materials. How California was represented therein. Floated from the top
of a lofty pine. The decorations at the Empire Hotel. An "officious
Goth" mars the floral piece designed for the orator of the day. Only
two ladies in the audience. Two others expected, but do not arrive. No
copy of the Declaration of Independence. Preliminary speeches by
political aspirants. Orator of the day reads anonymous poem. Oration
"exceedingly fresh and new". Belated arrival of the expected ladies,
new-comers from the East. With new fashions, they extinguish the author
and her companion. Dinner at the Empire. Mexican War captain as
president. "Toasts quite spicy and original". Fight in the barroom.
Eastern lady "chose to go faint" at sight of blood. Cabin full of
"infant phenomena". A rarity in the mountains. Miners, on way home from
celebration, give nine cheers for mother and children. Outcry at Indian
Bar against Spaniards. Several severely wounded. Whisky and patriotism.
Prejudices and arrogant assurance accounted for. Misinterpretation by
the foreigner. Injustices by the lower classes against Spaniards pass
unnoticed. Innumerable drunken fights. Broken heads and collarbones,
stabbings. "Sabbaths almost always enlivened by such merry events".
Body of Frenchman found in river. Murder evident. Suspicion falls on
nobody.
Letter _the_ Eighteenth
FOURTH _of_ JULY FESTIVAL--SPANISH ATTACKED
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_July_ 5, 1852.
Our Fourth of July celebration, dear M., which came off at Rich Bar,
was quite a respectable affair. I had the honor of making a flag for
the occasion. The stripes were formed of cotton cloth and red calico,
of which last gorgeous material no possible place in California is ever
destitute. A piece of drilling, taken from the roof of the Humboldt,
which the rain and the sun had faded from its original somber hue to
just that particular shade of blue which you and I admire so much,
served for a union. A large star in the center, covered with gold-leaf,
represented California. Humble as were the materials of which it was
composed, this banner made quite a gay appearance floating from the top
of a lofty pine in front of the Empire, to which it was suspended.
I went over to Rich Bar at six in the morning, not wishing to take so
fatiguing a walk in the heat of the day. After breakfast I assisted
Mrs. B. and one of the gentlemen in decorating the dining-room, the
walls of which we completely covered with grape-vines, relieved here
and there with bunches of elder-blow. We made several handsome
bouquets, and arranged one of syringas, white lilies, and the feathery
green of the cedar, to be presented, in the name of the ladies, to the
orator of the day. You can imagine my disgust, when the ceremony was
performed, to observe that some officious Goth had marred the perfect
keeping of the gift by thrusting into the vase several ugly purple
blossoms.
The exercises were appointed to commence at ten o'clock, but they were
deferred for half an hour, in expectation of the arrival of two ladies
who had taken up their abode in the place within the last six weeks,
and were living on Indian Bar hill. As they did not come, however, it
was thought necessary to proceed without them. So Mrs. B. and myself
were obliged to sit upon the piazza of the Empire, comprising, in our
two persons, the entire female audience.
The scene was indeed striking. The green-garlanded hills girdling Rich
Bar looked wonderfully beautiful, rising with their grand abrupt
outlines into the radiant summer sky. A platform reared in front of the
Empire, beneath the banner-tasseled pine, and arched with fragrant fir
boughs, made the prettiest possible rustic rostrum. The audience,
grouped beneath the awnings of the different shops, dressed in their
colored shirts,--though here and there one might observe a dandy miner
who had relieved the usual vestment by placing beneath it one of calico
or white muslin,--added much to the picturesqueness of the scene.
Unfortunately, the committee of arrangements had not been able to
procure a copy of the Declaration of Independence. Its place was
supplied by an apologetic speech from a Mr. J., who will, without
doubt, be the Democratic candidate for state representative at the
coming election. This gentleman finished his performance by introducing
Mr. B., the orator of the day, who is the Whig nominee for the
above-mentioned office. Before pronouncing his address, Mr. B. read
some verses which he said had been handed to him anonymously the
evening before. I have copied them for your amusement. They are as
follows, and are entitled--
_A_ FOURTH _of_ JULY WELCOME _to the_ MINERS
Ye are welcome, merry miners, in your blue and red shirts all;
Ye are welcome, 'mid these golden hills, to your nation's festival;
Though ye've not shaved your savage lips nor cut your barb'rous
hair,
Ye are welcome, merry miners, all bearded as ye are.
