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S9H

THE WORKS

HUBERT HOWE BANCROFT

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THE WOEKS

HUBERT HOWE BANCROFT

VOLUME XXXIX

LITERARY INDUSTRIES

SAN FRANCISCO
THE HISTORY COMPANY, PUBLISHERS

1890

Entered apcorrtlng to Act of f'DiigrcHs In the yonr 18!I0, by

HUBERT H. BAN(;R0FT,
In the Ofllce of the Mbruriiin of CoiiKrcss, at WashliiBton.

All lihjhta Rtsti-ved.

CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME.

CHAPTER I. TAGK.

THE FIELD ^ ,

CHAPTER II.

■I UK ATMOSrilERE j„

CHAPTER III.

SI'KIXdS AN D UTTLE KKOOKS 4.,

CHAPTER IV.

TJIE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER gj)

CHAPTER V.

HAIL CALIFORNIA 1 ESTO PEEPETUA 1 nn

CHAPTER VI.

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY l^.i

CHAPTER VII.

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPTIILE jy;^

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LIBRARY .,.

CHAPTER IX.

DESPERATE ATTEMPTS AT GREAT THINGS , jj

(V)

■Ik

Vi CONTENTS.

CHAPTER X. PAGE.

A LITERAIIY WOItliSUOI' 230

CHAPTER XI.

.SDMK OF MY ASSISTANTS O-lj

CHAPTER XII.

MY KIliST HOOK 277

CHAPTER XIII.

THE I'ElilLS OF i'LlU.ISlllNd 307

CHAPTER XIV.

A LITKKAUV riL.:UIM 32(J

CHAPTER XV.

niE TWO OKNKKALS 3(;5

CHAPTER XVI.

riAI.IA.\ SlliATK(iY 3S;}

CHAPTER XVII.

ALVAKADO AND CASIliO 407

CHAPTER XVIII.
CLOSE oi' Tin: cKKiiirn-VAr.LEJo cami-awn 428

CPIAPTER XIX.

HOME 44(J

CHAPTER XX.
sax FiiANcrsco AiiciiiVKs 4G8

CHAPTER XXI.

HISTORIC UKSKAHCUKS IN TUK SOUlll 473

CHAPTER XXII.

insTOlUC EXri-OUAlIO.NS .Nt)UTIl\VARD .......... 530

i 'i

COXTENTa vii

CHAPTER XXIII.

iniRXUER tlBRARY DETAIL .

• • . . . 56:;

CIIArXER XXIV.

MY METHOD OP WKITINO UMTOKY _0.

CHAPTER XXV.

FtJRTHEli INOATJIKUlNGa . . ^ „

• • . . . CIS

CHAPTER XXVI.

l-ilKLIMIN-AKY AND SiriTLE.MEN-TAL VOLUMES gjQ

CHAPTER XXVII.

BODY AND MIND . . .

664

CHAPTER XXVIII.

EXrEDITIONS TO MEXICO .

700

CHAPTER XXIX.

TOWARD THE END .

752

CHAPTER XXX.

L'URNED out! . .

769

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE UI3TORT COBIPAinr AS» 'i-HE BANCROFr COMP.iinr 78S

LITEKAPvY IXDUSTRIES.

CHAPTER I.

THE FIELD.

Wliiuh gives me
A more content in course ot true delight
lluui to he thirsty iifter tottering honour,
Or tie my iileasure up in silken bags,
io please the fool and death.

Pericles.

This volume closes the narrative portion of my
historical series; there yet remains to be completed
the biograpliical section.

It is now over thirty years since I entered upon
the task to-day accomplished. During this period
my efforts have been continuous. Sickness and death
have made felt their presence; financial storms have
swept over the land, leaving ghastly scars; calamities
more or less severe have at various times called at
my door; yet have I never been wholly overwhelmed
or roaclicd a point where was forced upon me a cessa-
tion ol library labors, even for a single day. Nor has
my work been irksome; never have I lost interest
or enthusiasm; never have I regretted the consecra-
tion of my life to this cause, or felt that mv al)ilities
might have been better emploved in some o'ne of the
great enterprises attending the material development
ot this western world, or in accumulatiiur property
which was never a difficult thing for me'^to do It
has been from first to last a labor of love, its im-
portance ever standing before me paramount 'to that
of any otlier undertaking in which I could enoace
while of this world's goods I have felt that f had

2 THE FIELD.

always my share, and liavc been ready to thank God
for tlie means necessary to carry forward my vvoi-k to
its full completion. And while keerd}' alive to my lack
of ability to perform the task as it ought to be done,
I. have all the time been conscious that it were a thou-
sand times better it should be done as I could do it
than not at all.

What was this task ? It was first of all to save
to the world a mass of valuable human experiences,
which otherwise, in the hurry and scramble attend-
ing the securing of wealth, power, or ])lace in this
new field of enterprise, would have drop[)od out
of existence. These experiences were all the more
valuable from the fact that they were new; the con-
ditions attending their origin and evolution never had
before existed in the history of mankind, and never
could occur again. There was here on tins coast the
ringing-up of universal intelligence for a final display
of what man can do at his best, with all the powers
of the past united, and surrounded by conditions
such as had never before fallen to the lot of man to
enjoy.

Secondly, having secured to the race a vast amount
of valuable knowledge which otherwise would have
passed into oblivion, my next task was to extract
from this mass what would most interest people
in history and biography, to properly classify and
arrange the same, and then to write it out as a his-
torical series, in the form of clear and condensed
narrative, and so place within the reach of all this
gathered knowledge, which otherwise were as nmch
beyond the reach of the outside world as if it never
had been saved. Meanwhile the work of collect-
ing continued, while 1 erected a refuge of safety for
the final preservation of the library, in the form
of a fire-proof brick building on Valencia street, in
the city of San Francisco. Finally, it was deemed
necessary to add a biographical section to the history
proper, in order that the builders of the coumion-

INEXORABLE FATE.

wealtlis on this coast mi<j^Iit have as full and fair
treatment as the work of their hands was receiving.

Not that the plan in all its completeness arose
in my mind as a whole in the first instance. Had
it so presented itself, and with no alternative, I
never should have had the courage to undertake it.
It was because I was led on by my fate, following
blindly in paths where there was no returning, that I
finally became so lost in my labors that my only way
out was to finish them. Wherefore, although I am not
conscious of superstition in my nature, I cannot but
feel that in this ffreat work I was but the humble in-
strument of some power mightier than I, call it provi-
dence, fate, environment, or what you will. All the
ori<»'inatin<2fs of essential ideas and acts connected with
the work grew out of the necessities of the case, and
were not in the main inventions of mine, as this volume
will show. That I should leave my home and friends at
the east and come to this coast an unsophisticated boy,
having in hand and mind the great purpose of secur-
ing to a series of commonwealths, destined to be sec-
ond in intelligence and importance to none the sun
has ever shone upon, more full and complete early
historical data than any government or people on earth
enjoy to-day, is not for a moment to be regarded as
the facts of the case. It was the vital expression of
a compelling energy.

Nor is it out of place, this referring of our
physical unfoldings to the undeterminable for expla-
nation, for it is only since the world has been so
plainly told that it sees somewhat of the action and
eflfect of environment, ^he individual entity, if it bo
an intelligent, thinking entity, does not now imagine
itself either its own product or the exclusive product
of any other individual entity. The unthinking thing
acts and is acted on by universal regulation, passively,
unknowingly. Even the natural selections of progress
are made in accordance therewith, and seldom artifi-
cially or arbitrarily. Underlying all phenomena is
the absolute, the elemental source of vital knowledge*

THE FIELD,

and thus all the grand issues of life are referred back
to a matter of carbon and ammonia.

And now, while presenting here a history of my
history, an explanation of my life, its efforts and ac-
complishments, it is necessary first of all that there
should be established in the mind of the reader a good
and sufficient reason for the same. For in the absence
of such a reason, to whose existence the simple appear-
ing of the book is ex hypofhesi a declaration, then is the
author guilty of placing himself before the world in
the unenviable light of one who appears to think
more hii^hlv of himself and his labors than the world
thinks, or than the expressions and opmions of the
world would justify him in thinking.

In any of the departments of human activity, he
alone can reasonably ask to be heard who has some
new a[)plication of ideas; something to say v hicli has
never been said before; or, if said before, then some-
thing which can be better said this second or twentieth
time. Within the last clause of this proposition
my efforts do not come. All ancient facts are well
recorded; all old ideas are already clothed in more
beautiful forms than are at my command. It there-
fore remains to be shown that mv historical labors,
of which this volume is an exposition, come prop-
erly within the first of the categories. And this I
am cf)nfident will appear, namely, that I do not only
deal in new facts, but in little else; in facts brought
out in this latter-day dispensation as a revelation of
development as marvellous in its origin and as magi-
cal in its results as any appearing upon the breaking
up of the great dark age preceding the world's un-
covering and enlightenment. Every glance westward
was met by a new ray of intelligence ; every drawn
breath of western air brought inspiration; every step
taken was over an untried field; every experiment,
every thought, every aspiration and act were origi-
nal and individual; and the faithful recorder of the
events attendant thereunto, who must be at once

CLAIMS TO EXISTENCE. 5

poot and prophet of the new dispensation, had no
need of legendary lore, of grandfather's tales, or of
paths previously trodden.

And not only should be here established a proper
reason for the appearance of this volume, as the re-
sults of a life of earnest endeavor, but all its predeces-
sors should be reestablished in the good opinions of
the learned and intelligent world, of all who have so
fully and freely bestowed their praise in times past ;
for the two propositions must stand or fall together.
If niy historical eftbrts have been superfluous or un-
necessary; if it were as well they had never been
undertaken, or little loss if blotted out of existence,
then, not only have they no right to exist, to cumber
the earth and occupy valuable room upon the shelves
of libraries, but this volume must be set down as
the product of mistaken zeal commensurate with tlte
ideas of the author in regard to the merit, oriijinal-
ity, and value claimed for the series. In a word, if
the work is nothing, the explanation is worse than
nothing; but if the work is worthy of its reputation,
as something individual, important, and incapable of
repetition or reproduction, then is this history and
description of it not only not inopportune or superflu-
ous, but it is a work which should be done, a work
imperatively demanded of the author as the right of
tho.se whose kindness and sympathy have sustained
him in his long and arduous undertakings.

The proposition stands thus: As the author's life
has been mainly devoted to this labor, and not his
alone but that of many others, and as the work has
been extensive and altogether diit'erent from any which
has hitherto been accomplished in any other })art of
the globe, it was thought that it might prove of inter-
est if he should present a report, setting forth what he
has accomplished and how he accomplished it. Com-
ing to this coast a boy, he has seen it transformed
from a wilderness into a garden of latter-day civiliza-
tion, vast areas between the mountains and the sea

e THE FIELD.

which were at first pronounced valueless unfoklinir
into homes of refinement and progress. It would
therefore seem, that as upon the teri'itory covered by
his work there is now being planted a civilization des-
tined in time to be superior to any now existing; and
as to coming millions, if not to those now here, every-
thing connected with the efforts of the builders of tho
commonwealths on these shores will be of vital inter-
est — it seems not out of place to devote the last vt)l-
unie of his historical series, proper, to an account of
his labors in this field.

It was rather a slow process, as affairs are at pres-
ent progressing, that of belting the earth by Asiatic
and European civiHzation. Thrco tlousand years, or
we might say four thousand, were occupied in making
the circuit now effected daily by the conscious light-
ning; three or four thousand years in finding a jiath-
wav now the thorouLrhfare of the nations. Half the
distance — that is, from the hypothetical cradle of this
civiHzation eastward t-^) the Pacific and westward to
the Atlantic — was achieved at a comparatively early
period. The other half dragged its slow course along,
a light age and a dark age intervening, the work be-
ginning in earnest only after the inventions of gun-
powder, printing, and the mariner's compass, the last
permitting presumptuous man to traverse the several
seas of darkness. Even after Mediterranean navi-
gators had passed the Pillars of Hercules, and ven-
tured beyond the sight of land, several hundred years
elapsed before the other earth's end was permanently
attained by way of the east and the west on the Pa-
cific shores of America.

As the earth was thus disclosing its form and its
secrets, men began to talk and write about it, saying
much that was true and much that was false. First
among the records are the iioly books of Asia; holy,
because their authors dwelt little on the things of
this world concerning which they knew little, while

GENESIS OF HISTORY.

Pa-

Ind its

Isaving

First

holy,

Ings of

while

thoy had much to say of other worlds of which they
knew nothing. Then came Homer, Herodotus, and
others, who wrote of tlie classic region on the central
sea and its inhabited skies; and who, because tliey
told more of truth, were pronounced profane. For
fifteen hundred years the Ptolemy geographies and
the standard cosmographies kept the world informed
of its i>rogress, filling the blank places of tlie universe
from a fertile imagination. Following the works of
the wise men of Egypt, India, and China were a mul-
titude of histories and geographies by the scholars of
Greece, and Rome, and western Europe.

The finding of the cape of Good Hope route to
India, and the discovery and occupation of the west-
ern hemisphere, gave a mighty impulse to histories
of the world, and their several parts became rapidly
com[)lete. All the grand episodes were written upon
and rewritten by men of genius, patient and pro-
found, and admiring thousands read the stories, be-
queathing them to tlieir children. By the middle of
the nineteenth century there was scarcely a nation or
a civilized state on the globe whose liistory had not
been vividly portrayed, some of them many times.
That part of the north temperate zone, the illuminated
l)elt of human intelligence, where its new western end
looks across the Pacific to the ancient east, the last
spot ()ccui)icd by European civilization, and the final
halting-place of westward-marching empire, was ob-
viously the least favored in this respect; while the
tropical })lateaux adjoining, in their unpublished an-
nals, offered far more of interest to history than many
other i)arts of which far more had been written. A
hundred years before John 8mitli saw the spot on
which was planted Jamestown, or the English pil-
grims placed foot on the rock of Plymouth, thousands
from Spain had crossed the high sea, achieved mighty
conquests, seizing large portions of the two Americas
and phicing under tribute their peoples. They liad
built towns, worked mines, established plantations,

8 THE FIELD.

and solved nic'iny of the problems attending European
colonization in the New World. Yet, while the United
States of North America could spread before Enyilish
readers its history by a dozen respectable authors, the
states of Central America and Mexico could produce
comparatively few of their annals in English, and little
worthy their history even in the Spanish language.
Canada was better provided in this respect, as were
also several of the governments of South America.
Alaska belonged to Russia, and its history must come
through Russian channels. British Columbia still
looked toward England, but the beginning, aside from
the earliest coast voyages, was from Canada. Wash-
ington, Oregon, and the inland territory adjacent were
an acknowledged part of the United Ptates, whoso
acquisition from Mexico, in 1847, of the territory lying
between the parallels 32° and 42'^ left the ownership of
the coast essentially as it is to-day. Enticingly stood
these Pacific states before the enlightened world, yet
neglected ; for it is safe to say that there was no part
of the globe equal in historic interest and importance
to this western half of North America, including tlie
whole of Mexico and Central America, which at the
time had not its historical material in better shape,
and its history well written by one or more competent
persons. Before him who was able to achieve it, here,
of all purposes and places, lay The Field.

Mids+ the unfoldings of my fate, I found myself in
the year of 1856 in the newly Americanized and gold-
burnished country of California, in tlie city of San
Francisco, which stands on a narrow peninsula, about
midway between either extreme of the mighty stretch
of western earth's end seaboard, beside a bay un-
equalled by any along the whole seven thousand miles
of shore line, and unsurjxassed as a harbor by any in
the world. Out of this circumstance, as from omnipo-
tent accident, sprang the Literary Industries of which
this volume is a record.

SIGNIFICANCE OF NATURE.

or tllC

at tlie

gold-

)f Sail

about

stretch

ly un-

miles

any iu

iiinipo-

which

California was then a-weary. Vounjjf, stroncr, with
untouched, undroauied of resources a tiiousaiul-f<thl
more dazzhiii? than any yet uncovered, with a milhon
matchless years before her during which to turn and
overturn the world's great centres of civilization, })ene-
trate the mysteries of time, and bring to pass the
unknowable, she was a-weary, spiritless as a sick girl
after a brief and harmless dissipation, and suffering
from that ttediam vide which comes from excess.

Reaction after the flush times had fairly set in.
Agriculture had not yet assumed great importance;
still more insignificant were manufactures. IMacer
nnning returns had fallen from an ounce of gold to
half an ounce, then to a quarter of an ounce a day to
tlic digger; quartz mining was as ruinous as gambling.
]\[ost of the merchants had already failed once, some
of them several times. As a rule they had begun busi-
ness on nothing, had conducted it recklessly, with large
])rofits expecting still larger, until, from overtrading,
iVom rej>eated fires and failures, they were awaking as
from a commercial delirium to find themselves bank-
ru[)t, and their credit and original opportunities alike
gone. A lualadie dn jxiys seized upc.w some, who there-
upon departed; others set about reforming their ideas
and habits, and so began the battle of life anew.

There was little thought of mental culture at this
time, of refinement and literature, or even of great
wealth and luxury. The first dream was over of ships
laden with gold-dust and of palaces at convenient inter-
vals in various parts of the world, and humbler aspi-
rations claimed attention. Yet beneath the ruffled
surface were the still, deep waters, which contained as
nmch of science and philosophy as the more boisterous
waves, commonly all that we regard of ocean.

Slowly as were unlocked to man the wealth and
mysteries of this Pacific seaboard, so will be the in-
tellectual possibilities of this cradle of the new civili-
zation. As a country once deemed unproductive can

THE FIELD.

now from its surplus feed other countries, so from
our intellectual pioducts shall wo some day {'wd the
nations. In the material wealth and beauty with
which nature ha.s endowed this land wo may find the
promise of the wealth o!id beauty of mind. The
metal-veined mountains are symbolic of the human
force that will shortly dwell betieath their shadows.
And what shonld be the (lualitv of the strenuth so
syndxtlizcd ^ Out of teriaee parks rise these moun-
tains, lifting their granite fronts proudly into the
ambient air, their glittering cre.sts s[)orting and
quarrelling with the eloutls. Their ruggedness, now
toned by distance into soft coral hues, time will
smooth to nearer inspection, but oven ages eaimot
improve the halo thrown over slopes covering untold
millions of mineral wealth by the blending of white
snow-fields with red-Hushed foothills. In further
signilicance of losthetics here to be unfolded we might
point to the valleys ear[)etcd with variegated llowers,
golden pur[)le and white, and whose hilly borders are
shaggy with gnarled trees and undergrowth; to
higher peaks, with their dense black forests, from
which shoot pinnacles of pine, like spires of the green
tem[)le t>f (;lod; to oak-shaded park lands, and islands
and shores with bright-leaved groves, and long blue
headlands of hills .sheltering (juiet bays; to dreamy,
soft, voluptuous valleys, and plains glowing in sum-
mer as from hidden tire, their primitive aspect already
modified by man; to the lonely grantkiur of craggy
cliffs bathed in blue air, and dcej) gorges in the foot-
hills seamed with fissures and veiled in purple mists;
to winds rolling in from the ocran leaden fog-banks,
and beating into clouds of white unoke the powdered
flakes of snowclad summits, and .*; • iding them in whirl-
winds to the milder temperature;-. 'eh)w; to lakes and
watercourses lighted by the mor ng sun into lumi-
nous haze; to summers radiant in uishine, to winters
smiling in tears; to misty moon ghts and clarified
noondays; to the vapor-charged elliptic arch that

wwwwBiii m iitimmuia'a

CIVILIZATION'S HAi;nNG-(; ROUND.

bullies the landscaiHj uith ivHirtctl lij^^ht; to the |»uu-
miit ocean ttir ami the hulsamie odor of canons; to
these, and ten thousand other beauties of plain and
sierra, sky and sea, which still encompass secrets of.
as mighty import to the race as any hitherto brought
to the understan(lin<r of man.

Civilization as the stronger element supplants sav-
agism, drives it from the njore favored spots of earth,
and enters in to occupy. The aspiscts of nature
have no le.ss intluence on the distribution or migrations
of civilized peoples than ui)on indigenous unfoldings.
It is a fact no less unaccountable than pleasing to
contem|)lato, Ihat these western shores of North
America should have been so long reserved, that a
land so well adaj)tetl to cosmopolitan occupation, which
has a counter|)art for all that can bo found in other
lands, which has so little tliat is objectionable to any,
which presents so many of the beauties of other climes
and so few of their asperities — that so favorable a
spot, the last of temperate earth, should have been
held unoccupied so long, and then that it shoidd have
been settled in such a way, the only possible way it
would seem for the full and immediate accomi)lishment
of its high destiny — I say, though ])leasing to con-
tem[)late, it is passing strange. Here the chronic emi-
giant must rest; there is for him no fiirther west.
From its Asiatic cradle westward round the antipodes,
to the very threshold of its source, civilization has
ever been steady and constant cyi the march, leaving
in its track the expended energies of dead nations
unconsciously dropped into dream-land. A worn-out
world is reanimated as it slowly wanders toward the
setting sun. Constantinople shrivels, and San Fran-
cisco springs into being. Shall the dead activities
of primordial peoples over revive, or cheir exhausted
soil be ever re-created and worked by new nations'?
If not, wlien our latest and last west is dead, in what
direction lies the hope of the world?

•II

I i

ll \

llllf

CHAPTER II.

THE ATMOSPHERE.

Tlie true, great want is of an atmosphere of sj'mpatliy in intellectual aims.
An artist can allbrd to be poor, but not to be conipanionless. It is not well
that lie should feel pressing on him, in addition to his own doubt wlicthtr he
can achieve a certain worli, the weight of the public doubt whether it be
worth achieving. No man can liv^ entirely on his own ideal.

IIi(j(]insoii.

