sense of honor or dread of criticism
fail to make them do their duty."
Don Mariano sighed and shook his head, then in a very sad voice said:
"That should be so, but it is not the case. No, I don't see any remedy
in my life-time. I am afraid there is no help for us native
Californians. We must sadly fade and pass away. The weak and the
helpless are always trampled in the throng. We must sink, go under,
never to rise. If the Americans had been friendly to us, and helped us
with good, protective laws, our fate would have been different. But to
legislate us into poverty is to legislate us into our graves. Their very
contact is deadly to us."
"And yet you do not seem to hate us."
"Hate you? No, indeed! Never! The majority of my best friends are
Americans. Instead of hate, I feel great attraction toward the American
people. Their sentiments, their ways of thinking suit me, with but few
exceptions. I am fond of the Americans. I know that, as a matter of
fact, only the very mean and narrow-minded have harsh feelings against
my race. The trouble, the misfortune has been that the American people
felt perfect indifference towards the conquered few. We were not in
sufficient numbers to command attention. We were left to the tender
mercies of Congress, and the American nation never gave us a thought
after the treaty of peace with Mexico was signed. Probably any other
nation would have done the same. Why should I then hate them? No,
indeed. But I confess my heart collapses when I think what might be the
fate of my family if I am not able to avert the ruin which has overtaken
the majority of Californians. We have not been millionaires, but we have
never known want. We are all ill prepared for poverty; and yet this
long-delayed justice, and the squatters crowding me so relentlessly--"
he stopped short, then added: "I am not giving you a cheerful welcome
with my gloomy conversation."
"But I want you to talk to me frankly and give me your views. You have
told me much that I had never heard before, and which I am glad to
learn. But as for feeling gloomy about the future of the family, I think
a plan that Mr. George Mechlin and myself have been forming will make
things rather better for the future, and we trust you will approve it."
"What is the plan?"