RETURN OF T. O. LARKIN.—THE TALL PARTNER IN THE CALIFORNIAN.—MEXICAN
OFFICERS.—THE CYANE.—WAR MEMENTOES.—DRAMA OF ADAM AND
EVE.—CARNIVAL.—BIRTH-DAY OF WASHINGTON.—A CALIFORNIA
CAPTAIN.—APPLICATION FOR A DIVORCE.—ARRIVAL OF THE COLUMBUS.
TUESDAY, FEB. 9. The U. S. ship Cyane, S. F. Dupont commander, is just
in from San Diego. She was dispatched to bring up General Kearny and
suit, and our consul, T. O. Larkin, Esq. The arrival of the Independence
was not known at San Diego when the Cyane sailed. The return of Mr.
Larkin was warmly greeted by our citizens. Even the old Californians
left their corridors to welcome him back. He was captured by those
engaged in the outbreak some three months since, and has been closely
guarded as a prisoner of war. Still, in the irregularities of the
campaign, and the easy fidelity of those who kept watch, he has had many
opportunities of effecting his escape, but declined them all. He was on
the eve, at one time, of being taken to Mexico, and got ready for the
long and wearisome journey; but some of his captors relented, and he was
allowed to remain at the town of the Angels, when the success of the
American arms relieved him. He experienced during his captivity many
acts of kindness. Even the ladies, who in California are always on the
side of those who suffer, sent him many gifts, which contributed
essentially to his comfort. But he is once more with his family, and
long may it be before he takes another such trip as his last.
WEDNESDAY, FEB. 10. My tall partner in the Californian is back at last
from his three months’ trip to San Francisco. I excused his long
absence, and cheerfully endured all the toil of getting out the paper,
with only the assistance of a type-setting sailor, under the vague
impression that he was hunting up a wife. But he has come back as single
as he came into the world. Whether his solitude is a thing of choice or
necessity I have not inquired. A man’s celibacy is a misfortune, with
which it seems wicked to trifle. It is too selfish for pity and too
serious for mirth. But let my partner go; he will get a wife in due
time; indeed he has had one already; and that is about the number which
nature provides. Some, it is true, take a second, and a few totter on to
a third, seemingly that they may have company when they totter into the
grave. Go down to your narrow house alone in the majesty of an unshaken
faith, and trust to meet the partner of your youth in heaven. She waits
there to beckon you to the hills of light. Meet her not with a harem of
spirits at your side, but singly, as on earth,
When first beneath the hawthorn’s shade,
The love she long had veiled from view,
Her soft, uplifted eyes betrayed,
As fell their broad, bright glance on you.
THURSDAY, FEB. 11. Two of the officers of Gen. Castro sent through me
to-day to Com. Shubrick, applications for permission to return to
Mexico. They are very poor, having received no pay since our flag was
raised. There are many more in the same situation. They are entitled to
our sympathy. They have tried, it is true, to retake the country; but
they are not to blame for that: who would not have done the same,
situated as they have been? We may call their courage sheer rashness;
but even that has higher claims to respect than pusillanimity. They
fought for their places, it is true, but I do not see why there is not
quite as much honor in a man’s fighting for bread with which to feed his
children, as for a feather with which to plume his ambition. Very few in
these days fight from pure patriotism. Some hope of profit or preferment
lights their path and lures them on. There has been, I apprehend, quite
as much love of country in the Californian as the American, in the storm
of battle which has swept over this land.
FRIDAY, FEB. 12. The Cyane sailed to-day for San Francisco, where she
will be allowed a short repose. And truly she merits this indulgence;
she has been, under her indefatigable commander, for six months
incessantly on duty, and has performed some exploits that will figure in
history. All our ships on this coast have been extremely active, and
their crews more active still. Wherever they have let go their anchors,
it has been for service on shore. They have furled their sails only to
unfurl their flags, and have relinquished the rope only to handle the
carbine. Not a man of them has been missed in the hour of peril; not a
murmur has escaped their lips in privation and fatigue. They have done
the duty of soldiers as well as sailors. They have conquered California.
SATURDAY, FEB. 13. The great scarcity of provisions here, and the
difficulty experienced in subsisting our forces, has induced Com.
Shubrick to issue a circular, throwing the ports open for six months to
all necessary articles of food. This step is characterized by sound
policy as well as humanity. It will have the effect of lowering the
exorbitant prices which we are now paying for these articles, and go far
to secure the good will of the citizens. Every measure which relieves
the present exigency, will be fully appreciated. The scarcity is the
result, in some measure, of the war; in this we have a responsibility,
and the least we can do is to relieve, so far as it lies in our power,
the calamity which it has entailed.
