HANGTOWN--DIGGING IN THE HOUSES--A GOLDEN VISION--SLAVES IN
CALIFORNIA--NEGROES--CALOMA--FIRST DISCOVERY OF GOLD--GREENWOOD
VALLEY--“THE ILLUSTRATED NEWS”--MIDDLE FORK OF THE AMERICAN
RIVER--A “BAR”--“SPANISH BAR”--NOMENCLATURE OF THE MINES--A
TABLE-D’HÔTE.
We worked our claim very successfully for about six weeks, when the
creek at last became so dry that we had not water enough to run our long
tom, and the claim was rendered for the present unavailable. It, of
course, remained good to us for next season; but as I had no idea of
being there to work it, I sold out my interest to my partners, and,
throwing mining to the dogs, I broke out in a fresh place altogether.
I had always been in the habit of amusing myself by sketching in my
leisure moments, especially in the middle of the day, for an hour or so
after dinner, when all hands were taking a rest--“nooning,” as the
miners call it--lying in the shade, in the full enjoyment of their
pipes, or taking a nap. My sketches were much sought after, and on
Sundays I was beset by men begging me to do something for them. Every
man wanted a sketch of his claim, or his cabin, or some spot with which
he identified himself; and as they all offered to pay very handsomely, I
was satisfied that I could make paper and pencil much more profitable
tools to work with than pick and shovel.
My new pursuit had the additional attraction of affording me an
opportunity of gratifying the desire which I had long felt of wandering
over the mines, and seeing all the various kinds of diggings, and the
strange specimens of human nature to be found in them.
I sent to Sacramento for a fresh supply of drawing-paper, for which I
had only to pay the moderate sum of two dollars and a half (ten
shillings sterling) a sheet; and finding my old brother-miners very
liberal patrons of the fine arts, I remained some time in the
neighbourhood actively engaged with my pencil.
I then had occasion to return to Hangtown. On my arrival there, I went
as usual to the cabin of my friend the doctor, which I found in a pretty
mess. The ground on which some of the houses were built had turned out
exceedingly rich; and thinking that he might be as lucky as his
neighbours, the doctor had got a party of six miners to work the inside
of his cabin on half shares. He was to have half the gold taken out, as
the rights of property in any sort of house or habitation in the mines
extend to the mineral wealth below it. In his cabin were two large
holes, six feet square and about seven deep; in each of these were
three miners, picking and shovelling, or washing the dirt in rockers
with the water pumped out of the holes. When one place had been worked
out, the dirt was all shovelled back into the hole, and another one
commenced alongside of it. They took about a fortnight in this way to
work all the floor of the cabin, and found it very rich.
There was a young Southerner in Hangtown at this time, who had brought
one of his slaves with him to California. They worked and lived
together, master and man sharing equally the labours and hardships of
the mines.
One night the slave dreamed that they had been working the inside of a
certain cabin in the street, and had taken out a great pile of gold. He
told his master in the morning, but neither of them thought much of it,
as such golden dreams are by no means uncommon among the miners. A few
nights afterwards, however, he had precisely the same dream, and was so
convinced that their fortune lay waiting for them under this particular
cabin, that he succeeded at last in persuading his master to believe it
also. He said nothing to any one about the dream, but made some pretext
for wishing to become the owner of the cabin, and finally succeeded in
buying it. He and his slave immediately moved in, and set to work
digging up the earthen floor, and the dream proved to be so far true,
that before they had worked all the ground they had taken out twenty
thousand dollars.
There were many slaves in various parts of the mines working with their
masters, and I knew frequent instances of their receiving their freedom.
Some slaves I have also seen left in the mines by their masters, working
faithfully to make money enough wherewith to buy themselves. Of course,
as California is a free State, a slave, when once taken there by his
master, became free by law; but no man would bring a slave to the
country, unless one on whose fidelity he could depend.
Niggers, in some parts of the mines, were pretty numerous, though by no
means forming so large a proportion of the population as in the Atlantic
States. As miners they were proverbially lucky, but they were also
inveterate gamblers, and did not long remain burdened with their
unwonted riches.