What though your brows are blushing at the kisses of the sun,
And your once white and well-kept hands are stained a sober dun;
What though your backs are bent with toil, and ye have lost the air
With which ye bowed your stately heads amid the young and fair,
I fain would in my slender palm your horny fingers clasp,
For I love the hand of honest toil, its firm and heartfelt grasp;
And I know, O miners brave and true, that not alone for self
Have ye heaped, through many wearying months, your glittering pile
of pelf.
Ye of the dark and thoughtful eyes beneath the bronzed brow,
Ye on whose smooth and rounded cheeks still gleams youth's purple
glow,
Ye of the reckless, daring life, ye of the timid glance;
Ho! young and old; ho! grave and gay,--to our nation's fete advance.
Ho! sun-kissed brother from the South, where radiant skies are
glowing;
Ho! toiler from the stormy North, where snowy winds are blowing;
Ho! Buckeye, Hoosier, from the West, sons of the river great,--
Come, shout Columbia's birthday song in the new Golden State.
Ho! children of imperial France; ho! Erin's brave and true;
Ho! England's golden-bearded race,--we fain would welcome you,
And dark-eyed friends from those glad climes where Spain's proud
blood is seen;
To join in Freedom's holy psalm ye'll not refuse, I ween.
For now the banner of the free's in _very deed_ our own,
And, 'mid the brotherhood of states, not ours the feeblest one.
Then proudly shout, ye bushy men with throats all brown and bare,
For, lo! from 'midst our flag's brave blue, leaps out a
_golden_ star.
After reading the above lines, Mr. B. pronounced beautifully a very
splendid oration. Unlike such efforts in general, it was exceedingly
fresh and new, so that, instead of its being that infliction that
Fourth of July orations commonly are, it was a high pleasure to listen
to him. Perhaps, where nature herself is so original, it is impossible
for even thought to be hackneyed. It is too long for a letter, but as
the miners have requested a copy for publication, I will send it to you
in print.
About half an hour after the close of the oration the ladies from the
hill arrived. They made a pretty picture descending the steep,--the one
with her wealth of floating curls turbaned in a snowy nubia, and her
white dress set off by a crimson scarf; the other with a little Pamela
hat placed coquettishly upon her brown braided tresses, and a
magnificent Chinese shawl enveloping her slender figure. So lately
arrived from the States, with everything fresh and new, they quite
extinguished poor Mrs. B. and myself, trying our best to look
fashionable in our antique mode of four years ago.
The dinner was excellent. We had a real live captain, a very
gentlemanly person, who had actually been in action during the Mexican
War, for president. Many of the toasts were quite spicy and original;
one of the new ladies sang three or four beautiful songs; and
everything passed off at Rich Bar quite respectably. To be sure, there
was a small fight in the barroom, which is situated just below the
dining-room, during which much speech and a little blood were spouted.
Whether the latter catastrophe was caused by a blow received, or the
large talking of the victim, is not known. Two peacefully inclined
citizens, who at the first battle-shout had rushed manfully to the
rescue, returned at the subsiding of hostilities with blood-bespattered
shirt-bosoms, at which fearful sight the pretty wearer of the Pamela
hat--one of the delinquents being her husband--chose to go faint, and
would not finish her dinner, which, as we saw that her distress was
real, somewhat marred our enjoyment.
On our way home, half a dozen gentlemen who preceded us stepped in
front of a cabin full of infant phenomena and gave nine cheers for the
mother and her children; which will show what a rarity those
embodiments of noise and disquiet are in the mountains. This group of
pretty darlings consists of three sweet little girls, slender,
straight, and white as ivory wands, moving with an incessant and
staccato (do you remember our old music lessons?) activity which always
makes me think of my hummingbirds.
About five o'clock we arrived at home, just in time to hear some noisy
shouts of "Down with the Spaniards," "The great American people
forever," and other similar cries, evident signs of quite a spirited
fight between the two parties, which was, in reality, taking place at
the moment. Seven or eight of the elite of Rich Bar, drunk with whisky
and patriotism, were the principal actors in this unhappy affair, which
resulted in serious injury to two or three Spaniards. For some time
past there has been a gradually increasing state of bad feeling
exhibited by our countrymen (increased, we fancy, by the ill-treatment
which our consul received the other day at Acapulco) towards
foreigners. In this affair our own countrymen were principally to
blame, or, rather, I should say, Sir Barleycorn was to blame, for many
of the ringleaders are fine young men who, when sober, are decidedly
friendly to the Spaniards. It is feared that this will not be the end
of the fracas, though the more intelligent foreigners, as well as the
judicious Americans, are making every effort to promote kindly feeling
between the two nations. This will be very difficult, on account of the
ignorant prejudices of the low-bred, which class are a large proportion
of both parties.
