Armies of fleas
Leave the mission
Clover
Wild mustard
A carreta
Family travelling
Arrive at Pueblo de San José
Capt. Fisher
Description of the Pueblo
The embarcadero
Beautiful and fertile valley of the Pueblo
Absence of architectural taste in California
Town squirrels
Fruit garden
Grapes
Tropical fruits
Gaming rooms
Contrast between California and American gamesters
Leave San José
Beautiful avenue
Mission of Santa Clara
Rich but neglected lands
Effects of a bad government
A senora on the road-side
Kindness of Californian women
Fast riding
Cruel treatment of horses
Arrive at the mission of San Francisco
A poor but hospitable family
Arrive at the town of San Francisco
W.A. Leidesdorff, Esq., American vice-consul
First view of the bay of San Francisco
Muchachos and Muchachas
Capt. Montgomery
U.S. sloop-of-war, Portsmouth
Town of San Francisco; its situation, appearance, population
Commerce of California
Extortion of the government and traders.
_September 19_.--Several Californians came into the mission during the
night or early this morning; among them the husband of our hostess, who
was very kind and cordial in his greetings.
While our man Jack was saddling and packing the mules, they gathered
around us to the number of a dozen or more, and were desirous of
trading their horses for articles of clothing; articles which many of
them appeared to stand greatly in need of, but which we had not to part
from. Their pertinacity exceeded the bounds of civility, as I thought;
but I was not in a good humour, for the fleas, bugs, and other vermin,
which infested our miserable lodgings, had caused me a sleepless night,
by goring my body until the blood oozed from the skin in countless
places. These ruinous missions are prolific generators, and the
nurseries of vermin of all kinds, as the hapless traveller who tarries
in them a few hours will learn to his sorrow. When these bloodthirsty
assailants once make a lodgment in the clothing or bedding of the
unfortunate victim of their attacks, such are their courage and
perseverance, that they never capitulate. "Blood or death" is their
motto;--the war against them, to be successful, must be a war of
extermination.
Poor as our hostess was, she nevertheless was reluctant to receive any
compensation for her hospitality. We, however, insisted upon her
receiving a dollar from each of us (_dos pesos_), which she finally
accepted; and after shaking us cordially by the hand she bade us an
affectionate _adios_, and we proceeded on our journey.
From the Mission of San José to the Pueblo of San José, the distance is
fifteen miles, for the most part over a level and highly fertile plain,
producing a variety of indigenous grasses, among which I noticed
several species of clover and mustard, large tracts of which we rode
through, the stalks varying from six to ten feet in height. The plain
is watered by several _arroyos_, skirted with timber, generally the
evergreen oak.
We met this morning a Californian _carreta_, or travelling-cart,
freighted with women and children, bound on a pleasure excursion. The
_carreta_ is the rudest specimen of the wheeled vehicle I have seen.
The wheels are transverse sections of a log, and are usually about
2-1/2 feet in diameter, and varying in thickness from the centre to the
rim. These wheels are coupled together by an axletree, into which a
tongue is inserted. On the axletree and tongue rests a frame,
constructed of square pieces of timber, six or eight feet in length,
and four or five in breadth, into which are inserted a number of stakes
about, four feet in length. This frame-work being covered and floored
with raw hides, the carriage is complete. The _carreta_ which we met
was drawn by two yokes of oxen, driven by an Indian vaquero, mounted on
a horse. In the rear were two _caballeros_, riding fine spirited
horses, with gaudy trappings. They were dressed in steeple-crowned
glazed _sombreros, serapes_ of fiery colours, velvet (cotton)
_calzoneros_, white cambric _calzoncillos_, and leggins and shoes of
undressed leather. Their spurs were of immense size.
