porcelain or a rare Etruscan vase, and when I gently suggested that it
was a pity to rob the barroom of so elegant an ornament, he answered,
"Miners can't appreciate a handsome pitcher, any more than they can
good cooking, and Mrs. ---- will please to keep it."
Alas! I would infinitely have preferred the humblest brown jug, for
that really _has_ a certain beauty of its own, and, besides, it would
have been in keeping with my cabin. However, that good creature looked
upon the miraculous vegetable, the fabulous quadrupeds, and the
impossible bipeds, with so much pride that I had not the heart to tell
him that the pitcher was a fright, but, graciously accepting it, I hid
it out of sight as quickly as possible, on the trunk wash-stand behind
the curtain.
We breakfast at nine and dine at six, with a dish of soup at noon for
luncheon. Do not think we fare as sumptuously _every_ day as we did at
the coronation-dinner. By no means; and it is said that there will
probably be many weeks, during the season, when we shall have neither
onions, potatoes, nor fresh meat. It is feared that the former will not
keep through the whole winter, and the rancheros cannot at all times
drive in cattle for butchering, on account of the expected snow.
Ned is not the only distinguished person residing on this Bar. There is
a man camping here who was one of Colonel Fremont's guides during his
travels through California. He is fifty years of age perhaps, and
speaks several languages to perfection. As he has been a wanderer for
many years, and for a long time was the principal chief of the Crow
Indians, his adventures are extremely interesting. He chills the blood
of the green young miners, who, unacquainted with the arts of war and
subjugation, congregate around him by the cold-blooded manner in which
he relates the Indian fights that he has been engaged in.
There is quite a band of this wild people herding a few miles below us,
and soon after my arrival it was confidently affirmed and believed by
many that they were about to make a murderous attack upon the miners.
This man, who can make himself understood in almost any language, and
has a great deal of influence over all Indians, went to see them, and
told them that such an attempt would result in their own certain
destruction. They said that they had never thought of such a thing;
that the Americans were like the grass in the valleys, and the Indians
fewer than the flowers of the Sierra Nevada.
Among other oddities, there is a person here who is a rabid admirer of
Lippard. I have heard him gravely affirm that Lippard was the greatest
author the world ever saw, and that if one of his novels and the most
fascinating work of ancient or modern times lay side by side, he would
choose the former, even though he had already repeatedly perused it. He
_studies_ Lippard just as other folks do Shakespeare, and yet the man
has read and _admires_ the majestic prose of Chilton, and is quite
familiar with the best English classics! He is a Quaker, and his
merciless and unmitigated regard for truth is comically grand, and
nothing amuses me more than to draw out that peculiar characteristic.
For instance, after talking _at_ him the most beautiful and eloquent
things that I can think of, I will pitilessly nail him in this wise:--
"Now, I know that _you_ agree with me, Mr. ----?"
It is the richest and broadest farce in this flattering and deceitful
world to see him look right into my eyes while he answers smilingly,
without the least evasion or reserve, the astounding _truth_,--
"I have not heard a word that you have been saying for the last
half-hour; I have been thinking of something else!"
His dreamland reveries on these occasions are supposed to be a profound
meditation upon the character and writings of his pet author. I am
always glad to have him visit us, as some one of us is sure to be most
unflatteringly electrified by his uncompromising veracity. I am,
myself, generally the victim, as I make it a point to give him every
opportunity for the display of this unusual peculiarity. Not but that I
have had disagreeable truth told me often enough, but heretofore people
have done it out of spitefulness; but Mr. ----, who is the
kindest-hearted of mortals, never dreams that his merciless frankness
can possibly wound one's self-love.