It is very common to hear vulgar Yankees say of the Spaniards, "O, they
are half-civilized black men!" These unjust expressions naturally
irritate the latter, many of whom are highly educated gentlemen of the
most refined and cultivated manners. We labor under great
disadvantages, in the judgment of foreigners. Our peculiar political
institutions, and the prevalence of common schools, give to _all_ our
people an arrogant assurance which is mistaken for the American
beau-ideal of a gentleman.
They are unable to distinguish those nice _shades_ of manner which as
effectually separate the gentleman from the clown with _us_ as do these
broader lines which mark these two classes among all other nations.
They think that it is the grand characteristic of Columbia's children
to be prejudiced, opinionated, selfish, avaricious, and unjust. It is
vain to tell them that such are not specimens of American gentlemen.
They will answer, "They call themselves gentlemen, and you receive them
in your houses as such." It is utterly impossible for foreigners to
thoroughly comprehend and make due allowance for that want of delicacy,
and that vulgar "I'm as good as you are" spirit, which is, it must be
confessed, peculiar to the lower classes of our people, and which would
lead the majority of them to--
Enter a palace with their old felt hat on;
To address the King with the title of Mister,
And ask him the price of the throne he sat on.
The class of men who rule society(?) in the mines are the gamblers,
who, for the most part, are reckless, bad men, although, no doubt,
there are many among them whose only vice is that fatal love of play.
The rest of the people are afraid of these daring, unprincipled
persons, and when they commit the most glaring injustice against the
Spaniards, it is generally passed unnoticed.
We have had innumerable drunken fights during the summer, with the
usual amount of broken heads, collar-bones, stabs, etc. Indeed, the
sabbaths are almost always enlivened by some such merry event. Were it
not for these affairs, I might sometimes forget that the sweet day of
rest was shining down upon us.
Last week the dead body of a Frenchman was found in the river, near
Missouri Bar. On examination of the body it was the general opinion
that he had been murdered. Suspicion has, as yet, fallen upon no person.
LETTER _the_ NINETEENTH
[_The_ PIONEER, _August_, 1855]
MURDER, THEFT, RIOT, HANGING, WHIPPING, ETC.
SYNOPSIS
Three weeks of excitement at Indian Bar. Murders, fearful accidents,
bloody deaths, whippings, hanging, attempted suicide, etc. A
sabbath-morning walk in the hills. Miners' ditch rivaling in beauty the
work of nature. Fatal stabbing by a Spaniard. Afterwards parades street
with a Mexicana, brandishing a long bloody knife. His pursuit by and
escape from the infuriated Americans. Unfounded rumor of conspiracy of
Spaniards to murder Americans. Spaniards barricade themselves. Grief of
Spanish woman over corpse of murdered man. Miners arrive from Rich Bar.
Wild cry for vengeance, and for expulsion of Spaniards. The author
prevailed upon to retire to place of safety. Accidental discharge of
gun when drunken owner of vile resort attempts to force way through
armed guard. Two seriously wounded. Sobering effect of the accident.
Vigilance committee organized. Suspected Spaniards arrested. Trial of
the Mexicana. Always wore male attire, was foremost in fray, and, armed
with brace of pistols, fought like a fury. Sentenced to leave by
daylight. Indirect cause of fight. Woman always to blame. Trial of
ringleaders. Sentences of whipping, and to leave. Confiscation of
property for benefit of wounded. Anguish of the author when Spaniards
were whipped. Young Spaniard movingly but vainly pleads for death
instead of whipping. His oath to murder every American he should
afterwards meet alone. Doubtless will keep his word. Murder of Mr.
Bacon, a ranchero, for his money, by his negro cook. Murderer caught at
Sacramento with part of money. His trial at Rich Bar by the vigilantes.
Sentence of death by hanging. Another negro attempts suicide. Accuses
mulatto Ned of attempt to murder him. Dr. C. in trouble for binding up
negro's self-inflicted wounds. Formation of "Moguls," who make night
hideous. Vigilantes do not interfere. Duel at Missouri Bar. Fatal
results. A large crowd present. Vigilance committee also present. "But
you must remember that this is California."
