DESTRUCTION OF DOGS.—THE WASH-TUB MAIL.—THE SURRENDER IN THE
NORTH.—ROBBING THE CALIFORNIANS.—DEATH-SCENE IN A SHANTY.—THE MEN
WHO TOOK UP ARMS.—ARRIVAL OF THE INDEPENDENCE.—DESTITUTION OF OUR
TROOPS.—CAPTURE OF LOS ANGELES.
MONDAY, JAN. 11. I never expected, when threading the streets of
Constantinople, where dogs inherit the rights of citizenship, to
encounter such multitudes of them in any other part of the world. But
California is more than a match for the Ottoman capital. Here you will
find in every little village a thousand dogs, who never had a master:
every farm-house has some sixty or eighty; and every Indian drives his
cart with thirty or forty on its trail. They had become so troublesome,
that an order was given a few days since to thin their ranks. The
marines, with their muskets, were to be the executioners. The order, of
course, very naturally runs into dog-erels.
The dogs, the dogs! my gallant lads—
Let each one seize his gun,
And lead the battle’s fiery van,
Though Mars himself should run.
Remember Lodi’s blazing bridge,
Marengo’s shaking plain,
And Borodino’s thunder-clouds,
Where Cossacks fell like rain.
Now hurl their howling squadrons down
To Lethe’s silent shore;
They bark so loud, we scarce can hear
Our sleeping sentries snore.
Lay low the watch-dog first of all;
For he’s a saucy loon,
That bays all night the modest man
Who figures in the moon.
Then down the pointer: he it is
That threads the leaves and grass—
To train the sportman’s ready fire
At some poor luckless ass.
Then wing the lap-dog, that pert imp
Befondled by the fair,
And catching all the tender looks
Old bachelors should share.
O’er him, who falls in this dread strife,
The thunder-clouds shall roll,
Through shaking cliffs and caverned hills,
A requiem to his soul.
And dewy stars shall softly bend
From their celestial bowers,
To greet the meek-eyed spring, that comes
To strew his grave with flowers.
TUESDAY, JAN. 12. After three weeks, in which we had a cloudless sky and
balmy air, the wind has hauled into the southeast, and a gentle rain has
commenced falling. Its having crept upon us so softly, is a symptom that
it will continue with us some time. The first break of sunshine may be a
week hence.
WEDNESDAY, JAN. 13. We have no intelligence, as yet, from the seat of
war. The solicitude of the public to know the result is at the highest
pitch. No one doubts that the issue has been very decisive. A report
reached us to-day that the town of los Angeles had been taken by our
troops, and that a large portion of the Californians had laid down their
arms. This rumor comes through the washerwomen of this place. They get
their intelligence from the Indians, who cross the streams in which they
wash their clothes. Singular as this sort of mail may seem, it very
often conveys news, not only with wonderful dispatch, but with
extraordinary accuracy.
The first capture of los Angeles, by Com. Stockton, was announced here
by these washerwomen; they were also the first to spread the
intelligence of the breaking out of the insurrection at the same place,
and knew of the retreat of the Americans at San Pedro before any other
class of people in Monterey. So much for a wash-tub mail. You may think
lightly of it as of the soap-bubbles that break over its rim; but if you
are wise you will heed its intelligence. It is an old mail that has long
been run in California; and has announced more revolutions, plots, and
counterplots, than there are mummies in Memphis. Who, in other lands,
would dream of going to an old woman, washing her clothes in a mountain
stream, for the first tidings of events in which the destinies of
nations tremble? Mr. Morse need hardly come here with his magnetic
machine. One of these women would snap the news from a napkin or shirt
before his lightning-mail had got under way.
THURSDAY, JAN. 14. The small party of Californians who recently took up
arms on the bay of San Francisco, soon increased to two hundred. They
were, with few exceptions, men of the better stamp—men who had a
permanent interest in the soil, and who had refused to join the rash
spirits at the south. They had captured Mr. Bartlett, the chief
magistrate of the jurisdiction, and several other Americans, whom they
held as hostages.
Capt. Marston, with fifty men from the Savannah, and Capt. Maddox, with
a company of mounted volunteers, and Capt. Weber, with another band of
resolute spirits, met them. A general and decisive engagement was
anticipated; but after a few hours of pretty sharp fighting, the
Californians withdrew from Santa Clara, which was entered by our forces.
