CALIFORNIA TO COLORADO.
Los Angeles--Mud-geysers--"Billy the Kid"--General
Fremont--Manitou, the Garden of the Gods--Desperadoes--Bob
Ingersoll--Denver City--Leadville--Grand Cañon.
_June 12th._--The train stopped at Los Angeles at six in the morning,
and, drawing up my window-blind, the first person I saw on the platform
was our good friend Colonel Baker, who had come to meet us, intent
on the good offices which he could render during our stay. These were
exhibited in the form of a beautiful bouquet for Lady Green, baskets
of limes and oranges, and great bunches of grapes. In this happy valley
there are cares as in the rest of the world. The Colonel told us he was
in the midst of a great litigation affecting his claim to a large tract
of land in which there are said to exist the richest tin-mines in the
American Continent. Yet why should he care about his tin-mine? There
were rolling acres rich with corn and fruit, and there were flocks and
herds and vineyards, and a charming home of his own. Nevertheless, if
the want of that tin-mine made him at all unhappy, I am sure those who
were indebted to him, as we were, for so many kindnesses, will wish his
claim to be triumphantly asserted, and long possession of all that is
to follow.
I dreaded the passage of the Desert to Yuma; and indeed the heat was
intense. No wonder that with the thermometer ranging from 100° to 104°,
all the blinds in the car were pulled down, and we sprawled listlessly
on the cushions. Our excellent attendants put forth all the resources
of art in the shape of ice and preparations of limes and cocktails;
but the temperature would not be baffled. We could just read, and were
aware that we were living, and some of us had strength enough now and
then to execute forays against flies with napkins to drive them out
of the carriages. How could people live out in the open, and work in
the mines, or pursue any out-of-door employment in such torrid heat?
Nevertheless, there was a marked distinction between it and the heat to
be endured with the mercury at an equal height in India.
The speed of the train was very respectable--somewhat over twenty miles
an hour--and at that rate we ran from San Gorgonio and Banning on to
Cabazon, through a flat plain, dry and burnt up, very like the desert
around Suez, and fringed, like it, with rocky and rugged hills, save
that there was a great growth of Spanish bayonets and cactuses of all
kinds among the stones and sand, and that snow was to be seen on all
the hill-tops in the distance. For 107 miles there was no water to
be met with going along this plain; but the mirage, of which I have
spoken in the account of our journey to San Francisco, was frequent
and beautiful; and again I was fascinated by the sight of lovely lakes
embowered in trees, with stately cities on their shores, changing and
shifting and melting away, only again to assume apparent substance to
cheat the senses.
Once the train stopped to allow the passengers to visit the
mud-geysers, which were not more than 150 yards on the left of the
line, and with commendable curiosity most of us got out and walked
over the baked earth to the spot. There was no mark whatever of smoke
or vapour to indicate the place; and it was almost startling to come
suddenly upon a kind of pond of semi-liquid mud, fifty or sixty feet
in diameter, on which huge bubbles, varying in size from an orange to
a hogshead, were continually forming and bursting. There was a faint
sulphurous smell, and the ground around the liquefied portion of the
surface, where the bubbles were breaking, was hot and cracked. The
conductor said that all attempts to reach the bottom of the holes
through which the bubbles arose had failed. Two of these geysers
were in active operation, and the plain away to the left of the rail
was said to contain a great number of them. After all it was very
unsatisfactory to see this ebullition going on without being able to
account for it; and, generally, I think we thought less of each other
and of our information after visiting them, and finding out that not
one of us had any theory on the subject which would bear either fire or
water.
I do not think I ever saw a sunset more beautiful than that which
marked the close of this day--certainly not in India or South Africa,
nor on the prairie, for which they make claims of surpassing beauty in
the matter of sunsets. As it died out, I felt that "thing of beauty"
could not "be a joy for ever," for it was a combination of colour and
of form, including sky and mountain, that it would be impossible to see
again.
The kindness of which we have had so many proofs, has followed,
accompanied, and preceded us all unremittingly and unweariedly. A
rough with some Bourbon on board mounted to-day the steps of the
car at a station, and insisted on seeing "this Duke." When he was
told that the object of his attention was engaged, he said, "This
is a land of liberty (as in his case it was), and he doesn't want a
bodyguard with him!" But the conductor sent him away about his business
without trouble. On the platform at Benson a few miners asked "the
Duke to come out and show himself." The people at the stations were
generally satisfied with a quiet peep; now and then an enthusiastic
Scotchman claimed a shake hands, which was always accorded to him. A
sleeper placed across the rails (accounted for by the officers on the
hypothesis that some loafer without a ticket had been turned off by the
conductor, and had put the sleeper in the way of the train to wreak
his vengeance--a thing which has occurred nearer home) was the only
substantial danger to which we were here exposed.
The heat (June 13th) was intense. The thermometer rose to 105 at one
o'clock in the day, and it was little comfort to us to be told that at
Deming it had been up to 110 the day before.
For some days we have been supping full of horrors, indeed
breakfasting and dining on them, for the papers contain accounts of
the extraordinary homicides all about this region. Tucson, Benson,
Wilcox--all these places were resounding with the exploits of "Billy
the Kid." Now at Tucson there is, I believe, a man whose name was once
amongst the very foremost in the United States. Who some twenty years
and more ago had not heard of General Fremont, "the Pathfinder," the
adventurous traveller, the energetic politician, the dashing soldier?
