"Great men are the Fire Pillars in this dark pilgrimage of mankind; they
stand as heavenly signs, ever living witnesses of what has been,
prophetic tokens of what may still be--the revealed embodied
Possibilities of human nature," says Carlyle.
If conspicuousness or notoriety could mean greatness, we have our _great
men_ in California. But are they the Fire Pillars in our dark
pilgrimage? Verily, no. They are upas trees, blighting life, spreading
desolation, ruin, death upon all they overshadow. Only the cruelist
irony could designate them as _heavenly signs_, for surely they march
before us in the opposite direction from that in which heavenly Fire
Pillars would be expected to stand.
And who are the most conspicuous in our State? The _monied men, of
course_--the monopolists. They are our _Fire Pillars_! Unfortunate
California! if thou art to follow such guides, thy fate shall be to
_grovel for money_ to the end of time, with not one thought beyond, or
above, money-making, and not one aspiration higher than to accumulate
millions greedily for rapacity's sake--without once remembering the
misery that such rapacity has brought upon so many innocent people--the
blight it has spread over so many lives. Thy ambition shall be to
control the judiciary and utterly debauch the legislative branch of our
Government; to contaminate the public press and private individual until
thy children shall have lost all belief in honor, and justice, and good
faith, and morality. Until honesty shall be made ridiculous and
successful corruption shall be held up for admiration and praise.
And are not _our_ "Fire Pillars" dragging us already in that direction?
blinding us instead of guiding and enlightening? Yes, alluring,
tempting, making rapacity and ill-gotten wealth appear justifiable, seen
through the seductive glamour of Success!
The letter Mr. James Mechlin received one morning about the latter part
of November, 1875, would seem so to indicate. He and Mr. Holman met
often at the postoffice each winter since 1872, always hoping to get
railroad news from Washington. These two gentlemen religiously went to
the postoffice every day again this winter--particularly since the
Mechlins had taken their temporary residence in town--and religiously
they expected that _good news_ would come at any time while Congress was
in session--news that a bill to aid in the construction of the Texas
Pacific Railroad had been passed. But days and days went by and no news
came. This morning, however, Mr. Mechlin received two letters from his
brother, the first he had got since he brought the wounded George to
town.
One of these letters said that early in that month (November) Mr. C. C.
had taken east from California in his special car ex-Senator Guller, for
the purpose of being sent South _to persuade_ the Southern people into
believing that the Texas Pacific Railroad would be injurious to the
South; that it was being built for the benefit of Northern interests,
but that _the Southern Pacific_, of Mr. Huntington and associates, was
truly the road for the South. Mr. Huntington instructed Senator Guller
in all the fictions he was to spread in the South, and with that burden
on his soul (if the old man has one), the hoary headed ex-Senator
started from Washington about the 12th of November, 1875, on this errand
to deceive, to betray. To betray cruelly, hiding under the cloak of
friendship and good will, the worst, blackest, most perfidious intent.
"He is going about the South making public speeches," Mr. Mechlin said,
"and using his influence to mislead Southern newspapers and Southern
influential men; trying to convince all that the Texas Pacific will do
the South great harm. The Southern people and Southern Press have fallen
into the trap. They never doubted, never could doubt, the veracity of
ex-Senator Guller, who had espoused their cause during the war of the
rebellion, and had always held Southern sentiments. Who could believe
that now, _for money_, he would go to deceive trusting friends? That,
_for money_, he would cruelly mislead Southerners to their ruin? Who
would believe that this old man, calling himself a friend, was the
veriest, worst, most malignant Mephistopheles, holding in the heart so
wicked a purpose, such an infamous design?"
In the second letter Mr. Lawrence Mechlin spoke of ex-Senator Guller
being still at work in the South, and that his patron, Mr. Huntington,
seemed to think that the old man was not telling as many fictions as he
(Huntington) wished. But that what more false statements he desired, it
did not appear, for in reality Dr. Guller had prevaricated and
misrepresented all that he could within the limits of possible
credibility.
"And now," Mr. Mechlin's letter added, "old man Guller will soon return
from his Southern trip. Let us hope that the old man will be well paid
for his unsavory work. I cannot believe that in making his public
speeches he does not occasionally feel a pang of regret, of remorse,
when seeing the faces of those unfortunate, betrayed Southerners
upturned to him, listening in the sincerity of their hearts to the
atrocious concoctions which he is pouring upon their unsuspecting
heads."
Mr. James Mechlin read to Mr. Holman this portion of his brother's
letter, and both looked at each other in dismay.