SUNDAY, FEB. 14. The bones which bleach on the battle-field, and the
groans which load the reluctant winds, are not the saddest memorials of
war. They lie deeper; they are coffined in decayed virtue, and in the
convulsions of outraged humanity. They convert the heart of a nation
into a charnel-house, where the gloomy twilight only serves to betray
the corruption which festers within. Flowers may bloom over it, and
garlands be woven of their fragrant leaves, but within is death. We
shudder at a recollection of the Deluge, and still gaze with wonder and
fear at its ghastly memorials: _that_ catastrophe, however, swept the
earth but once, and then departed; but war has for ages trampled over it
in blood, followed by the shrieks of fatherless children, and the wail
of ruined nations.
Where’er the blood-stained monster trod
Fell deep and wide the curse of God.
MONDAY, FEB. 15. We have had the drama of Adam and Eve as a phase in the
amusements, which have been crowded into the last days of the carnival.
It was got up by one of our most respectable citizens, who for the
purpose converted his ample saloon into a mimic opera-house. The actors
were his own children, and those near akin. They sustained their parts
well except the one who impersonated Satan; he was of too mild and frank
a nature to represent such a daring, subtle character. It was as if the
lark were to close his eyes to the touch of day, or the moon to invest
herself with thunder. But Eve was beautiful, and full of nature as an
unweaned child. She rose at once into full bloom, like the Aphrodite of
Phidias from the sparkling wave. Every sound and sight struck on her
wondering sense, as that of a being just waked to life. Her untaught
motions melted into flowing lines, soft and graceful as those of a bird
circling among flowers.
“Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight’s too her dusky hair:
But all things else about her drawn,
From May-time and the cheerful dawn.”
The features of Adam betrayed his affinity to Eve. It was a brother’s
pride hovering over a sister’s loveliness. This imparted the highest
moral charm to the association. No unhallowed thought cast an ambiguous
shadow on the purity of their bliss. It was dashed by the evil one while
yet untouched by sorrow. When all was lost, Adam sustained himself in
his irreparable calamity with majestic resignation. In a moment of
forgetfulness he cast the blame on his companion, but her silent tears
instantly subdued him, and he clasped her to his heart. There is no
affection so deep as that which springs from sympathy in sorrow. Tears
fell here and there among the spectators, as the exiled pair left
forever their own sweet Eden. The birds became silent as if they had
sung only for the ear of Eve; the flowers would not lift themselves from
the light pressure of her departing footstep; and the streamlet trembled
in its flow, as if afraid it might lose the image, which her
disappearing form had cast upon its crystal mirror.
TUESDAY, FEB. 16. It is past midnight, and I have just come from the
house of T. O. Larkin, Esq., where I left the youth, the beauty, the
wisdom, and worth of Monterey. There are more happy hearts there than I
have met with in any other assemblage since I came to California. This
is the sunshine that has followed the war-cloud. This being the last
night of the carnival, every one has broken his last egg-shells. But few
of them contained cologne or lavender; nearly all were filled with
golden tinsel. Ladies and gentlemen too are covered with the sparkling
shower, and the lights of the chandeliers are thrown back in millions of
mimic rays. Two of the young ladies, remarkable for their sprightliness
and beauty, broke their eggs on the head of our commodore, and got
kissed by way of retaliation. They blushed, but still enjoyed their
triumph. I did not venture the _lex taliones_ in this form, but I had
eggs, and came off pretty even in the battle. The hens will now have a
little peace, and be allowed to hatch their chickens. The origin of this
egg-breaking custom I have not been able to learn. It seems lost in the
twilight of antiquity. I must leave it to those walking mummies, who
love to grope among the catacombs of perished nations: should they
discover it, their shouts will almost shake down the Egyptian pyramids.
WEDNESDAY, FEB. 17. A convict on our public works managed to escape
to-day, carrying off his ball and chain. Well, if he only will stop
stealing, he may run to earth’s utmost verge. I always like to see a
fellow get out of trouble, and sometimes half forget his crimes in his
misfortunes. This is not right, perhaps, in one situated as I am; but I
cannot help it; it is as much beyond my will as the pulses which throb
in my veins.
FRIDAY, FEB. 19. The volunteers, who accompanied Col. Fremont to the
south, are beginning to return to their homes on the Sacramento. Several
of them have stopped here on their way up, and report every thing
tranquil below. They murmur in deep undertones over their failure to
reach the Pueblo before the forces under Com. Stockton, and ascribe
their disappointment to a want of confidence in their courage and skill.