Often during the progress of my literary labors
questions have arisen as to the i. fluence of California
climate and society on the present and future develop-
ment of letters. Charles Nordhoff said to me one
day at his villa on the Hudson, "The strangest part
of it is how you ever came to embark in such a laboi-.
The atmosphere of California is so foreign to literary
pursuits, tlie minds of the people so much more intent
on gold-getting and society pleasures than on intel-
lectual culture and the investigation of historical or
abstract subjects, that your isolation must have been
severe. I could not help feeling this keenly myself,"
continued my entertainer, " while on your coast.
With a host of fiiends ready to do everything in
their power to serve me, I was in reality without
companionship, without that brc-*,d and generous sym-
pathy which characterizes men of letters everywhere;
so that it amazes me to find a product like yours ger-
minating and developing in such a soil and such a
climate."

While it was true, I replied, that no great attempts
were made in the field of letters in California, and
while comparatively few of the people were specially
interested in literature or literary men, yet I had
never experienced the feeling of which he spoke.

i.;*»»

ISOLATION AXr APPRECIATION.

My mother used to say that she never felt lonely
in her life; and yet she was most companionable, and
enjo^^cd society as much as any one I ever knew.
But her heart was so single and pure, her mind so
clear, intelligent, and free, that to commune with her
licart, and allow her mind to feed on its own intcl-
liij^once, filled to the full the measure of her soul's re-
([uircments. A healthy cultivated mind never can be
l(Mioly; all the universe is its companion. Yet it may
be alone, and may feel that aloneness, that natural
craving for companionship, of which it is not good for
man long to remain deprived. Though for different
reasons, I can say with her that I never have ex-
})erienced loneliness in my labors. If ever alone it
was in an atmosphere of dead forms and convention-
alisms crushing to my nature, and where something
was expected of me other than I had to give. Thus
have I been lonely for my work, but not in it.
Once eno-aoed, all else was forgotten: as the sub-
lime Jean Paul liichter expresses it, "Ein (jclehr-
ter hat keine lange Weile." Nor can I truly say
that I have ever felt any lack of appreciation on
the part of the people of California. As a matter
of fact, my mind has had little time to dwell on
such things. What chiefly has concerned me these
twenty or thirty years has beeii, not what people
were thinking of me and of my efforts, but how I
could best antl most thoroughly perform my task. I
have never stopped to consider wh'^ther my labors
were appreciated by my neighbors, or whether they
knew aught of them, or concerned themselves there-
A\ith. I have never felt isolation or self-abnegation.
To be free, free in mind and body free of business,
of society, free from interruptions and weariness, these
have been my chief concern.

True, I could not overlook the fact that in the
midst of many warm friends, and surrounded by a
host of hearty well-wishers, my motives were not
i'ully understood nor my work appreciated. Had it

THE ATMOSniERE.

been otherwise I should not entertain a very hi<^]i
opinion of cither. If that whidi engaged me, body
and soul, was not above the average aspiration, or
even execution, there was nothing ilattering in the
tliouglit, and I had better not dwell upon it. I was
an individual worker, and my task was individual;
and I solace(l myself with the reflection tliat the
ablest and most intelligent men manifested most in-
terest in the work. I had never expected very wide
recognition or appreciation, and I always had more
than I deemed my (hie. Surely I could find no fault
with the people of tlie Pacific coast for attending to
their business, ei.ch according to liis interest or taste,
while I followed what best pleased me. Further tlian
this, I did not regard my fate as resting wholly in
their liands; for unless I could gain the approval of
leading men of letters throughout the world, of tliose
wliolly disinterested and most competent to judge, my
efibrts in my own e^'^es would prove a failure. Thus,
from the outset, I learned to look on myself and the
work, not as products of California, or of America,
but of tlic world; therefore isolation signified only
retirement, for whicli I felt most thankful.

Perhaps men of letters are too critical; sensitive
as a rule they always have been, though less so
than men in some other professions. Hawthorno
complained of a lack of sympathy during twelve
years of his young manhood, in which he failed to
make the sliglitest impression on the public mind,
so that he found "no incitcnnent to literary effoi't
in a reasonable prospect of reputation or profit;
nothing but tlie pleasure itself of composition— an
enjoyment not at all amiss in its way, and perhaps
essential to the merit of the work in hand, but wluch,
in the long run, will hardly keep the chill out of the
w^riter's heart or the numbness out of his finijers." It
jS scarcely to be expected that the unappreciative
masses should be deeply interested in such work.
And as regards the more intelligent, each as a rule

THE CULTURE OF LETTERS.

3, body

;ion, or

in the

I was
ividual ;
lat the
lost in-
ry wide
xl more
no fault
iding to
or taste,
;\er tlian
'holly in
)roval of
of those
idive, my
3. Thus,
■ and the

uierioa,
lied only

sensitive
less so
Avthorne
twelve
failed to
ic mind,
iry eil'ort
|r prt^iit;
tion — an
perhaps
[it which,
[it of the
rs." Tt
trcciative
^h work,
las a rulo

has something specially commandini^ hi:; attention,
which being of paramount interest to himself, lie
naturally expects it to command the attention of
others. He who makes the finest beer or brandy,
or builds the largest house, or fills the grandest
churcli, or sports the largest stud of horses, holds
himself as much an objerl. of consideration as he
wlio engages in important literary \vork. The atten-
tion of the groat heedless public will invariably
bo caught by that which most easily and instantly
interests them, by that which most easily and in-
stantly can be measured by big round dollars, or by
pleasures which they appreciate and covet.

I can truthfully say that from the very first I have
been more than satisfied with the recognition my
fellow-citizens of California have given my attempts
at authorship. If, by reason of preoccupation or other
cause, their minds have not al>sorbed historical and
literaiy subjects as mine has done, it is perhaps for-
tunate for them. Indeed, of what is called the cul-
ture of letters there was none during my working
(lays in California. The few attempts made to achieve
literature met a fate but little superior to that of a
tliird-rate poet in Rome in the time of Juvenal.

Peoples rapidly change; but what shall wo say
when so esteemed a writer as Grace Greenwood adds
to the social a physical cause why literature in Cali-
fornia should not prosper? "I really cannot see,"
she writes, " how this coast can ever make a great
record in scientific discoveries and attainments, and
the loftier walks of literature — can ever raise great
students, authors, and artists of its own. Leaving
out of consideration the fiist and furious rate of busi-
ness enterprise, and the maelstrom-like force of the
s]iirit of speculation, of gambling, on a mighty, mag-
nificent sweep, I cannot see how, in a country so
enticingly picturesque, where three hundred days out
of every year invite you forth into the open air with
bright bcguilements and soft blandishments, any con-

THE ATMOSPHERE.

siclcrable number of sensible, healthy men and women
can ever be brought to buckle down to study of the
hardest, most persistent sort; to 'poring over miser-
able books'; to brooding over theories and incubating
inventions. California is not wanting in admirable
educational enterprises, originated and engineered by
able men and fine scholars; and there is any amount
of a certain sort of brain stimulus in the atmosphere.
She will always produce brilliant men and women of
society, wits, and ready speakers; but I do not think
she will ever be the rival of bleak little Massachusetts
or stony old Connecticut in thorough culture, in the
production of classical scholars, great jurists, theo-
logians, historians, and reformers. The conditions of
life are too easy. East winds, snows, and rocks are
the grim allies of serious thought and plodding re-
search, of tough brain and strong wills."

On the other hand, the author of Greater Britain,
after speaking of the weirdly peaked or flattened hills,
the new skies, and birds, and plants, and the warm
crisp air, unlike any in the world but those of South
Australia, thinks "it will be strange if the Pacific
coast does not produce a new school of Saxon poets,"
afhrming that "painters it has already given to the
world." " For myself," exclaims Bayard Taylor, " in
breathing an air sweeter than that which first caught
the honeyed words of Plato, in looking upon lovelier
vales than those of Tempo and Eurotas, in wandering
through a land whose sentinel peak of Shasta far
overtops the Olympian throne of Jupiter, I could not
but feel that nature must be false to her promise, or
man is not the splendid creature he once was, if the
art, the literature, and philosophy of ancient Greece
are not one day rivalled on this last of inhabited
shores I" Mr John S. Hittell thinks that "California
has made a beginning in the establishment of a local
literature, but that her writers were nearly all born
elsewhere, though they were impelled to it by our in-
tellectual atmosphere;" by which latter phrase I un-

OPINIOXS OF AUTHORS.

women

of the

miser-
abating
inirablc
erecl by-
amount
)spliere.
)men of
3t tliink
3husetts
), in the
[is, theo-
itions of
ocks are
[ding re-

Bntahif
ned hills,
he warm
of South
Pacific
poets,'
n to the
ylor, " in
t caught
lovelier
andering
lasta far
ould not
omise, or
IS, if the
t Greece
nhabited
alifornia
f a local
all born

(Icrstand the writer to mean an atmosphere that
excites to intellectual activity rather than a social
atmosplicre breathing the breath of letters.

"What effect the physical climate of California
may have on literary instincts and literary efforts,"
says Walter M. Fisher, "I am afraid it would be pre-
mature, fi'om our present data, exactly to say or
))ro{lict. Its general Laodicean equability, sunnner
and winter through, may tend to a monotony of
tension unfavorable to tliat class of poetic mind de-
veloped in and fed by the fierce extremes of storm or
utter calm, of fervent summers, or frosts like those of
Niffolbeim. It is generally ]icld, however, that the
mildness of the Athenian climate had nuich to do
witli the 'sweet reasonableness' of her culture, and it
is usual to find a more rugged and less artistic spirit
inhabit the muses of the Norse zone; while the lilies
and languors of the tropics are doubtfully productive
of anything above the grade of pure 'sensuous cater-
wauling.' Following this very fanciful lino of thought
the Golden State should rcyuvenato the glories of the
City of the Violet Crown and become the alma mater
of the universe. As to the effects of the social
climate of California on literary aspiration and effort,
little that is favorable can be said for the present,
little that is unfavorable should be feared from the
future. California p<^n' is m parvenu, making money,
fighting his way into society, having no time or taste
for studying anything save the news <»f the day and
])orhaps all occasional work of broad humor. It h
for his heir, California /<7.s', to be a gentleman of leisure
and wear ' literary frills.' For the present, a taste in
tliat direction is simply not understood, though it is
tolerated, as the worship of any strange god is. The
orthodox god of the hour is Plutus: sa actus, sanctus,
<ancti(s, domlnus cleuft sahaoth: exaltat cormi j^opitU
siii: selah! All this, however, is but for a moment.
Lot us put our fancy apocalyptically, after the fashion
of Dr Gumming: 'And the first beast was like a lion,

Lit. I^rD. 2

THE ATMOSPHERE.

and the second beast was lilvc a calf, and tlic third
beast liad a face as a man, and the fourth boast was
like a flying eagle I' California past, present, .nd to
come. Tlie lion-hearts of reckless '49 arc cold. The
golden calf bestrides the land, belittling man. To-
morrow they will make it a beast of burden, not a
god. And when the lion's heart is joined to riches,
and riclics to pure manhood, and manhood to a high
and lar-reaeliing culture in letters, and science, and
art, tlien no synd^ol of eagle eye or eagle wing will be
una})t to the sunward progress of the state."

Returning east from the Pacific coast in 1882,
Oscar Wilde reported : " California is an Italy witli-
out its art. There are subjects for the artists; but it
is universally true, the only scenery wliich inspires
utterance is that which man feels himself the master
of The mountains of California are so gigantic that
they are not favorable to art or poetry. The scenery
for definite utterance is that which man is lord of.
There are good poets in England, but none in Switzer-
land. There tlie mountains are too high. Art cannot
add to nature."

So inioht we go on with what twenty or fifty others
have imagined regarding tlic effect of social and
physical surroundings on literature and art in Cali-
fornia or elsewhere, and be little the wiser for it all.
With the first coming to Oregon of divinely appointed
New England pro])agandists, l)ooks began to be
written which should tell to the cast what the un-
revealed west contained. And this writing eontinued
and will continue as long as there are men and women
who fancy that knowledge as it first conies to them
first comes to the world.

We may fully recognize the mighty power of en-
vironment without being al)lo to analyze it. As
Goldoni observes, "II mondo e un bel libro, ma poco
F( rve a chi non lo sa leggere;" and as Hegel says,
".lature sliould not be rated too high nor too low.
Di' mild Ionic sky certainly contributed much to the

III!

TOWX AXD COUNTRY.

charm of the Homeric poems, yet this alone can pro-
duce no Homer." Wliilo Hterature is an increment
of social intelligence and the resultant of social prog-
ress, it is certainly influenced tlirougli the mind of man
l)y climate and scenery, by accident and locality, wliicli
act both positively and negatively, partly in liarmony,
partly in antagonism. Some atmosplieres seem to
al)Sorb the subtile substance of the brain; others feed
the mental powers and stimulate them to their utmost
capabilities.

The idyllic picture of his life at Scillus, as pre-
sented by Xenoplion, not wholly in the bustling world
nor yet beyond it, is most charming. Sophocles re-
tired from busy Athens to lov-ely Colonus. Horace
in gay luxurious Rome renounced wealth and social
distinction, preferring few friendships and those of
tlie purest and best — Miecenas, Virgil, A'arius— pre-
i'orring pleasures more refmed, and which might be
l)ought only by temperance in all things, and content-
ment, that content which abhors the lust of gain and
the gnawing disquietudes of social envy.

^Maecenas loved the noisy streets of Roine, but
Horace doted on his little Sabine farm, the gift of
his devoted friend. It was there in free and undis-
turbed thouQcht ho found that leisure so necessarv
to his soul's health. Yet sometimes he felt the need
of the capital's bustle and the stimulus of society,
and then again he longed for the stillness of the
country, so that his ambling mule was kept in exer-
cise carrying him forth and back. The gentle satirist
])uts words of ridicule into the mouth of his servant
JJavus, ridicule of the author himself, and his rhap-
sodies of town and country.

"At Rome you for the country sigh;
Wlien in the country, to tlie sky
You, flighty as tlie thistle's down,
Arc always crying up the town."

Dugald Stewart clung to his quiet home; Scott

■ ■<

THE ATMOSPHERE.

found repose among his antiquated folios; but Jeffreys
disdained literary retirement, and sought comfort in
much company. Pope loved his lawn at Twickenham,
and Wordsworth the solitude of Grasmere. Heine,
cramped in his narrow Paris quarters, sighed for trees.
Dr Arnold hated Rugby, but, said he, "it is very
inspiring to wi'ite with such a view before one's eyes
as that from our drawing-room at Allen Bank, where
the trees of the shrubbery gradually run up into the
trees of the cliff, and the mountain-side, with its inli-
nite variety of rocky peaks and points, upon which
the cattle expatiate, rises over the tops of the trees."
Galileo and Cowper thought the country especially
conducive to intellectual culture; ]\Ir Buckle preferred
the city, while Tycho Brahe, and the brothers Hum-
boldt, with shrewder wisdom, established themselves
in suburban quarters near a city, where they might
command the advantages and escape the inconven-
iences of both.

Exquisite, odd, timidly bold, and sweetly misan-
thropic Charles Lamb could not endure the glare of
nature, and so must needs hide himself between the
brick walls of busy London, whe:.'e he lived alone
with his sister, shrinking alike from enemy and
friend. " To him," says a biographer, " the tide of
human life that flowed through Fleet street and Lud-
gate Hill was worth all the Wyes find Yarrows in
the universe; there were to his thinking no green
lanes to compare with Fetter Lane or St Bride's; no
(garden like Covent Garden; and the sinffinix of all
the feathered tribes of the air grated harsh discord in
his ear, attuned as it was only to the drone or the
squall of the London ballad-singer, the grinding of
the hand-organ, and the nondescript London cries, set
to their cait-wheel accompaniment." And Dr John-
son, too, loved dingy, dirty Fleet street and smoky
Pall Mall above any freshness or beauty nature coukl
afford in the country. " Sir," he says, after his usual
sententious fashion, " when you have seen one green

THE PHILOSOPHY OF CHANGE.

reffrcys
ifoit ill
cnham,
Heine,
r trees,
is very
c's eyes
, where
nto the
its iiiii-
i which
I trees,
pccially
referred
5 IIuiii-
iiiiselves
y might
iconven-

misan-
glare of
ecu the
d alone
ny and
tide of
d Lud-
Irows in
green
do's; no
Ir of all
cord in
or the
ding of
rics, set
r John-
smoky
•e could
lis usual
e green

field you have seen all green fields. S' ', I like to
look upon men. Let us walk down Cheapside."

How different had been the culture of Goethe, less
diversified, perhaps, but deeper, if instead of the l)usy
old Frankfort city his life had been spent in the rin-al
districts. What would Dickens have been, conlined
i'or life to the mountains of Switzerland? or Ivuskin,
sliut between the dingy walls of London? No 8t
John wouUl find heaven in tlie New York of to-day ;
nor need Dante, in the Calitbrnia Inferno of 'forty-
nine, have gone beneath the surface to find hell. A
desultory genius is apt to be led away by city life
and bustle; a bashful genius is too likely, in the
country, to bury himself from necessary society and
knowledge of the world; a healthy genius finds the
gi'cates"t benefit in spending a portion of the time in
both city and country. IJlindness seems often an
aid rather than a drawback to imaginative writing.
])emocritus is said to have even made himself blind
in order the better to learn; and it was only when
the light of the world was shut from the eyes of
]\Iilton that the heavenly light broke forth in the
J'ai-adise Lost.

Thus we find that different conditions best suit
did'erent temperaments. Some enjoy scenery, others
care little for it; some prefer the country, others the
city. To many, while ardently loving nature, and
liaving no predilection for coal smoke and the rattle
of vehicles, being wholly absorbed durhig active occu-
])ation, time and place are nothing. Scenery, otlier
than the scenery within, has little to do with true work.
If not called to consciousness by some external agent,
tlie absorbed worker hardlv knows or cares whether lie
occupies a tent in the wilderness or a parlor in the city.
Nothing can exceed the satisfaction, if indeed conge-
nial and comfortable, of a room in a country cottage,
where the student may spread his books upon the floor,
sliut out superfluous liglit, and wlien weary, step at
once into the warm irlowin-jf sunshine to stretch his

'22 TUK ATMOSl'lIKRE.

linil)S and siii(tk(^ a riirar. On tlu; wliole, tlu; country
olK'j's superior advantages, l»ut more on account of
freedom from interruption than any otlier cause.

ClianL>(% almost always beneficial, to many is essen-
tial. Often many a one with an ex((uisite sense of
reli(?f escapes from the din and clatter of the city, and
tlu! harassing anxietii's of business, to the soft sensuous
quiet of the country, with its hazy light, aromatic air,
and sweet songs of birds. Thus freed for a time from
killing care, and rejtosing in delicious revc^rie in some
se(piestered nook, thought is liberated, swee[)s the
universe, and looks its maker in the face;. Sky, hill,
and [)lain are all instinct with ehxjueiice. And best
of all, the shelter there; no one to molest. All dav,
and all night, and the morrow, secure. No buzzing
of business about one's ears; no curious callers nor
stupid ])hiloso[)liers to entertain. Safe with the
world walled out, and heaven oijeniiii; almvc and
around. Then ere long the bliss becomes tame; the
voluptuous bivatli of nature palls, her beauties be-
come monotonous, the rested eneruies ache for want
of exercise, and with Socrates the inconstant one ex-
claims, "Trees and tields tell me nothhig; men are
my teachers!"

Yet, after all, the city only absorbs men, it does not
create them. Intellect at its inception, like forest-
trees, must have soil, sunshine, and air; afterward it
may be worked into divers mechanisms, conifortal)le
honies, and tongli ships. The city consumes mind
as it consumes beef and potatoes, and must be con-
stantly repleni.'-ihed from the country, otherwise hfc
there exhausts itself. Its atmosphere, })hysically and
morally deleterious from smoke and dust and oft-
repeated breathings, from the perspirations of lust
and the miasmatic vapors arising from sink-holes
of vice, exercises a baneful influence on the youn<i:
poetic soul, as do the stimulating excesses of business
and polished life. The passions of humanity con-
centrated in masses, like ill cured hay in tlio stack,

MINOR SURROUXDINGS.

couii try
count t)f

IS(!.

is esscMi-
seiiso of
3ity, and
sensuous
iiatic Jiir,
lino from
ill some
M'[)S tlio

^ky, l.ill,
Viul l)0.st
All day,
) buzziii'^
Hers nor
v'xth the
Kivc and
line; tlio
uties Uo-
for want
t one ex-
men are

docs not
:e forest-
srward it
nfortal)le
les mind

Ijc con-
wise life
cally and
and oft-

of Inst
ink-holes
ic yomij^

business
lity con-
lie stack,

V.fi-

putrefy and send forth, in ])lacc of the sweet odoi' of
iicw-inown ^rass, a humid, musty smell, precursor
of iimumcrable fetid })ro(lucts. In the country the
allections harmonize more with nature, ein^eiider purer
tlioiights, and develop lovelier forms than in the
callous-shouldered unsympathetic crowds of a city.

A liie in closets and cloisters leads to one-sidi-d
fixediu.'ss of ideas. Yet, though retirement often pro-
(liu;es eccentricity, it likewise promotes originality.
l]ut for his dislike for general society Shelley would
have been a commonplace thinker. To th(-)Ughtful,
sensitive natures, retirement is absolutely essential.
Every man must follow his own bent in this rcs[)ect.
^Method is good in all things, but it is perhaps better
t(j be without method than to be the slave of it. Dis-
tance from the object dwelt upon often lends clear-
ness to thought. Distinctly audible are the solemn
strokes of the town clock beyond the limits of the
\illage, though near at hand they may be drowned by
the hum of the moving multitude.