The party halted as soon as we met them, the men touching their heavy
_sombreros_, and uttering the usual salutation of the morning, "_Buenos
dios, senores_," and shaking hands with us very cordially. The same
salutation was repeated by all the senoras and senoritas in the
_carreta_. In dress and personal appearance the women of this party
were much inferior to the men. Their skins were dark, sallow, and
shrivelled; and their costume, a loose gown and _reboso_, were made of
very common materials. The children, however, were all handsome, with
sparkling eyes and ruddy complexions. Women and children were seated,
_à la Turque_, on the bottom of the _carreta_, there being no raised
seats in the vehicle.
We arrived at the Pueblo do San José about twelve o'clock. There being
no hotels in California, we were much at a loss where to apply for
refreshments and lodgings for the night. Soon, however, we were met by
Captain Fisher, a native of Massachusetts, but a resident of this
country for twenty years or more, who invited us to his house. We were
most civilly received by Senora F., who, although she did not speak
English, seemed to understand it very well. She is a native of the
southern Pacific coast of Mexico, and a lady of fine manners and
personal appearance. Her oldest daughter, about thirteen years of age,
is very beautiful. An excellent dinner was soon set out, with a variety
of the native wines of California and other liquors. We could not have
felt ourselves more happy and more at home, even at our own firesides
and in the midst of our own families.
The Pueblo de San José is a village containing some six or eight
hundred inhabitants. It is situated in what is called the "Pueblo
Valley," about fifteen miles south of the southern shore of the Bay of
San Francisco. Through a navigable creek, vessels of considerable
burden can approach the town within a distance of five or six miles.
The _embarcadero_, or landing, I think, is six miles from the Pueblo.
The fertile plain between this and the town, at certain seasons of the
year, is sometimes inundated. The "Pueblo Valley," which is eighty or
one hundred miles in length, varying from ten to twenty in breadth, is
well watered by the Rio Santa Clara and numerous _arroyos_, and is one
of the most fertile and picturesque plains in California. For pastoral
charms, fertility of soil, variety of productions, and delicious
voluptuousness of climate and scenery, it cannot be surpassed. This
valley, if properly cultivated, would alone produce breadstuffs enough
to supply millions of population. The buildings of the Pueblo, with few
exceptions, are constructed of adobes, and none of them have even the
smallest pretensions to architectural taste or beauty. The church,
which is situated near the centre of the town, exteriorly resembles a
huge Dutch barn. The streets are irregular, every man having erected
his house in a position most convenient to him. Aqueducts convey water
from the Santa Clara River to all parts of the town. In the main plaza
hundreds, perhaps thousands, of squirrels, whose abodes are under
ground, have their residences. They are of a brownish colour, and about
the size of our common gray squirrel. Emerging from their subterraneous
abodes, they skip and leap about over the plaza without the least
concern, no one molesting them.
The population of the place is composed chiefly of native Californian
land-proprietors. Their ranchos are in the valley, but their residences
and gardens are in the town. We visited this afternoon the garden of
Senor Don Antonio Sugnol. He received us with much politeness, and
conducted us through his garden. Apples, pears, peaches, figs, oranges,
and grapes, with other fruits which I do not now recollect, were
growing and ripening. The grape-vines were bowed to the ground with the
luxuriance arid weight of the yield; and more delicious fruit I never
tasted. From the garden we crossed over to a flouring-mill recently
erected by a son-in-law of Don Antonio, a Frenchman by birth. The mill
is a creditable enterprise to the proprietor, and he will coin money
from its operations.
The Pueblo de San José is one of the oldest settlements in Alta
California. Captain Fisher pointed out to me a house built of adobes,
which has been standing between 80 and 90 years, and no house in the
place appeared to be more substantial or in better repair. A garrison,
composed of marines from the United States' ships, and volunteers
enlisted from the American settlers in the country, is now stationed
here. The post is under the command of Purser Watmough, of the United
States sloop-of-war Portsmouth, commanded by Captain Montgomery. During
the evening I visited several public places (bar-rooms), where I saw
men and women engaged promiscuously at the game of _monte_. Gambling is
a universal vice in California. All classes and both sexes participate
in its excitements to some extent. The games, however, while I was
present, were conducted with great propriety and decorum so far as the
native Californians were concerned. The loud swearing and other
turbulent demonstrations generally proceeded from the unsuccessful
foreigners. I could not but observe the contrast between the two races
in this respect. The one bore their losses with stoical composure and
indifference; the other announced each unsuccessful bet with profane
imprecations and maledictions. Excitement prompted the hazards of the
former, avarice the latter.