I know not how this may be; but, certainly, many and most of them could
have had but very little experience in California modes of warfare. They
may have been as brave as Cæsar, and their very daring have contributed
to their defeat. The secret of success here, where lances are used, lies
in a commander’s keeping his troops compact; but this is almost a moral
impossibility where men are well mounted and as full of enthusiasm as a
Cape Horn cloud of storms; without the severest discipline, they will
dash ahead, and take consequences however fatal. It was this error which
cost Capt. Burrows and his brave companions their lives.
SATURDAY, FEB. 20. We have had a fresh stir to-day, in the arrival of
Lieut. Watson, of the navy, with dispatches for Com. Shubrick and Gen.
Kearny, and with private letters to many of the officers. I have one
dated quite into November, and from my own hearth and home. I rushed
into the middle of it, then to each end, to ascertain that all were
well; and felt there was still one spot of earth covered with golden
light.
Mr. Watson sailed from New York, November twelfth, in the brig Sylvan,
landed at Chagres, and reached Panama on the twenty-seventh of the same
month; was detained there waiting for a conveyance till December the
twenty-fifth, when he took passage in an English steamer for Callao,
fell in with the U. S. storeship Erie, at Payta, on January third, went
on board of her, and arrived at San Francisco in thirty-nine days. But
for the detention in Panama, he would have reached here from New York in
sixty-seven days. But even this passage may be still further abridged by
a line of steamers. The day is not distant when a trip to California
will be regarded rather as a diversion than a serious undertaking. It
will be quite worth the while to come out here merely to enjoy this
climate for a few months. It is unrivalled, perhaps, in the world.
SUNDAY, FEB. 21. The American Tract Society has sent me out, by the
Lexington, a large box of their publications. Nothing could be more
timely. I have not seen a tract circulating in California. Emigrants are
arriving, settling here and there, without bringing even their Bibles
with them. The same is true of the United States troops. All these are
to be supplied from home, and by those two great institutions which are
now throwing the light of life over continents and isles. It remains for
the Missionary Society to do its duty, and dispatch to this shore the
self-denying heralds of the Cross.
MONDAY, FEB. 22. This is the birth-day of Washington. The Independence
and Lexington are brilliantly dressed; the flags of all nations stream
over them in a gorgeous arch. A salute of twenty-eight guns from the
Independence has expressed the homage of each state to the occasion.
Even here, and among the native population, Washington is known, and his
virtues are revered. People speak of him as a being exempted from the
weaknesses of our nature—as one commissioned of Heaven for a great and
glorious purpose, and endowed with the amazing powers requisite for its
accomplishment. It is the character of Washington that will never die.
His achievements will long survive on the page of history, but his
character is embalmed in the human heart. It is not a man’s deeds that
of themselves render him immortal. There must be some high consecrating
motive. He who reared the most gigantic of the pyramids has perished. He
sought an eternal remembrance in his monument, and not in any virtues
which it was to perpetuate. The monument remains, but where is its
builder?
“Gone, glimmering through the twilight of the past.”
TUESDAY, FEB. 23. We are eagerly looking for the arrival of store-ships
from the United States. Our squadron is without provisions, except fresh
grub from the shore. Our ships, as far as sea-service is concerned, are
of about as much use as so many nautical pictures. They look stately and
brave, as they ride at anchor in our bay; but let them go to sea, and
they would carry famine with them. It is a strange policy that keeps a
squadron on this coast in such a disabled condition. One would suppose
the Department had concluded men could live at sea on moonshine.
WEDNESDAY, FEB. 24. A Californian woman complained to me, several months
since, of very ill-treatment from her husband. He was thoroughly
indolent, cross, and abusive. She had him and the children to feed and
clothe, while he did nothing but lounge about, find fault, and abuse
her. She asked for a divorce; but I told her she must be satisfied, for
the present, with a separation. So I called him before me, and ordered
him to gather up his traps, and leave the house for six months. He
grumbled a little, but obeyed the order.
To-day, the woman returned, and said she would try to live with her
husband again; that he often now walked past the house, and looked very
lonely and dejected; that she felt sorry for him, and, if I was willing,
she would try him again. I told her, with all my heart; that this was
good Christian conduct in her, and much better than a divorce. She
seemed gratified with this warm commendation; so did her husband with
the permission to return. How the restoration will turn out, remains to
be seen. But how forgiving is the heart of woman! Where she has once
loved, the affection never dies. Neglect may chill it, but it will bud
again, as plants, over which the snows of winter have been spread.
THURSDAY, FEB. 25. A courier arrived to-day from los Angeles. Every
thing continues quiet there. The Californians had entirely dispersed,
and retired to their ranchos, with the exception of those few who had
gone upon a forlorn hope to Sonora. They will never be able to raise a
force there sufficient to make any impression here. Mexico has enough to
do in her own borders, without an attempt to retake California.