There are minor conditions peculiar to individual
writers which stimulate or retard intellectual labor.
There is the lazy man of genius, like Hazlitt, who
never writes till driven to it by hunger; unless, indeed,
bursting with some subject, he throws it off on paper
to find relief. Hcnsius says: "I no sooner come into
tlie library but I bolt the door to mo, excluding
lust, ambition, a^'arice, and all such vices whose nurse
is idleness, the mother of ignorance and melancholy.
In the very lap of eternity, amongst so many diviiu;
souls, I take my scat with so lofty a s[)irit and
sweet content, that I pity all our great ones and
rich men that know not this haj)[)iness." Rooms are
fiequently mentioned. If favorable surroundings ar<!
so necessary, what shall we say of the great works
engendered under unfavorable conditions? But for
the imprisonment of Cervantes, who cantell if ever the
world would have known the inimitable Don Quixote
and his servant Sancho? Bunyan's gi-and allegory

■9»

M I

M THE ATMOSPHERE.

was likcwiso a prison plant, with the Bible and jPojj'.f
Martijrs as tlio author's library of reference. The
studios of artists arc usually remarkable for nothin<^
but their plain or slovenly appearance, dusty walls, with
cobwebbed corners, and floor ar.d furniture smeared
witli paint. Leslie and Turner both })ainted in very
plain rooms. Gustavo Dore's studio was furnished
with nothin<:j but easels, a [)lain taV)le, and two cheap
chairs. Goethe's study was exceedingly plain. S(!ott
could conjpose very well in the sitting-room, surrounded
by his family, but of all the elegant aj)artnients at
Abbotsford lie preferred a small, pliiin, quiet room in
which to write. In the main, while it makes little
difference to the head whether the feet rest on an
Axnnnster carjjct or <»n rough boards, ov(>rything
else being e(jual, a plain room Is ])rof('ral)le to one
olegantly furnished. Plain, liard. practica] furniture
seems best to harmonize with plain, hard, })ractical
thouglit. Writing is not the soft, languid reverie
that hixurious flttintjs and furnishings su'juest : it is
the hardest and most wearing of occupations, and it
.seems a mockery, wlien the temples tbrob and the
bones ache, for the eye to meet at every turn only
hivitatit)ns to idleness and ease. It strikes a discord
and jars the sensibilities when the lifted e^'cs meet
objects more beautiful and graceful than tlie flow of
thought or the product of the overworked brain.
A plain table, a cane-bottomed chair, and good writ-
ing materials are the best. So much for immediate
surroundings.

To the critics previously quoted I would say that
it is folly swecpingly to assert of this or that !V':rip of
temperate zone that it is physically condii^i e to the
growth of letters or otherwise. Variety of food, of
.scenery, of entertainment is the essential need of the
mind. As for the stone fences and east winds of Mrs
Lippincott, I never knew them to be specially stimu-
lating to brain work; no better, at all events, than

\m^

SCENERY AND CLIMATE. 85

llio sand and fog of San Francisco, or the north
>viiids and alternate reii^ns of fire and Mater in the
valley of California. If to become a scholar it re-
qiiirej^ no discipline or selfnlenial j.,n'eater than to
^vithstand the allurements of her bewitchin<^ climate,
C'ahloi'uia shall not lack scholars. When most rav-
islnd hy the charms of nature many students find it
most ililKcult to tear themselves from work. Invijjjor-
alin!4' air and bii^-ht sunshine, pui-plc hills, misty
mountains, and si)arklin<' waters mav be enticin<>',
but they ai-e also nis])n'mj^.

Where were bleak JNIassachusetts and stony Con-
ntctieut wluMi Athens, and Home, and Alexandria
flourished? If barrenness and stones are more con-
ducive to literature, the Skye Islands may claim to
be the best place for notable men of letters. I can
hardly believe that unless culture is beaten into us
by scowliuijf nature we nmst forever remain savaires.
( ).\ygen is oxy^'^en, whether it vitalizes mind on the
Atlantic or on the Pacific seaboard; and to the
student of steady nerves, absorbed in his labors, it
matters little whether his window overlooks a park
or a preci[)ice. If I remember rightly the country
about Stratford- on -Avon is not particularly rugged,
neither is London remarkable for picturesque scenery.
And surely there can be little in the climate of Cali-
fornia antagonistic to intellectual attainments. In
San Francisco there is no incompatibility, that I
can discover, between philoso])hic insight and sand-
hills. On the other hand, throughout the length
and breadth of these Pacific States there are thou-
sands of elements stimulating to mental activity.
If tlie mountains of California are too gigantic for
]Mr Wikle's present art, may not man's capabilities
some day rise to meet the emergency? M^xy not
intellect and art become gigantic?

Agassiz insists that the climate of Europe is more
faNonible to literary labors than that of America.
This I do not believe; but, if admitted, California is

26 THE ATMOSPHERE.

bettor than Massachusetts, for the climate of Cali-
fornia is Euopean rather than eastern. It is a
thinking air, this of California, if such a thing exists
outside of the imagination of sentimentalists; an air
that generates and stimulates ideas; a dry elastic air,
strong, subtile, and serene. It has often been noticed
in ijoiti<jf back and forth across the continent ; and niav
be safely asserted that one can do more and better
work in California than in the east. At the same
time another might prefer the eastern extremes of
heat and cold. The temperature of the Pacific slope
is slightly raised, the thermal lines bending northward
as they cross the Rocky mountains. Extreme cold
we never have, except on alpine altitudes. On the
seaboard the atmosphere throughout the entire year
is uniform, cool, and bi'acing: There is little difference
between summer and winter, between night and day;
one can here woi'k all the time. Indeed, so stimu-
latint:: and chanixclcss is this ocean air that men are
constantly lured to longer efforts than they can en-
dure, and a sudden breaking up of health or a softened
brain is in many instances the end of excessive and
prolonged labor. In the east men are driven from
their work by the heat of summer, and the cold of
winter compels some to rest; here, while nature rests,
that is during the dry season, man can labor as well
as at any other time, but when driven on by ambition
or competition he is almost sure to lay upon his body
and mind more than they can long endure.

I do not thiidc there is anything in the climate that
absorbs strength unduly, or that breaks up the con-
stitution earlier than elsewhere ; the system wears out
and falls to pieces. If this happens earlier in life
than it ought, the cause is to be found in continuous
and restless application, and not in the climate. Ante-
auriferous Californians uniformly attained a ripe age;
in many cases four, five, and six score years being
reached after brin<xinj2: into the world from fifteen to
twenty-five children. In tlie interior, during tho

INFLUENCE OF WEALTH.

rains of winter, the climate is similar to that of the
coast — fresh and bracing; in summer the air is hot
and dry during the day, but cool and refreshing at
night. A moist hot climate is enervating; if the air
under a vertical sun is dry the effect of the heat is
much less unfavorable. In the warm valleys of the
Coast range students can work without discomfort
from morning till night throughout the entire sum-
mer, while in the east, the temperature being the same,
or even lower, they would be completely prostrated.
Yet, from the whirling rapidity of our progress, the
friction of the machinery wears heavily upon the
system. There is little danger for the present of
rusting out, with such an exhilarating climate to feed
energy, and such cunning ingenuity to direct it.
I'^xtrcmes, the bane of humanity, are here as nicely
balanced as in the classic centres of the Old World.
Excessive heat and cold, humidity and dryness, re-
dundancy and sterility, are so far uncommon as not to
mtcrfere with progress.

With reference to the oft-repeated objections against
the pursuit of wealth because of its influence on letters,
mucli may be said. From necessary labor, and from
the honorable and praiseworthy enterprise incident
to life and independence, to an avaricious pursuit
of wealth for the sake of wealth, the progress is so im-
perceptible and the change so unconscious 'hat fcvv
are able to realize it. And if they were, 'i would
make no difference. All nature covets pow-^r. Boasts,
and men, and gods, all place others under them so far as
they are able; and those so subordinated, whether by
fair Mords, fraud, or violence, will forever after bow
their adoration. ]\Ioney is an embodiment of power:
therefore all men covet money. Most men di'sire it
with an inordinate crav", wholly beyond its true
and relative value. This craving fdls their being to
tlie exclusion of higher, nobler, and what would be to
them, if admitted, happier sentiments. This is the

THE ATMOSPHERE.

rule the world over; the passion is no stronger in
California than in many other places. But it has
hero its peculiarities. Society under its present regime
was begun on a gold-gathering basis. In the history
of the world there never was founded so important a
commonwealth on a skeleton so exclusively metallic.
Most of the colonial attempts of Asia and Europe have
been made partly with the object of religion, empire,
agriculture, commerce. It is true that these avowed
objects were often little more than pretences, money
lying at the root of all; yet even the pretence was
better in some respects than the bald, liard-visaged
fact. But during the earlier epoch in California's
history three hundred thousand men and women came
hither from various parts of the world with no other
object, entertained or expressed, than to obtain gold and
carry it away with them. Traditionary and conven-
tional restraints they left at home. They would get
money now, and attend to other things at another
time. Nor has the yellow ghost of this monetary
ideal ever wholly abandoncid the San Francisco sand-
hills; some have secured the substance, but all round
the Californian amphitheatre, since 1849, penniless
misers have been hugging, not gold, but the empty
expectation of it.

Some degree of wealth in a community is essential
to the culture of letters. Where all must work con-
stantly for bread the hope of literature is ^mall. On
the other hand excess of wealth may be an evil. The
sudden and enormcus accumulation of wealth exer-
cises a most baneful influence. Brave indeed must
be the struiftj^les that overcome the allurements of
luxury, the subtle, sensuous influence of wealth, enter-
ing as it does the domains alike of intellect and the
aft'octions, commanding nature, expanding art, and
filling enlarged capacities for enjoyment. Yet he who
would attain the highest must shake from him these
entrancing fetters, if ever fortune lays them on him,
and stand forth absolutely a free man. Poor as was

THE IRONY OF ACCUMULATION.

Jean Paul Richtcr, he deemed his burden of poverty
less hard for genius to bear than the comparative
wealth of Goethe.

Drop in upon a man given body and roul to busi-
ness, a man who has already a thousand times more
than ever he will rightly use; visit him in his hours
of business; he calls his time precious, and knits his
brow at you if the interruption lasts. His time
is precious? Yes. How much is it worth? Fifty
dollars, five hundred dollars an hour. How much
are fifty or five hundred dollars worth? Go to, blind
maggots! Will you not presently have millions of
years of leisure? Oh wise rich man, oh nol)le mind
and aspirat'on. to Mien sure moments by money!

The roruefiy iii • •) the disease. Excess of avarice
that sinks rociijtv so low, nauseates. Thus the right-
minded mail will argue: If Plutus is always to re-
main a pig in intellect and culture, is always to be
a worshipful pig, tlie or^j adorable of his fellow-pigs,
to his marble-stepped gilded sty with him and his
money. I'll none of him. God and this bright uni-
verse beaming with intelligence and love; mind that
lifts me up, and makes me a reasoning creature, and
tells me what I am, withholding not the sweet per-
fume thrown round me by the flowers of unfoldin'jf
knowledge; immortal soul, breathing upon mind the
divine breath; and its Tiioriai casement, the body,
limited to a few short Crdyn (■" this blessed sunlight,
of drinking in soft, swt it >ii»' and nature's many melo-
dies — these will not lot luo imk, The commercial or
mechanical plodder again w;'' ^a}'-: What are these
pitiful thousands, or tens or hundreds of thousands,
which by a lifetime of faithful toil and economy I
have succeeded in getting together, when men infinitely
my inferior in ability, intellect, and culture, by a lucky
stroke of fortune make their millions in a month?
Surely money is no lor ^-er the measure of intelligent
industry; it is becon)in- ;v common and less creditable
thing: I'll worship it no 1 -hger. Even envy is baffled,

THE ATMOSPHERE.

overreached. These many and mammoth fortuned
made by stock-gam blini^ and railway manipulations so
overshadow and belittle lesfitimate efforts that accu-
mulatorp arc constrained to pause and consider what
is the right and destiny of all this, and to begin com-
parisons between material wealth beyond a competency
and that wealth of mind which alone elevates and
ennobles man.

Midas of the ass's ears is dead, choked on gold
given him by offended deities; but Midas of the scr-
l)cnt, Midas of the slimy way, still lives, and is among
us, sapping our industries, monopolizing our products,
glutting himself with the hard-ea .; ' old of our work-
ing men and women. Lethimtakt .rninij; let him
go bathe in Pactolus and cleanse himself withal.

The time will surely come in California when some
will surfeit of wealth and hold the money struggle
in contempt. They will tire of the harpies of avarice
who snatch from them the mind-food for which they
pine, even as the fabled harpies snatched from the
luxury-loving monarch Prestor John the food for
which his body hungered. This western spurt of
enterprise is a century- step backward in certain kinds
of culture.

San Francisco has absorbed well-Tiigh all that is left
of the Inferno. Take the country at largo, and since
the youthful fire that first flashed in our cities and
canons California in some respects has degenerated.
Avarice is a good flint on which to strike the metal
of our minds, but it yields no steady flame. The hope
of sudden gain excites the passions, whets tlie brain,
and rouses the energies; but when the effort is over,
whether succ "issful or otherwise, the mind sinks into
comparative listlessness. It must have some healthier
pabulum than cupidity, or it starves. The quality of
our Californian mind to-day may be seen displayed in
our churches and in the newspajjcr press. The most
intellectual and refined of our pulpit orators are not
always the most popular. Clerical jolly-good-fellow-

PREACHING AND TEACHING.

fortuned
itions so
lat accu-
ler what
irin com-
ipctency
ites and

on gold

the scr-
is amonaj
3roducts,
)ur work-
; let him
lial.
len some

strui^cjle
)f avarice
lieh they
fi'om the

food for
spurt of
ain kinds

ship covers barrels of pulpit stupidity, and is no less
cfTectual in the formation and guidance of large flocks
than it is agrecahlu to the shepherd. Hard study,
broad views of life and the times, thorough investi-
gation of the mighty enginery that is now driving
mankind so rapidly forward materially and intel-
lectually, deep and impartial inquiry into the origin
and tendency of tilings, do not characterize clergymen
as a class. There are, however, some noble exceptions
in California as well as elsewhere ; but there must be
many more if Christians would retain their hold on
tlie minds of men, and stay tlio many thinking per-
sons who are dropping off from tK'^ir accustomed
places in the sanctuary.

One other Influence adverse to the higher intellectual
life I will mention, and that is promiscuous reading —
not necessarily so-called light reading, for there are
works of fiction in the hicfhcst dejjree beneficial,
more so than many a true narrative; but reach ng in
which there is neitlicr healthful amusement nor valu-
able instruction. There is too much readinLj of books,
far too much reading of newspapers and magazmes,
for the highest good of exact knowledge, too much
pedagogic cramming and windy sermonizing, too little
l»ractical thought, too little study of nature, too little
cultivation of germ -intelligence, of those inherent
natural qualities which feed civilization.

There is a vast difference between what is called
deep thinking and right thinking. Thought may dive
deep into Stygian lakes, into opaque pools of super-
stition, so that the deeper it goes the farther will be
the remove from intellectual clearness or moral worth.
AVhat to the heathen are the profound reveries of
the Christian? what to the Christian tlie myths and
doctrines of the heatlien? A mind may be talented,
learned, devoted, and yet unable to find the pearls
of the sea of Cortes in the brackish waters of the
Utahs. One may be blind, yet honest; purblind, yet

THE ATMOSPHERE.

profound. It is a mistaken idea that clear convic-
tions spring from deep thinking. Decided opinions are
oftencr the result of ijjnorance than of right thinking.
Particularly is this true in regard to the super-
natural and unknowable. Here clear thinking tends
to unsettle pronounced opinion, while study, research,
profound learning and deep thinking only sink the
inquirer into lower depths of conviction, which may
be false or true, not as investigation is profound, but
as it is rightly directed. Impartiality is essential to
right thinking; but how can the mind be impartial upon
a question predetermined ? Right thinking comes only
where love of truth rises above love of self, of country,
of tradition. Convictions, so called, arising from the
exercise of will power are not convictions, but merely
expressions of will power. Of such are the rank
weeds of prejudice overspreading the fertile fields
of literature, politics, and religion. Deep thinking
is subtile and cunning; right thinking simple and in-
genuous. The surface thoughts of clear, practical,
uncultivated common-sense often lie neaver the truth
than the subtilties of the schools. Intellect and edu-
cation may create profound thinkers, but not always
right thinkers. Absolute freedom from prejudice and
absolute indifference as to the ulti:"iates attained b}'^
freedom of thought are impossible, but the nearer an
';iOuiring mind approaches this condition the more
ready it is to receive unadulterated truth; and truth
alone, irrespective of hopes and fears, is the only ob-
ject of healthy thought. In study, to every height,
there is a beyond; round every height a border of
opaque blue, and to clear thinking direction is more
than distance.

Pure unadulterated truth is not palatable to the
popular mind. In politics we would rather believe
the opposition all corruption, and our own party all
purity, than to believe the truth. In religion wo
would rather believe ours the only road to heaven,
and all those who differ from us doomed to a sure

EFFECT OF NEWSPAPERS.

IS more

eternal perdition. In society we enjoy sweet scandal
far more tlian honest fairness; and if wo could drive
ovu' unfortunate brotliers and sisters, all of them
about whose skirts are the odors of vice — if wc could
drive the vicious, with hateful ways, and all those
who differ from us as to the best mode of extermi-
nating vice, down to the depths of despair, it would
suit our temper better than manfully to recognize the
good there is in Lucifer, and lift up those that have
fallen through no special fault of their own.

Newspapers have become a necessity to our civili-
zation, and though they are bad masters they are
good and indispensable servants. As a messenger of
intelligence; as a stimulant to industry and knowl-
ed<ife — thouii^h not as kuowledsxe ; as an instrument for
the enlargement of intellectual vision, enabling it to
belt the earth and take in at one view all interests
and civilizations; as promoting toleration in opinions,
breaking down prejudice, and keeping alive the inter-
ests of individuals and nations in each other; as a
terror to evil-doers, a lash held over political hounds —
too often the only one they fear, without which our
present liberal system of government could not stand ;
and as the exponent of current thougat and culture,
the newspaper is indispensable. Tnc newspaper is
no evil, but there is such a thing as reading it too
much. When deeply absorbed in work the true stu-
dent will not h)ok at a journal for weeks, preferring
ratlier to let his mind pursue its course day after day
without being disturbed by passing events. "Among
modern books avoid magazine and review literature,"
is Ruskin's advice; yet magazines and reviews are
much more instructive reading as a rule than news-
papej\s. In moderation they are beneficial to the
student, being the media which bring the world as
guests to his closet and keep from him the evil of
solitude.

We may safely say that in the hands of honest and
independent men, an untrammelled press is the very

Lit. Inc. 3

THE ATMOSrHERE.

bulwark of society; in the hands even of men un-
sainted, who arc not immaculate in their morals nor
above reproach, of men no more honest than the times
admit, who talk much of the virtue and of the purity
of their sheet, but nevertheless love lucre — in the
hands even of these the public press is a power in-
disjtensable to liberty and social safety.

!^Iost writers and speakers are unfair in contro-
versy. Newspapers are specially so. As a rule, in
political affairs they do not expect to be believed by
an}^ but their own party. In matters of public inter-
est or utility, what is printed must first be strained
through the colander of self-interest before it can
be allowed to go forth. This self-interest is a beam in
the editor's eye which hides the largest fact likely to
interfere with it.

The editor of a popular monthly will tell you that
the reading of periodicals does not interfere with
thorough systematic study. He will say that there
never were more books bought and read than now;
that transient literature excites a taste for study, and
that science and progress are fostered and stimulated
by newspapers. All of this may be true, and yet
the assertion hold good that he who spends much
time in skimming the frothy political decoctions of
the ephemeral press never can reach the profounder
depths of science and philosophy. Nino tenths of
what is printed in newspapers consists of speculations
on what may or may not happen. By waiting wo can
know the result, if it be worth knowing, without
wasting time in following it through all the incipient
stages.

But this is not the worst of it. Editorial com-
ments on people, parties, and passing events are
seldom sincere. There is too often some ulterior in-
fluence at work, some object in view other than that
of simply and honestly benefiting their readers, minis-
tering to their intellectual necessities, and giving them
the h ighest possible standard of right, irrespective of

INSINTERITY.

prejudice, popularity, or gain. Too often is jHiMic
opinion pal})al)]_y atid absurdly in error; and too often
the editor coniUats or pampers public opinion, not in
accordance with what he believes to be right, but
according to tlie direction in which his interest lies.
J""'requently a policy is marked out, and, right or wrong,
it must bo maintained. The journal must be con-
sistent with itself at all hazards, truth and justice
to the contrary notwithstanding. The modern Bo-
hemian Avill write up or down cither side of any party
creed or principle with equal willingness and lacility.
It would be deemed presumption for an employe of
the press to attempt to change the traditions of the
journal that employs him. Says Noah Porter, "the
modern newspaper, so far as it is insincere, is immoral
and demoralizing." If a newspaper fails fully and
unequivocally to correct, an error as soon as known ;
if carried away by partisan temper or tactics it states
a fact unfairly, tells part of the truth and keeps back
part; if it indulges in the vilification of an unpopular
though not guilty person; if for the sake of money, or
pride, or hatred, it advocates a cause knowing it to be
contrary to public weal; if honest convictions are
subordinated to popularity or the interests of the
journal; if it resorts to devices and sensational reports
in order to call attention to its columns and thereby
increase its importance and circulation, then is it in-
sincere, and consequently immoral. Few approacli
even a fairly commendable standard; but then books
are often as bad. What shall wo say of a history of
Christianity written by a bigoted churchman, or a
history of America by a strong partisan, or an at-
tempt to establish a scientific tlieory or hypothesis
when facts are collected on one side only? These
are not history and science, but only pleas for one
side of the question. As from the clays of Patristic
discussion to the present time theologians have
deemed it necessary to keep back all the truths of
God not consistent with their dogmas, so writers for

THE ATMOSPHERE.

money will send forth nothing to the confusion of
their deity.