_September 20_.--The morning was cloudy and cool; but the clouds broke
away about nine o'clock, and the sun shone from a vapourless sky, as
usual. We met, at the Pueblo, Mr. Grove Cook, a native of Gerrard
county, Ky., but for many years a resident of California. He is the
proprietor of a rancho in the vicinity. We determined to leave our
mules in charge of Mr. Cook's vaquero, and proceed to San Francisco on
hired horses. The distance from the Pueblo de San José to San Francisco
is called sixty miles. The time occupied in performing the journey, on
Californian horses at Californian speed, is generally six or seven
hours. Procuring horses for the journey, and leaving our baggage, with
the exception of a change of clothing, we left the Pueblo about eleven
o'clock A.M.
The mission of Santa Clara is situated about two and a half miles from
the town. A broad _alameda_, shaded by stately trees (elms and
willows), planted by the _padres_, extends nearly the entire distance,
forming a most beautiful drive or walk for equestrians or pedestrians.
The motive of the _padres_ in planting this avenue was to afford the
devout senoras and senoritas a shade from the sun, when walking from
the Pueblo to the church at the mission to attend mass. A few minutes
over the smooth level road, at the rapid speed of our fresh Californian
horses, brought us to the mission, where we halted to make our
observations. This mission is not so extensive in its buildings as that
of San José, but the houses are generally in better repair. They are
constructed of adobes; the church was open, and, entering the interior,
I found the walls hung with coarse paintings and engravings of the
saints, etc., etc. The chancel decorated with numerous images, and
symbolical ornaments used by the priests in their worship. Gold-paper,
and tinsel, in barbaric taste, are plastered without stint upon nearly
every object that meets the eye, so that, when on festive occasions the
church is lighted, it must present a very glittering appearance.
The rich lands surrounding the mission are entirely neglected. I did
not notice a foot of ground under cultivation, except the garden
inclosure, which contained a variety of fruits and plants of the
temperate and tropical climates. From want of care these are fast
decaying. Some excellent pears were furnished us by Mrs. Bennett, an
American lady, of Amazonian proportions, who, with her family of sons,
has taken up her residence in one of the buildings of the mission. The
picture of decay and ruin presented by this once flourishing
establishment, surrounded by a country so fertile and scenery so
enchanting, is a most melancholy spectacle to the passing traveller,
and speaks a language of loud condemnation against the government.
Proceeding on our journey, we travelled fifteen miles over a flat
plain, timbered with groves and parks of evergreen oaks, and covered
with a great variety of grasses, wild oats, and mustard. So rank is the
growth of mustard in many places, that it is with difficulty that a
horse can penetrate through it. Numerous birds flitted from tree to
tree, making the groves musical with their harmonious notes. The
black-tailed deer bounded frequently across our path, and the lurking
and stealthy _coyotes_ were continually in view. We halted at a small
cabin, with a _corral_ near it, in order to breathe our horses, and
refresh ourselves. Captain Fisher had kindly filled a small sack with
bread, cheese, roasted beef, and a small jug of excellent schiedam.
Entering the cabin, the interior of which was cleanly, we found a
solitary woman, young, neatly dressed, and displaying many personal
charms. With the characteristic ease and grace of a Spanish woman, she
gave the usual salutation for the hour of the day, "_Buenas tardes,
senores caballeros_;" to which we responded by a suitable salutation.