FRIDAY, FEB. 26. A captain of artillery in the Californian army, said to
me a few days since, that his military career was now over, that he had
a numerous family to maintain, and he thought of engaging in making
adobes, if I would sell him a small patch of ground for that purpose,
belonging to the municipality; but stated that he had no money, and was
not a little puzzled to know how he was to pay for it, unless I would
suggest some method by which he could work it out with his boys and
team. I told him I was drawing stone for a prison; that he could engage
in this, and should be allowed the highest cash price. To-day I found
him, with his boys, at the quarry, lifting the stone into his cart. To
show him that I connected no idea of degradation with the work, I turned
to and assisted in heaving in one of the hugest in the pile. He wanted
to know if the people in the United States generally worked. I told him
all, except a few loafers and dandies, who were regarded as a public
nuisance. He said he was glad to hear it; for he must now work himself,
and it would be an easier lot with others to share it with him. I
assured him he would have company enough, as the emigration poured in
over the mountains. I must say, I have more respect for this working
captain of artillery, than for forty of his rank clinging to the shreds
of office, and shrinking from honest labor.
SATURDAY, FEB. 27. The weather continues bright and beautiful. The air
is soft, the sky clear, the trees are in bud, and the fields are
medallioned with flowers. A bouquet of these floral offerings was sent
me to-day by a California lady, with a little note in liquid Castilian,
that I would accept them as emblems of those hopes, which were timidly
expanding into life for California. Long may those hopes remain, and
long the gentle being who has sent these tokens live to walk in their
light. She is one, over whom adversity has swept; but she breaks from
its gloomy veil, bright as a star from the shadow of the departed cloud.
SUNDAY, FEB. 28. It is Lent; and the family that live the next door to
mine, are at their evening prayers. They were merry as a marriage-bell
during carnival, and now they are in sackcloth and ashes. Religion has a
wide vibration to reach these extremes of mirth and melancholy. But life
itself is made up of vicissitudes; wealth disappears in poverty; smiles
dissolve in tears; and the light of our mortal being goes out in the
night of the grave. But there is a higher life that is never overcast—a
spirit-home, where sorrow and change come not. Thither let the weary
lift the eye of faith, and forget the cares which environ their
pilgrimage here.
MONDAY, FEB. 29. Our harbor has been thrown into some commotion again by
another of the great leviathans of the deep. The U. S. ship of the line
Columbus, commanded by Capt. Wyman, and bearing the broad pennant of
Com. Biddle, entered our bay in stately majesty this morning. She came
in before a light breeze, under a vast cloud of canvas, and rounded to
in splendid style, near the Independence. She is the largest ship that
has ever been on this coast. Ladies and gentlemen watched from hill-top
and balcony her approach. She is last from Callao; her crew have
recovered from the effects of the East India climate, and her officers
are all in excellent spirits. They preferred, of course, a more
immediate return home, but evinced no want of alacrity in obeying the
mandate that has brought them here. I find among them my esteemed
friend, the Rev. Mr. Newton, highly and justly respected in the service.
We separated in Philadelphia to meet in California! After this we may
expect to encounter each other at the North Pole!
TUESDAY, MARCH 3. The U. S. ship Warren, under Commander Hull, is in
from San Francisco. She is now in the fourth year of her cruise, and has
hardly copper enough on her to make a warming-pan. Some say she will
tumble to pieces if an attempt is made to get her around Cape Horn. But
she has weathered many stormy headlands, and would undoubtedly weather
that. Still, she may be detained here as a harbor-ship; but wiser heads
than mine will determine that question. Her crew ought to be permitted
to return; it is cruel to keep men out as they have been. The sailor’s
lot is hard enough, indeed, when every suitable effort is made to
relieve it. There are but few drops of real happiness in his cup of
sorrow. He has his pastimes, it is true, but they partake more of
insanity than sober gladness. He is cradled in adversity, reared in
neglect, and dies in the midst of his days; and over his floating bier
the ocean thunders its dirge.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4. The convict that escaped a short time since was
overtaken by my constable ninety miles distant, and brought back to-day.
He looked like one whose last desperate hope had been baffled. I asked
what he attempted to run away for. He said the devil put it into his
head. I told him the poor old devil had enough to answer for without
being charged with his offences, and doubled the time of his sentence,
which was only for six months, and sent him back to the public works. He
is rather a hardened character, but if he has got a good vein in him, I
will try to find it. And in the mean time I shall set the prisoners
quarrying stone for a school-house, and have already laid the
foundations. The building is to be sixty feet by thirty-two stories,
suitably proportioned, with a handsome portico. The labor of the
convicts, the taxes on rum, and the banks of the gamblers, must put it
up. Some think my project impracticable; we shall see.