But _the_ great man--officially considered--of the entire river is the
"Squire," as he is jestingly called. It had been rumored for some time
that we were about to become a law-and-order-loving community, and when
I requested an explanation, I was informed that a man had gone all the
way to Hamilton, the county seat, to get himself made into a justice of
the peace. Many shook their wise heads, and doubted, even if suited to
the situation, which they say he is not, whether he would _take_ here;
and certain rebel spirits affirmed that he would be invited to _walk
over the hill_ before he had been in the community twenty-four hours,
which is a polite way these free-and-easy young people have of turning
out of town an obnoxious individual. Not that the Squire is
particularly objectionable _per se_, but in virtue of his office, and
his supposed ineligibility to fill the same. Besides, the people here
wish to have the fun of ruling themselves. Miners are as fond of
playing at law making and dispensing as French novelists are of
"playing at Providence." They say, also, that he was not elected by the
voice of the people, but that his personal friends nominated and voted
for him unknown to the rest of the community. This is perhaps true. At
least, I have heard some of the most respectable men here observe that
had they been aware of the Squire's name being up as candidate for an
office which, though insignificant elsewhere, is one of great
responsibility in a mining community, they should certainly have gone
against his election.
Last night I had the honor of an introduction to "_His_ Honor." Imagine
a middle-sized man, quite stout, with a head disproportionately large,
crowned with one of those immense foreheads eked out with a slight
baldness (wonder if, according to the flattering popular superstition,
he has _thought_ his hair off) which enchant phrenologists, but which
one _never_ sees brooding above the soulful orbs of the great ones of
the earth; a smooth, fat face, gray eyes, and prominent chin, the _tout
ensemble_ characterized by an expression of the utmost meekness and
gentleness, which expression contrasts rather funnily with a satanic
goatee,--and you have our good Squire.
You know, M., that it takes the same _kind_ of power--differing, of
course, in degree--to govern twenty men that it does to rule a million;
and although the Squire is sufficiently intelligent, and the
kindest-hearted creature in the world, he evidently does _not_ possess
that peculiar tact, talent, gift, or whatever it is called, which makes
Napoleons, Mahomets, and Cromwells, and which is absolutely necessary
to keep in order such a strangely amalgamated community, representing
as it does the four quarters of the globe, as congregates upon this
river.
However, I suppose that we must take the goods the gods provide,
satisfied that if our King Log does no good, he is too sincerely
desirous of fulfilling his duty to do any harm. But I really feel sorry
for this mere young Daniel come to judgment when I think of the
gauntlet which the wicked wits will make him run when he tries his
first cause.
However, the Squire may, after all, succeed. As yet he has had no
opportunity of making use of his credentials in putting down miners'
law, which is, of course, the famous code of Judge Lynch. In the mean
time we all sincerely pray that he may be successful in his laudable
undertaking, for justice in the hands of a mob, however respectable,
is, at best, a fearful thing.
LETTER _the_ NINTH
[_The_ PIONEER, _October_, 1854]
THEFT _of_ GOLD-DUST--TRIAL _and_ PUNISHMENT
SYNOPSIS
The "Squire's" first opportunity to exercise his judicial power.
Holding court in a barroom. The jury "treated" by the Squire. Theft of
gold-dust, and arrest of suspect. A miners' meeting. Fear that they
would hang the prisoner. Regular trial decided upon, at the Empire,
Rich Bar, where the gold-dust was stolen. A suggestion of thrift.
Landlords to profit by trial, wherever held. Mock respect of the miners
for the Squire. Elect a president at the trial. The Squire allowed to
play at judge. Lay counsel for prosecution and defense. Ingenious
defense of the accused. Verdict of guilty. Light sentence, on account
of previous popularity and inoffensive conduct. Thirty-nine lashes, and
to leave the river. Owner of gold-dust indemnified by transfer of
thief's interest in a mine. A visit to Smith's Bar. Crossing the river
on log bridges. Missouri Bar. Smith's a sunny camp, unlike Indian.
Frenchman's Bar, another sunny spot. "Yank," the owner of a log-cabin
store. Shrewdness and simplicity. Hopeless ambition to be "cute and
smart". The "Indiana girl" impossible to Yank. "A superior and splendid
woman, but no polish". Yank's "olla podrida of heterogeneous
merchandise". The author meets the banished gold-dust thief.
Subscription by the miners on his banishment. A fool's errand to
establish his innocence. An oyster-supper bet. The thief's statements
totally incompatible with innocence.