Lies, humbug, hypocrisy: these are what the
people want and will buy; and such being the case,
they are what our honorable journalists are bound to
furnish. Nor should I be disposed to censure them
severely if they would honestly own to their charla-
tanism, and not make foul the air by their professions
of honesty and integrity, for the chief fault is with
the people who demand such villainous literature.
With an old English divine the journalists may say,
" It is hard to maintain truth, but still harder to bo
maintained by it;" or as La Fontaine more tersely
puts it, " Tout faiseur do jouniaux doit tribut au
Stalin;" all editors of newspapers pay tribute to the
devil.

Waves of opinion roll over the community, and
reason is powerless to check them. Not until they
have spent themselves, one after another, do men take
the trouble to consider their good or evil effects.
The cunning journalist lets his boat ride tliose waves,
well knowing the impolicy of any attempt to buffet
them.

That the editor's life is hard no one for a mo-
ment doubts. " Consider his leading articles," says
Carlyle, "what they treat of, how passably they are
done. Straw that has been threshed a hundred times
without wheat; ephemeral sound of a sound; such
portent of the hour as all men have seen a hundred
times turn out inane; how a man, with merely
human faculty, buckles himself nightly with new
vigor and interest to this threshed straw, nightly gets
up new thunder about it; and so goes on threshing
and thundering for a considerable series of years ; this
is a fact remaining still to be accounted for in human
physiology. The vitality of man is great." Of all
kinds of literary labor, writing for newspapers is the
best paid, pecuniarily, partly because that class of
literature is bought and read by the people at large,

EFFECT ON THE POPULAR MIND. 37

and i^irtly in consequence of the impersonality of tlie
writer, whose productions bring hhn little pleasure or
gratiiic ] vanity.

Tal<en as a whole, and as it is, the effect of the
newspaper press on the mental temperament of ttie
United States is to excite rather than instruct.
TIjc morbid appetite with which men and their
families devour scandal and the squabbles of politi-
cians is not favorable to wholesome literature.
There may be entertainment in criminal trials, in
colunins of editorial vituperation, in details and dis-
cussions on insignificant and local events, but there is
little instruction. Some of the ill effects arising from
an inordinate reading of newspapers are to lower the
intellectual tone, to influence the reader to shirk the
res})t)nsibility of independent thought, to receive
information in the shape of garbled and one-sided
statements, to attach undue importance to novel and
sensational events, to magnify and distort the present
at the expense of the past, to dwarf abstract concep-
tion, and to occupy time which might be better em-
})loyed.

" The greatest evil of newspapers, in their effect on
intellectual life," says Hamerton, " is the enormous
importance they are obliged to attach to mere novelty.
From the intellectual point of view, it is of no conse-
(juence whether a thought occurred twenty-two cen-
turies ago to Aristotle or yesterday evening to j\Ir
Charles Darwin; and it is one of the distinctive marks
of the truly intellectual to be able to take a hearty
interest in all truth, independently of the date of its
discovery. The emphasis given by newspapers to
novelty exhibits things in wrong relations, as the
lantern shows you what is nearest at the cost of
making the general landscape appear darker by the
contrast." Auguste Comte not only religiously ab-
stained from newspaper,?; but from holding conversa-
tion with men of ordinary intellect.

Newspapers are not intended to educate so much

III

THE ATMOSPHERE.

as to cnliglitcn; givlni^ only the current gossip of tlio
(lay tliroii^^lioiit tlio world, they do not pretend to
earry their readers thi'ough a course of study. The
events recorded by the ephemeral press are most of
thcni foi-gotten as soon as read; they leave nothing to
c;nrieh the mind. I do not say that it is l)etter n(.)t to
read at all than to read periodical literature. Maga-
zines and newspapers are undoubtedly doing as much
in their way to break down the black walls of igno-
rance and stuj)idity, and to advance science and exact
knowledge, as books, and perhajis more. The world
is IvL'pt alivi', is kept charged with electrical progress-
\\e energy, by newspapers, telegraphs, and railroads,
i)ut these are neither history, nor science, nor any
other part of serious ctudy.

There is as much original thinkiniy in California, in
propfirtion to the population, I venture to assert, as
ajiy where else on the globe; yet even here what worlds
of eni])ty words for atoms of inspiration! What we
want is a tliinking-school for teachers, for learners, for
w riters, for readers, and for all who cultivate or ex-
])ross o})inion. More than in most places, public
opinion here rules tlie press instead of being ruled
l)y it. There is here more life and activity in the
newspaper press than in most older communities.
Since the gold-discovery there have been published
on tills coast more newspapers in proportion to the
poj)u]ation than the world has ever before seen.

Half a century ago, when one weekly journal was
considered sufficient for that kind of intellectual re-
quirement, the members of a household having books
at its connnand were more thoroughly trained in litera-
ture and general knowledge than now. He who reads
only newspapers never can be generally intelligent,
not to sa}^ learned. The culture of the early Greeks
has in some respects never been equalled. What
nuist have been the mental condition of a people
whose masses could delight in^schylus? American
masses think Shakespeare's tragedies dry and severe;

THE PEOPLE TO BLAME.

uitli their sv ^ itivo Ixvautics and their siniph^ plots,
they arc too tlitiicult for their untrained minds to fol-
low. Yet yEschyliis, which an Athenian of ordinary
iiitellio'cnce enjoyed at the lirst hearing-, is as niueh
nioie ditlicult of appreciation than Shakespeare as
Sliakespeare is more difficult than a dime novel. In
what lav the mental superiority of the Athenians in
this direction, unless it was that, being less trannnelletl
\\ itli the multiplicity of excitinj^- interests and events,
such as an undue study of the newspaper fosters,
their minds were occupied with purer learnin;^'? The
Athenian had few books and few models, but these
were of great excellence.

The newspaper is blamed because its readers like
disgraceful scandals, highly wrought accounts of de-
I'alcations, suicides, conjugal iniidelity, and nuu'ders;
and l)ccause to them the records of virtue are tame
and vice alone is spicy. This is folly. Everybody
knows that a newspaper is i)ublished to make money,
and the proprietor is no more to be censured for
adc g the profitable course than the prostitute,
the ician, the clergyman, or the man of merchan-

dise. Here, as everywhere, when evil stalks abroad
the people are ready to blame any but themselves,
who are alone to blame. Women will be as virtuous as
men permit them to be, and not more so. Theatres
will produce such spectacles as the public wish most,
and will pay most, to see. Books or newspapers will
bo moral or immoral, honest or dishonest, as the
people are moral and honest. To see in any comum-
nity a vulgar mendacious sheet with a large circula-
tion is sure evidence that a large part of the people
arc low and lying. The fastness of our fast life is
increased tenfold by the newspapers. They keep the
minds of men and women in a constant ferment,
and create a morbid appetite, which, as it is indulged,
settles into a fixed habit, so that to sit down to study,
to the steady perusal of history, or science, or any
liook which will really improve the mind, is not to be

THE ATMOSPHERE.

tliouijlif: of when three or four unread newspapers and
magazines He upon the table filled with the doings of
the day, political battles, local quarrels, and scandal,
with flaunting essays for the mother, flashy poems for
the sentimental daughter, and unhealthy tales for the
aspiring youth.

The beneficial influence of intelligent homes sliould
be extended in order to eradicate the evils of onmivo-
rous reading. Home and contentment are in them-
selves elements of intellectual strength. The home of
the jirovident man is more than a well built and
furnished house; it is to wife and children a daily
oblation sifj^nificant of his beimjj and doiniif. The house,
and all its belongings, rooms, furniture, pictures, and
books, bear upon them his own stamp, breathe upon
him their sympathy, tender him a mute farewell when
he goes, and welcome him when he returns.

In reviewing the effect of California social atmos-
phere on intellectual culture we sliould glance at the
body social, its origin and its dcstin}'^, the character
of the first comers, the cause of their coming, the
apprenticeship to which they were subjected on their
arrival, and finally the triumph of the good and the
confusion of the evil. It was no pilgrim band, these
gold-seeking emigrants, fleeing from persecution; it
was not a conquest for dominion or territory; nor
was it a missionary enterprise, nor a theoretical
republic. It was a stampede of the nations, a hurried
gathering in a magnificent wilderness for purposes
of innuediate gain by mining for gold, and was un-
precedented in the annals of the race. Knowing all
this as we now do; knowing the metal these n*;.'n
were made of, the calibre of their minds, tlie fiery
furnace of exi)ericnce through which they passed;
knowing what they are, what they have done, M'hat
they are doing, is it not idle to ask if men like these,
or the sons of such men, can achieve literature? They
can do anything. They halt not at any obstacle sur-

:>apors and
doinu^.s of
d scautlal,
poems for
lus for tho

ics should
>f oinnivo-
in tlicm-
] ionic of
built and
n a daily
^ho house,
turos, and
itlie upon
kvell when

CALIFORNIA^ CHAEACTER. 41

mountable by man. They pause discomfited only upon
tlic threshold of the unknowable and the impossible
Tho literary atmosphere of which we speak is not here
to-day; but hither the winds from the remotest corners
of the earth arc wafting it; all knowledge and all
liunian activities are placed under contribution, and
out of this alembic of universal knowledo-c will in duo
time be distilled the fine gold of Letters

a] atmos-
ice at tho
character
ning, tho
1 on their
1 and the
ind, these
3ution; it
torj; nor
lioorotical
a hurried
purposes
i was un-
owing all
lose ii*',Mi
the fiery
r passed;
)ne, what
ke tliese,
e? They
tacle sur-

CHAPTER III.

SPRINGS AXD LITTLE BROOKS.

On fait prosquc toujours les prandea choscs sans savoir oommcnt on les
fait, c't on ust tout surpris qu'on Ics a faitcs. Denuintlcz ii C'l sur loninicnt il
BO rendit lo niaitro du niondc; peut-ijtrc ue vou3 repoudra-t-il i»a.-) aiaonient.

Ihnltndle,

Seiimonize as we may on fields and atmospheres,
internal agencies and environment, at the end of life
we know little more of the intkienees tluit moulded
us than at the beginning. Without rudder or com-
pjuss our bark is sent forth on the stormy sea, and
although we fancy we know our present haven, the
trackless ]iath by wliicli we came hither we cannot
retrace. The lecord of a life written — what is it?
lietween the lines are characters invisible which
might tell us something could we translate them.
They might tell us something of those ancient riddles,
origin and destiny, free-will and necessity, discussed
imtler various names by learned men through the
centuries, and all without having penetrated one
hair's breadth into the mystery, all without having
gained any knowledge of the subject not possessed by
men i)rimeval. In this mighty and universal sti-aining
to fathom the unknowable, Plato, the philosopliie
Greek, seems to succeed no better than Moncacht
Ape, the philosophic savage.

This much progress, however, has been made;
there arc men now living who admit that tliey know
nothing about such matters; that after a lifetime of
stUily and meditation the eyes of the brightest intel-
lect can see beyond the sky uo farther than those of

[42]

ORIGIN AXD DESTINY.

ninent on les
ir comniont il
[)as aiaemeut.
FoiUcndle.

losplicros,
:ud of lifo
; moulded
r or coiu-
y sea, and
lavcii, the
\'o cannot
hat is it?
)lu which
ite them.
it riddles,
discussed
k)Ugh the
a ted one
it havini^
sessed l)y
strainin?^
lilosophic
loncacht

>n made;
ley know
fetime of
test intel-
thosc of
Ml

the most unlearned dolt. And they arc the sti'onjj^ost
who acknowledj^c their weakness in this regard; they
aie tlic wisest who confess their ignorance. Even the
ancients understood this, thouLjli bv the mouth of
Terentius they put the proposition a little differently:
" Faciunt na3 intclligcndo, ut nihil intelligant;" hy too
much knowledge men bring it about that they know
notl liner. Confining our invcstiixations to the walks
of literature, surely one would think genius might tell
something of itself, something of its inceptions and
iiispii'ations. But what says genius? " They ask me,"
.•()mplaius Goethe of the perplexed critics who sought
ill vain the moral design of his play, "wliat idea I
wished to incorporate with my Faust. Can I know
it '. Or, if I know, can I put it into words?" A similar
ii'tort was made by Sheridan Knowles to a question
li\ Douglas Jerrold, who asked the explanation of a
certain unintclhgiblo incident in the })lot of The
If'inclthack. " My dear boy," said Knowles, " upi )ii my
word I can't toll you. Plots write themselves."

V. liy we are what we are, and not some other
;Mson or thing; why we do as we do, turning hither
iiistuad of thither, arc problems which will be solved
only with the great and universal exposition. And
vet there is little that seems stranc^ti to us in our
movements. Things appear wonderful as they are
uiilamiliar; in the unknown and unfathomed we think
we see Clod; but is anything known or fathomed?
A\ ho shall measure mind, wo say, or paint the soul, or
lend the veil that separates eternity and time? Yet.
do M-e but think of it, cverythin'jf relatin''- to mankind

11 • • •

and the universe is strange, the spring that moves the
mind of man not more than the mechanism on which
it presses. " How wonderful is death!" says Shelley;
hut surely not more wonderful than life or intellect
whicli l)riiigs us consciousness. Wo sec the youth's
hi. ached body carried to the grave, and wondei- at
the absence of that life so l.itely animating it, and
'jucstion what it is, whence it came, and whither it

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

lias flown. AVo call to mind whatever there may have
been in tliat youth's nature of j)romise or of singular
excellence; hut the common actions of the youth, tht;
while he lived, wo deem accountahlc, and pass them
hy because of on/ familiarity with like acts in others.
We see nations rise and die, worlds form and crumble,
and wonder at the universe unfading, but the mimiti;v3
of evolution, the proximate little things that day l)y <lay
go to make up the great ones, we think we undei'stand,
and wonder at them not at all. It was regarded an
easy matter a century ago to define a mineral, plant,
or animal, but he is a bold man indeed who attempts
to-dav to tell what these things are. Then, as now,
only that was strange which people acknowledged
they did not understand; and as there was little which
they would voluntarily throw into that category, each
referring unknowable plienomena to his own j>eculiar
superstition for solution, there was comparatively little
in the universe wonderful to them.

Therefore, not wishing to be classed among the
ignorant and doltish of by-gone ages, but rather
among this wise generation, in answer to that pai-t of
Mr Nordhoff's wonderings why I left business and
embarked in literature, I say I cannot tell. Ask the
mother wli}^ she so lovingly nui'ses her little one,
watchiniif with tender solicitude its growth to vouth
and manhood, only to send it forth weaned, ]>erha[)s
indifferent or ungrateful, to accomplish its destiny.
Litc^rature is my love, a love sprung from my brain,
no less my child than the offspring of my IkkIv. In
its conception and l)irth is ])resent the parental in-
stinct, in its cultivation and development the parental
care, in its results the parental anxiety. Tlu're nw
those, says Hannnerton, "who are urged toward tiu^
intellectual life by irresistible instincts, as water- fowl
are urged to an a(]uatic life. ... If a man has got
high mental culture <luring his passage tln'ough life,
it is of little consequence where he accpiired it, or
how. The school of the intellectual mah is the place

CAUSATIONS.

s'mn'ular
:mtli, the
iss tlieiii
Ti otliors.
cniiul>le,
I mil Hit 1:13
ivy l)y (lay
derstand,
;ar<lc(l an
•al, plant,
attempts
I, as now,
owlcdjjjed
:tle whicli
jfory, each
n pei'Uliar
vely little

inong the

|ut ratlier

at paii of

ness and

Ask tlie
ttle one,
:(-> yonth
, ])(.'rhaps

destiny,
ny l)rain,
>ody. In

ental in-

pa rental
There ai'e
ward tin*

ater-fowl
I has ij^ot
o\hj;]\ life,

ed it, or

wliore ho happens to bo, and his teachers arc the
people, liook.s, animals, plants, stones, and earth round
about him."

There are millions of causes, then, why wo are what
we are, and when we can enumerate but a few score
of rliem vve rio-htly say we do not know. In mv own
(•as '. that I was born in central Ohio rather than in
Oahu is one cause; that my ancestors were of that
stern puritan stock that delighted in self-denial and
(.■fll'ctive well-doing, sparing none, and least of all
llirniselves, in their rigid proselyting zeal, is another
cause; the hills and vales around mv home, the woods
and meadows through which I roamed, my daily
tasks — no pretence alone of work — that wer-e the be-
ginning of a life-long practice of mental and muscular
gvnmastics, were causes; e\ery opening of the eye,
vvcYy wave of nature's inspiration, was a cause. And
thus it ever is. Every ray of sunshine thnnvn upon
• >ur path, ever}'^ shower that waters our efforts, every
>t"rni that toughens our sinews, swells the influence
that makes us what we are. The lights and shades of
a single day color one's \vliole existence. There is no
drrip (if dew, no breath of air, no shore, no sea, no
]j<.avenly star, bvit writes its influence on our destiny.
In the morning of life the infant sleeps into strength,
and while he sleeps are planted the seeds of his fate;
t' ir weal or woe are planted the fiijj-tree and the thorn-
tire, fan- flowers and noisome weeds. Then are born
iiavings for qualities and forms of existence, high
aspirations and debasing aj)petites; the poetic, the
sai red, the sublime, and love, and longings, are there
in their incipiency; hate, and all the influences for
evil mingling with the rest. Wra]>ped in the mys-
terious enfoldings of fate are these innumerable
spiings of thought and action, for the most part dor-
mant till wakened by the sunshine and storm wherein
tli'V bask and battle to the end.

And later in the life of the man, of the nation, or

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

the evolution of a principle, how frequently insignifi-
cant is the only appearing cause of mighty change.
!Mo]ianiiin'(l, a tiatlesnian's clerk, was constrained to
marry ]iis mistress and turn propliet, and thei-efrom
arose a power wliich wellnigli overwhelmed Christen-
dom. Luth(n-'s sleep was troubled with impish dreams,
and liis widcing hours with the presence of papal in-
dnlgcMices, from whicli results of indigestion, brain op-
pression, or extrinsic pressure of progress, tlie church
was sliorn of a good share of its authority, l^'rog
soup was one day in 1790 prescribed as a suitable diet
for a lady of Bologna, Signora Galvani ; and but for
this homely incident the existence of what we call
galvanism might not have been discovered to this day.
Joseph Smith's revelation put into his hands the
metal-plated book of ^Mormon, though unfortunately
for his followers it was some tliree centuries late in
appearing.

Lucian's first occupation was making gods, a busi-
ness (juite extensively indulged in by all men of all
aixcs — making deities and demolishing them: carving
them in wood, or out of airy nothings, and then set-
ting them a-fightinix. Lucian used to cut Mercui-ies
out of marble in his uncle's workshop. Thence he
descended to humldc]* undertakings, learned to write,
and finally handled the gods somewhat roughly. Tims
with him the one occupation followed closely on the
other. Thomas Hood's father was a bookseller, and
his uncle an engraver. Disgusted first witli a mer-
cantile and afterward with a mechanical occupation,
Hood took to verse-making, and finally abandoned
himself wholly to literature. And there is at least
one instance where a young scribbler, Planchc, re-
solved to be a bookseller so that he micjht have the
opportunity of publishing his own works; in accoi-d-
nnce with which determination he apprenticed him-

ppren

self, though shortly afterward, not finding in the
connection the benefits imagined, he took to play-
actiniTf and writinir. An author of cfonius sometimes

FAMILY HISTORY.

rises into notice l)y sti'ikin'^ aefidontally tlic key-note
of popular fancy or jirejiidico which sounds Ids fame.
I"^ntil Sam Wcller, a cliaracter which genius alone
could construct, was brought before the world, the
Pickwick J^ipcrs, then and for five months pnnious
issued by Chapman and Hall as <a serial, was a failure.
tJolm Stuart Mill claims to have been not alxne the
average boy or girl in natural mind powers, but
credits his talents to his father's superior manage-
ment of his youtli; indeed, until so told by his father
lie was not aware that he knew more than other boys,
or was more thoughtful, intelligent, or learned, and
accepted the information as a fact rather than a com-
))limcnt. And so we might study life's mosaic forever,
licre and there finding — though more frequently not — -
what appears the immediate agency that wrouglit in
us the love of letters, or any other love. In my own
case I may further surmise with Sir Thomas Browne
that T was l)orn in the planetary hour of Saturn,
and was ever after held a victim to his leaden sway,
by which pernicious influence the stream of my life
was jK'vverted from plain honest gold-getting into
the (piicksands of literatui'e.

Mj father was born in Massacliusetts ; his father's
great-great-grandfather, John Bancroft, came from
London in the ship James in 1 032. My father's great-
grcat-grandparents were Nathaniel and Ruth Ban-
croft, whose son Samuel was born July 8, 1711,
and died July G, 1788. Sarah White was Samuel's
wife; and their son Samuel, my father's grandfather,
was born at West Springfield, ^lassachusetts, A[)ril
22, 1737. His father, Azariali Bancroft, the eldest (»f
nine children, was born in Granville, ^Massachusetts,
April 13, 1708; and on the 2jth of January, 17'.)9, my
father was born in Granville, the fourth in a family
of eleven. His great -grand})a rents removed to
(Jranville, Massachusetts, in 1738, when Samuel
] nmcroft was a year old — the first settlers coming to

I :

SPRINGS AXD LITTLE BROOKS.

Granville the year lie was born. In the book entitled
A Golden Weddimj my fatlier says: "My recol-
lections of my jT^rand father are vivid and pleasant.
He Avas a tall, thin, voluble old gentleman, fond of
company, jokes, and anecdotes. He served in tiie
French and Indian \\'M\ and afterward in the Eevo-
hitionary war witli the rank of lieutenant. IIo was
paid (jff in continental money, receiving it in sheets,
which he never cut apart, lie was very fond of re-
lating incidents of the war, and was never happier
than when surrounded by old comrades and neigli-
lK)rs, talking over different campaigns, with a mug
of cider warming before the fire." 'Slini-leu's' he was
called by the soldiers. He married Elizabetli Spel-
man, and died January 2, 1820.