He had gone at the outbreak of the war to take up the chief command
in the west with all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. I was
somewhat astonished to find that he was at Tucson, the governor of the
Territory, on a humble salary, apparently the world-forgetting and
the world-forgot, while "Billy-the-Kid" was perpetrating numberless
atrocities under his nose, and Mr. Pat Garrett was dressing up his
loins with his revolver-belt, and about to go forth with a chosen band
of citizens and seek the redoubtable William.[A]
A person who has only seen settled States in Europe, or the Eastern
States of the North American Continent, cannot form any notion of a
territory which has become a centre of attraction to all the wild
adventurers and daring spirits which society, in the process of
formation, throws out as a sort of advanced guard. In Arizona, in
1870, according to the American Almanac, out of a total population
of 9658, 2729 could not write and 2690 could not read. Of the total
population, 2491 were foreign born, and 2753 were natives, the rest
being coloured or under ten years of age. In New Mexico, out of 91,000
people, 48,000 over ten years of age could not read, and 51,000 whites
over ten years of age could not write. It may be inferred from such
figures what is the general condition of the labouring classes in these
States and Territories. The inhabitants of these States have doubled
in the last ten years. They are filling up at a rate inconceivably
great--so great, indeed, that American newspapers are fairly bewildered
and American statesmen appalled by the rush across the Rocky Mountains
and down the rivers, although as yet but a small proportion of the
immense stream of immigrants has flooded the outlying territories. "At
this rate," exclaims a Western editor, "the old monarchies of Europe
will soon be depopulated." When Mr. Lincoln, in 1861, addressed his
inaugural to the expectant States he expressed his confident belief
that there were children then born who would live to see the flag of
the Union floating over no less than 100,000,000 of human beings. The
recent census of the United States gives a return of 51,000,000 of
people, but the most eminent statisticians have arrived at the belief
that the progress and increase of the States will not be at the same
rapid rate as that which marked the history of the Republic since the
cessation of the great civil war. It may be fairly inferred, however,
that at the end of this century the population of the United States
will greatly exceed that of Russia, or that of any empire except
China and Great Britain, including Hindostan. The population, on
each period of ten years, has increased at an average of more than
30 per cent.; in fact, nearer 33 per cent., and the centre of it has
travelled westward at the rate of more than fifty miles every ten
years, till the centre of population is now eight miles west by south
from Cincinnati. In 1800 the Union extended over only 239,935 square
miles. Its flag now floats over 1,272,239 square miles of States and
over 1,800,000 square miles of Territory governed by the central power
at Washington. "We cannot think," exclaims a Republican writer, "that
the war of rebellion settled all our troubles and made us secure in
our Republic. This enormous growth of the practically unknown West
reveals to us the grave dangers that threaten our nation. We meet
there the tremendous influences of alien races and alien religions."
The Americans of New England and of the Eastern States do not feel
anxious on that score, because their institutions are thoroughly
founded, their character formed, and they trust to the great power of
accomplished facts to assimilate the alien elements and sustain the
fabric of the Republic. The bugbear of a great Chinese immigration
has ceased to practically influence Californian politics, and it may
be safely assumed that the bulk of the future immigrants from the
Celestial Empire will only come from the same sources as those which
have hitherto supplied the stream. No wonder, however, that thoughtful
Americans--and there are many who think of the future of their country
as something quite apart from dollars--are filled with grave anxieties
when they see such floods of purely foreign material, which will in
all probability exercise a preponderating influence over the politics
of the Great Republic, surging into the States. Particularly have the
home missionary clergy, as they are styled, been struck by the enormous
influence which this foreign immigration has exercised. According
to one authority, the Rev. Mr. Stimson, of Worcester, "it is not a
question of spreading any particular form of Christianity or of Church
government, but a momentous struggle of American institutions with
alien civilisations and religions for the control of the great Western
country. The problem is not a matter of cleaning door-yards, but of
saving a continent for freedom." The Chinese Question and the Indian
Question are, they think, as nothing compared with the Irish Question
and the German Question. "The Republic," we are told, "stands on a
foundation as broad as humanity itself," whatever that may mean, "but
its condition of existence is a universal regard for the interests of
all." Often during the course of the Duke of Sutherland's excursion
it was our good fortune to fall in with men of great political and
social knowledge. The future of the Republic is, in the mind of these
men, clouded with uncertainty and doubt. They are apprehensive of
some unknown danger. It may be corruption of political life leading
to want of faith in free institutions; it may be the rival energies
and the opposing interests which Washington foresaw as likely to array
the East against the West--the Atlantic States against the inland
States, and it is calculated by some sanguine people that before this
century is over there will be eighteen, or possibly twenty, States
admitted into the Union formed out of the Territories which are now
under the central Government at Washington. Upon such influences as
these alien immigration may be expected to act with prodigious power.