A flag of truce was sent in, and the leading spirits on both sides
assembled under the shadows of a great native oak. The Californians
stated that they had taken up arms, not to make war on the American
flag, but to protect themselves from the depredations of those who,
under color of that flag, were plundering them of their cattle, horses,
and grain; and that on assurance being given that these acts of lawless
violence should cease, they were ready to return quietly to their homes.
These demands were not enforced in a spirit of menace, but with that
moral firmness which belongs to a deep sense of wrong. They were acceded
to, and the parties separated, never again, I hope, to meet as
belligerents.
This is a much better mode of settling differences than through the
arbitrament of the bayonet. It is an easy thing to dislodge a man’s
argument by dislodging his life; but this summary process of getting rid
of an opponent will generally be followed by something worse. There is
terror even in the ghost of a misdeed.
FRIDAY, JAN. 15. We have further intelligence from the seat of war.
General Kearny, with his staff and a guard of one hundred dragoons,
arrived on the 6th ult. from New Mexico at San Pasqual, about thirty
miles from San Diego. Here he encountered a hundred and sixty
Californians, under Andres Pico, well mounted, and armed with rifles and
lances. A sanguinary engagement ensued, marked by the most daring,
determined conduct on both sides. Captain Johnson, with twelve dragoons,
led the charge, and was shot dead in the furious onset. Captain Moore,
with fifty dragoons, rushed to the front: the enemy wavered—retreated;
when this gallant officer, with a few of his men who were better mounted
than the rest, rushed on in pursuit. The enemy suddenly wheeled; and now
it was hand to hand between the heavy sword and lance. Captain Moore, on
his white charger was a mark which none could mistake. Lance after lance
was shivered by his flashing steel, till, at last, he sunk overpowered.
All this lasted but a few minutes, but long enough to reach its tragic
results before the remainder of the guard could come up.
The Californians at last retreated, and Gen. Kearny encamped on the
disputed field. But what a night it must have been! The camp-fire threw
its pale light on the countenances of nineteen, who sprung to their
saddles at the break of day, but who were now locked in the still
embrace of death. The burial rites performed, and another sun in the
heavens, the general was again on his way. But another hill bristling
with lances obstructs his march; it is stormed, carried, and here again
the weary and the wounded require repose. Through the energies of Lieut.
Beale, who seems ever to be where the hardiest enterprise demands, a
message is conveyed through the beleaguering lines of the enemy to the
camp of Com. Stockton, and a detachment of seamen and marines, under
Lieut. Gray, of the Congress, is sent out. This fresh force obliged the
Californians to relinquish their purpose of another engagement. Had they
not arrived, it was the intention of Gen. Kearny to cut his way to San
Diego, be the odds against him what they might. His gallant guard had
shown the reliance which might be reposed in them, by the desperate
valor which they had already evinced. The conduct of Capt. Turner, of
Lieut. Emory, and Capt. Gillespie might give a feature to any field
where life is perilled and laurels won; while the muse of history would
inscribe her glowing eulogy on the tombs of a Johnson, a Moore, and a
Hammond. They sleep in the soil of California, where the undying year
“Garlands with fragrant flowers their place of rest.”
SATURDAY, JAN. 16. The depredations complained of by those who took up
arms in the neighborhood of San Francisco, were committed by some of the
volunteers, previous to their joining Col. Fremont on his present
campaign. They are a class of persons who have drifted over the
mountains into this country from the borders of some of our western
states. It is a prime feature in their policy to keep in advance of law
and order, and to migrate as often as these trench on their
irresponsible privileges. Their connection with our military operations
here is a calamity that can only find a relief in the exigencies of war.
Were their lawless proceedings directed against those who are active
participators in this revolution, the evils which they inflict would
have some palliation. But the principal sufferers are men who have
remained quietly on their farms, and whom we are bound in honor, as well
as sound policy, to protect. To permit such men to be plundered under
the filched authority of our flag is a national reproach. No temporary
triumph can redeem the injuries inflicted, or obliterate their stain.
But the rash acts committed by one portion of the Californians, and the
wrongs endured by another, are fast drawing to a close.