Letter _the_ Nineteenth
MURDER, THEFT, RIOT, HANGING, WHIPPING, &C.
_From our Log Cabin_, INDIAN BAR,
_August_ 4, 1852.
We have lived through so much of excitement for the last three weeks,
dear M., that I almost shrink from relating the gloomy events that have
marked their flight. But if I leave out the darker shades of our
mountain life, the picture will be very incomplete. In the short space
of twenty-four days we have had murders, fearful accidents, bloody
deaths, a mob, whippings, a hanging, an attempt at suicide, and a fatal
duel. But to begin at the beginning, as, according to rule, one ought
to do.
I think that, even among these beautiful hills, I never saw a more
perfect bridal of the earth and sky than that of Sunday, the 11th of
July. On that morning I went with a party of friends to the head of the
ditch, a walk of about three miles in length. I do not believe that
nature herself ever made anything so lovely as this artificial
brooklet. It glides like a living thing through the very heart of the
forest, sometimes creeping softly on, as though with muffled feet,
through a wilderness of aquatic plants, sometimes dancing gayly over a
white-pebbled bottom, now making a sunshine in a shady place, across
the mossy roots of the majestic old trees, and anon leaping with a
grand anthem adown the great solemn rocks which lie along its beautiful
pathway. A sunny opening at the head of the ditch is a garden of
perfumed shrubbery and many-tinted flowers, all garlanded with the
prettiest vines imaginable, and peopled with an infinite variety of
magnificent butterflies. These last were of every possible color, pink,
blue and yellow, shining black splashed with orange, purple flashed
with gold, white, and even green. We returned about three in the
evening, loaded with fragrant bundles, which, arranged in jars,
tumblers, pitchers, bottles, and pails, (we are not particular as to
the quality of our vases in the mountains, and love our flowers as well
in their humble chalices as if their beautiful heads lay against a
background of marble or porcelain,) made the dark old cabin a bower of
beauty for us.
Shortly after our arrival, a perfectly deafening volley of shouts and
yells elicited from my companion the careless remark that the customary
sabbath-day's fight was apparently more serious than usual. Almost as
he spoke there succeeded a deathlike silence, broken in a minute after
by a deep groan at the corner of the cabin, followed by the words,
"Why, Tom, poor fellow, are you really wounded?" Before we could reach
the door, it was burst violently open by a person who inquired
hurriedly for the Doctor, who, luckily, happened at that very moment to
be approaching. The man who called him then gave us the following
excited account of what had happened. He said that in a melee between
the Americans and the foreigners, Domingo, a tall, majestic-looking
Spaniard, a perfect type of the novelistic bandit of Old Spain, had
stabbed Tom Somers, a young Irishman, but a naturalized citizen of the
United States, and that, at the very moment, said Domingo, with a
Mexicana hanging upon his arm, and brandishing threateningly the long,
bloody knife with which he had inflicted the wound upon his victim, was
parading up and down the street unmolested. It seems that when Tom
Somers fell the Americans, being unarmed, were seized with a sudden
panic and fled. There was a rumor (unfounded, as it afterwards proved)
to the effect that the Spaniards had on this day conspired to kill all
the Americans on the river. In a few moments, however, the latter
rallied and made a rush at the murderer, who immediately plunged into
the river and swam across to Missouri Bar. Eight or ten shots were
fired at him while in the water, not one of which hit him. He ran like
an antelope across the flat, swam thence to Smith's Bar, and escaped by
the road leading out of the mountains from The Junction. Several men
went in pursuit of him, but he was not taken, and without doubt is now
safe in Mexico.