Letter _the_ Ninth
THEFT _of_ GOLD-DUST--TRIAL _and_ PUNISHMENT
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_October_ 29, 1851.
Well, my dear M., our grand Squire, whom I sketched for you in my last
letter, has at length had an opportunity to exercise (or rather to
_try_ to do so) his judicial power upon a criminal case. His first
appearance as justice of the peace took place a week ago, and was
caused, I think, by a prosecution for debt. On that momentous occasion,
the proceeding having been carried on in the barroom of the Empire, it
is said that our young Daniel stopped the court twice in order to treat
the jury!
But let me tell you about the trial which has just taken place. On
Sunday evening last, Ned Paganini, rushing wildly up to our cabin, and
with eyes so enormously dilated that they absolutely looked _all_
white, exclaimed that "Little John" had been arrested for stealing four
hundred dollars from the proprietor of the Empire, and that he was at
that very moment undergoing an examination before the Squire in the
barroom of the Humboldt, where he was apprehended while betting at
monte. "And," added Ned, with a most awe-inspiring shake of his
corkscrews, "there is no doubt but that he will be hung!"
Of course I was inexpressibly shocked at Ned's news, for Little John,
as he is always called (who, by the way, is about the last person, as
every one remarked, that would have been suspected), seemed quite like
an acquaintance, as he was waiter at the Empire when I boarded there. I
hurried F. off as quickly as possible to inquire into the truth of the
report. He soon returned with the following particulars.
It seems that Mr. B., who on Sunday morning wished to pay a bill, on
taking his purse from between the two mattresses of the bed whereon he
was accustomed to sleep, which stood in the common sitting-room of the
family, found that four hundred dollars in gold-dust was missing. He
did not for one moment suspect Little John, in whom himself and wife
had always placed the utmost confidence, until a man, who happened to
be in the barroom towards evening, mentioned casually that Little John
was then at the Humboldt betting, or, to speak technically, "bucking"
away large sums at monte. Mr. B., who knew that he had no money of his
own, immediately came over to Indian Bar and had him arrested on
suspicion. Although he had lost several ounces, he had still about a
hundred dollars remaining. But as it is impossible to identify
gold-dust, Mr. B. could not swear that the money was his.
Of course the prisoner loudly protested his innocence, and as he was
very drunk, the Squire adjourned all further proceedings until the next
day, placing him under keepers for the night.
On the following morning I was awakened very early by a tremendous
"Aye," so deep and mighty that it almost seemed to shake the cabin with
its thrilling emphasis. I sprang up and ran to the window, but could
_see_ nothing, of course, as our house stands behind the Humboldt, but
I could easily understand, from the confused murmur of many voices and
the rapidly succeeding "ayes" and "noes," that a large crowd had
collected in front of the latter. My first apprehension was expressed
by my bursting into tears and exclaiming,--
"Oh! F., for God's sake, rise; the mob are going to hang Little John!"
And my fear was not so absurd as you might at first imagine, for men
have often been executed in the mines for stealing a much smaller sum
than four hundred dollars.
F. went to the Humboldt, and returned in a few minutes to tell me that
I might stop weeping, for John was going to have a regular trial. The
crowd was merely a miners' meeting, called by Mr. B. for the purpose of
having the trial held at the Empire for the convenience of his wife,
who could not walk over to Indian Bar to give her evidence in the case.
However, as her deposition could easily have been taken, malicious
people _will_ say that it was for the convenience of her husband's
_pockets_, as it was well known that at whichever house the trial took
place the owner thereof would make a handsome profit from the sale of
dinners, drinks, etc., to the large number of people who would
congregate to witness the proceedings. Miners are proverbial for their
reverence for the sex. Of course everything ought to yield where a lady
is concerned, and they all very properly agreed, _nem. con._, to Mr.
B.'s request.
The Squire consented to hold the court at Rich Bar, although many think
that thereby he compromised his judicial dignity, as his office is on
Indian Bar. I must confess I see not how he could have done otherwise.