SUNDAY, JAN. 17. As I was passing this morning one of the little huts
sprinkled around the skirts of Monterey, my steps were arrested by the
low moans which issued from its narrow door. On entering, I found on a
straw pallet a mother whom disease had wasted to a mere shadow, but
whose sufferings were now nearly over. She did not notice my entrance,
or any thing around; her eyes were lifted, fixed, and glassed in death.
A slight motion drew my attention to another corner of the hut, where I
discovered, in the dim twilight of the place, a little boy lying on a
mat, whom I supposed asleep; his young sister was near him, and trying
to cross his hands on his breast. She did not seem to notice me, spake
not a word, but went on with her baffled task, for the hand which she
had adjusted would roll off while she was attempting to recover the
other. Now and then she stopped for a moment and kissed the lips which
could return none, while her tears fell silently on the face of her dead
brother. In a few minutes two women entered, who, it seems, had gone out
to call their clergyman to administer the last rites to the mother. He
was too late: her spirit had fled. He spoke to her, called her by
name—but there was no answer; he turned to the little boy, whispered
Raphael, but all was silent and still. Directing the women where to
procure grave-clothes at the expense of the alcalde’s office, I wended
my way home. How little heeds the great stream of life the silent
rivulets of sorrow which mingle with its noisy tide!
MONDAY, JAN. 18. It is deeply to be regretted that the military
operations in California should prevent, at this time, an experimental
proof of the fertility of her soil. The rain that has already fallen is
so abundant, that all the arable land will retain its moisture
sufficiently to enable the crops to come to maturity. But this war has
broken up every agricultural arrangement, and defeated every possibility
of a generous harvest. The calamity will be felt most severely by the
emigrants. They arrive here with very slender means; and the idea of
paying twenty dollars a barrel for flour covers them with dismay.
Instead of having reached a land of plenty, they hastily conclude that
they are to suffer the miseries of destitution, and yield to a
despondency deeper than that which shook the faith of the Israelites
before their wants were miraculously supplied. But there is no manna
here, and no quails, except those which are secured by the hunter’s
skill. The day of miracles is over, even in California.
TUESDAY, JAN. 19. One of my boys caught a dove, a few days since,
clipped his wing, and placed him in our yard, which has a high wall
around it. He looked very lonely at first, but his mate soon came,
hovered around on the wall, and finally preferring captivity with him to
freedom without, flew down to his side. How beautiful is that affection
which never forsakes in adversity, but becomes deeper and stronger as
the waves of affliction roll higher over the object of its sympathy and
trust!
WEDNESDAY, JAN. 20. There is one feature in our military operations here
which is far asunder from that system of order which appertains to a
well-disciplined army. Every one who can raise among the emigrants
thirty or forty men, becomes a captain, and starts off to fight pretty
much on his own hook. Nor is he very scrupulous as to the mode in which
he obtains his horses, saddles, and other equipments. He takes them
wherever he can find them, and very often without leaving behind the
slightest evidence by which the owner can recover the value of his
property. He plunders the Californian to procure the means of fighting
him. Public exigency is the plea which is made to cover all the culpable
features in the transaction. This may justify, perhaps, taking the
property, but it never can excuse the refusal or neglect to give
receipts. It is due to Com. Stockton and Col. Fremont to say, that this
has been done without their sanction. Still, it reflects reproach on our
cause, and is a source of vast irritation in the community. No man who
has any possible means of redress left will tamely submit to such
outrages; and yet we expect the Californians to hug this chain of
degradation, and help to rivet its links. Let foreigners land on our own
coast, and do among us what Americans have done here, and every farmer,
in the absence of a musket, would shoulder his pitchfork and flail.
Human nature is the same here as there, and a sense of wrong will burn
as deeply in the one place as the other. I utter, for one, my note of
remonstrance, though it be as little heeded as the whispers of a leaf in
the roar of a storm-swept forest.
THURSDAY, JAN. 21. The scarcity of provisions in Monterey continues.
Flour is twenty-five dollars the barrel, and there is hardly a barrel in
the place at that. We have in our garrison about a hundred and fifty
men, and all are on a short allowance of bread. There is wheat in the
interior, but the mules which should be there to grind it have gone to
the wars. Even that sorry animal seems here not wholly insensible to
military glory. The trump of fame finds an echo even in his long ears.