We requested of our hostess some water, which she furnished us
immediately, in an earthen bowl. Opening our sack of provisions, we
spread them upon the table, and invited the senora to partake of them
with us, which invitation she accepted without the slightest
hesitation, and with much good-nature, vivacity, and even thankfulness
for our politeness. There are no women in the world for whose manners
nature has done so much, and for whom art and education, in this
respect, have done so little, as these Hispano-American females on the
coast of the Pacific. In their deportment towards strangers they are
queens, when, in costume, they are peasants. None of them, according to
our tastes, can be called beautiful; but what they want in complexion
and regularity of feature is fully supplied by their kindliness, the
soul and sympathy which beam from their dark eyes, and their grace and
warmth of manners and expression.
While enjoying the _pic-nic_ with our agreeable hostess, a _caballada_
was driven into the _corral_ by two _vaqueros_, and two gentlemen soon
after came into the house. They were Messrs. Lightson and Murphy, from
the Pueblo, bound for San Francisco, and had stopped to change their
horses. We immediately made ready to accompany them, and were soon on
the road again, travelling at racehorse speed; these gentlemen having
furnished us with a change of horses, in order that we might be able to
keep up with them.
To account for the fast travelling in California on horseback, it is
necessary to explain the mode by which it is accomplished. A gentleman
who starts upon a journey of one hundred miles, and wishes to perform
the trip in a day, will take with him ten fresh horses and a _vaquero_.
The eight loose horses are placed under the charge of the _vaquero_,
and are driven in front, at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour,
according to the speed that is required for the journey. At the end of
twenty miles, the horses which have been rode are discharged and turned
into the _caballada_, and horses which have not been rode, but driven
along without weight, are saddled and mounted and rode at the same
speed, and so on to the end of the journey. If a horse gives out from
inability to proceed at this gait, he is left on the road. The owner's
brand is on him, and, if of any value, he can be recovered without
difficulty. But in California no one thinks of stopping on the road, on
account of the loss of a horse, or his inability to travel at the rate
of ten or twelve miles an hour. Horseflesh is cheap, and the animal
must go as long as he can, and when he cannot travel longer he is left,
and another horse is substituted.
Twenty-five miles, at a rapid gait over a level and fertile plain,
brought us to the rancho of Don Francisco Sanchez, where we halted to
change horses. Breathing our animals a short time, we resumed our
journey, and reached the mission of San Francisco Dolores, three miles
from the town of San Francisco, just after sunset. Between the mission
and the town the road is very sandy, and we determined to remain here
for the night, _corraling_ the loose animals, and picketing those we
rode. It was some time, however, before we could find a house to lodge
in. The foreign occupants of the mission buildings, to whom we applied
for accommodations for the night, gave us no satisfaction. After
several applications, we were at last accommodated by an old and very
poor Californian Spaniard, who inhabited a small house in one of the
ruinous squares, formerly occupied by the operative Indians. All that he
had (and it was but little) was at our disposal. A more miserable
supper I never sat down to; but the spirit of genuine hospitality in
which it was given imparted to the poor viands a flavour that rendered
the entertainment almost sumptuous--in my imagination. A cup of water
cheerfully given to the weary and thirsty traveller, by him who has no
more to part with, is worth a cask of wine grudgingly bestowed by the
stingy or the ostentatious churl. Notwithstanding we preferred sleeping
on our own blankets, these poor people would not suffer us to do it,
but spread their own pallets on the earth floor of their miserable hut,
and insisted so strongly upon our occupying them, that we could not
refuse.
_September 21_.--We rose at daylight. The morning was clear, and our
horses were shivering with the cold. The mission of San Francisco is
situated at the northern terminus of the fertile plain over which we
travelled yesterday, and at the foot, on the eastern side, of the coast
range of mountains. These mountains are of considerable elevation. The
shore of the Bay of San Francisco is about two miles distant from the
mission. An _arroyo_ waters the mission lands, and empties into the
bay. The church of the mission, and the main buildings contiguous, are
in tolerable repair. In the latter, several Mormon families, which
arrived in the ship Brooklyn from New York, are quartered. As in the
other missions I have passed through, the Indian quarters are crumbling
into shapeless heaps of mud.