"Come with me," said Mr. Mechlin. "Let us go and talk with George about
this." When they had walked in silence a few minutes, Mr. Mechlin turned
suddenly around and said:
"I have an idea. Let us (you, Don Mariano, and myself) go to see
Governor Stanford and find out from him directly whether they really
mean to kill the Texas Pacific, or whether those tricks of Huntington
are intended only as a ruse to bring Tom Scott to terms."
"But would Stanford tell us?"
"Whether he does or not, by talking with him we will find out the
truth."
"I don't think the sending of Guller to the South can be a ruse only; it
must have cost them money."
"True. You are right," said Mr. Mechlin, sadly, resuming his walk. "And
it proves conclusively that these men of the Central Pacific Railroad
will stop at nothing to obtain their end; and yet, I have always thought
so well of Governor Stanford that I am unwilling to believe he is a
party to any trickery of Huntington's."
On arriving home, Mr. Mechlin, followed by Mr. Holman, went directly
into George's room to lay before him his idea of interviewing Governor
Stanford. After listening attentively, George said:
"I have not the slightest doubt that the railroad men of the Central
Pacific wish to establish an iron-bound monopoly on the Pacific slope,
to grasp all the carrying business of the entire coast, and to effect
that, they will do anything to kill the Texas Pacific, or any other road
that might compete with them. Still, as you are going to San Francisco
to escort Lizzie, you can then, for your own satisfaction, have a talk
with Governor Stanford, and Mr. Holman and Don Mariano can join you."
"Yes, after I see him, I shall know the truth whether he tells it to me
or I see it myself," said Mr. Mechlin.
"Well, I shall join you at any time. Let us go to see Don Mariano
to-morrow and find out when he thinks he will be well enough to travel,"
said Mr. Holman.
"Very well; I shall call for you about nine A.M.," said Mr. Mechlin. Mr.
Holman then arose, and, saying he wished to speak with the ladies and
try to forget railroads, went into the parlor. Mr. Mechlin followed him,
saying to George as he was leaving the room:
"Here is a lot of letters and papers that came this morning which I was
almost forgetting to give to you."
Among the various letters of less interest to George, there was one from
his uncle, one from Bob Gunther and (would he believe his eyes!) one
from Clarence! The sight of that writing made George start, and he
immediately thought of the effect it would have on Mercedes. He hastily
tore open the envelope and found four letters besides the one for
himself. One was for Don Mariano, one for Gabriel, one for Tano, and one
for Mercedes. "The noble fellow forgets no one," said George, beginning
to read his letter, and thinking it was best not to give to Mercedes
hers until all the visitors had left, was soon absorbed in what Clarence
said. Knowing that all would repeat the contents of his letters to one
another, Clarence related to each different incidents of his travels,
leaving for Mercedes alone the recital of his heart's longings, and
sufferings, and fears, and hopes. To George he related his travels in
the interior of Mexico, speaking with great enthusiasm of the
transcendent beauty, the sublimity of the scenery in that marvelous
country. He had passed several weeks in the Sierra Madre, had ascended
to the summits of Popocatepetl and Orizaba, viewing from the snow-clad
apex of this last named mountain, at an elevation of more than three
miles above the sea level, a vast panorama of the entire Mexico,
bordered on each side by the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. Clarence also
spoke in highest terms of praise of the delta of the Sumasinta River,
and beautiful scenery of the Rio Verde and Rio Lerma, and Chapala Lake,
so large and picturesque that it looks like an ocean set apart by the
jealous gods so that men may not defile its beauty and break its silence
with the hurry scurry of commercial traffic. Clarence dwelt, also, upon
his visit to Yucatan, where he went more especially to see the ruins of
Urmal. Those ruins which are the irrefragable witnesses of a past
civilization, lost so entirely that archaeology cannot say one word
about its birth or death. Clarence found those ruins intensely
interesting, and would have spent much longer time than the month he
passed there, examining, studying and admiring them, had his traveling
companions been willing to remain longer, but they were anxious to visit
the City of Mexico, and so he was obliged to leave those majestic ruins
whose silence spoke to him so eloquently. They seemed to him symbolical
of his ruined hopes, his great love, in fact, himself. Was he not like
those crumbling edifices--a sad ruin of lofty aspirations? Poor
Clarence, his sad heart was only made sadder when, upon his arrival at
the City of Mexico, he found no letters there. He inquired at the
American Legation whether any letters had come for him, and was told by
the Secretary that _no letters_, but one package, only one, had been
received, which had been kept for six months, at the end of which time
Mr. Hubert Haverly had written saying that if Mr. Darrell did not call
for the package soon, to return it to him (Haverly) at San Francisco.