At a recent meeting in Springfield a clergyman gave as an illustration
of the absolute indifference of the foreign immigrants to Republican
institutions a conversation he had with a Norwegian minister in
Minneapolis. "There is nothing," said this gentleman, "in America which
we Norwegians regard as of value except your land and your money. We
do not want to learn English: we do not want to know the Americans
around us; we have certainly no notion of becoming Americans, but we
intend to remain as we are--Norwegians." The Mormons control Utah. They
boast that they will soon govern five of the most important territorial
regions beyond the Rockies. But if Utah becomes a State, as she hopes
to do, she will found a Mormon code of laws and institutions beyond the
power of the United States to control. New Mexico may be considered as
a Roman Catholic State under the control of an excellent archbishop. Of
course all prophecies may be falsified by events, but judging by the
eighty years which have elapsed of the present century, and from the
ratio of increase in that time in the United States, the most liberal
construction may be placed even upon the bounding estimates of American
politicians and statists. When we look to the Far West and see, for
instance, how Winnipeg has become the centre of a great network of
river navigation, 300 miles in one direction, 600 miles in another,
and that the Mackenzie River passes for 1200 miles through what is
declared to be the future wheat region of the world, we may easily
comprehend the anxiety with which the patriotic American is filled lest
the future of such a State should fall into hands antagonistic to the
principles in which his _beau idéal_ of government has been founded and
has prospered.
_June 14._--At Lamy, a station named after the good archbishop of Santa
Fé, where we halted for a short time whilst the passengers of another
train were breakfasting, a citizen came up to me on the platform and
exclaimed, as if he were very much impressed by the news he was going
to give, "If you look in there, sir, you will see Bob Ingersoll at
breakfast!" I asked whether there was anything very remarkable about
the fact. "Well, sir," he said, "he is Colonel Ingersoll, of whom you
have heard. He is the most remarkable in-fidel in the United States,
and I really think he believes what he preaches. A good man to look at,
too, and, they say, first-rate in his family." I had a glance at the
believer in unbelief, and saw a very presentable-looking person, of
fine appearance and good features, busily engaged in making the most
of his time at one of the tables in the refreshment-room. He was the
observed of all observers, and appeared to like it; and I understood
from one of the crowd that he had just returned from inspecting some
mining ventures in which he was concerned; for, if he does not believe
in the world to come, he is credited with very strong faith in the
excellencies of the possession of wealth in the world that is. His
lectures are attended by crowded audiences, but, as an astute American
observed, "they won't come to much, for, after all, people who do
not believe anything can never get up a great enthusiasm. It is in
believing something that the populace has faith."
Once more our eyes were rejoiced with the sight of the lovely plains
of Las Vegas, wide-spreading fields decked with flowers and dotted with
flocks, bordered with ranges of softly contoured mountains, the courses
of the water streams indicated by bright vegetation and by growth of
trees of many kinds. From Lamy (170 miles) there is a gradual rise to
Raton, which we reached at 6.30 in the evening. The appearance of the
region we traverse as the train approaches the Raton Pass presents
a strong contrast to the desolate country through which we have been
passing. From Raton the train was drawn by two engines in front and
shoved by one behind, and even then the pace was not very rapid, for
the ascent is very sharp. All the more could we enjoy a very glorious
sunset, as we slowly ascended the mountain. Then darkness came on
rapidly, and we slid down towards La Junta into the night, and were all
fast asleep long before we arrived there. In the very early morning,
on June 15th, some two hours after midnight, we halted for a time at
Pueblo. At 9 o'clock we had to leave our beloved Pullman and change the
cars, for we were to take a fresh point of departure, starting from
the Union Depôt upon the Denver and Rio Grande narrow-gauge railway
for Denver, 119 miles distant, and making an excursion on the way to
Manitou, to which we diverged from Colorado Springs: for to go within
reach of that famous resort and not to see it would have been a great
outrage on all the rules and regulations established for the observance
of travellers. Certes narrow-gauge railways need an apology. Their
_raison d'être_ is, at the best, that they are better than nothing.
"If you won't have us, you can have nothing else." And in such a
mountainous region as we were about to visit, the difficulties and
expense connected with a broad-gauge line would have been enormous,
if indeed it could be constructed at all. The narrow-gauge carriages,
with seats to match, with which we were made acquainted for the first
time, were of course much less commodious and comfortable than those
we had quitted, but far superior to those on the Indian lines of the
same gauge, and Indian engineers had been over to take a lesson from
the Americans for the use of their carriage-builders. Atchison, Topeka,
and Santa Fé Company and Denver and Rio Grande Company have been at
daggers drawn and pistols cocked--ay, and fired--and at battles waged,
in times gone by; and now our friends on the former line were, like
ourselves, the guests of the latter, which was represented by several
official gentlemen anxious to do the honours to the Duke. The scenery
becomes grander and wilder every mile as the special hurries on as
well as it can over the sinuous line, which is piercing a mountain
region savage and sterile, and climbing by the sides of ravines and
creeping upwards in rocky valleys with pine-clad hill-tops and frowning
cliffs above. The engineer who designed the line is a Scotchman named
McMurtrie--or at least of recent Scotch origin--and he seems to have a
special gift for such aspiring work, and a gradient-compelling genius
not to be baffled by altitudes. We were mounting towards the snows.
Range upon range of whitened summits and hoary ridges came in view,
all paying homage to the rugged crown of Pike's Peak, which can be
seen from points more than 140 miles away. The fleecy cloudland which
seemed to lie before us, as we looked away from Pueblo, was resolving
itself into savage alps. And in these passes, which the eye caught for
a moment, there might be El Dorados still undiscovered, for around us
were cities springing out of the desert. Here the enchanter's wand is
the explorer's pick, and no one could say where the precious ore might
not be awaiting its touch. We were coming to the Land of Promises. The
conversation of our new friends, among whom were some gentlemen of the
press, related mostly to mines, and one of them had, as we discovered,
a very certain investment at the disposal of the Duke, in the form of a
mining-claim, which was worth, at the lowest computation, twice as much
as he was willing to take for it. There was no reason to doubt his good
faith, but it was felt that it was a kind of fortune which ought not to
pass into the hands of strangers, and should be reserved for the people
of the country; and I am sure all of the party who had the pleasure of
the owner's acquaintance hope that he has "made his pile" out of it,
and has more than realised his expectations.