The miners were only too ready, so much do they object to a justice of
the peace, to take the case _entirely_ out of his hands if their wishes
were not complied with, which, to confess the truth, they _did_, even
after all his concessions, though they _pretended_ to keep up a sort of
mock respect for his office.
Everybody went to Rich Bar. No one remained to protect the calico
shanties, the rag huts, and the log cabins, from the much talked of
Indian attack--but your humble servant and Paganini Ned.
When the people, the mighty people, had assembled at the Empire, they
commenced proceedings by voting in a president and jury of their own,
though they kindly consented (how _very_ condescending!) that the
Squire might _play at judge_ by sitting at the side of _their_ elected
magistrate! This honor the Squire seemed to take as a sort of salve to
his wounded dignity, and with unprecedented meekness _accepted_ it. A
young Irishman from St. Louis was appointed counsel for John, and a Dr.
C. acted for the prosecution. Neither of them, however, was a lawyer.
The evidence against the prisoner was, that he had no money previously,
that he had slept at the Empire a night or two before, and that he knew
where Mr. B. was in the habit of keeping his gold-dust, with a few
other circumstances equally unimportant. His only defense was, of
course, to account for the money, which he tried to do by the following
ingenious story.
He said that his father, who resides at Stockholm,--he is a Swede,--had
sent him, two months previously, five hundred dollars through the
express, which had been brought to him from San Francisco by a young
man whose name is Miller; that he told no one of the circumstance, but
buried the money (a common habit with the miner) on the summit of a
hill about half a mile from Indian Bar; that, being intoxicated on
Sunday morning, he had dug it up for the purpose of gambling with it;
and that Mr. M., who had gone to Marysville a week before, and would
return in a fortnight, could confirm his story. When asked if he had
received a letter with the money, he replied that he did, but, having
placed it between the lining and the top of his cap, he had
unfortunately lost it. He earnestly affirmed his innocence, and,
through his counsel, entreated the court, should he be condemned, to
defer the execution of his sentence until the arrival of Miller, by
whom he could prove all that he had stated. Notwithstanding the florid
eloquence of W., the jury brought in a verdict of guilty, and condemned
him to receive thirty-nine lashes at nine o'clock the following
morning, and to leave the river, never to return to it, within
twenty-four hours; a claim, of which he owned a part, to be made over
to Mr. B. to indemnify him for his loss. His punishment was very light,
on account of his previous popularity and inoffensive conduct. In spite
of his really ingenious defense, no one has the least doubt of his
guilt but his lawyer and the Squire. They as firmly believe him an
innocent and much-injured man.
Yesterday morning I made my visit to Smith's Bar. In order to reach it,
it was necessary to cross the river, on a bridge formed of two logs, to
Missouri Bar. This flat, which has been worked but very little, has a
path leading across it, a quarter of a mile in length. It contains but
two or three huts, no very extensive diggings having as yet been
discovered upon it. About in the middle of it, and close to the side of
the trail, is situated a burial-spot, where not only its dead repose,
but those who die on Indian Bar are also brought for interment. On
arriving at the termination of the level, another log bridge leads to
Smith's Bar, which, although it lies upon the same side of the river as
our settlement, is seldom approached, as I before observed, except by
crossing to Missouri Bar and back again from that to Smith's. The hills
rise so perpendicularly between this latter and Indian Bar that it is
utterly impossible for a woman to follow on the trail along their side,
and it is no child's-play for even the most hardy mountaineer to do it.
This level (Smith's Bar) is large and quite thickly settled. More gold
has been taken from it than from any other settlement on the river.
Although the scenery here is not so strikingly picturesque as that
surrounding my new home, it is perhaps infinitely more lovely, and
certainly more desirable as a place of residence, than the latter,
because the sun shines upon it all winter, and we can take long walks
about it in many directions. Now, Indian Bar is so completely covered
with excavations and tenements that it is utterly impossible to
promenade upon it at all. Whenever I wish for exercise, I am
_compelled_ to cross the river, which, of course, I cannot do without
company, and as the latter is not always procurable (F.'s profession
calling him much from home), I am obliged to stay indoors more than I
like, or is conducive to my health.