This had been done about two weeks previously. On hearing this, Clarence
sat down, wrote letters to all his friends, and then started for South
America, intending to cross that continent and embark at Brazil for
Europe. His letter to Mercedes he ended with these words.
"I do not blame you for renouncing me, for it must be repugnant to you
to unite yourself with one who has such rough blood in his veins. But,
Oh! Mercedes, can you not pity me enough to say one kind word? What have
I done to deserve being the miserable outcast that I am?"
Mercedes was in despair. Where could all their letters be? Why did he
not get them? He wrote to his mother, to Everett and Alice, and to them
he made the same complaint, and yet, all had written to him repeatedly.
Mr. Mechlin, accompanied by Mr. Holman, arrived at the rancho about
luncheon hour. Their drive had given them a good appetite and they
enjoyed their repast. After it, they all adjourned to the parlor to
discuss, by the fire, their intended visit to San Francisco. Don Mariano
would have preferred to sit out doors on one of the verandas, but Dona
Josefa reminded him that a whole year had passed since he was overtaken
by that disastrous snow-storm, and he had not yet regained his usual
health; neither had Victoriano. The injury to his health seemed even
greater and more difficult to remedy, for every two or three months he
had attacks more or less serious of the same lameness which deprived him
of the use of his limbs.
As for the cattle, the poor, dumb brutes who had never seen snow, they
became so frightened at the sight of that white pall, enveloping
everything, that they were absolutely unmanageable after Don Mariano had
gone in advance with Victoriano, and the _mayordomo_ thought they would
wait until the storm had passed. Next day the _mayordomo_ went about in
hopes of finding such stray animals as might have ran less wildly, but
none were to be seen, excepting those which lay stiff in death under the
snow.
The loss of his cattle made it more imperative that Don Mariano should
look closely into land matters, into the prospects of a railroad for San
Diego. He therefore listened attentively to what his friends said about
Mr. Lawrence Mechlin having written, and their proposed visit of inquiry
to ex-Governor Stanford as to what might be the fate of San Diego's
railroad.
"It seems to me incredible that Doctor Guller should have lent himself
for such service, no matter how well paid," said Don Mariano. "If he had
been sent to deceive the North, to fool the Yankees, the errand would
have been--if not more honorable--at least less odious for a Southerner,
not so treacherous; but to go and deceive the trusting South, now when
the entire country is so impoverished, so distressed, that act, I say,
is inhuman, is ignominious. No words of reprobation can be too severe to
stigmatize a man capable of being so heartless."
"Truly, but the instigators are as much to blame as the tool they used.
They should be stigmatized also as corrupters, as most malignant,
debasing, unscrupulous men," said Mr. Holman. "Men who are harmful to
society, because they reward dishonorable acts; because they reward,
with money, the blackest treason!"
"Can it be possible that Governor Stanford had any knowledge that his
associate was sending Doctor Guller on that disgraceful errand?" Don
Mariano queried.
"It looks like it, but let us hope he did not," Mr. Holman replied.
"Yes, let us hope also that Mr. Lawrence Mechlin was misinformed, and
Doctor Guller has not been guilty of anything so atrocious," the Don
said.
It was finally decided that the three friends would go to San Francisco
at the same time that Lizzie would be going. She had made a flying visit
to her family at San Diego, and Gabriel was calling loudly for her to
return, saying that after banking hours he felt lonely and missed her
dreadfully.
Lizzie, therefore, had three gentlemen for her escort, and in a few days
they all steamed away for the city of the sand dunes.
The first day in the city Don Mariano devoted to raising a sum of money
by a mortgage on his rancho, as he needed the money to pay taxes on the
land occupied by the squatters; but the day after, the three friends
presented themselves at the railroad office and inquired for Governor
Stanford. They were told that he had just left the office, but that he
would be there on the following day. As they were leaving the office,
they met a Mr. Perin, a friend whom they had not seen for some time.
When they had exchanged greetings, Mr. Perin asked them if they had come
to see Governor Stanford. On being told that such was the case, he said:
"It is well that you did not see him, for he is not in a very good humor
to-day, and as for Mr. C., he is like a bear with a sore head--furious
at Tom Scott."
"What is the matter? What has Tom Scott done to anger his persecutors?"
asked Mr. Holman.
"It seems they need money and can't raise as much as they want, while
Huntington keeps clamoring for more to kill Tom Scott together with the
Texas Pacific," was the answer.