Colorado Springs, forty-five miles from Pueblo, is nearly 6000 feet
above the level of the sea. The character of the line to it is best
described in the fact that the average grade per mile is 44·14, the
maximum curvature 6°. There are "no Springs" here, but the little town,
charmingly situated, is a halting-place much frequented in tourist-time
by travellers, and reputed to be healthful. There are some pleasant
houses visible from the station, at which we descended to take our
places in the carriages provided to take us to Manitou Springs, five
miles away. Mr. Palmer--if General, I beg his pardon--the President of
the Railroad, had important business to attend to, but he was so well
represented by Mr. Bell, the Vice-President, that no one regretted his
absence, and it cannot be said in his case _les absents ont toujours
tort_. He is reported to have made a very large fortune with much
ingenuity, and to have business talents which even in this country
excite admiration. Mr. Bell is an Irish gentleman, a member of the
medical profession, who has a delightful villa embowered in a garden
in the environs of Manitou, where the Duke and his friends found a
charming interior and an Irish-American welcome, and discovered that
strawberries and cream were almost as good in Colorado as in Covent
Garden. A quaint, odd place, Manitou--an American Martigny, with
Pike's Peak rising (14,300 feet above the sea) over it in the clear
sky, inspiring regret that we could not make the excursion to the
summit, which is rewarded, we were told, and I can believe, by one of
the grandest views in the world--the usual service of guides, horses,
and mules, and _calèches_--a naturalist's store with skins, minerals,
feathers, and stuffed "objects"--detached wooden houses and villas
in small plots of garden--a straggling street, and large hotels for
invalids. But there was the unusual feature of encampments here and
there by the roadside, and notices forbidding the pitching of tents
within certain limits which were explained by the fact that the high
reputation of the waters and air induces people to come from great
distances for the treatment of consumption, and diseases of throat and
lungs. Many of them find it cheaper to travel in horse waggons and
pitch their canvas dwellings when they wish to make a halt, than to
take up their quarters at hotels. Poor people! what pale, hectic cheeks
and wasted forms we saw; little groups picnicking by the sides of the
rivulets along the roads--each with a gnawing care--anxiety about some
dear one's health in the midst of them. Our driver, an intelligent,
chatty lad, was full of information, and we had to drive the prescribed
road by the wells out to the Ute Pass, a mountain-gorge wild enough--a
small _Tête Noire_--to points to which magniloquent names have been
given.
It is not for want of what is called puffing that Americans neglect
the resorts of health of their own country, and in the States far and
wide the beauties and advantages of Manitou are blazoned forth on the
walls of hotels and in guide-books to all who can read. I may confess
now that, notwithstanding the magnificent altitude of Pike's Peak, and
the eccentric forms of the rocks in the "Garden of the Gods," I was
disappointed with Manitou. But then the visit was short, and the day
was hot, and the way was long and dusty, and haply it might be that
under different circumstances Manitou would deserve much warmer praise.
It possesses indeed an abundance of curious springs, said to be full
of health-giving properties; and in the course of our drive we halted
several times to partake of drinks from various springs, out of one of
which bubbled up very good soda-water, precisely like Schweppe's best
in taste and appearance. At the large hotel, which put one in mind of
the great establishments of the same sort in Switzerland, the water
served at table to the guests--a sort of pleasant Apollinaris-tasting
beverage--came from a natural fountain.
The "cataract" nearly made us angry, and there was no regret felt when
the carriages returned to the hotel, where there was unwonted activity
and bustle, as the "Denver Zouaves" had just descended in a friendly
razzia on it, and were desolating the hearts and fireside resources of
Manitou. The consequences might have been serious, as it turned out,
to unoffending strangers. Those who needed it turned into the barber's
shop of the hotel to be shaved, and after some delay a coloured man
appeared, who began to try his hand on me. Fortunately it was not
'prentice, for it was very unsteady, and I became a little alarmed
for my cuticle. "It will be all right, mister," quoth the barber. "I
never cut any one. But I'm demoralised, dat's a fact, having to wait
on dem Denver Zouaves. Lor a messy on any enemy dey has! My nerve's
all gone to pieces wid their wantin' everting at once at the dinner!"
The hotel seemed far more clean and comfortable than the caravanserais
in the land of William Tell; but our stay was short, for we were put
under orders for a sight which has the most inappropriate name that
could be invented--a valley in which the most extraordinary-looking
columns carved out in a plateau by the agency of water, have been
left standing, detached and in groups, to which the visitor enters
through a cleft in a barrier of rock passing round the base of a pillar
of sandstone as high as a house. The "Garden of the Gods" contains
500 acres, and is surrounded by mountains and cliffs. The sandstone
pillars generally taper from the base upwards to a short distance from
the tops, which are flattened out or surmounted by slabs or blocks of
sandstone of fantastic outline, and they are called by names derived
from fancied likenesses to animals, birds, and men. The juxtaposition
of the most brilliantly hued, dazzling-red blocks and strata, with
masses of the same material of milky whiteness, gives the impression
that the scene is the work of human hands; it seems too quaint and
artificial for the hand of Nature, to which alone it is due; and the
vegetation and the trees are in keeping with the character of the
place. A trysting-place for geologists, and their happy hunting-ground,
no doubt. But why "the Garden of the Gods," I pray?