FRIDAY, JAN. 22. The flag on the fort informed us this afternoon of the
approach of a ship within the rim of our bay. As she neared, the signals
on the Dale told her to be an American man-of-war. We conjectured at
once that she must be the Congress; but as she rounded into her berth we
could not recognize, in her majestic form, the features of our old
friend. She proved to be the Independence, commanded by Capt. Lavelette,
and bearing the broad pennant of Com. Shubrick. She sailed from the U.
States on the twenty-ninth of August, and arrived at Rio de Janeiro in
fifty-three days; remained there ten days; doubled the Cape and reached
Valparaiso in thirty-four days; stopped there seven, and reached here in
thirty-eight. This is splendid sailing; but the Independence is one of
the fastest, as well as one of the most powerful ships in our service.
Though razeed of her carronades, all her effective force remains. Her
battery is a frowning mass of thunder. Her officers are men of
enterprise and professional merit. They have brought a mail, well filled
with letters and papers, from the United States. If you would know the
value of a single letter, let an ocean roll between you and your home.
SATURDAY, JAN. 23. The Independence left the Columbus at Valparaiso,
under the broad pennant of Com. Biddle, who has instructions to favor us
here with a visit. The Columbus was in want of supplies, and would be
detained several days in procuring them. She had better lay in all she
will require, for there is nothing here. Unless a transport arrives
soon, there will not be salt provisions enough on the coast to enable
our squadron to go to sea two weeks. There has not been a transport here
for six months; our sailors have been living on fresh meat till they
hanker for the salt more than they ever did for the fresh. As for
clothing, they can hardly muster a shirt a piece, and one pair of shoes
among half a dozen is becoming rather a rare sight. This is a hard case,
when our markets at home are glutted with these articles. The sailor is
required to be faithful to the government, and the government should be
faithful to him. He should not be left here barefooted to patter about
like a duck in shallow water. It is well for him that it is a California
winter through which he is obliged to pass in his destitution; in the
same latitude on the Atlantic he would nearly have perished.
SUNDAY, JAN. 24. It is difficult to make the Californians understand why
you will not attend to office duties on the Sabbath. The apology that
you want it as a day of recreation, would be appreciated; but the plea
of its sanctity is with many wholly unintelligible. If you would make a
person respect the Sabbath, you must rear him in its sacred observance.
MONDAY, JAN. 25. The wash-tub mail is still further establishing its
claims to confidence. Its intelligence is no bubble breaking over its
rim, and evaporating into thin air; but a chain of facts carrying with
them the destinies of a nation. All that has reached us through this
singular mail is confirmed this morning by a California youth who has
arrived from below.
He left los Angeles some fourteen days since, and states that previous
to his departure, Com. Stockton had entered the town at the head of the
American forces from San Diego. He says there had been some pretty hard
fighting, in which the Californians had suffered severely. Col. Fremont,
he states, was within two days’ march of the Pueblo, and in a position
to cut off the retreat of the Californians to the north. He believes
that most of them have surrendered. This intelligence is, in every
essential particular, identical with that which reached us several days
since through the washerwomen of this town. They must have obtained it
from those who swept through to the north when the rout below first
commenced.
TUESDAY, JAN. 26. A Californian made me a present to-day of a wild goose
which he had just killed. I value the gift for the giver, rather than
any benefit it may be to me. I live mostly on mush; such a thing as a
wild goose never floats within the shadows of my domestic dreams. Even
the drum of the partridge is rarely heard there. Wild geese prevail here
in the greatest abundance; every lagoon, lake, and river is filled with
them. They fly in squadrons, which, for the moment, shut out the sun; a
chance shot will often bring two or three to the ground. The boys will
often lasso them in the air. This is done by fastening two lead balls,
several yards from each other, to a long line, which is whirled into the
air to a great height. In its descent the balls fall on opposite sides
of the neck of some luckless goose, and down he comes into the hands of
the urchin hunter; sometimes a pair are brought down, but one generally
manages to effect his escape. The boy little heeds the domestic relation
that may have subsisted between them; and yet there is something in
killing the mate of even a goose that might be relieved in the thought
that no other goose loved him.