Our aged host, notwithstanding he is a pious Catholic, and considers us
as heretics and heathens, gave us his benediction in a very impressive
manner when we were about to start. Mounting our horses at sunrise, we
travelled three miles over low ridges of sand-hills, with sufficient
soil, however, to produce a thick growth of scrubby evergreen oak, and
brambles of hawthorn, wild currant and gooseberry bushes, rose bushes,
briers, etc. We reached the residence of Wm. A. Leidesdorff, Esq., late
American vice-consul at San Francisco, when the sun was about an hour
high. The morning was calm and beautiful. Not a ripple disturbed the
placid and glassy surface of the magnificent bay and harbour, upon
which rested at anchor thirty large vessels, consisting of whalemen,
merchantmen, and the U.S. sloop-of-war Portsmouth, Captain Montgomery.
Besides these, there were numerous small craft, giving to the harbour a
commercial air, of which some of the large cities on the Atlantic coast
would feel vain. The bay, from the town of San Francisco due east, is
about twelve miles in breadth. An elevated range of hills bounds the
view on the opposite side. These slope gradually down, and between them
and the shore there is a broad and fertile plain, which is called the
_Contra Costa_. There are several small islands in the bay, but they do
not present a fertile appearance to the eye.
We were received with every mark of respectful attention and cordial
hospitality by Mr. Leidesdorff. Mr. L. is a native of Denmark; was for
some years a resident of the United States; but subsequently the
captain of a merchant vessel, and has been established at this place as
a merchant some five or six years. The house in which he resides, now
under the process of completion, is the largest private building in the
town. Being shown to a well-furnished room, we changed our
travel-soiled clothing for a more civilized costume, by which time
breakfast was announced, and we were ushered into a large dining-hall.
In the centre stood a table, upon which was spread a substantial
breakfast of stewed and fried beef, fried onions, and potatoes, bread,
butter, and coffee. Our appetites were very sharp, and we did full
justice to the merits of the fare before us. The servants waiting upon
the table were an Indian _muchachito_ and _muchachita_, about ten or
twelve years of age. They had not been long from their wild
_rancherias_, and knew but little of civilized life. Our host, however,
who speaks, I believe, nearly every living language, whether of
Christian, barbarian, or savage nations, seemed determined to impress
upon their dull intellects the forms and customs of civilization. He
scolded them with great vivacity, sometimes in their own tongue,
sometimes in French, Spanish, Portuguese, Danish, German, and English,
in accordance with the language in which he was thinking at the moment.
It seemed to me that the little fat Indians were more confused than
enlightened by his emphatic instructions. At the table, besides
ourselves and host, was Lieutenant W.A. Bartlett, of the U.S.
sloop-of-war Portsmouth, now acting as Alcalde of the town and district
of San Francisco.
The Portsmouth, Commander Montgomery, is the only United States vessel
of war now lying in the harbour. She is regarded as the finest vessel
of her class belonging to our navy. By invitation of Lieutenant
Bartlett, I went on board of her between ten and eleven o'clock. The
crew and officers were assembled on deck to attend Divine service. They
were all dressed with great neatness, and seemed to listen with deep
attention to the Episcopal service and a sermon, which were read by
Commander Montgomery, who is a member of the church.
In the afternoon I walked to the summit of one of the elevated hills in
the vicinity of the town, from which I had a view of the entrance to
the bay of San Francisco and of the Pacific Ocean. A thick fog hung
over the ocean outside of the bay. The deep roar of the eternally
restless waves, as they broke one after another upon the beach, or
dashed against the rock-bound shore, could be heard with great
distinctness, although some five or six miles distant. The entrance
from the ocean into the bay is about a mile and half in breadth. The
waters of the bay appear to have forced a passage through the elevated
ridge of hills next to the shore of the Pacific. These rise abruptly on
either side of the entrance. The water at the entrance and inside is of
sufficient depth to admit the largest ship that was ever constructed;
and so completely land-locked and protected from the winds is the
harbour, that vessels can ride at anchor in perfect safety in all kinds
of weather. The capacity of the harbour is sufficient for the
accommodation of all the navies of the world.