In the mines the Americans seemed to exhibit more tolerance of negro
blood than is usual in the States--not that negroes were allowed to sit
at table with white men, or considered to be at all on an equality, but,
owing partly to the exigencies of the unsettled state of society, and
partly, no doubt, to the important fact, that a nigger’s dollars were as
good as any others, the Americans overcame their prejudices so far that
negroes were permitted to lose their money in the gambling rooms; and in
the less frequented drinking-shops they might be seen receiving drinks
at the hands of white bar-keepers. In a town or camp of any size there
was always a “nigger boarding-house,” kept, of course, by a darky, for
the special accommodation of coloured people; but in places where there
was no such institution, or at wayside houses, when a negro wanted
accommodation, he waited till the company had finished their meal and
left the table before he ventured to sit down. I have often, on such
occasions, seen the white waiter, or the landlord, when he filled that
office himself, serving a nigger with what he wanted without apparently
doing any violence to his feelings.
A very striking proof was seen, in this matter of waiting, of the
revolution which California life caused in the feelings and occupations
of the inhabitants. The Americans have an intense feeling of repugnance
to any kind of menial service, and consider waiting at table as quite
degrading to a free and enlightened citizen. In the United States there
is hardly such a thing to be found as a native-born American waiting at
table. Such service is always performed by negroes, Irishmen, or
Germans; but in California, in the mines at least, it was very
different. The almighty dollar exerted a still more powerful influence
than in the old States, for it overcame all pre-existing false notions
of dignity. The principle was universally admitted and acted on, that no
honest occupation was derogatory, and no question of dignity interfered
to prevent a man from employing himself in any way by which it suited
his convenience to make his money. It was nothing uncommon to see men of
refinement and education keeping restaurants or roadside houses, and
waiting on any ragamuffin who chose to patronise them, with as much
_empressement_ as an English waiter who expects his customary coppers.
But as no one considered himself demeaned by his occupation, neither was
there any assumption of a superiority which was not allowed to exist;
and whatever were their relative positions, men treated each other with
an equal amount of deference.
After being detained a few days in Hangtown waiting for letters from San
Francisco, I set out for Nevada City, about seventy miles north,
intending from there to travel up the Yuba River, and see what was to be
seen in that part of the mines.
My way lay through Middletown, the scene of my former mining exploits,
and from that through a small village, called Cold Springs, to Caloma,
the place where gold was first discovered. It lies at the base of high
mountains, on the south fork of the American River. There were a few
very neat well-painted houses in the village; but as the diggings in the
neighbourhood were not particularly good, there was little life or
animation about the place; in fact, it was the dullest mining town in
the whole country.
The first discovery of gold was accidentally made at this spot by some
workmen in the employment of Colonel Sutter, while digging a race to
convey water to a saw-mill. Colonel Sutter, a Swiss by birth, had, some
years before, penetrated to California, and there established himself.
The fort which he built for protection against the Indians, and in which
he resided, is situated a few miles from where Sacramento City now
stands.
I dined at Caloma, and proceeded on my way, having a stiff hill to climb
to gain the high land lying between me and the middle fork of the
American River. Crossing the rivers is the most laborious part of
California travelling; they flow so far below the average level of the
country, which, though exceedingly rough and hilly, is comparatively
easy to travel; but on coming to the brink of this high land, and
looking down upon the river thousands of feet below one, the summit of
the opposite side appears almost nearer than the river itself, and one
longs for the loan of a pair of wings for a few moments to save the toil
of descending so far, and having again to climb an equal height to gain
such an apparently short distance.
Some miles from Caloma is a very pretty place called Greenwood Valley--a
long, narrow, winding valley, with innumerable ravines running into it
from the low hills on each side. For several miles I travelled down this
valley: the bed of the creek which flowed through it, and all the
ravines, had been dug up, and numbers of cabins stood on the hill-sides;
but at this season the creek was completely dry, and consequently no
mining operations could be carried on. The cabins were all tenantless,
and the place looked more desolate than if its solitude had never been
disturbed by man.