From the valley or cup, emerging by another road, the driver took us to
a ravine-like recess, almost girt in by high wooded mountains, in which
Mr. (General?) Palmer is erecting a mansion of palatial importance--a
picturesque site surely--cliffs, forests, and mountain all around, and
in view one most singular sandstone pillar, named the Major Domo, 120
feet high and only 30 feet round--a mountain stream brawling through
tangled brushwood glades--a garden. But the heat! That must prove a
terror by day to the inmates of Glen Eyrie Lodge or Castle--which, by
the by, was named, as one of us insisted, from a collection of rubbish
on a ledge in the face of one of the cliffs, which was, he maintained,
the nest of an eagle. It was now time to return to our train, and we
were not sorry to get back to Colorado Springs.
From Colorado Springs to our destination at Denver there were still 75
miles of rail, and the line continued to ascend till we reached Divide
(7186 feet), whence there was a gentle descent. There were sixteen
stations named on the time-table. We stopped at very few of them,
and travelled somewhat too fast to permit our placid enjoyment of the
scenery, austere and vast, which indeed deserved more attention than
could be given to it by passengers in a very lively train--endless
alps on alps, not sheeted with perpetual white, but rather flecked
with snowfields, which contrasted finely with the sombre pine-forests,
and the rich hues of the rocks, touched by the rays of the setting
sun, that, ere it slid behind the mountains, cast a rose-coloured
mantle on their summit. The evidences of a bustling city were not
wanting in the approaches to the capital of Colorado. There were tall
chimneys vomiting out smoke in the distance, and near at hand trains
of waggons were toiling over the dusty plain--still 5000 feet above
the sea-level--fast trotters and people on horseback, beer-gardens,
factories of all kinds, brick-kilns, and then a fringe of log houses
and wooden shanties, before the train stopped at the imposing and
substantial depot.
It was a quarter-past eight, nearly dark, when we reached Denver,
and glad were we to get into the hall of the Windsor Hotel, which was
crowded with a mixed multitude--miners, and speculators, and traders,
and some travellers like ourselves--a very busy scene indeed. In the
hotel were all human comforts nearly; hot and cold baths, and good
rooms, and more appliances of civilised existence, for those who could
pay for them, than could be found in many hostelries of approved
reputation in venerable towns at home; moreover, exuberant offers
of help and information. One goes to bed laden with obligations and
heavy with the sense of favours which can never be repaid. There was
now a _soupçon_ of frost in the air, and notwithstanding the heat
which we had endured the greater part of the day, fires were not
ungrateful; and as we peered out of our windows over the roofs of the
wide-spread houses of the town, we could see the snow on the lofty
ranges of hills, watered by the South Platte River and Cherry Creek,
which surround the cup in which Denver has been built in obedience
to the impulses of the increasing population, which now numbers, I
believe, 38,000 souls. There was a bright glare from the gas-lighted
streets, sounds of music, and a tumult of life in the town which
would have been creditable to an ancient metropolis. In the morning
from the hotel windows appeared a beautiful and widespread panorama
of the hills we had seen the evening before, peak above peak, none
very densely covered perhaps, or presenting continuous snowfields, but
extending in billowy sweeps far away to the horizon, all capped with
snow, now bathed in a flood of fervent sunshine, the snow lighted up
by the peculiar crimson tints common in Alpine regions. There were
duties in the way of sight-seeing and exploration of no ordinary
nature to be done. First there were interviews and receptions, and the
inevitable drive through the place as soon as the ordeal of breakfast
was over; and ordeal in some sort it was for the strangers to file
in to the public room and take their places at their table, aware
that the morning papers had subjected them to exhaustive criticism,
which was being verified by those around us. The morning papers too
had given some topics for reflection, indications that in the newly
created capital of Colorado desperate men, overtaken by the march of
law and order, had refused to accept service, and were vindicating
their rights as wild western outcasts to take or part with life as
of yore, in reckless encounters and deliberate assassinations. There
were, perhaps, at that moment some hundreds, if not thousands, out of
the population of 37,000 or 38,000 of the city, who belonged to the
adventurous classes--sporting-men, betting-men, ring-men, bar-keepers,
hell-proprietors, and their satellites, and the scum of the saloons
attracted from the great cities of the States for hundreds of miles,
by the prey which miners with belts full of gold, half mad with drink,
and always fond of excitement, frequently are; and if to these be added
the dissolute loafers and broken-down mining speculators, the strength
of the army arrayed against the law may be estimated; and the wonder is
that among a population armed to the teeth there are not more cases of
such violent deeds as we were reading of at breakfast. To the stranger
there was no evidence of the existence of these disturbing elements,
unless the bearded and booted men with speculation in their eyes,
in the hotel passages and halls, belonged to the dangerous, as they
certainly did to the mining, classes. As to the resources of the city,
although for rapidity of growth its wonders may be eclipsed by those of
Leadville, Denver claims a very high place in the catalogue of these
marvellous fungi of civilisation, of which the Western States present
almost unique examples. There is everything that any one can want to be
had for money in the place, and much more than most people need. Paris
fashions and millinery are in vogue. There are fine shops, handsome
churches, a theatre, breweries, factories, banks, insurance offices.