"The earnings of the Central Pacific this last year were seventeen
millions of dollars. How are they in such need of money? Is not that
enough to kill Colonel Scott?" Mr. Mechlin asked. "Why do they want
more?"
"Because, if their earnings had been seventy millions, these men would
still be in need of money," Mr. Perin said.
"Why so?"
"Because, as they wish to absorb all the carrying business of this
coast--in fact, all sorts of business--they want money, money, money.
They want to buy steamboats, ferry-boats, ocean steamers; street
railroads and street cars; coal mines and farms; in fact, they want
everything, and want it more when some poor devil loses his business
thereby and goes, frozen out, into the cold world. So you see, to go
into such a variety of business besides railroading and killing Tom
Scott, it costs money. It takes millions and millions to kill and freeze
out so many people."
"I hope they'll be disappointed in killing Colonel Scott," said Don
Mariano. "That would mean death to many others."
"I hope so, too, but I hear that Mr. Huntington devoutly prays that a
kind Providence may enable him '_to see grass growing over Tom Scott_,'"
Mr. Perin replied.
"Yes, my brother wrote me that Huntington does say that he hopes to
worry Scott to death, and '_see grass growing over his grave_.' I fear
he will see grass growing over many graves if he succeeds in killing the
Texas Pacific," said Mr. Mechlin.
"He is trying hard to do that, and his associates are backing him up
with millions," Mr. Perin said.
"Then Heaven help us poor people who have invested our all, believing
that San Diego would have a railroad," said Mr. Mechlin, bitterly.
Next morning the three friends went again to the railroad office and
sent their cards to Governor Stanford. In a few minutes the servant
returned to say that the Governor was very busy, but if the gentlemen
could wait he would see them as soon as possible. The gentlemen waited;
they read the morning papers and looked over railroad guides to while
away time.
Yes, they waited, but they would have spared themselves that trouble,
and they would have never made that pilgrimage from San Diego to consult
the oracle at San Francisco, could they have read what Mr. Huntington
was about that time writing to his _associates_ concerning his _modus
operandi_ in Washington to "_convince_" Congressmen to do as he wished,
to defeat the Texas Pacific; writing all about sending an ex-Senator to
"_switch off the South_," and there to pretend to be an anti-subsidy
Democrat, and to state falsely that the Texas Pacific would injure the
South. All this, however, was only known lately, when Mr. Huntington's
letters were made public. At that time the three friends, thinking it
impossible that the rights of Southern California would be so utterly
disregarded, did not see any absurdity in interviewing the Governor.
While they waited they had an opportunity of hearing several instructive
matters freely mentioned. One of these was the way of avoiding the
payment of taxes, and how to fight the cases in the courts. The
gentlemen who discussed the subject evidently understood it and were
waiting to have an audience. Their talk suggested a very sad train of
thoughts to Don Mariano, as he heard that the railroad people did not
mean to pay taxes, and would resist the law. He thought how those
millionaires would pay no taxes, and defy the law openly and fight to
the bitter end, whilst he was not only obliged to pay taxes upon a too
highly appraised property, but must also pay taxes for the land occupied
by the squatter and on the improvements thereon! As a necessary sequence
to such unjust, unreasonable, inhuman taxation, Don Mariano had been
obliged to mortgage his rancho to raise funds to pay the taxes of the
squatters. With the yearly sales of his cattle he had always been able
to pay his own taxes as well as those of his unwelcome neighbors, but as
his cattle were now lost, his only resource was his land. Not yet having
the patent, he could not sell to advantage at all. He must therefore
mortgage.
"If I were a railroad prince, I suppose I would not be forced to pay
taxes for the squatters on my land," said Don Mariano to his friends,
smiling sadly to hear how the taxes on railroad property were to be
fought.
"If you were a railroad prince, you would not pay your own taxes, much
less those of the squatters," said Mr. Holman.
"I think you ought not to hesitate to use the money that Clarence paid
for your cattle. If they ran away, it was not your fault," Mr. Mechlin
said.
"No, not my fault, but my misfortune; a misfortune which I have no right
to put on Clarence's shoulders. I did not deliver the cattle; I don't
take the pay. I am going to mortgage my land, but I can't avoid it," Don
Mariano replied.
"It is certainly a very hard case to have to mortgage your property to
pay taxes for the squatters," observed Mr. Holman.
"If these railroad men will only let us have the Texas Pacific all will
be right, but if not, then the work of ruining me begun by the squatters
will be finished by the millionaires--if they kill our railroad," said
Don Mariano sadly, adding: "Our legislators then will complete their
work. Our legislators began my ruin; our legislators will end it."