At the lower end of Greenwood Valley was a small village of the same
name, consisting of half-a-dozen cabins, two or three stores, and a
hotel. While stopping here for the night, I enjoyed a great treat in the
perusal of a number of late newspapers--among others the _Illustrated
News_, containing accounts of the Great Exhibition. In the mines one was
apt to get sadly behind in modern history. The Express men in the towns
made a business of selling editions of the leading papers of the United
States, containing the news of the fortnight, and expressly got up for
circulation in California. Of these the most popular with northern men
was the _New York Herald_, and with the southerners the _New Orleans
Delta_. The _Illustrated News_ was also a great favourite, being usually
sold at a dollar, while other papers only fetched half that price. But
unless one happened to be in some town or village when the mail from the
States arrived, there was little chance of ever seeing a paper, as they
were all bought up immediately.
I struck the middle fork of the American River at a place called Spanish
Bar. The scenery was very grand. Looking down on the river from the
summit of the range, it seemed a mere thread winding along the deep
chasm formed by the mountains, which were so steep that the pine trees
clinging to their sides looked as though they would slip down into the
river. The face of the mountain by which I descended was covered with a
perfect trellice-work of zigzag trails, so that I could work my way down
by long or short tacks as I felt inclined. On the mountain on the
opposite side I could see the faint line of the trail which I had to
follow; it did not look by any means inviting; and I was thankful that,
for the present at any rate, I was going down hill. Walking down a long
hill, however, so steep that one dare not run, though not quite such
hard work at the time as climbing up, is equally fatiguing in its
results, as it shakes one’s knees all to pieces.
I reached the river at last, and, crossing over in a canoe, landed on
the “Bar.”
What they call a Bar in California is the flat which is usually found on
the convex side of a bend in a river. Such places have nearly always
proved very rich, that being the side on which any deposit carried down
by the river will naturally lodge, while the opposite bank is generally
steep and precipitous, and contains little or no gold. Indeed, there are
not many exceptions to the rule that, in a spot where one bank of a
river affords good diggings, the other side is not worth working.
The largest camps or villages on the rivers are on the bars, and take
their names from them.
The nomenclature of the mines is not very choice or elegant. The rivers
all retain the names given to them by the Spaniards, but every little
creek, flat, and ravine, besides of course the towns and villages which
have been called into existence, have received their names at the hands
of the first one or two miners who have happened to strike the diggings.
The individual pioneer has seldom shown much invention or originality in
his choice of a name; in most cases he has either immortalised his own
by tacking “ville” or “town” to the end of it, or has more modestly
chosen the name of some place in his native State; but a vast number of
places have been absurdly named from some trifling incident connected
with their first settlement; such as Shirt Tail Cañon, Whisky Gulch,
Port Wine Diggins, Humbug Flat, Murderer’s Bar, Flapjack Canon, Yankee
Jim’s, Jackass Gulch, and hundreds of others with equally ridiculous
names.
Spanish Bar was about half a mile in length, and three or four hundred
yards wide. The whole place was honeycombed with the holes in which the
miners were at work; all the trees had been cut down, and there was
nothing but the red shirts of the miners to relieve the dazzling
whiteness of the heaps of stones and gravel which reflected the fierce
rays of the sun, and made the extreme heat doubly severe.
At the foot of the mountain, as if they had been pushed back as far as
possible off the diggings, stood a row of booths and tents, most of them
of a very ragged and worn-out appearance. I made for the one which
looked most imposing--a canvass edifice, which, from the huge sign all
along the front, assumed to be the “United States” Hotel. It was not far
from twelve o’clock, the universal dinner-hour in the mines; so I
lighted my pipe, and lay down in the shade to compose myself for the
great event.
The American system of using hotels as regular boarding-houses prevails
also in California. The hotels in the mines are really boarding-houses,
for it is on the number of their boarders they depend. The transient
custom of travellers is merely incidental. The average rate of board per
week at these institutions was twelve or fifteen dollars, and the charge
for a single meal was a dollar, or a dollar and a half.