The principal street exhibits pretty young people, who would have
no occasion to fear comparison with the _beau monde_ in Eastern
or European capitals. The thoroughfares are crowded with vehicles,
and spruce carriages and well turned-out horses may be seen in the
favourite drive, that has been made over an indifferent road to the
base of the Rocky Mountains, which appear to be close at hand, though
they are thirteen miles away. But here and there in the well-dressed
crowd may be seen a Bohemian _pur sang_, or a miner in his every day
clothes, bent on a rig out and a good time of it. The streets, unpaved,
dusty, and rugged, are very wide, and bordered with trees, and the
houses generally are built of good red brick instead of wood; and
there are runnels of water like those one sees in Pretoria and other
Dutch towns in South Africa. The roads about the city leave much to be
desired; but Rome was not built in a day.
There are many ready-made clothing establishments in the main streets,
and there is a heavy trade in tinned provisions. Through the Western
States, as in South Africa, the débris of provision-tins constitutes
a certain and considerable addition to the objects to be seen in the
vicinity of every house, and to the mounds of rubbish in the street of
every village. How indeed could the first-comers in such regions keep
body and soul together without the supplies in such a portable form
of the first necessaries of life? Having once run up a town in these
remote wastes, the inhabitants are still compelled to make a liberal
use of the same sort of food, and mines of tinned iron gradually
accumulate around them.
Our first excursion was to the Argo Works, under very pleasant
auspices, for we had the wife of the Senator, who is one of the
principal partners, and Mrs. Pearce, whose husband is largely
interested in the works, taking charge of us. The works are at some
distance outside the town, but the lofty chimneys vomit out quite
sufficient vaporous fumes and smoke to blight the vegetation and to
give the people near at hand a taste of their quality. I am not going
to give a minute description, for more reasons than one, of what we saw
at the works; but it was a very interesting exhibition of the processes
by which the precious metals are extracted from the ores and delivered
to commerce. The Argo Works simply assay and reduce ores on commission,
but the business is on a very large scale. Immense piles, in fact small
mountains, of brown, cinnamon and earth coloured dust and rock were
heaped up in the sheds, to be brought to the furnaces and turned, when
divested of the lead, iron, copper, and gold, out in ingots of silver.
All the methods for the extraction of silver were shown to us, but
I committed a gross indiscretion when I asked, in my ignorance, "How
do you extract the gold?" "That," said the urbane gentleman who was
conducting us over the works, "we never permit strangers to see." So
there is more there than meets the eye.
The business of assaying here must be profitable, and if the reputation
of any firm be once established there is a secure fortune for its
members. The miners flock to them, and they can dictate terms. The
extent of mining work in the country around may be inferred from the
numerous offices in connection with it in the city. As a specimen
of what Messrs. Bush and Tabor of our hotel give their guests for
dinner, let me offer you this _menu_ of the 5.30 ordinary to-day
(June 16). Soup, beef à l'Anglaise; fish, boiled trout, anchovy sauce;
corned beef, leg of mutton, sirloin beef, chickens with giblet sauce,
fricassee à la Toulouse, veal, kidneys sautés aux croûtons, rice,
croquettes, baked pork and beans, saddle of antelope, currant jelly,
lamb, tongue, chicken salad, spiced salmon; innumerable "relishes" and
vegetables, baked rice pudding, strawberry pie, apricot pie, jelly,
blancmange, vanilla ice cream, macaroons, pound cake, fruit, Swiss
cheese, nuts, coffee, &c. The wines were not cheap: champagne 16_s._ a
bottle, St. Julien 6_s._, Leoville 14_s._, sherry 8_s._, brandy 14_s._
per bottle. Orders for "drinks" at the bar after dinner were much more
general than orders for wine at dinner.
Denver, in spite of its mineral wealth, is very poor, however, in
that of which the want would make life, even in America, intolerable.
The supply of drinking-water is scanty and bad, and last year there
was nearly a water famine. The _cartes_ in the hotel announced "Water
used in this room is boiled and filtered." But great efforts have been
made to furnish the inhabitants with a store, constant and adequate,
of the precious fluid, and we saw very considerable works, the
property of an Irish gentleman, erected before the town attained its
present dimensions, which were to be supplemented by a new enterprise
respecting which we heard much. Perhaps no town of equal size in an
equal length of time has ever had so much money and money's worth
flowing in and through it as Denver since the Colorado mines were
worked. It is asserted that the trade of the town for 1881 will exceed
8,000,000_l._ Colorado in 1879 yielded ores to the value of more than
3,750,000_l._ The output in the present year will exceed that of 1880.
In that year $35,417,517 worth of gold and $20,183,889 of silver (more
than 11,000,000_l._) was deposited in the United States Mint and Assay
Office. There is, besides, vast wealth in flocks and herds, and Denver
is the place where the people resort from Colorado for purposes of
trade and pleasure; altogether an astounding place, with a future quite
dazzling to think of, unless the mines give in, and even then Colorado
cannot again be poor; its climate and scenery will always attract
travellers, and its capacity for feeding sheep and cattle will secure
its population. "And as to the beetle?" Why, no one would have anything
to say to it. Nothing was known of it. There might be such things in
other States. "And the name?" Probably it was a red-coloured bug, and
got the name Colorado just as the river, or tobacco, was called, from
the hue of it. At all events the bug did not belong to the State.