A short but steep ascent from Smith's Bar leads you to another bench,
as miners call it, almost as large as itself, which is covered with
trees and grass, and is a most lovely place. From here one has a
charming view of a tiny bar called Frenchman's. It is a most sunny
little spot, covered with the freshest greensward, and nestling
lovingly, like a petted darling, in the embracing curve of a
crescent-shaped hill opposite. It looks more like some sheltered nook
amid the blue mountains of New England than anything I have ever yet
seen in California. Formerly there was a deer-lick upon it, and I am
told that on every dewy morning or starlit evening you might see a herd
of pretty creatures gathering in antlered beauty about its margin. Now,
however, they are seldom met with, the advent of gold-hunting humanity
having driven them far up into the hills.
The man who keeps the store at which we stopped (a log cabin without
any floor) goes by the sobriquet of "Yank," and is quite a character in
his way. He used to be a peddler in the States, and is remarkable for
an intense ambition to be thought what the Yankees call "cute and
smart,"--an ambition which his true and good heart will never permit
him to achieve. He is a great friend of mine (I am always interested in
that bizarre mixture of shrewdness and simplicity of which he is a
distinguished specimen), and takes me largely into his confidence as to
the various ways he has of _doing_ green miners,--all the merest
delusion on his part, you understand, for he is the most honest of
God's creatures, and would not, I verily believe, cheat a man out of a
grain of golden sand to save his own harmless and inoffensive life. He
is popularly supposed to be smitten with the charms of the "Indiana
girl," but I confess I doubt it, for Yank himself informed me,
confidentially, that, "though a very superior and splendid woman, she
had no _polish_"!
He is an indefatigable "snapper-up of unconsidered trifles," and his
store is the most comical olla podrida of heterogeneous merchandise
that I ever saw. There is nothing you can ask for but what he
has,--from crowbars down to cambric-needles; from velveteen trousers up
to broadcloth coats of the jauntiest description. The _quality_ of his
goods, it must be confessed, is sometimes rather equivocal. His
collection of novels is by far the largest, the greasiest, and the
"yellowest-kivered" of any to be found on the river. I will give you an
instance of the variety of his possessions.
I wanted some sealing-wax to mend a broken chess-piece, having by some
strange carelessness left the box containing mine in Marysville. I
inquired everywhere for it, but always got laughed at for supposing
that any one would be so absurd as to bring such an article into the
mountains. As a forlorn hope, I applied to Yank. Of course he had
plenty! The best of it is, that, whenever he produces any of these
out-of-the-way things, he always says that he brought them from the
States, which proves that he had a remarkable degree of foresight when
he left his home three years ago.
While I sat chatting with Yank I heard some one singing loudly, and
apparently very gayly, a negro melody, and, the next moment, who should
enter but Little John, who had been whipped, according to sentence,
three hours previously. As soon as he saw me he burst into tears, and
exclaimed,--
"Oh! Mrs. ----, a heartless mob has beaten me cruelly, has taken all my
money from me, and has decreed that I, who am an innocent man, should
leave the mountains without a cent of money to assist me on my way!"
The latter part of his speech, as I afterwards discovered, was
_certainly_ a lie, for he knew that a sum amply sufficient to pay his
expenses to Marysville had been subscribed by the very people who
believed him guilty. Of course his complaints were extremely painful to
me. You know how weakly pitiful I always am towards wicked people; for
it seems to me that they are so much more to be compassionated than the
good.
But what _could_ I say to poor John? I did not for one moment doubt his
entire guilt, and so, as people often do on such occasions, I took
refuge in a platitude.
"Well, John," I sagely remarked, "I hope that you did not take the
money. And only think how much happier you are in that case, than if
you had been beaten and abused as you say you have, and at the same
time were a criminal!"
I must confess, much as it tells against my eloquence, that John did
not receive my well-meant attempt at consolation with that pious
gratitude which such an injured innocent ought to have exhibited, but,
F. luckily calling me at that moment, I was spared any more of his
tearful complaints.