The “United States” seemed to have a pretty good run of business. As the
hour of noon (feeding time) approached, the miners began to congregate
in the bar-room; many of them took advantage of the few minutes before
dinner to play cards, while the rest looked on, or took gin cocktails to
whet their appetites. At last there could not have been less than sixty
or seventy miners assembled in the bar-room, which was a small canvass
enclosure about twenty feet square. On one side was a rough wooden door
communicating with the _salle à manger_; to get as near to this as
possible was the great object, and there was a press against it like
that at the pit door of a theatre on a benefit night.
As twelve o’clock struck the door was drawn aside, displaying the
banqueting hall, an apartment somewhat larger than the bar-room, and
containing two long tables well supplied with fresh beef, potatoes,
beans, pickles, and salt pork. As soon as the door was opened there was
a shout, a rush, a scramble, and a loud clatter of knives and forks, and
in the course of a very few minutes fifty or sixty men had finished
their dinner. Of course many more rushed into the dining-room than could
find seats, and the disappointed ones came out again looking rather
foolish, but they “guessed there would be plenty to eat at the second
table.”
Having had some experience of such places, I had intended being one of
the second detachment myself, and so I guessed likewise that there would
be plenty to eat at the second table, and “cal’lated” also that I would
have more time to eat it in than at the first.
We were not kept long waiting. In an incredibly short space of time the
company began to return to the bar-room, some still masticating a
mouthful of food, others picking their teeth with their fingers, or with
sharp-pointed bowie-knives, and the rest, with a most provokingly
complacent expression about their eyes, making horrible motions with
their jaws, as if they were wiping out their mouths with their tongues,
determined to enjoy the last lingering after-taste of the good things
they had been eating--rather a disgusting process to a spectator at any
time, but particularly aggravating to hungry men waiting for their
dinner.
When they had all left the dining-room, the door was again closed while
the table was being relaid. In the mean time there had been constant
fresh arrivals, and there were now almost as many waiting for the
second table as there had been for the first. A crowd very quickly began
to collect round the door, and I saw that to dine at number two, as I
had intended, I must enter into the spirit of the thing; so I elbowed my
way into the crowd, and secured a pretty good position behind a tall
Kentuckian, who I knew would clear the way before me. Very soon the door
was opened, when in we rushed pell-mell. I laboured under the
disadvantage of not knowing the diggings; being a stranger, I did not
know the lay of the tables, or whereabouts the joints were placed; but
immediately on entering I caught sight of a good-looking roast of beef
at the far end of one of the tables, at which I made a desperate charge.
I was not so green as to lose time in trying to get my legs over the
bench and sit down, and in so doing perhaps be crowded out altogether;
but I seized a knife and fork, with which I took firm hold of my prize,
and occupying as much space as possible with my elbows, I gradually
insinuated myself into my seat. Without letting go the beef, I then took
a look round, and had the gratification of seeing about a dozen men
leaving the room, with a most ludicrous expression of disappointment and
hope long deferred. I have no doubt that when they got into the bar-room
they guessed there would be lots to eat at table number three; I hope
there was. I know there was plenty at number two; but it was a “grab
game”--every man for himself. If I had depended on the waiter getting
me a slice of roast beef, I should have had the hungry number threes
down upon me before I had commenced my dinner.
Good-humour, however, was the order of the day; conversation, of course,
was out of the question; but if you asked a man to pass you a dish, he
did do so with pleasure, devoting one hand to your service, while with
his knife or fork, as it might be, in the other, he continued to convey
the contents of his plate to their ultimate destination. I must say that
a knife was a favourite weapon with my _convives_, and in wielding it
they displayed considerable dexterity, using it to feed themselves with
such things as most people would eat with a spoon, if eating for a
wager, or with a fork if only eating for ordinary purposes.
After dinner a smart-looking young gentleman opened a monte bank in the
bar-room, laying out five or six hundred dollars on the table as his
bank. For half an hour or so he did a good business, when the miners
began to drop off to resume their work.