The interest which the progress of Colorado and the condition of
society in the State excite was exemplified by the appearance in
Denver of a party of Hungarian noblemen, whose names gave occasion
for stumbling to the journalists who copied them out of the Hotel
Register--Count Andrassy and others, who were travelling under the
guidance of Dr. Rudolf Meyer, of Vienna. Although the air of Denver
is so much bepraised, it happens that most of our party felt rather
overcome at the end of our excursion through the town and the visit
to the smelting works, and one of the Hungarians was confined to his
room. However, they sallied out before dinner, and a gloomy prophet
of evil remarked, "If these strangers should have a difficulty, I
consider they'll hev only theirselves to blame. Some citizens don't
like strangers comin' in and starin' at them, and they're apt to be
awkward in their tempers in the afternoon." Knowing no danger, and
fearing none, they went off, and were a long time absent. Meantime we
were preparing for the road, as we were bound for Leadville, the city
of the "biggest boom" of mining times--"the Silver El Dorado," as the
guide-book, with a magnificent "bull," describes it. Our Hungarian
friends returned to the hotel ere we left. They were filled with
enthusiasm, and with a good deal also of curiosity in regard to the
shootings of which they had heard so much, and were following in our
track next day, and so we parted _sans adieux_. How the love of gold
has filled these lone valleys with desperate men! "They are a rough
lot, sure enough," said the landlord, "but lynching keeps them down;
and it is much better than hanging according to law, to my mind. It
certainly is cheaper." "How is it cheaper?" "Why," said he, "when a man
is prosecuted, or when he is tried before the judges, the law expenses
are heavy, and they fall on the county. When a man is lynched there is
only the expense of the rope, and a little loss of time for the boys
who do the job." From Denver to Pueblo and from Pueblo to Leadville
the line is on the narrow-gauge principle, and our train, which left
at seven o'clock in the evening, seemed to be driven on no principle at
all; for, anxious to astonish a Duke perhaps, or Britishers generally,
the driver did what certainly could not be called his level best to
send us along up and down a very rough line, and round the sharpest
curves, at the rate of forty miles an hour, so that when we turned
in, our rest, if rest at all it were, was exceedingly broken, and
we trundled about in our berths as if we were in a ship in a pretty
heavy sea. Still this narrow-gauge was the only line which could be
made through such a country as we were traversing. Peeps out of the
window ever and anon revealed, high up amongst the stars, rugged
mountain-tops, and for ever there came the sound of rushing water,
near or remote, as the train "bounded" on its course. I do not know
what stations we passed on our way, but the night was very long, and
I greeted with pleasure the first gleam of light above the hill-tops.
The Arkansas River was on our left, and at dawn we had glimpses of
its turbid stream running madly in deep gorges far below us. At the
South Arkansas station the train halted soon after daybreak, and then
we diverged from the main line, and a light train took us over the
Arkansas River by a fine bridge on its way up the Gunnison Extension
to visit the highest mountain-pass traversed by a railway in the
world. South Arkansas station is 217 miles from Denver, and is 6944
feet--and Marshall Pass (25 miles away), to which we were bound, is
10,760 feet--above sea-level. There were grades of 211 and curves of
24° on the way, and the railroad twisted in and out among the ravines
like an iron Alexandrine, for ever ascending till we had passed the
limits of forest life. There were stations at short intervals--Poncha
Springs, Mears, Silver Creek--from each other. From the stations there
is a good deal of cross-country traffic, and at one place we saw three
stages laden with men and women--or rather, to be polite and accurate,
let me say with women and ladies--starting, one with six horses, and
the other two with four each. These were bound for Gunnison, and as
we were halting for a little, the Duke and some others got out of the
train, and sauntered up towards the wooden shanties which formed "the
town," consisting of the usual array of saloons and drinking places.
However, our course was cut short by the information vouchsafed by one
of the officials, that it might be as well not to go up, as there had
been a big shooting match that morning, and that one man was killed
and four had been wounded, "and some of them were on the drink yet."
From 4.30 A.M. to 6.45 A.M. we struggled up towards the pass till
the line came to an end near the summit, and we were rewarded by some
very fine views, exceedingly like those of the Mont Cenis Railway or
the Sömmering. The hills on both sides of the line were stippled and
flaked with snow, but there was no extensive field, so far as the eye
could see, nor was there any appearance whatever of a glacier, the tops
generally being clear of snow, which only lodged in the ravines and
hollows. Strange it was in these alpine heights to hear the clang of
Italian tongues; but most of the navvies were from Italy, and if not
quite so strong as English or Americans, they were in more favour with
contractors, because they did more work, owing to their steadiness and
sobriety. The line was being pushed on at an astonishing rate, and one
man was pointed out to us who had laid four and a half miles of railway
in one day, "the biggest thing of the kind ever done." Our enjoyment
of the scenery was very much diminished by our animal appetites,
stimulated by the sharp mountain air, which craved incessantly for
food. But not even a cup of coffee was to be had until we got back to
the South Arkansas station, late in the morning, where an excellent
breakfast awaited us. Here we were detained some time by a derailment
of an engine in front.