From my grandfather, Azariah Bancroft, who
mari'iod Tabitha, daughter of Gerard Pratt, and from
the wife of the latter, sometime called Dorcas Ashley,
my fiithcr derived his name Azariah Ashley. This
Gerard Pratt was quite a character, and displayed
enough peculiarities, which were not aflected, to en-
title his name to be placed on the roll of great men
or men of genius. For example, constantly in season
and out of season he wore his hat, a broad -brimmed
(juakerish-looking affair, although he was no quaker.
It was the last article of apparel to bo removed at
night, when he placed it on the bedpost, the first
to be put on in the morning when he arose, and it
was removed during the day only when he asked
the blessing at table, which was done standinof, and
during that time he held it in his hand, replacing
it beibre beginning to eat. Half a mile from the old
town of Granville, Massachusetts, lived these great-
grand-])arents of mine, on two acres of good garden
land, with a sniall orchard in which were six famous
seek -no -farther apple-trees, reserved from the old
family farm, afterward owned by their son-in-law,
James Barlow. They were aged and infirm when my
father, then a small boy, qhwc every year to help his

OLD GRANVILLK.

-19

entitled
y recol-
pleasant.
, fond of
d in the
le T?c vo-
ile wa^
n sheets,
nd of rc-
' happier
id neigh-
h a mug
Ts' he was
kli Spel-

roft, who
, and from
as Ashley,
ley. This
displayed
;cd, to en-
great men
r in season
-brimmed
lio quaker.
moved at
the first
fse, and it
he asked
ding, and
replacing
im the old
ese grcat-
,od garden
ix famous
m the old
,n-in-law,
when my
o help his

frijiiulfatlier dig and store his potatoes, and gather
an<l sell ]iis apples, the tine seek-iio-iartliers readily
hiiiigiiig a cent apiece by the dozt>ii. His gi-and-
iiKitlier met her death from an accident at ninety-tivc
A Hiili' and a half IVom this Pratt farm lived niy
grandfatlu'r Bancroft, a man of good judgment, actiw
in light ojien-air wtirk, tliough not of sound licahh,
for he was atllicted with asthma. My granihnothfr
was a woman of great enihuvince, tall and slender,
with a facility for accomplishing work which was a
marvel to her neighbcjrs. " She did not possess great
])livsical force," says my father in his journal, "hut
managed to accomplish no inconsiderable work in
narinij: a laru'e familv, and providinu: both for their
temporal and spiritual wants— clothing them accord-
ing to the custom of the time with the wool and ilax
of her own si)iiming. Tlio raw matei'ial entered the
house from the farm, and never left it except as
warm durable garments upon the backs of its inmates.
The fabric was quite good, as good at least as that of
our neiixhbors, thouiih I oun'ht to admit that it would
not compare with the ]Mission woollen goods of San
Francisco; still, 1 think a peep into my mother's
factory as it was in the year 1800 would be found
interesting to her descendants of the present day.
This was before the day of our country carding ma-
chines. My mother had nine operatives at this time,
of ditferent ages, and not a drone among us all. All
were busy with the little picking machines, the hand-
cards, the spinning-wheel, and the loom. It can be
well imagined that my mother was much occupied
in her daily duties, yet she found time to teach
her little ones the way to heaven, and to ])ray with
them that they might enter therein. And such
teaching I such prayers' What of the result? We
vcrilv believe those children all jjave their hearts to
tlie Savior, either early in childhood or in youth.
She had eleven children; two died hi infancy. The
I'laaining nine all reared families, and a large pro^xa'-

LiT. Ind. 4

SPRINGS AND I.ITTI^R imOOKS.

tion of tliom are pious. IMay a gracious God liave
mercy upon the risiuu^ gouoration, and in answer to
the prayers of a lon<j^ hue of pious ancestry save their
childriMi. ^ly mother died in Granville, Oiiio, Jan-
uary 'J'.), 1842, in her seventy-first year."

It seemed to mc that boys in Ohio were early put
to work, but they used to begin earlier in ISIassachu-
setts. A boy, or rather baby of five, could ride horse
to plow, a line for guiding the animal bi'inu'then used
less than at i>resent. He could gather suri'ace stones
into little heaps, drop corn, and pull flax. ])uring
the next year or two, in his linen frock, he jierformed
all kinds of general light work; among the rest he
would walk beside the ox team while plowing. Tlu;
i'arm on M'hich my father worked at this tender aije
was (juite rough and stony, and before the plowing
oxen was sometimes hitched a gentle horse without
a l)i'idle, guided, like the oxen, with the AvJii|). My
father had not yet reached the end of his sixth
year when, toward the close of a long hot summer
day, during which he had trudged manfully, whip in
hand, beside these cattle, he became exceedingly tired,
and the silent tears began to fall. Noticing this
the lather asked, "What is the matter, my child?"
"Nothing, sir," was the reply, "only I think this is a
j)retty big team for so small a boy to drive all day."
'• [ think so too, my son, and we will stop now," said
my grandfather. After his seventh birthday my
father was withdrawn from school during summer,
his services on the i'ai'm being too valuable) to be
s|)ared. In 1809 my grandl'ather Bancroft removed
his family to Pennsylvania, where Yankees M'ere then
eyed suspiciously by the Dutch, and in 1814 he emi-
grated to Ohio.

My mother was a native of Vermont. Sibyl
JMielps was her mother's maiden name, and the
IMielps family nt an early day removed from the
vicinity of St Ah ans to (Jhio. My mother's parents
were both originally from Massachusetts, Sibyl

MY GRANDFATHER.

Plielps leavinjir Sprinijf field about tlic time Curtis
Jlowo, my inother'.s lather, left Granville, the two
iiK'otiiijjj lirst at Swaiiton, Vermont, in 1797, their
marriage taking place the following year. Curtis
Howe was one in whom were united singular mild-
ness of <lisposition and singular firmness of character,
and withal as lovahle a natui'e as ever man had. He
lived to the age of ninety-eight, a venerable patriarch,
proud of his numerous descendants, who with one
accord regarded him as the best man that ever lived.
Like a she|)lierd amidst his Hock, with Ids white hair,
and mild beaming eye, and quiet loving snnle; with
sweet counsel ever falling from his lips, Sabbath days
and other days, his simple presence blessed them. In
the consciousness of duty well performed, with a firm
reliance on his God, a faith deep-rooted in his bible,
^s Inch though the mountains were u|)turned could not
b(.' shaken, a trust that the sweet Christ on whom he
leaned would guide his steps and smooth his path daily
and hourly so long as life should last, and give him
liiial rest, the good man brought down heaven and
made the world to him a paradise. And when earthly
lilals thickened, ho lifted his soul and soared amidst
the stars, and made the saints and angels his com-
jjanions.

All! talk not to me of living then and now. We
jilunio ourselves, poor fools, and say that more of life
is givt-n us in the short space we run it through than
was vouchsafed our ancestors a century or two ago in
iiirice the time. PutVed up by our mechanical con-
trivaiict;s which we call science, our ])arccl]ing-out of
taitli and ores which we call wealth, our libertinism
wliicli we call libertv; castinuf ourselves adrii't from
'iiir faith, calling in question the wisdom and goodness
nf our maker, throwing otf all law but the law of lust,
all alhction save avarice and epicurism, we plunge
iiiadloiig into some pandemonium or cast ourselves
uiHJL'r some soul-crushing juggernaut of progress, and

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

call it life, and boast one year of suoli hurry-skurry
existence to be worth ten, ay, a hundred, of the uld-
timo sort.

Lacrynia3 Christ! ! Wliat, tlien, is hfe? To swine,
a wallowing in the mire; to the money -.iJfottcr, a
wrangling on the mart; to the brainless Ik'Hc. a l)('aii,
dancing, and dissi})ation; to the modern young man,
billiards, cigars, and champagne cocktails — and if he
stops at these he does well. To the woman of fashion
life is a war on wrinkles; to the e|)icure, it is frogs
and turtles; to the roue, women and last horses; to
the politician, chicanery, cheatings, and ovcrreachings;
to the man of sciem-e, evolution, universal law, and a
dark uncertain future. Away with aged father and
tottering mother I lience witli them, colHn them, wall
them in, send their souls quick to lieaven and let their
names be canonized, so that they depart and give their
ambitious children room. So swiftly do the actions of
modern fast livers follow their swift thoughts that the
recording angel nmst be indeed a good stenographer to
take down all their doings. " Think of the crowning
hours of men's lives," exclauns Thomas Starr King, " if
you would learn how much living can be crowded into
a minute; of Copernicus, w'hen he first saw the sun
stop in its career, and the earth, like a moth, begin to
flutter round it; of Newton, when the law of oravitv
was lirst breaking into the inclosure of his philosophy,
and at the same glance he saw his own name written
forever on the starry sky; of Le Vcrrier, when from
Berlin word came back that a new" planet had been
evoked by the sorcery of his mathematics, to spin a
wider thread of reflected light than had ever before
been traced; of Washington, when the English gen-
eral's sword was surrendered to him at Yorktown; of
Cohnnbus, when on his deck ' before the upright man
there arose a light,' when San Salvador lilted its
candle to his sight and shot its rays across on Castile;
and for the jeers of a continent, the mutiny of his
men, he was repaid as he saw that the round idea that

THK PHILOSOPHY OF LIVING.

liauntcd liim was doinoiistratod. To pictures like
tlicsc wo must tui'ii to understand tln^ untranslatal)le
Miss of which a moment is capahle, to learn what
fast livinix really is."

To few, however, is given the happiness of thus
]ian"in<jr the results of a noble life on a point of time,
hut to all is u-iven the privilci'-e of makinijf som('\shat
of life. Our life is but one among millions of lives,
our world one among millions of worlds, our solar
>vstein one among millions of solar systems. "La
lilu]>art des honnnes," says La Bruvere, " emj)loient
la pii'niiere partie de leur vie a rendre I'autre miser-
altle." Nevertheless it is safe to say that every man
receives from the world more than he gives. These
so-called last livers do not live at all, do not know
what life is. They act as though they imagined it to
be a gladiatorial show, in which each was called to
be lUi actor, a thief, and fierce butcher of time, when
in I'calit}^ they arc but spectators, the creator pro-
Aiding the entertainment, which is not a gladiatorial
>how, l)ut a pastoral feast, where nature herself ])rc-
>-ides and di^r:"'uutes the gifts. Let it be inscribed
<in the toml' Luno of him whose fastness of life lies
ill money, wine, and women: — Here lies one to whom
riod had given intellect and opportunity, who lived —
nay rotted — in an age which yielded to inquiry the
grandest returns, doubly rewarding the clibrts of
mind by l»lessing him who gave and him who re-
<eived; but who in all his threescore years lived not
an hour, being absorbed all that time in hurried
}>rcparations to live, and wh(^ died lal)oring under the
strange delusion that he had lived half a century or
more. There is about all this bustle and ])usiness the
-tilling vapor of merchandise, town lots, and stocks,
which, as one says truthfully, "deoxygenates the air
<if its fair humanities and ethereal spiritualities, and
the more one breathes of it the less one lives." What
recompense to mummied man for overheated brain,
withered affections, and scoffing distempers? Can

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

wealth atone, or even kiiowledofc? Vain simpleton 1
get money it' you will, and with it buy desolation,
heart- weariness; with fame buy shipwrecked faith
and blastinj,^ winds, which, sweepinij over thci gardens
of the soul once joyous in their fresh bloom, leave
behind a withered desert. Wealth, fame, and knowl-
edge, and these alone, bring iieitlier taitli, hope, nor
sweet charity.

Life is out the glass upon the quicksilver which
mirrors thought. xVs has been fitly said, one may
see in the filtliy stagnant pool tlie eifulgent clouds
rollinu' in an wbyss of blue, or one may sec — only
a filthy j)ool. We may fix our eyes forever on the
figures of our ledger, our minds on sordid dust, and
hug to our selfish souls a consuming fire; or we may
lift our eyes and look God in the face, take him Iw
the hand, walk with him, and talk with him of his
wonderfcd works, and begin our eternity of heaven
by makin»jf a heaven of our hearts and fillinix them
with the inspirations of beauty and contentment.
Such was the life of my grandfatlier; and, say I, give
me out of this old man's ninety-eight years one po<n*
day, the j^oorest of them all, and I will show you
more of life than the modern Dives can find bv
dilisjrcnt search in

lety

From a family sketch written l)y Curtis Howe in
1857 I quote as follows: " ^ly grandfather, Jolin
Howe, was l>orn in London in the year fdoO, and
remained tliere through lii , juvenile years. Xothing
is known of his parents, antl ve^ry little of him, only
that some time after he became a )nan he came t'>
this countiy with a brother wiiose name is n<»t
known. He purchased a farm in Xew Haven, Con-
necticut, ac(|uire(l a handsome property, an<l mariied
at the age of sixty a giil of nineteen. ]\[y father,
E}>hraim Howe, was their youngest, born in April,
1730, his father being at that time eighty years
old. December '2, l7r>G, my father married ]Jamaris

QUALIFIKD FAITH.

Sr.iwai'd, ho IhAu'j; tAventv-seven and slio seventeen.
AcconlinL,^ to the I'aniily record I was l)orn May 10,
177'-': I remained very suiall and ,L,^rew but httle until
f arrived at my teens, and reachinij^ ni}^ full size, I
su])|)ose, only when nearly twenty-one."

'riiiiius clianL^ed as time went on; the world l)iistle(l
lurward and left my Lri'andlather behind. His children
to tlic third and i'ourth generations became scattered
i'rom the Atlantic to the Pacific, and as he advanced
ill years tliere was a growing' dttsire in him to see
tlh-m all and leave with them Iiis blessin*'' ere he tiled,
^[any of them he did see, making long journeys m
ills wagon rather than trust himself to a railway.
(^)uet'r caution this, it always seemed to me. The
good patriarch could trust his God im[)licitly in most
matters; indee<l he was confident of his al)ility to
protect him e\'ei'y\vhere except on steam-cars and
steam-boats. He could go to him in trouble, he
coiiM leave his cares with him, knowing that what-
ever was meteil out to him was riglit and best; but he
was a httle doubtful about the newfangled, rattling,
screeching, bellowing method of travelling, ami he
prefeired the old and sure way, horses and wagons,
such as jiad brought him and his household safely
fVoiii St Albans to (rranville and such as he had ever
since em])loyed. The spirit of steam had not yet
fallen oil him. Xevertheless, so great was tlie desiri'
to see his children in California, that Ik.' finally sum-
moned courage or faith suflicient U) bi;ave botli i-ail-
N\ay and sleam-shi[), making tiie fatiguing, and for
him dangerous ])assage by the Isthnuis at the advanced
age of ninety-four.

iu'oni family I'econls I have ascertained tint a
grandmother of my father and a grandmother of my
motlier were I>orn in the saim; town the same year;
botJi died t!u3 same year at the advanced age of
ninety-six. My grandfatheis IJancroftand Howe were
both born in (Ji'anville, Massachusetts; the former
died in Ohio, the latter in Kansas.

'i;

SPRIXOS AND LITTLK r.ROOKS.

Botli of my parunts were boiii in tlio year 1799.
I was liorn in Granville, (3hio, on the tilth day of
May, 1832, just two centuries after the ari-ival of my
ancH'stor John in America. The town of (Granville
was settled l>v a colony from Xew ]Ont»'land, and took
its name from Granville, Massachusetts, whence many
of its settlers came. It was in 1805 that a company
was formed in Granville, Massachusetts, to emigrate
to tht! far west, and two of IIk,' number went to searcli
the wilderness for a suitable location. They selected
a heavily timbered township in Ohio, in the county
of Licking, so called i'rom tlu; deer-licks found there.
'J'hey secui'ed from tlie ])ro]»rietors, Stanbury and
liatbburn, this tract, and it ai'terwanl took the name
of Granville, as before mentioned, I'rom their old
lionic. The year following the colony was organized,
not as a joint-stock (X)nn)any, but as a congregational
church. At starting a sermon was preached from
the text: "If thy ])rescnce go not with me, carry
us not up hence." Then, after baking much bread,
a portion of which was dried to rusk and coarsely
ground at the flouring mill, the cattle were hitched
to the wagons, and driving their cows before them
they moved off in the direction of the star of empire.
It was quite a ditfercMit thing, this New England
colony, IVom an ordinary western settlement. Thouirh
eminently practical, it ])artook rather of the subjective
and I'atiouid element than of the objective and ma-
terial. Though unlike their forefatlii'i's fleeing from
j>crse('U(ion — only I'or more and bettcn- land than they
could find at homo would they go — tiiey nevertheless,
with their houst'holils, ti'ans])lanted their opinions and
their traditions, without abating one jot or tittle of
cithtn*. Willi their ox teams and horse teams, with
all thcii- belongings in covered wagons, these colonists
came, bearing in their bosoms their love of God, their
coui'Mgeous I'aith, their stern morality, their delight in
sacrilice; talking of these things l»y the way, camping
by the road side at night, resting on the Sal)bath when

THK LATKR MIORATIOX.

all the ivliuflous ordinances of the dav wore strictly
(il)sri'vcd, ct^nsuminn" in the journey as nianv days as
it now occu[)ies halt-hours, and all with thanksgiving,
player, and praise.

Quite a contrast, this sort of swai-niing, to that

MJiii

h characterized the exodus to ('aliftirnia 1

ess

than half a century later 'vherein gri'(>d usurjx'd the
]ilace of godliness, and lust tlu! ]»lace of lovi-. The na-

tion had jtrogressed, it was
d.l

said.

since

no was

I'mntier — ci-ahhke in some respects, surely; lU'Vertlie-
Ir-ss there was more of 'life' in it, that is to sav ehulli-

tjoii. fermentation, ca

lie. I

lie, as I train

less 1

)ovsan(l men

doomed to perdition call their fopperies, harlotings,
,iiid drunken revelries life. There had been a gran<l
hroadening since then; Yankeedom now stretched, if
Hot I'rom ]»ole to |»olo, at least from ocean to ocean,
;md scarcely had tlu^ guns c(>ased braying that added
to i.ur domain the whole of Alta, California when the
'u\k of gold was heard upon our western seaboard,
nd thither ilocked adventurers of everv caste, «>ood
I bad, learned and unlearned, nu'rcantik', nieehan-
l nondescrii)t. The sons of the imritans, in

i-ii

ieal

and

(•oimnon M'ith all the world, rose and hastily dt'j)artcd
their piliJ'rimaLre to this new shrine of IMiitus.

oil

Kagi-rly they skirted the continent, double<l Capo
Iforn, crossed the Isthmus, or traversed the ])lains,
in order to reach the other sidt\ The' old covered

wagon W{

IS a<>ain brou''ht out, ilu> oxen and tl

]iorses; wives [Uid little ones were lel't behind, and so,
lias! too often were conscience, and honesty, and hu-
manity. Not as their I'orefat hers had journeyed did
these latter-day nu'ii of ])rogress migrate. Sacrifice,
tlieiL' was enough ol' it, but of (juite a dillerent kind.
< oinfort, society with its wholesome restraints, and
S.il.hath W(Mi' sacrificed; the bible, the teachings of
'heir youth, and the Christ himself, were sacriliced.
' 'at lis and blasphemy instead of ])raise and tlianks-
-iviiig were heard; drunken rexelry and gambling took

SPRINGS AND LITTLK BROOKS.

the place of psalms and sermons. Playing-cards were
the gold-seeker's testament, rum the spirit of his con-
templations, and luci'e his one and iinal love. The
ritle and the howio-knifo cleared his })atli of beasts
and native.' nun and women, and the unfortunate
' greasers,' hy which opprobrious epithet the Anglo-
Saxon there greeted liis brethren of the Latin ^race,
fared but little better. Here was a new departure
in ("olonizing; nor yet a colonizing — only a huddling
of humanit\', drunic ironi excess of avarice.