In the mean while the consternation was terrific. The Spaniards, who,
with the exception of six or eight, knew no more of the affair than I
did, thought that the Americans had arisen against them, and our own
countrymen, equally ignorant, fancied the same of the foreigners. About
twenty of the latter, who were either sleeping or reading in their
cabins at the time of the _emeute_, aroused by the cry of "Down with
the Spaniards!" barricaded themselves in a drinking-saloon, determined
to defend themselves as long as possible against the massacre which was
fully expected would follow this appalling shout. In the bakeshop,
which stands next door to our cabin, young Tom Somers lay straightened
for the grave (he lived but fifteen minutes after he was wounded),
while over his dead body a Spanish woman was weeping and moaning in the
most piteous and heartrending manner. The Rich Barians, who had heard a
most exaggerated account of the rising of the Spaniards against the
Americans, armed with rifles, pistols, clubs, dirks, etc., were rushing
down the hill by hundreds. Each one added fuel to his rage by crowding
into the little bakery to gaze upon the blood-bathed bosom of the
victim, yet warm with the life which but an hour before it had so
triumphantly worn. Then arose the most fearful shouts of "Down with the
Spaniards!" "Drive every foreigner off the river!" "Don't let one of
the murderous devils remain!" "Oh, if you have a drop of American blood
in your veins, it must cry out for vengeance upon the cowardly
assassins of poor Tom!" All this, mingled with the most horrible oaths
and execrations, yelled up as if in mockery into that smiling heaven,
which, in its fair sabbath calm, bent unmoved over the hell which was
raging below.
After a time the more sensible and sober part of the community
succeeded in quieting, in a partial degree, the enraged and excited
multitude. During the whole affair I had remained perfectly calm,--in
truth, much more so than I am now, when recalling it. The entire
catastrophe had been so unexpected, and so sudden in its consummation,
that I fancy I was stupefied into the most exemplary good behavior. F.
and several of his friends, taking advantage of the lull in the storm,
came into the cabin and entreated me to join the two women who were
living on the hill. At this time it seemed to be the general opinion
that there would be a serious fight, and they said I might be wounded
accidentally if I remained on the Bar. As I had no fear of anything of
the kind, I pleaded hard to be allowed to stop, but when told that my
presence would increase the anxiety of our friends, of course, like a
dutiful wife, I went on to the hill.
We three women, left entirely alone, seated ourselves upon a log
overlooking the strange scene below. The Bar was a sea of heads,
bristling with guns, rifles, and clubs. We could see nothing, but
fancied from the apparent quiet of the crowd that the miners were
taking measures to investigate the sad event of the day. All at once we
were startled by the firing of a gun, and the next moment, the crowd
dispersing, we saw a man led into the log cabin, while another was
carried, apparently lifeless, into a Spanish drinking-saloon, from one
end of which were burst off instantly several boards, evidently to give
air to the wounded person. Of course we were utterly unable to imagine
what had happened, and, to all our perplexity and anxiety, one of the
ladies insisted upon believing that it was her own husband who had been
shot, and as she is a very nervous woman, you can fancy our distress.
It was in vain to tell her--which we did over and over again--that that
worthy individual wore a _blue_ shirt, and the wounded person a _red_
one. She doggedly insisted that her dear M. had been shot, and, having
informed us confidentially, and rather inconsistently, that she should
never see him again, never, never, plumped herself down upon the log in
an attitude of calm and ladylike despair, which would have been
infinitely amusing had not the occasion been so truly a fearful one.
Luckily for our nerves, a benevolent individual, taking pity upon our
loneliness, came and told us what had happened.
It seems that an Englishman, the owner of a house of the vilest
description, a person who is said to have been the primary cause of all
the troubles of the day, attempted to force his way through the line of
armed men which had been formed at each side of the street. The guard
very properly refused to let him pass. In his drunken fury he tried to
wrest a gun from one of them, which, being accidentally discharged in
the struggle, inflicted a severe wound upon a Mr. Oxley, and shattered
in the most dreadful manner the thigh of Senor Pizarro, a man of high
birth and breeding, a porteno of Buenos Aires. This frightful accident
recalled the people to their senses, and they began to act a little
less like madmen than they had previously done. They elected a
vigilance committee, and authorized persons to go to The Junction and
arrest the suspected Spaniards.
The first act of the committee was to try a Mexicana who had been
foremost in the fray. She has always worn male attire, and upon this
occasion, armed with a pair of pistols, she fought like a very fury.
Luckily, inexperienced in the use of firearms, she wounded no one. She
was sentenced to leave the Bar by daylight,--a perfectly just decision,
for there is no doubt that she is a regular little demon. Some went so
far as to say she ought to be hanged, for she was the _indirect_ cause
of the fight. You see, always it is the old cowardly excuse of Adam in
Paradise,--the _woman_ tempted me, and I did eat,--as if the poor frail
head, once so pure and beautiful, had not sin enough of its own,
dragging it forever downward, without being made to answer for the
wrong-doing of a whole community of men.