From South Arkansas station to Leadville (61 miles) the railroad is
still more aspiring. The higher we ascend the less striking are the
scenic effects, but the grades are not very severe till we come to
Malta, where it reaches 130; from Hilliers to Leadville the maximum is
176, the curves being often 15°. The general character of the country
may be conceived from these figures, but no words can convey any idea
of the wholesale destruction of timber which has marked the progress
of the explorers and prospectors. Where the axe was weary the blaze
and the fire were called in, and hundreds of miles of forest are laid
in blackened ruin. At last we are on a level with the hill-tops.
There, on the hill-tops and in the valleys of a sterile region in
front of you, amidst those tall chimneys vomiting out smoke and steam,
is a wilderness of wooden huts, "the Great Carbonate Camp"--where we
leave the train--spread out over an undulating plateau, broken into
mound-like hills and sharp hillocks--bustling streets filled with the
most remarkable swarm of all nations that ever settled on any one spot
in the world. The story of Leadville reads like a chapter out of some
book of Oriental fable. It is a huge barrack of wooden houses, with
some solid and important buildings, with masses of tree-stumps cropping
up in the centre of the main thoroughfares, pitched over an undulating,
rugged, dusty ledge. In the midst of blocks of houses sprout up the
chimneys of furnaces and mining works, the clang of machinery fills
the air, which is thick with clouds of dust. It was a few years ago an
utterly wild, lifeless waste amidst the mountains covered with forests,
when three brothers, named Gallagher, exploring from California, were
led by some genius, good or bad, to test the material of the rocks in
the ravine. They struck gold ore, and silver too, and they set up a
claim; and presently they sold their shares in the land which they had
appropriated, for 40,000_l._, which they divided. Two used their wealth
wisely, and made more of it, and, taking to themselves the members of
the family, throve exceedingly; one, not so wise, if he were quite as
good, did not prosper as well as his brothers. But the scene of their
operations was soon swarming with enterprising miners. There was a
mighty "boom." Now there is a city! Leadville is, I think, the most
astonishing city on earth, but I am not by any means inclined to say
that it is a place I should like to be astonished about for more than
a few hours.
The party drove to the Morning Star, said to be the best mine in
Leadville; and the Duke, Lady Green, Sir Henry Green, and others, went
down the mine in miners' clothes or cloaks. Two others, whose names I
shall not give, remained above, and had, I fancy, the best of the time.
Afterwards we visited Grant's Smelting Works, and then back to the
Clarence Hotel and dined, strolling out afterwards through the town and
visiting the billiard saloons, the Grand Central Theatre, and finally,
where we were told Leadville life was to be seen in all its glory, the
faro and the kino tables, which, however, were doing but very little
business, as it was not until after midnight that play in the town
generally commenced. Instead of sleeping at the hotel, we resolved
to take refuge in the train, which was drawn up at the siding; and we
had to drive in order to reach it, as it was considered unsafe to walk
through the streets in the dark.
We started at four o'clock next morning, June 18th, and on arriving
at Arkansas Station learned that an engine was off the line in front
of us. Breakdown gangs were sent for, and all the locomotive talent
amongst our passengers repaired quickly to the scene. As it was not
easy to lift the engine, the engineers adopted the expedient of laying
a temporary rail to turn its flank so as to enable us to pass round
it, which we did after a delay of about an hour. The Duke got out and
sat on the cow-catcher by way of a change. But the interest we took in
the scenery was somewhat diminished by the intelligence that the delay
caused by the engine would prevent our enjoying the "soda bath" we had
been promised at Cañon City, and the sight of the State Prison, where
murderers were to be paraded by the dozen. About twenty miles north
of the Grand Cañon, the gorges through which the river runs became
wider and deeper. All that has been written about the Grand Cañon
utterly fails to convey an adequate idea of its exceeding grandeur
and wildness. The rocks--closing in so that the spectator in the car,
looking forward, thinks the progress of the train must be arrested,
and that it is not possible for it to get out of the _cul de sac_ which
appears in front, rising aloft for upwards of two thousand five hundred
feet on each side--are coloured with the brightest hues, and present an
infinite variety of form. The impetuous current of the Arkansas River,
contracted at times to the breadth of some twenty or thirty yards,
and penned into a space in which the waters boil and toss as if about
to leap on and submerge the passing cars, roars wildly down below on
our right at a depth varying as the line rises and falls. But it is
at the Bridge--a triumph of engineering skill--that the horrors of
the pass culminate. The sides of the ravine approach so near that the
daring engineer was enabled to execute the idea of lowering from above
a [**triangle]-shaped frame or trestle of iron; and, the ends catching
on each side of the gorge, permitted him to work on it for the
construction of the iron platform over which the train is carried at a
height of some hundreds of feet right over the maddened river. You can
look down through the interstices of the girders and glance shudderingly
at the hell of waters below--a sight and sensation never to be
forgotten. The ravine gradually expands and the cliffs recede as the
line strikes eastwards; and though the scenery retains a wild and
savage character for many miles farther, the impressions of the Grand
Cañon caused us to regard it with comparative indifference. We heard
many tales of the great railway war which was waged for the possession
of the pass, of which traces still remained in the ruins of posts of
vantage and observation, and the works of the defeated railroad
visible on the other side of the ravine. At night we reached Pueblo
and took up our quarters in our own cars, and continued our journey,
after some delay, towards Kansas City.