It was late in the week that the New Eno-land
emiiri-ants to Ohio reached their destination and
cam})ed on a pictui'esepu," bench, the rolling forested
hills on one side, and on the otlier a strip of timbered
bottom, througli which ilowed a clear quiet stream.
Arraui'int'" their wan'ons in the way best suited for
convenience and defence, thi'V felletl a few of the largt^
ma])le and otlier trees and began to pre|)are material
for buildiuL"'. Then came the warm Sabbath mornimi'.
when no sound of the axe was heai'd, and even nature
softened her shrill music ami l)reathed low as arose to
heaven the voice

[)!•;

giving, nevermore to lie new or strange among these
consecrated hills. A sermon was read on that tii'sl
Granville Sabbath, and never i'rom that day to this
lias tlie peaceful little spot been without its Sabbath

and its serm

on.

ouses were

quickly

erec

teil,

and

a I'hurcli, Timothy Harris bi>ing tin; first ])ast()i-.
Schools quickly ibllowe(l; and all thus far being from

one vilace, anc

I of

one failh, and one moralitv, no time

was lost in sage discussions, so that (jJranvillc grew
in solid comforts and intelligence, outstripping th<>
neigliboring eonununities, and ere long sending forth
hundreds of young men ;nid w<»men to educate others.
'I'he l*he][ts family was among tin; earliest to leavo
Vermont for the Ohio (iranville, thus established by
the Massachusetts men. Then came the JJanci'ofts
from I'ennsylvania and the Hcnve family from Ver-

OLD-TIME MATING.

niont. Amonigr the first acts of the colonists was to
mark out a village and divide the surrounding lands
into hundred-acre farms. Now it so happened that
tlic farms of Azariah Banci-offc and Curtis Mtnve
n<lj()ined. Tiofh of these settlers were blessed with
immerous children; mv father was one of eleven, four
hoys and live givls reaching maturity. It was not
the custom in that slow age for parents to shirk their
responsibility. Luxury, j)leasure, ease, liad not yet
usurped tlie place of children in the motlier's breast;
;md as for strength to l>ear tliem, it was deemed dis-
giaceful in a woman to be weak who could not sliow
just cause for her infirmity. As I have said before,
work was the order of the day — work, by which means
alone men can bo men, or women women; by which
moans alone there can be culture, development, or a
human species fit to live on this earth. Men and
women, and boys and girls, all worked in those days,
worked physically, mentally, and morally, and so
strengthened hand, and iiead, and heart. Thus work-
iuLi' in the kitchen fiel<l and liaj-n-yard, making hay and
milking cows, reaping, thresliing, s|>inning, weaving,
Ashley Bancroft and Lucy Howe grew up, the one a
lusty, sinewy, dark-eyed youth, the other a bright
merry maiden, with golden hair, and the sweetest
smile a girl ever had, and the softest, purest eyes that
e\er let sunlight into a soul. I'hose eyes [ilayed the
mischief with the vt)Utii. Slv u'lanc.'es were u'iven and
returned; at spelling-school, singing-school, chestnut-
ting, and sleighing, whenever they t'licountered one
another the heart of either beat tlu^ faster. Ami in
the lull course of time they were man ied, and had
a hundred-acre farm of their own; had calUe, and
hani, and I'arm im[)lenients, and in time a substantial
two-story stone house,with a bright tin roof; and soon
there were six children in it, of whom I was the
l"urth; and had all these comforts paid l"or — for these
llnifty workers hated debt as they hated the devil —
;ill paid for save the children, for which debt the

SPllINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

])arf!nts coasod not to make ackiiowlcdjjjinoiits to al-
ii li^lity (jrod niorniiiijf and evening to the end.

Writiiii;' in liis journal at tlio age of eiglitv-threc,
jnst ai'ter tlu; death of my motlier, in 1882, my father
tells the storv thus: "Well, a lonu" time ago a little
.stanunering boy" — my father liad a slight impediment
in his speech — "turned up from the rocks and hills
of ]\rassachusetts, who might eventually want a wife;
and Infinite Benevolence took the case into His own
hands, nnd being al)le to see the end from the begin-
ning, by way of compensation, perhaps, for the griev-
ous atlliction entailed upon him. He was graciously
inclined to bestow u|)on him one of the very best
young women in His keeping, and in accordance with
Jlis ])lan he caused the damsels of His miglity realm
to pass before Him, and strange to relate, near the
(jlreen ^Mountains of A'ermont one was found with
whom He was perfectly accpiainted, and whom He
knew would be the right person to fill the place. Now
the pitrties were far removed from each other, and still
farther removed from the scene of their future desti-
nation. And as the time drew nigh when these young
])ers()ns were to be brought together, discipline and
counsel were preparing them; for good parents had
been given by the great ]\[oving Power, who could
clearly see that they would rear a family of children
that they would jiot be ashamed of. And now, in
accordance with the great plan, I was sent out to
Ohio a few yeai's in advance of my mate; and four
years later thei'c was a movement in a family in
X'ermont, who bade farewell to friends and started
for the west. TJie second day after their an-ival 1
was walking i'roin father's toward town, when I met
two ])ersons, one of M'hom Avas my sister Matildn
and the other ACiss Lucy i). Howe. My sister lightly
introduce<l us, and we all passed on, but not until I
had seiMi a great deal: my eyes were fixed upon thi-
iiewol)ject; and I could not tell why, nothing escape!
me, not even her dress, which I should think was o*

THE ADVOCATE.

senilt't alpaca, and well fitted. I do not know exactly
liov*' it was, whether the dress became the person,
or the ])erson the dress, but takini,^ them together I
tliouirht them the finest affair I Jiad ever seen."

Tlicy were then in their sixteenth year, and seven
years were yet to ela[»se belbre their nmrriaijie. ^[y
t';illier was what ])eople in those days called a i^ood
hoy. that is he was scarc(>ly a boy at all — sober, sedate,
jiioiis, havin^^ in him little lim or frolic, though ])os-
sessinjjf somewhat of a temper, l)ut for which his lather
would have pronoui !('('< I liim tJiebest l)oy that ever lived.
The inHnaculate youth had not y(,'t won his bi'ide, who
was as clear-headed and sinnle-lieai'ted as he, and joy-
ous as a sunbeam withal. What could he do, extremely
siiisitive and bashful as he was; how could ho brini*"
liis faulty tongue to speak the momentous words?
There was away in old-time wooings not praclisetl so
much of late. Listen. '' l*0(jr Ashley!" continues
my father, "he was indeed smitten, though he could
not make a move. J^ut he had one resource, llo
knew the way to a throne of gi'ace, and his prayer
for months was that God would give him a companion
that should prove a rich and lasting blessing to him.
And how wonderfully that prayer has been answered.
?\liss Ilowe when she started out from her home that
morninij did not know slie was <>"oin<>' forth to meet
liim who had been a))pointed to be her comjianion
(lurin<jr a inlufrimaije of sixty vcars." I'hev joined the
s.'.me church at the same time, after which, like her
iatlier before her, my mother taught school, some-
times at Granville and sometimes at Irville. It was
on one of these occasions, when she was absent, tint
iiiv father sununoned courage to write her a proposal,
which after much delay resulted in the bright con-
smnmation of his hopes. But belbi-e marriage my
mother assisted lier father from her own earnings in
huilding his farm-house, and by further teaching and
making l)onnets of straw she accunudated enough for
licr weddinix outfit. A few months alter their mairiage

SPRINGS A\D LITTLE BROOKS.

tlicy removed to Newark, Ohio, wliorc my father had
talvon a contract to build a laru^e brick residence for
William Staiibuiy. This work occupied him two
years, and when completed was the finest residence
in IjickinLf county. In part ])ayment he took the
(Iranville farm, the childhood home of his sons and
dau'^hters. He also built locks for the Ohio canal,
under contract. " ])urin<j: the year 1840," writes mv
father, "while travellinu^ south on business, I encoun-
tered a line rich farming country in Missouri, and in
the followini:^ year removed my family thither, in
coni])any with some of my Granville neighbors; but
after a sojourn of about three years we were di'iven
back by the unwholesomeness of the climate. In 1850
I joined a company from Licking county bound for
California. We went out by steamer to Chagres,
and from l*anam:l b}' sailing vessel. Accidents and
delays so retarded our progress that our voyage
occu])ied over six months. 1 returned to Ohio in
ISaii. In 18(51 I received an appointnierrt from (jIov-
ernment as Indian Agent for the Yakiin:i nation,
at Fort Simcoe, where I remained for nearly four
years. I returned to San Francisco in NovembiM-,
18G t, and since then have lived quietly and happily
among my children and my ehildren's cliildren."

]\ry parents were married in (h'anvilK', Ohio, on
the 'Jlst of February, 182'2, the lleveren<l Ahab
Jenks oiUeiating- the lilst of Fel)ru;irv, lS7iI, at my
house in San Francisco, tlicy celebrated their golden
wedding, ])rol)abIv the most jo\'ous event oi" their
long and hap}»y lives. Two of my iather's bi'others
have likewise celebrated their golden weddings, one
before tliis and one afterward. While I am now
writing, my father of eighty -five is talking with my
cliihhi'ii, J*aul, (iritliiig, J*hilip, and J-^my, aged six,
four, two, and one, res|)ectively, telling them of things
happening when he was a boy, which, were it possil)le
for them to remember and tell at the age of eighty-
Hve to their grandchildren, would be indeed a col-

MEKTINfiS AND IIF-FOIIMATIOXS.

lilting of the family book of lifo almost in ecntury-
]);i'^c.s. Living is not always bottor than dying; but
to my boys I would say, if they desire to live long in
this woild they must work and be temperate in all

things.

Thus it liappenod that I was born into an atmos-
jtluTe of pungent and invigorating [)uritanism, such as
ilills to the lot of few in these days of material pro-
gress and transcendental speculation. This atmos-
pliere, however, was not witliout its foos. IManted in
this western Xew Enii'land oasis, side bv sitle with the
|ii(.;ty and principles of the old Plymouth colony, and
indeed one with them, were all the ant is and isms
that ever confounded Satan — Calvinism, Lutheran-
ism, Knoxism, and liussism, ])ure and adulterated;
al»(»litionism, whilom accounted a disgi-ace, later the
nation's proudest honor; anti-rum, anti-tobacco, anti
lea and coffee, anti sugar and cotton if the enslaved
Mack man grew them, and anti liddles and cushions
and carpets in the churches, anti-sensualism of every
Uiid, and even comforts if they bordered on luxury.
Tims the fanatically good, in tlieii" vehement attemj)ts
at reiorm, may ])ercliance move some atom of the ])i'o-
yressional world which of inherent necessity, if left
aldiic, would move without theii- aid or in spite of
theiu. Multitudinous meetings and relbrms, high-
jiressure and iow-})ressure, were going on, whether
wise or unwise, whether ther-e was anvthinu' to meet
i'urorto reform, or not. As my mother used to !>ay,
■■ to be good and to do good shotdil constitute the aim
and end of every life." Children pai'ticularly sliould
I)e ii'formed, and that right early; and so .Saturday
night was ' ke})t,' preparatory to the Sabbath, on
wliich day three 'meetings' were always held, besides
a Sunday-school and a prayei'-meeting, the intervals
iHiiii;- filled witli Saturday -cooked repasts, catechism,
and Simdav readings.

Pieparations were made for the Sabbath as for a

SPKIXfiS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

soltjinn ovntioii. The tjnnlon was ]>ut i?i order, and
the slu^ep and kino wt'i'c di'lvni it) tlieir quiet quarti'i's.
TJie Jiouso was scruhUed, and in the winter fuel ]»i'c-
j)ared the day belore. All picture-hooks and scrajis
oi' secular reading which nii^'ht catch the eye and
oHeiid the imagination wi'ri' tlu'ust into a closet, and
on the tahle in their stead wert; ])laced the l)iM<\
J\I<'innirs (if Pi'i/soi), and /fii.ifcrs Sdiifs Jicst. 'i'he
uiorninL;' of the lioly day crept silently in; even na+ure
seemed suiulued. The hirtis sani; softer; the inmates
of the farm-yard |)ut on their best hehavior; only the
bra/en-faced sun dared show itself in its accustomed
chai'acter. J'rayers and breakfast over, cleanly
frocked, through still streets an<l ])ast closed doors
each member of the h<»usehol(l wallced with down-
cast eyes to chuicli. Listen and heetl. S[)eak no
evil of the godly man, nor criticise his words.

Not only is religion, or the necessity of worship,
as much a ])art of us as body, mind, or soul, but
ingrafted superstition of some sort so fastens itself on
our natur-e that the philosophy of tlu^ most ske[ttic;d
cannot wholly ei'a<licate it.

Often l)a\e I heard latter-day progressive fathers
say: "For myself, I care not for dogmas and creeds,
but something of the kind is necessary for women and
children: society else wtnild fall in pieces." Without
subscribing to such a senUment, 1 may say that J
thank (xod for the safe survival of strict religion^
training; and I thank him most of all for emaucipa-
tioa frt)ui it. It may be gc^od to be born in a hotbed
of revei-ential sectarianism ; it is surely better, at souu
later time, to escape it.

Excess of any kind is sure, sooner or later, to de-
feat its own ends. Take, for* instance, the meetings
inflicted on the society into which destiny had pro-
jected me. There wore pulpit meetings, conference
meetings, missionary meetings, temperance meetings,
ujothers' meetings, young men's meetings, Sunday-
school meetings, inquiry meetings, moral-reform meet-

BELIEF AND ITS DESTINY.

iiii^s, ministers' mootint^s, sunrise and sunset meetings,
anti-slavery meetings — these for the ordinary minis-
trations, witli extra inn)romptu meetings on special
(Kcasions, and all intermingled with frequent and
fervid revivals. The consequence was that the young
men of Orauvillc were noted in all that region for
their wickedness. Home influence and the quiet but
ellectual teachings of example were overshadowed by
the public and more active poundings of piety into the
young. The tender plant was so watered, and digged
about, and fertilized, that natural and healthy growth
was inij)eded. A distaste for theological discourse
was earlv formed, arisinsj:, not from a distaste for ri;-
li^ion, nor from special inherent badness, but from the
endless unwholesome restraints thrown upon youth-
j'nl unfoldings, which led in many instances to the
saddest results. " Born in sin!" was the cry that first
fell on infant ears, and "brought forth in iniquity!"
tlic refrain. This beautiful world that thou seest is
given thee, not to enjoy with thankful adoration, but
as a snare of Satan. Do penance, therefore, for sins
whicli thou wilt be sure to connnit if thou livest. Let
thy mind dwell little upon the things thou canst see
and understand, and much U[)on what is beyond the
sky, of which thou canst know nothing. By prayer
and })ropitiation peradventure thou mayest induce om-
nipotence to avert from thine innocent head some of
its premeditated wrath ; or, if there nmst be a dis-
play of the creator s power let it fall on our neighbors
and not on us. So the heaven that my kind heavenly
father throws round my earthly habitation is turned
into furnace-fires to melt the metal of self-abnegation
into coins with which to buy the heaven hereafter.

What then shall be the coming religion? The
l)rophet has not yet arisen to proclaim it. Whatever
else its quality, sure I am it will not be a religion of
creeds, dogmas, or traditions. We have had enough
of the teachings of twilight civilization, of being told
by the ignorant and superstitious of by- gone centuries

Lit. Imd. 6

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

what we imist beliovo, by those whose occupuUon and
interest it is to instil ijjfnorance and hcA'oiX the intei-
loots of men. Whatever else it may eontain, tlie new
rt;li^ion will be founded on reality and eonimon-sense.
It will, ilrst of all, diseard sueh parts of every religion
as are unable to bear tiie test of reason, and aecept
such parts of every religion as are plain, palpable
truths. It will look within and without; it will search
for knowledijfe to the uttermost, not i«;norin<j: inten-
tions and spiiitual aspirations, but vain speculation
it will leave to the winds.

It is not to be wondered at that, after such an ex-
cess of piety and exalted cont(.inplation, to the young
clastic mind an interview with the devil was most rc-
iVi^shing; and as the.se boys were taught that in to-
bacco, small-beer, and the painted cards that players
used, he lurked, there the pious urchins sought him.
(yjubs were foi-med — rough littU; knots, for polished
wirki'dne.ss had as yet no charm for them — and meet-
ings held lor the purpose of iUHpiiring proficiency
in these accomplishments. Often after leaving our
'iiujuiiy' meeting — that is to say, a place where young
folks met ostensibly for the jnirpose of inquiring
what they should do to be sa\'ed — have I gone home
and to bed; then later, up and dressed, in company
with my comrades I would resort to a cellar, garret,
or barn, with tallow candle, cent cigars, and a pack of
well-woi-n gieasy playing-cards, and there hold sweet
comnmnion with infernal powers; in consequence of
which enthusiasm one bai-n was burned and several
others narrowly escaped burning. Strange to say,
later in life, as soon as I learned how playing-cards
were made, and that no satanic influences were em-
ployed in their construction or use, they ceased to
have any fascination for mo.

The spirit of mischief broke out in various ways,
such as unhinging gates and hiding them in the grass,
rousing the inmates of a house at the dead of night
on some frivolous pretext; sometimes choice fruits

TENDENCY OF EXCESS. 6T

would be missing, and a farmer would find his horses
unaccountably used up some morning, or his wagon in
1 liL' neifjhboring town. Hither witii their noble ethics
1 liose New England emigrants had brought their fierce
biifotry, which yielded fruit, the one as well as the
other.

But on the whole, excess of what wo call goodness
is I letter than excess of wickedness. A French writer
coinplains, " Tous les vices mediocres sont presquo
nvnuralcmontapprouves; on ne les condamno quo dans
Itiir exces." Now excess per .se I hold to be the
vl "ly essence of evil, the sum of all evils, the solo evil
ItK'Klent to humanity. " Virtus est medium vitiorum
ct utrinquo reductum," says Horace. Virtue is al-
ways found lying between two vices. Those very
t xcellcnces, moral and intellectual, which cultivated
in moderation tend to happiness, if cultivated to an
extreme tend to misery. Plato had the idea, though
it is somewhat confusedly expressed when he says,
"Slavery and freedom, if immoderate, are each of
them an evil; if moderate, they are altogether a good.
Moderate is the slavery to a god; but immoderate to
men. God is a law to the man of sense; but j)leasure
is a law to the fool." Dr Young remarks, "When
W(; dip too deep in pleasure we always stir up a
.sediment that renders it impure and noxious." We
can but notice in the history of high attainments
leaehed by various ages and nations, culminating
jtoiuts, in leaping which progress defeats itself Un-
due culture in one direction retards advancement in
aiiotlier. Intellectual excesses, of all others, tend to
<liive a man to extremes. The higher a brain worker
is lifted out of or above himself, the lower he sinks in
the reaction; for to ignore himself, his human and
material nature, is impossible. A strain upon those
exquisitely delicate organs essential to the higher
chords of genius produces discordant results. The
teuq)tation for refined and intellectual men to pe-

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

riodical coarseness and immorality is far greater than
persons of less delicate organizations can imagine.
Thus beyond a certain line the intellectual in man
can be further developed only at the expense of the
j)hysical, or the physical only at the expense of the
nieiital. The intensity of force arising from alco-
holic stimulants results in subsequent cxliaustion.
Consulting Dr Fothergill on this subject, we are told
that " where man is left too much to his mere muscu-
lar efforts, without the mind being engaged, wo find
disease engendered, and that, too, to a decided extent.
The monotonous occupation entailed by the division
of labor, and the mental lethargy entailed by a form of
labor making no demand upon the intellectual powers,
leave the persons engagc^d in such labor a prey to
every form of excitement when tlie work hours are
over. Drunkenness, political and theological agitation,
bursts of excitement, and a sensational literature of
the lowest order, are the price mankiml pays for t\\r
development of industrial enterprise. Insanity dog>
the ne<dect of the intellect even more than over-ust
of it, and tlie percentage of insanity among field
laborers is much higher than among the professional
classes."

It is by the development of all our faculties simiil
taneously that perfect manhood is attained. For m
this simultaneous development the true mean asserts
itself and subordinates excess. The moment (me faculty
is taxed at the expense of another both cry out for rr
dress; one by reason of the too heavy burden laid upon
it, and the otlier under the sufferings of neglect. Ex-
cess pays rio attention to these cries, but abandons its
victim to passion; while temperance heeds and obeys.
Hence excessive so-called goodness becomes in itsell" a
great evil, and excessive so-called evil is sure in th*-
end to react and to some extent right itself, or rot and
fall in pieces. Abstract evil without some amalgam
of good to give it form and consi.stence cannot hold
together. It is like a lump of clay fashioned* in the

THE HAPPY MEAN.

image of man, but without life or motive principle; or
like man fashioned after the image of his maker, with-
out the soul of the creator's goodness. We are not
invited into this world to be angels or demons, but
simply men; let us strive never so liard to be one or
the other, and we signally fail. Coupled with the
superlative, "Pray without ceasing," is the caution,
'• Be not righteous overmuch." Avoid irreligion,
atheism, soulless nescience; avoid likewise supersti-
tion, fanaticism, and pious brawlings. May not our
ills 1)0 merely blessinixs in excess? And the hiijher
and holier the good, the greater the curwo of it when
wt swallow too much. I know of no such things as

• \ ices mediocres.' To sin against my body, be it ever
sc» little, is to sin, for it is written, " Thou shah do
no murder;" to sin against my mind, my soul, is to
sin against mind immortal, the soul of my soul. This
it is to be born in sin, and nothing more; to be born
unevenly balanced, so that throughout life we are
< onstantly vibrating, ever verging toward one extreme
ot another.

In the broader view of man and his environment,
in watching the powerful inHuences that govern him,
and his almost futile efforts to govern himself or
liis surroundings, one cannot but be struck by the
>i H-rogulating |)rinciple in the machinery. We walk
through life as on a tight-rope, and the more c\vidy
\\r balance ourselves the better we can i;o for^vard.
Too much leaning on one side involves a correspond-
ing movement toward the other extreme in order to
uain an equilibrium, and so we go on wriggling and
tnttei'ing all our days. Hence, lo avoid excesses of

• very kind 1 hold to be the triiest wisdom. We have
hcloro us, in the history of mankind, thousands of
<'\ani|>les if we would profit by them, thousands
"I* illustrations if wo will see them, wherein excess of
what we call good and excess of what we call evil both
ahke tend to destruction. The eflects of excessive
I lift y are before us in forms of morbid asceticism, with

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

.self-flagellations, and starvations, and half a nation
turned bcf^garly monks, to bo kept alive at the ex-
pense of the other half or left to die; in persecutions
and slaughters, which for centuries made this fair
oartli an Aceldama, whence the smoke from reeking
millions slain, ascending heavenward, called aloud for
vengeance. " Crucify thy body and the lusts thereof,"
cries tlie ascetic; until, alas! the knees smite together,
and the imbecile mind, deprived of its sustenance,
wanders with weird images in the clouds. " Give us
meat and drink; let us be merry," says the sensualist;
and so the besotted intellect is brought down and
bemired until the very brutes regard it contemptu-
ously. Away with effeminate sentimentality on the
one side and beastly indulgence on the other! Awuv
with straining at gnats and swallowing camels! Use,
but do not abuse, all that God has given thee — thf
fair earth, that wonderful machine, thy body, that
tlirico awful intelligence that enthrones thy body
and makes thee companion of immortals. (J i veil a
world of beinijs in which mind and body are evenlv
balanced, and the millennium were come; no mon-
need (»f priest or pill-taking; no more need of propa-
gandist or hangman. Olympus .sinks to earth, and
men walk to and tVo as gods.