The town of San Francisco is situated on the south side of the
entrance, fronting on the bay, and about six miles from the ocean. The
flow and ebb of the tide are sufficient to bring a vessel to the
anchorage in front of the town and carry it outside, without the aid of
wind, or even against an unfavourable wind. A more approachable
harbour, or one of greater security, is unknown to navigators. The
permanent population of the town is at this time between one and two
hundred,[1] and is composed almost exclusively of foreigners. There are
but two or three native Californian families in the place. The
transient population, and at present it is quite numerous, consists of
the garrison of marines stationed here, and the officers and crews
attached to the merchant and whale ships lying in the harbour. The
houses, with a few exceptions, are small adobes and frames, constructed
without regard to architectural taste, convenience, or comfort. Very
few of them have either chimneys or fire-places. The inhabitants
contrive to live the year round without fires, except for cooking. The
position of San Francisco for commerce is, without doubt, superior to
any other port on the Pacific coast of North America. The country
contiguous and contributory to it cannot be surpassed in fertility,
healthfulness of climate, and beauty of scenery. It is capable of
producing whatever is necessary to the sustenance of man, and many of
the luxuries of tropical climates, not taking into the account the
mineral wealth of the surrounding hills and mountains, which there is
reason to believe is very great. This place is, doubtless, destined to
become one of the largest and most opulent commercial cities in the
world, and under American authority it will rise with astonishing
rapidity. The principal merchants now established here are Messrs.
Leidesdorff, Grimes and Davis, and Frank Ward, a young gentleman
recently from New York. These houses carry on an extensive and
profitable commerce with the interior, the Sandwich Islands, Oregon,
and the southern coast of the Pacific. The produce of Oregon for
exportation is flour, lumber, salmon, and cheese; of the Sandwich
Islands, sugar, coffee, and preserved tropical fruits.
California, until recently, has had no commerce, in the broad
signification of the term. A few commercial houses of Boston and New
York have monopolized all the trade on this coast for a number of
years. These houses have sent out ships freighted with cargoes of dry
goods and a variety of _knick-knacks_ saleable in the country. The
ships are fitted up for the retail sale of these articles, and trade
from port to port, vending their wares on board to the rancheros at
prices that would be astonishing at home. For instance, the price of
common brown cotton cloth is one dollar per yard, and other articles in
this and even greater proportion of advance upon home prices. They
receive in payment for their wares, hides and tallow. The price of a
dry hide is ordinarily one dollar and fifty cents. The price of tallow
I do not know. When the ship has disposed of her cargo, she is loaded
with hides, and returns to Boston, where the hides bring about four or
five dollars, according to the fluctuations of the market. Immense
fortunes have been made by this trade; and between the government of
Mexico and the traders on the coast California has been literally
_skinned_, annually, for the last thirty years. Of natural wealth the
population of California possess a superabundance, and are immensely
rich; still, such have been the extortionate prices that they have been
compelled to pay for their commonest artificial luxuries and
wearing-apparel, that generally they are but indifferently provided
with the ordinary necessaries of civilized life. For a suit of clothes,
which in New York or Boston would cost seventy-five dollars, the
Californian has been compelled to pay five times that sum in hides at
one dollar and fifty cents; so that a _caballero_, to clothe himself
genteelly, has been obliged, as often as he renewed his dress, to
sacrifice about two hundred of the cattle on his rancho. No people,
whether males or females, are more fond of display; no people have paid
more dearly to gratify this vanity; and yet no civilized people I have
seen are so deficient in what they most covet.
[1] This was in September, 1846. In June, 1847, when I left San
Francisco, on my return to the United States, the population had
increased to about twelve hundred, and houses were rising in all
directions.