It is the will of (fod, as Christianity expresses it,
or inexorable necessity, as the Greek poets would say,
or ihe tendency of evolution, as science ])uts it, i'or
goodness on this earth to grow; for men to beconn
better, and for evil to disappear. Self-preservation
demands moderation in all things, and it is ordained,
whether we will it or not, that temperance, chastity,
i'rugalitv, and all that is elevating and ennol)ling, shall
ultimately prevail. Not that we are passive instru
nients in the hand of fate, without will or power to
move. We may put forth our puny eilbrts, and a-
regards our individual selves, and those nearest us,

'i nuK'h; and the more we strun-o].^

may

»P

for the riLrht, whether on utilitarian or inherent m<

*^^

EARLY ABOLITIONISM.

rulity principles, the more we cultivate in our hearts
the elements of piety, morality, and honesty, the
hotter and happier we are. This the experience of
ill! mankind in all ages teaches, and this our own ex-
))crionce tells us every day. Whatever else I know
or am doubtful of, one thing is plain and sure to me:
to tlo my duty as best I may, each day and hour, as it
coiues before me; to do the right as best I know it,
toward God, my neighljor, and myself; this done, and
I may safely trust tlie rest. To know tlie riglit, and
do it, that is life. Compromises with misery-breeding
i;4iiorance, blind and stupid bigotry, and coyings and
hailotings with pestilential prudences, lackadaisical
Initerings and tamperings with conscience, when right
on before you is the plain Christ-trodden path —
tliese thinjTfs are death. He who knows the riffht and
does it, never dies; he who tampers with the wrong,
(hes every day. But u isl conduct is one thing and
lules of conduct <|uite ..ii'ther.

Nevertheless, I say it is better to be righteous
overnmch than to be incorrigibly wicked. And so
the puritans of Granville thought as they enlarged
their meetinjj-houses, and erected husjce seminaries of
learning, and called upon the benighted from all parts
to come in and be told the truth. Likewise they com-
forted tlie colored race.

The most brilliant exploit of my life was performed
at the tender age of eleven, whi'ii 1 spent a whole
iiisjrht in drivinui: a two-horse wtiu^on load of runaway
shives on their wav from Kentucky and slavery t.;
Canada and freedom — an exploit which was regarded
ill tliose days by that community witli little less aji-
I>robation than that bestowed by a fond Apache
mother upon the son who brandishes before her his
lirst scalp. The ebony cargo consisted of three men
and two women, who had been brought into town the
night before by ;,ome teamster of kindred mind to my
lather's, and kept simgly stowed away from prying

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

eyes during the day. About nine o'clock at night
the large lumber-box wagon filled with straw was
brought out, and the black dissenters from the Ameri-
oiiu constitution, who so lightly esteemed our glorious
land of freedom, were packed under the straw, and
some blankets and sacks thrown carelessly ovei- them,
so that outwardly there might be no signillcance of
the dark and hidden meaning of the load. My care-
ful mother bundled me in coats and scarfs, to Iceep me
from fnuzing, and with a rounil of good-bys, given
not without some appreliensions for my safety, and
with minute instructions, repeated many times lest I
should forgot them, I climbed to my seat, took the
reins, and (hove slowly out of town. Once or Iwice 1
was hailed by some curious passer-by with, "Wliat
have you got there ?" to which I made answer as in
such case had been provided. Just what the answer
was I have forgotten, but it partook somewhat of
the flavor of my mission, which was more In the
direction of the law of (iod than of the law of man.
Without telling an unaduherated Ananias and Saj)-
phira lie, I gave the inquirer no very relialde informa-
tion; still, most of the ])cople in that vicinity under-
stood well enough what the load meant, and were in
sympathy with the shippers. I was much nearer
danger when I fell asleep and ran tlie wagon against
a tree near a bank, over whicli my load narrowly
escaped being tuj-ned. The fact is, this was the Mrst
time in my life I had ever attempted to keep my eyes
open all night, and more than once, as my iiorses
jogged along, I was brought to my senses by a jolt,
and without any definite idea of the character of the
road for some distance back. ]\Iy freight behaved
very well; once fairly out into the country, and into
the night, the 'darkies' straightened up, grinned, and
ap})eared to enjoy the pei'loruiance iuigi'ly. During
the night they would fVe(|Uently get out and walk,
always taking care to keep carefully covered in passing
throuirh a town. Al)out three o'clock in the mornlnjx

4
I

NEGRO SLAVERY REFORM. 73

T entered a village and drove up to the house whither
I liad been directed, roused the inmates, and trans-
((•rred to them my load. Then I drove back, sleepy
but happy.

( )iii'i; my father's bai'ii was selected as the most
available place for holdini,^ a jjjrand abolition nioetinuc,
llio first anniversary of the Ohio State Anti-Slavery
society. Rotten eg<jjs ilcw lively about the heads of
the s[)eakers, but they sulfered no serious incon-
venience from them until after the meeting was over
and tuoy had begun their homeward journey. Beyond
the precincts of the village they were ntet by a mob,
and altiiough spurring their horses they did not escape
until the foul Hood had drenchetl them. Those were
hajipy days, when there was something to sutler for;
now that the slavery monster is dead, and the slayers
have well-nigh spent their strength kicking the carcass,
then? is no h<'lj» for reformers but to run off into
woman's rights, free-love, and a new sti-ing of petty
isms which should put them to the blush after tiieir
doughty deeds. There are yet many s(»uls dissatisfied
with God's management of things, who fi.!el them-
•^elvcs ordained to re-create mankirid upon a moilel
of their own. Unfortunately tiie model varies, and
instead of one creator we have ten thousand, who
turn the world upside down with their whimsical
■v'ugaries.

I cannot say that my childhood was particularly
i!aji[»y; or if it was, its sorrows i\ro d<'e[ier graven
on my memory than its joys. The fault, if i'ate bo
fault, was not my parents', Avho were always most
kind to me. Excessive S(?nsitiv(ness lias ever bi'cji
niy (.'urso; since my earliest recollections 1 have
sull'ered I'rom this defect mon* than i can tell, Mv
peace of mind has ever been in hands otiier than my
'wn : at school rude boys cowed ami tormented mo,
;tnd later knaves and fools have licld me in derision.
How painful to a sensitive mind is the attention

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

drawn by personal peculiarity; how powerful the in-
fluence of external trifles 1 Instance Byron, with his
club-foot; and the pimpled Hazlitt, as his Tory critics
called him, his morbid imagination haunted by the
ever present picture of himself, the sinister effects of
which governed well-nigji every action of his life.
Tlicn there was the dusopia r>f Plutarch's which con-
sisted ill t]\v inability of saying no; and the shyness
that subordinated judgment to fear, such as that
manifested by Antipater when invited to the feast of
Demetrius, or that of young Hercules, Alexanders
son, who was browbeaten into accepting the invitation
of Polysperchon, which, as the son of Alexander had
feared, rosultod in his death ; worst of all is the basli-
fulness of dissimulation, and that counterfeit of shy-
ness, egoism. I never had any difficulty in saying no,
never lacked decision. No matter at what expense of
unpopularity, or even odium, I stootl always ready to
maintain the right; and as for the diffidence of dis-
simulation, I was frank enough among my friends,
though reserved with strangers. By nature I was
melancholy without being morose, affectionate and
proud, and keenly alive to home happiness and the
oiessings of every-day life. So far as I am able to
VbUuU/. tli(.' failing, it arose from no sense of fear,
inferiority, or vanity; it was simply a dibtaste or dis-
inclin .tion to feel obliged to meet and converse with
sir 'iigers wluni T hud nothing to see tlicm for, and
nothing to converse about; at the same time, v/lien
urged by duty or business, n.r mind once made up,
I could go anywhere and encounter any person with-
out knee-shaking. My trouble partook more of that
nervousness wliich Lord Macaulay as<" 'bes to Mr
Pitt who always took laudiuium and sal- volatile ]:)efor(!
sjX'uking, than of that shyness complained of by
Bnhver, who said he could resist an invitation to
dinner so long as it came t^ rough a third person,
in the form of a written or verbal message, but
cnco .'Assaulted by the entertainer in |H;rson and ho

'»i t

SUPERSENSITIVENES3.

was lost. It is true, a simple invitation to a general
assemblage oppressed my spirits, yot I would go and
endure from a sense of duty, I was timid; others
wore bold. Conscious of merits and abilities, superior,
in my own opinion at least, to those of the persons I
most disliked to meet, I would not subject myself to
the withering influences of tlieir loud and burly talk-
ing. With the natural desire lor approbation mingled
a nervous horror of sliame; with aspirations to excel
the fears of failure; and I felt a strong repugnance to
exposing myself at a disadvantage;, or permitting such
merit as I possessed to be undervalued or overmatched
by the boisterous and contemptible. Yet I will con-
tend that it was less pride than a morbid excess of
motlosty curdleil into a curse.

The author of Caxtoniana sa3's in his essay on shy-
ness: "When a man has unmistakably done a some-
thing that is meritorious, he must know it; and ho
cannot in his heart untlervalue that something, other-
wise he would never have strained all his energy to
do it. But till he has done it, it is not sure tliat he
can do it; and if, relying upon what he fancies to be
genius, he do(!s not take as much pains as if he were
(hill, the probability is that he will not do it at all.
Thoreforo merit not proved is modest; it covets
approbation, but is not sure that it can win it. And
wliilo thus eager for its object, and secretly strength-
iiiing all its powers to achieve it by a wise distrust of
unproved capacities and a fervent admiration for the
highest models, merit is tremulously shy." It is by
no means proven that modesty is a mark of merit, or
shyness a si<xn of ixenius. On the contrary wo nii^ht
as naturally ask of the bashful person what lie has
• lone that he is ashamed of ]hit withimt theory,
without knowing or caring what was the cause, ;dl
through my younger days to meet people was dis-
tasteful to me; so I threw rouml myself a wall oi
.solitude, within which admittance was gained by few.
This state of thintjs continued until some time after

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

I had arrived at the age of maturity, when it grad-
ually left me ; enough remaining, however, to remind
me of the past.

It is one of the saddest processes of life, this of
tanning the heart and turning the seat of the affec-
tions into a barb-proof ball; but there is no other way
of warding off those untoward accidents and incidents
which peril tlie sensitive angles of the many-sided
bashful man, and of keeping back affliction that con-
stantly ])ours in upon him. To absorb and digest all
the infelicities that press round us is like going to sea
in a worm-eaten boat; despite our best efforts the bitter
waters will come in and overwhelm us. From tiie
day of our birth till death gives us rest, ills hover
over us and crowd round us, fancied ills most of them,
or misfortunes which never happen, but to the timid
more fearful than real ones. There are more of
these than we are able to bear, and if we would not
vsink into the depths of despair wo must fill our hearts
with that which will turn the tide of unhappiness.
Pitch will do it to some extent, though it may not be
handled without defilement. Cliarity absorbs troubles
rather than sheds tliem. Nevertheless, whatever the
cost, some portion of the frowns of our fellows and
the evils anticipated by the fearful and sensitive must
be flung off. We suffer infinitely more in the antici-
pation than in the reality, and then not more than
one in a hundred of our anticipated evils ever reaches
us. ]jike Pyranms, who ])rematui'oly stabbed him-
self because he t]iou*dit his Thisbe slain by a lion
when she was safe, or liomeo, who might have had
his Juliet here had lie not been in sucli haste to meet
her in heaven, we are driven to despair by the evil
that never touches us. Throw off evil, then; and
above all, throw <iff the fear of possible or probable
evil. When it comes, turn your craft to meet the
storm as best you may, but do not die a thousand
times before death comes.

And thus it was tliat later in life, as I wandered

THE MOVE TO MISSOURI.

among the scenes of my childhood, sadness stood
everywhere prominent. I seemed to remember only
the agony of my young life, and every step I took
wrung from my very soul tears of .sympathetic pity.
The steed well fed and warmly housed at night will
stand the keenest, coldest day unilinchingly; give to
the l)oy a ha])])y life, and the man will take care of
himself Let him who will, after arriving at maturity,
defy opinion and the contempt of the world, hut do
not ask the child to do it. Nothing exceeds the
misery suffered by the sensitive youth from the jeer.s
of companions. Let the boy he a boy during his
youth, and as far into manhood as ])ossiblc. The
boyish delight of Lamartine as he revelled among the
mountain's sparkling streams, breathing the flower-
secnted lireath of May, was to his ascetic father-con-
fessor, Pere Varlet, almost a crime. I was reared in
that saturnine school which teaches it to be a sin
for the insulted boy to strike back ; and often in my
srhool-days, overwhelmed with a sense of ignominy
and wrong, I have stolen off to weep away a wounded
spirit. The fruit of such training never leaves the
child or man; its sting penetrates tlie blood and bones,
and poisons the whole future life. Yet for all that,
and more, of puritan (Granville I may say, it was well
for tliis man that lie was born there.

]\Iy boyhood was spent in working during the
summer, and in winter attending school, where I
jii'ogressed so far as to obtain a smattering of Latin
and Greek, and some insight into the higher mathe-
matics. No sooner had my father placed in a forward
state of cultivation his hundred acres, and built him
a largo and comfortable stone house — which he did
with his own hands, quarrying tlie blocks from a hill
near b}' — and cleared the place from debt, than, seized
l\y tiiC spirit of unrest, he sold his pleasant home and
moved his family to the ague swamps of New Madrid,
Missouri, where rich land, next to nothing in price.

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

with little cultivation would yield enormous returns,
worth next to nothinjj when harvested, through lack
of any market.

Alter three years of ague and earthquake agita-
tions in that uncertain-l)ottomed sand-blown land of
opossums and ])uckering [)erummons, fearing lest the
very ilesh would he shaken iiom our bones, wo all
packed ourselves back, and began once n)ore where
we left off, but minus the comfortal>le stone house and
farm.

(Jail it discontent, ambition, enterprise, or what you
will, I find this spirit of my father fastened somewhat
upon liis son; though with Caliph Ali, Mohammed's
son-in-law, I may say, that "in the course of my long
life, I have ol'ten obsi^rved that men are more like the
times th(>y live in than they are like their lathers."
It is cliai'actoiistic of some people that they are never
satisfied excej)t when they are a little miserable. Like
the albatross, which loves the tempest, sailing round
and round this life's waste of ocean, if j)erchance he
crosses tiie lino of calm, he straightway turns back,
suffocated by the silence, and with much contentment
commits himself to new bufletings. I'hilosophically
put by Herbert Ainslie, "Self-consciousness must in-
volve intervals of unhappiness; not to be self-conscious
is to be as bii-d or beast, livinif without knowing:
it, having no remembrance or anticipation of joy or
sorrow. Self- consciousness, too, nmst involve the
consciousness of an ideal or type; a sense of that
which nature intended us to be, and how far wc fall
short of it. To finish my homil}', if man be the
highest result of nature's lonof efi'ort to become self-
conscious, to 'know herself,' not to be self-conscious,
that is, to be ahvays happy, is to be not one of na-
ture's highest results. The ' [)erfect man,' then, must
bo one 'accpiainted with grief" Often in the simple
desire for new companionship we tire of unadulter-
ated good, and connnunion with some sorrow or the
nursing of some heartache becomes a pleasing pas-

THE SPIRIT OF UNREST.

time. There arc persons who will not be satisfied,
though in their garden were planted the kalpa-taron,
the tree of the imagination, in Indian inytholog>-,
whence may be gathered whatever is ilesircd. To
natures thus constituted a real tangible calamity, such
iis failure in business or the breaking of a leg, is a god-
send. Pure unalloyed comfort is to them the most
uncomfortable of positions. The rested bones ache
tor new hardships, and the (piieted mind frets for
new cares. So roam our souls through life, sailing
eternally in air like feetless birds of paradise.

After all, this si)irit, the spirit of unrest, of discon-
tent, is the spirit of progress. Underlying all activi-
ties, it moves every enterprise; it is tiie mainspring
of commerce, culture, and indeed of every agency that
stimulates human im[)rovement. Nay, more: that fire
which may not be smothered, that will not let us rest,
those deep and ardent longings that .stir up discon-
tent, that breed distempers, and make a bed of roses
to us a couch of thorns — religion it may be, and ideal
national morality, or sense of duty, or laudable desire
in any form — is it any other inlluence than Omnipo-
tence working in us his eternal purposes, driving us
on, poor blind cogs that we are in the wheel of destiny,
to the fulfilment of predetermined ends? It is a law
of nature that water, the life-giver, the restorer, the
purifier, shall find no rest upon this planet; it is a
law of God that we, human drops in the stream of
[irogress, shall move ever onward — in the l)ubblings,
and vaultings, and pool-eddyings of youth, in the suc-
cessive murmurings, and roarings, and deeper afiairs of
life, and in the more silent and sluggish flow of age —
on, never resting, to the black limitless ocean of the
Beyond.

Nor may our misery, our nervous petulance, our
fretful discontent, our foolish fears, and all the cata-
logue of hateful visitations that grate and jar upon
ourselves and others, and make us almost savage in
our undying hunger, be altogether accounted to us for

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

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2.5

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1.25 1.4

1.6

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fi:

^;.

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

Ill''

f ■'

ill. That divina particida aurce, the one little particle
of divine breath that is within us, will not let us rest.
As Pierre Nicol has it, "L'homme est si miserable,
que I'inconstance avec laquelle il abandonne ses des-
seins est, en quelque sorte, sa plus grande vertu;
parce qu'il temoigne par Ih, qu'il y a encore en lui
quelque reste de grandeur qui le porte h se dcgouter
des choses qui ne muritent pas son amour et son
estime."

Lovely little Granville 1 dear, quiet home -nook;
under the long grass of thy wall-encircled burial-
ground rest the bones of these new puritan patri-
archs, whose chaste lives, for their descendants, and
for all who shall heed them, bridge the chasm between
the old and the new, between simple faith and soul-
sacrificing science, between the east and the west —
the chasm into which so many have haplessly fallen.
Many a strong man thou hast begotten and sent
forth, not cast upon the world lukewarm, character-
less, but as sons well trained and positive for good
or evil.

Lovely in thy summer smiles and winter frowns;
lovely, decked in dancing light and dew pearls, or in
night's star-studded robe of sleep. Under the soft
sky of summer we ploughed and planted, made hay,
and harvested the grain. Winter was the time for
study, while nature, Avrapped in her cold covering, lay
at rest. Fun and frolic then too were abroad on those
soft silvery nights, when the moon played between the
brilliant sky and glistening snow, and the crisp air
carried far over the hills the sound of bells and merry
laughter. Then winter warms into spring, that sun-
spirit which chases away the snow, and swells the buds,
and fills the air with the melody of birds, and scatters
fragrance over the breathing earth ; and spring melts
into summer, and summer sighs her autumn exit —
autumn, loved by many as the sweetest, saddest time
of the year, when the husbandman, after laying up his

i!,J!!;l!l,i|^
liii

MY CHILDHOOD HOME.

winter store, considers for a moment his past and
future, when the squirrel heaps its nest with nuts,
and the crow flies to the woods, and the cries of birds
of passage in long angular processions are heard high
in air, and the half-denuded forest is tinged with the
liectic flush of dying foliage.

I well remember, on returning from my absence,
with what envy and dislike I regarded as interlopers
those who then occupied my childhood home; and
child as I was, the earliest and most determined ambi-
tion of my life was to work and earn the money to
l)uy back the old stone house. Ah Godl how with
swelling heart, and flushed cheek, and brain on fire, I
have later tramped again that ground, the ground my
boyhood trod; how I have skirted it about, and wan-
dered through its woods, and nestled in its hedges,
listening to the rustling leaves and still forest mur-
murings that seemed to tell me of the past; uncov-
ering my head to the proud old elms that nodded to
me as I passed, and gazing at the wild-flowers that
looked up into my face and smiled as I trod them,
even as time had trodden my young heart; whis-
pering to the birds that stared strangely at me and
would not talk to me — none save the bickering black-
bird, and the distant turtle-dove to whose mournful
tone my breast was tuned; watching in the little
stream the minnows that I used to fancy waited for
nic to come and feed them before they went to bed;
loitering under the golden-sweet appletree where I
used to loll my study hours away; eying the ill-
looking beasts that occupied the places of my pets,
while at every step some familiar object would send a
thousand sad memories tugging at my heartstrings,
and call up scenes happening a few years back but
acted seemingly ages ago, until I felt myself as old
as Abraham. There was the orchard, celestial white
and fragrant in its blossoms, whose every tree I could
toll, and the fruit that grew on it; the meadow,
through whose bristling stubble my naked feet had

Lit. Ind. u

I !i

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

picked their way when carrying water to the hay-
makers and fighting bumblebees; the cornfield, where
I had ridden the horse to plough; the barnyard,
where from the backs of untrained colts I had en-
countered so many falls; the hillock, down which I
had been tumbled by my pet lamb, afterward sacri-
ficed and eaten for its sins — eaten unadvisedly by
youthful participants, lest the morsels should choke
them. There was the garden I had been made to
weed, the well at which I had so often drunk, the
barn where I used to hunt eggs, turn somersets, and
make such fearful leaps upon the hay; there were
the sheds, and yards, and porches; every fence, and
shrub, and stone, stood there, the nucleus of a thousand
heart throbs.

From the grassy field where stands conspicuous
the stone-quarry gash, how often have I driven the
cows along the base of the wooded hill separating my
father's farm from the village, to the distant pasture
where the long blue-eyed grass was mixed with clover,
and sprinkled with buttercups, and dotted with soli-
tary elms on whose limbs the crows and blackbirds
quarrelled for a place. And under the beech-trees
beneath the hill where wound my path, as my bare
feet trudged along, how boyish fancies played through
my brain while I was all unconscious of the great
world beyond my homely horizon. On the bended
bough of that old oak, planted long before I was
born, and which these many years has furnished the
winter's store and storehouse to the thrifty wood-
pecker, while in its shadow lies the lazy cud-chewing
cow, there sits the robin where sat his father, and his
father's father, singing the self-same song his grand-
father sang when he wooed his mate, singing the
self-same song his sons and his sons' sons shall sing;
and still remains unanswered the question of the boy:
Who gives the bird his music lesson?

Dimly, subduedly sweet, were those days, clouded
perhaps a little with boyish melancholy, and now

BOYHOOD SCENES.

brought to my remembrance by the play of sunshine
and shadow in and round famihar nooks, by the leafy
woodbine under the garden wall, by the sparkling
(lowy grass-blades, and the odor of the breathing
woods, by the crab-appletree hedge, covered with
grape-vines, and bordered with blackberry bushes, and
inclosing the several fields, each shedding its own
])oculiar fragrance; by the row of puritanical poplars
lining the road in front of the house, by the willows
drinking at the brook, the buckeyes on the hill, and
the chestnut, hickory, butternut, and walnut trees,
whose fruit I gathered every autumn, storing it in
the garret, and cracking it on Sundays after sunset,
as a reward for 'keeping' Saturday night. Even the
loud croaking of frogs in the little swamp between
the barn and meadow thrilled me more than did ever
Strauss' band.

There is something delicious in the air, though the
ground be wet and the sky murky; it is the air in
which I first cried and laughed. There, upon the
abruptly sloping brow of the hill yonder, is where I
buried myself beneath a load of wood, overturned
from a large two-horse sled into the snow. And in
that strip of thicket to the right I used to hide from
thunder-showers on my way from school. Behind
that stone wall many a time have I crept up and
frightened chanticleer in the midst of his crow, rais-
ing his wrath by breaking his tune, and thereby in-
stigating him to thrice as loud and thrice as long a
singing the moment my back was turned. The grove
nf sugar-maple trees, to me a vast and trackless forest
infested with huge reptiles and ravenous beasts, when
there I slept all night by the camp-fire boiling the
unsubstantial sap to sweeter consistency, it is now all
cleared away, and, instead, a pasture tempts the
simple sheep. Away across the four-acre lot still
stands the little old bridge wherefrom I fished for
minnows in the brook it spans, with pork-baited pins
tor hooks.

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

There is something painfully sweet in memories
painful or sweet. How sorrows the heart over its lost
friendships; how the breath of other days whispers of
happiness never realized ; how the sorrowful past plays
its exquisite strains upon the heartstrings! Things
long gone by, deemed little then and joyless, are mag-
nified by the mists of time and distance into a mirage
of pleasurable remembrances. How an old song some-
times stirs the whole reservoir of regrets, and makes
the present well-nigh unbearable! Out of my most
miserable past I draw the deepest pain-pleasures, be-
side which present joys are insipid. There is no sadder
sound to the questioner's ear than the church bell
which sometime called him to believing prayer. At
once it brings to mind a thousand holy aspirations,
and rings the death knell of an eternity of joy.

Like tiny tongues of pure flame darting upward
amidst the mountain of sombre smoke, there are many
bright merxiories even among the most melancholy
reveries. The unhappiest life contains many happy
hours, just as the most nauseating medicine is made
up of divers sweet ingredients. Even there, golden
run life's golden sands, for into the humble home
ambition brings as yet no curse.

But alas ! the glowing charm thrown over all by the
half-heavenly conceptions of childhood shall never be
revived. Every harvesting now brings but a new crop
of withered pleasures, which with the damask freshness
of youth are flung into the storehouse of desolation.
Therefore hence! back to your hot-bed; this is a lost
Eden to you !

Thus wrapped in dim vistas, forgetful of what I am,
of time, and age, and ache, I light a cigar and throw my-
self upon the turf, and as through the curling smoke I
review the old familiar landscape, the past and present
of my life circle round and round and mount upward
with visions of the future. With triple sense I see
fashioned by the fantastic smoke ghosts of cities, seas,
and continents, of railways, grain-fields, and gold-fields.

ill

PAST AND PRESENT.

memories
er its lost
hispers of
past plays
! Things
, are mag-
) a mirage
ong some-
nd makes
my most
ism-os, be-
no sadder
lurch bell
aver. At
spirations,
joy.

ig upward
) arc many
nelancholy
any happy
le is made
ire, golden
ble home

all by the

|1 never be

new crop

freshness

iesolation.

ts is a lost

^hat I am,
throw my-
smoke I
id present
it upward
fense I see
(ities, seas,
Irold-fields.

■•a

Through the perspective of impassioned youth I see
ray bark buoyant on burnished waters, while round
the radiant shore satisfying pleasures beckon me, and
warm friendships await me, and the near and dear
companions of my childhood, the hills, the trees, and
sky, with whose hebate soul my eager soul has often
held communion, imparting here alone the secrets of
my youthful phantasy, they whisper the assurance in
my car that every intense yearning shall be rocked to
rest, and every high hope and noble aspiration real-
ized. Then with the eye of mature manhood I look,
and experience reveals a charnel-house of dead am-
bitions, of failures chasing fresh attempts, of lost
opportunities and exploded honors, with all the din
and clatter of present passionate strife; and along
the crowded pathway to Plutus' shrine are weary,
dusty pilgrims, bent with toil and laden with dis-
appointment. Out upon this so swiftly changing
earth there are the rich and the poor, the righteous
and the wicked, the strong and healthy, the sick and
suffering, advancing infancy and departing age, all
hustling each other, and hurrying hither and thither,
like blind beetles following their blind instinct, not
knowing the sea or city, grain-field or gold-field, not
knowing their whence or whither, not knowing them-
selves or the least of created or uncreated things.
Once more I look, and behold, the flattering future is
as ready as ever with her illusions, and men are as
ready as ever to anchor to her ftilse hopes!

Smoke here seems out of place. Its odor is strange
and most unwelcome in this spot. It savors too
strongly of the city and artificial life, of business,
travel, and luxury, to harmonize with the fresh
fragrance of the country. Let it not poison the air
of my early and innocent breathings, laden as are such
airs with the perfumes of paradise. Billowy sensations
sweep over the breast as, standing thus alone amidst
these memory surges, the thickly crowding imageries of
the past rise and float upon the surface of the present.

ill*.

ii :
I'll ill

SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

How ticklishly fall the feet of manhood on paths its
infancy trod ! There is a new road through the beech
woods yonder which I shun as possessing no interest ;
I have had enough of new roads. Then I ask myself,
will the old elms never wither? will the stones never
decay about these spots? Who would have all the
farms bounded by this horizon as a gift? Yet people
will be born here ten thousand years after I am dead,
and people must live.

Lingering still ; the uprooted affections hugging the
soil of their early nourishment. Here, as nowhere on
this earth, nature and I arc one. These hills and
fields, this verdant turf and yonder trees are part of
me, their living and breathing part of my living and
breathing, their soul one with my soul. For all which
expression let Dante make my apology: "Poich^ la
caritil del natio loco, mi estrinse, raunai le fronde
sparte ;" because the charity of my native place con-
strained me, gathered I the scattered leaves.

It is a maddening pleasure thus to conjure from the
soil the buried imageries of boyhood. At every step
arise scores of familiar scenes, ascending in sequent
pictures that mingle with the clouds and float off a
brilliant panorama of the past. The very curb-stones
of the village streets stand as monuments, and every
dust particle represents some weird image, some boyish
conceit, which even now flits before me, racing round
the corners and dancing over the house-tops.

The pretty village has scarcely changed within the
quarter century. The broad, dusty streets, bordered
by fjrass and foliage, half burying the white and
brown houses that lie scattered on either side; the
several churches, the two great seminaries, the school-
houses, and the college on the hill, are all as when I
left them last.

Here is the ill kept graveyard, the scene of all my
youthful ghost stories, with its time-eaten tombstones
toppling over sunken graves, and its mammoth thorn-
tree, beneath whose shadow the" tired hearse-bearers

VIX EA NOSTRA VOCO.

set down their dingy cloth-covered hurden on the way
to the newly made grave, while the bell that strikes
its slow notes on the suffocating air warns all flesh of
coming dissolution.

Down below the bench yonder winds the wooded
creek, where in my summer school-days we used to
rehearse our exhibition pieces, and bathe. On the
other sides of the village are Sugar-loaf and Alligator
hills. I grow thirsty as I drink the several scenes.

How distances lessen 1 Before eyes accustomed to
wider range than the village home and farm adjoining,
the mists and mirage of youth disappear. I start to
walk a block, and ere aware of it I am through the
town and into the country. After all, the buildings
and streets of my native town are not so grand as my
youthful mind was impressible.

How the villagers come out of their houses to stare
at me; and the old stone house, how rusty, and rugged,
and mean it looks compared with the radiance my un-
hackneyed brain clothed it in, though the tin roof
glitters as brightly now as then, and in its day shel-
tered a world of love.

Never is there a home like the home of our youth ;
never such sunshine as that which makes shadows for
us to play in, never such air as that which swells our
little breasts and gives our happy hearts free expres-
sion, never such water as the laujxhinJT dancinjj
streamlet in which we wade through silvery bub-
Llings over glittering pebbles., never such music as
the robin's roundelay and the swallow's twittering
that wake us in the mornin<j:, the tinklinof of the
cow beUs, the rustling of the vines over the window,
the chiiTup of the cricket, and the striking of the old
house Clock that tells us our task is done. The home
of our caildhood once abandoned, is forever lost. It
may havo been a hut, standing on the rudest patch
of ground the earth affords, yet so wrapped round the
heart is it, so charged with youthful imagery is every
stick and stone of it, that the gilded castle built in

88 SPRINGS AND LITTLE BROOKS.

after life, with all the rare and costly furnishings that
art and ingenuity can aflford, is but an empty barn
beside itl

What rcstfulness, what heartfelt satisfaction, what
exquisite joy, in returning to one's childhood home,
with its dear inmates, father, mother, and all the an-
cient and time-honored belongings, still there, with all
those familiar objects which so wrap themselves round
our young affections, and live within us, yielding joy
if not enjoying, and gladdening the light of day with
their presence. These gone, and joy and beauty are
entombed, and the returned wanderer walks as one
waked from the dead. How soothing and how happy
it would be could I but return, and after the long
weary battle of life rest here the remainder of my
days, grow young with age, become a child again, and,
lapped by my first surroundings, lay life down in
nature's arms where first I took it up. Then should
my hot brain be cooled by the cool air of moonlights
long gone by, and my sinking soul revived by the
sunlights of memjry and hope.

Tlius glided magic, mysterious childhood. Pass
me Hebe's cup, and let me be young again, that I may
try this mystery once more.

rj i

ion, what
od home,
11 the an-
G, with all
vcs round
ildiug joy
day with
»eauty are
ks as one
low happy

the long
ler of my
Lgain, and,

down in
len should
noonlights
ed by the

od. Pass
hat I may

CHAPTER IV.

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

No man is bom into the world whose work is not bom with him ; there is
always work and tools to work withal, for those who will.

Lowell,

Crossing a muddy street one rainy day on her way
to school, my eldest sister, dark- eyed and tender of
lioart, encountered a sandy-haired but by no means
ill-looking youth, who made way for her by stepping
back from the plank which served pedestrians. The
young man was a member of the Derby familj'^ of book-
sellers, afterward noted for their large establishments
in various cities. Of course these two young persons,
thus thrown together on this muddy crossing, fell in
love ; how else could it be ? and in due time were mar-
ried, vowing thenceforth to cross all muddy streets in
company, and not from opposite directions. And in
this rain, and mud, and marriage, I find another of the
causes that led me to embark in literature. The
marriage took place in 1845, when I was thirteen
years of age, and the happy couple made their home
in Geneva, New York, where Mr Derby was then
doing business. Subsequently he removed his book-
store and family to Buftalo.

On our return from the land of milk and honey, as
we at first soberly and afterward ironically called our
southern prairie home, my father entered into copart-
nership with one Wright, a tanner and farmer. The
tasks then imposed upon me were little calculated to
give content or yield profit. Mingled with my school
and Sunday duties, interspersed with occasional times

1891

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

ill:

for shooting, fishing, swimming, skating, sleighing, and
nut and berry gathering, was work, such as grinding
bark, sawing wood, chopping, clearing, fencing, milling,
teaming, ploughing, planting, harvesting, and the like,
wherein I could take but little interest and make
no progress, and which consequently I most heartily
hated.

To my great delight, a year or two after the
marriage of my sister, I was offered the choice of
preparing for college or of entering the Buffalo book-
store. The doctrine was just then coming into vogue
that in the choice of a profession or occupation
youthful proclivities should be directed, but the youth
should not be coerced. This, within the bounds of
reason, is assuredly the correct idea.

Here was quite a modification of the strait-laced theo-
ries prominent in this community in morals and religion.
Yet in spiritual affairs, those pertaining to the remote
and indefinite future, the strictest rules of conduct were
still laid down, the slightest departure from which en-
tailed social death. Heaven and hell remained fixed
in their respective localities, weighed and measured, the
streets of gold laid out, and the boundaries of the la es
of sulphuric fire defined. All were accurately mapped,
the populations were given, and available accommo-
dations estimated for future applicants. Moreover,
there were the roads plainly distinguishable to the one
and to the other, the one narrow, rugged, and grass-
grown, the other broad, and dusty from much travel.
This the parent knew ; of it he was sure though sure
of nothing else ; though not sure of anything relating
to this world, such as the earth, the trees, his senses,
himself — for so his parent had told him, and his
grandparent had told his parent, and so on back to
the beginning, and therefore it must be so; and the
heir to such a long and distinctly defined inheritance
must be required to live up to his high privileges.
The dim and indistinct future was thus by faith

PARENTS AND CHILDREN.

Is senses,

brought near, materialized, measured, and fitted to the
actions of every-day life. But the more proximate
and practical future of the child, that alone of wliicli
from his own experience the parent could speak, that
which might teach the child how best to live in this
world, that was left chiefly to the rising generation.
In other words, concerning things of which the child
knows as much as the parent, the severest ruh)s of
conduct are laid down; concerning things of which the
child knows nothing, and of which the parent, by tlie
practical experiences of his life, should have learned
something, profound attention must be paid to the
opinions of the child — as if the vagaries of the youth
were a surer guide to ultimate success than the maturer
judgment of the parent.

In ancient times, as to somr* <^Ytent at present in
the older countries, custom forbade children any wull
of their own, and almost my identity; till nearly of
mature age they were kept in the background, hidden
from the world as if not yet born into it. In Spain
the son, with head uncovered, stands speechless in the
father's presence until permission be given him to sit
or speak, and the daughter is kept secluded in the
nursery or confined to the women's special part of the
house until a husband is brought her and she is told
to marry. Of a wealthy Californian lady living in
Los Angeles I was told that, in the good old time
when Anglo-Americans were few in the land, at
the age of thirteen, on entering the church one
day in company with other members of the family,
according to their custom, a gentleman was pointed
out to her as the one destined to be her husband;
and she was directed by her father, without further
notice, to step up to the altar and be married, which
she did accordingly, "thinking nothing of it," as
she affirms. In France and elsewhere it is some-
what similar, but not quite so bad. Now, and par-
ticularly in new and rapidly developing countries,
custom in this regard is drifting toward the opposite

I'M

92 THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

extreme. In the eastern states of America there is
a perpetual loosening of parental authority; and in
California, if the fathers and mothers escape entire
overthrow they do well. The wilful maiden who
would marry the unapproved object of her fancy
steps aboard a railway train, is whisked away to dis-
tant parts, and soon a letter comes back asking par-
don and a reconciliation, which are usually granted
in time. Surely simple justice would seem to demand
that those who had brought a daughter into being,
nursed her through infancy, watched over her in
childliood, tenderly feeding and clothing, educating
and loving her, should have their wishes and their
judgment respected in so important a step as mar-
riage. None should marry without mutual love. The
parent has no right to compel the daughter to marry
against her will; neither has the daughter a right to
marry against the will of her parents, except in cases
most extreme. There should be love; but love may
be directed. It is not necessary when falling in love
to fall out with reason and common -sense. Love
based on judgment is the only sound and lasting love.
To marry for wealth is the most contemptible of all,
but better it is that a woman should sell herself for so
much money to a man of worth than fling herself
away for the worthless love of a worthless fellow. It
is no credit to a good woman to love a bad man.
Marry for love as you live by your conscience, but
let it be an enlightened love, neitlier ignoble, noi-
base, nor heathenish. Consult the eternal fitness of
things; let the worthless mate, but let not the girl
of cultivation, beauty, intelligence, and refinement
throw herself away on a brainless, shiftless, or dis-
solute young man, because she happens to fancy the
color of his eyes or the curl of his mustache. Antl
of this fitness who is the better judge, thf experi-
enced parent, solicitous for the welfare of the child,
or the lovesick girl, fancy- ridden, and blinded by
passion and intriguing arts? The days for blind

THE COMING CALIFORNIANS.

cupids have passed; the world has so far progressed
that the son of Aphrodite may now, with safety to
the race, open his eyes.

For the protection of worthy unsophisticated young
men, so that they may not be seduced to their de-
struction by designing maidens or their mothers, a
Babylonian marriage -market would not be out of
|)lace, such as Herodotus spoke of, where young
women may be put up at auction and sold as wives
to the highest bidder, and the premium brought by
the beautiful be given as a dowry with the ill-favored,
80 that each may give her husband either beauty or
wealth, for there should be equity and compensation
in all such dealings.

In all this the fault lies chiefly with the parents, or
with the state of society in which the family dwells.
The young may be reared as well in California as else-
Avliere, the maidens may be as modest and the young
men as respectful, but in a new community, where all
is liaste and freeness, it is more difficult for the heads
of families so desiring it to make their children de-
corous and retiring than in older and more settled
states. This, however, will right itself in time. There
is no place in the world where the rising generation
bids fair to obtain so high a development as in Cali-
fornia; let us hope that simplicity, refinement, and
respectful obedience may accompany it.

A wise parent will study the idiosyncrasies of the
child, and before permitting a son to adopt a profession
or embark in a pursuit he will analyze his character
and consider the qualities of mind and body, setting
apart temper, mood, and talent, one from the other,
and then determine from the nature and quality of
the material before him what sort of man, under given
conditions, it will make, and how it can be best moulded
and directed so as to achieve the highest success. And
it' the parent is correct in his judgment, and the child
is not swayed by passion or prejudice, both will ar-
rive at about the same conclusion as to what is best

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

lOli

to be done. Talk with the boy about his future
occupation, and with the girl of the lover whom she
would make her husband; then let the parent decide,
and not the child. This is the office of the parent;
to this end young men and maidens were given
parents.

The two courses in life at this time offered me were
each not without attractions, and for a time I hesitated,
thinking that if I adopted one it would be well, and
if I adopted the other it would be better. Nor should
I feel much more competent to decide a similar case
at present. To have the elements of success within
is the main thing; it then does not import so much
in what direction they are developed. "Xon quis, sed
quomodo;" it matters little what one does, it matters
everything how one does it. Napoleon used to ask,
" Qii'ost-ce qu'il a fait?" not "Who is his father?" To
be a good brick-maker is infinitely better than to be
a bad book-maker. If the inherent elements of suc-
cess are present they are pretty sure to find a channel.
As Ruskin says of it, "Apricot out of currant, great
man out of small, did never yet art or eflfort make;
and in a general way, men have their excellence nearly
fixed for them when they are born."

Emerson is of the opinion that "each man has his
own vocation. The talent is the call. There is one
direction in which all space is open to him. He has
faculties silently inviting him thither to endless exer-
tion. He is like a ship in the river — he runs against
obstructions on every side but one; on that side all
obstruction is taken away, and he sweeps serenely
over God's depths into the infinite sea. This talent
and this call depend on his own organization, or the
mode in which the general soul incarnates itself in
him." And more beautifully than any of them Jean
Paul Richter remarks, "Whoever is not forced by
necessity, but feels within him, growing with his
growth, an inclination and declination of his magnetic

if
I

'--#

'S future
hom she
it decide,
3 parent;
re given

I me were
lesitated,
well, and
or should
nilar case
!ss within

so much

quis, sed
t matters
sd to ask,
ler?" To
;han to be
its of suc-
channcl.
lant, great

trt make;

ce nearly

in has his
sre is one

He has
lless exer-
ts ascainst
it side all

serenely
liis talent
>n, or the

itself in

iiem Jean

[breed by

with his

I magnetic

CONCERNING A CAREER.

needle, let him follow its pointing, trusting to it as to
;i compass in the desert."

This marriage of my sister's changed the course not
only of my own destiny but of that of every member
of my family. It was the hinge on which the gate
swung to open a new career to all of us. Puritan
Granville was a good place to be reared in, but it
was a better place to emigrate from. It was in the
world but not of the world. Success there would be
a hundred acres of land, a stone house, six children,
an interest in a town store or a grist-mill, and a dea-
consliip in the church.

But how should I decide the question before me?
What had I upon which to base a decision? Nothing
but my feelings, my passions, and propensities — un-
safe guides enough when coupled with experience, but
absolutely dangerous when left to shift for themselves.
By such were guided the genius that made Saint Just
and Robespierre, Alcibiades and Byron, Caligula and
Nero; and the greater the talents the greater the
perversion of youthful fire and intelligence if mis-
directed.

Mcrimee, when about ten years of age, was deceived
by his elders, whereupon he adopted for his maxim,
"Remember to distrust," and retiring within himself
he incrusted his sensibilities with indifference and
maintained a cold reserve forever after. Yet beneath
tliis cynical crust burned love and sentiment, burned
all the fiercer from confinement, and finally burst
forth in his Lcttres a line inconnue, whether a real or
a mythical personage no one seemed to know. In
Ills youth he had lacked wise counsel and kind con-
siderate direction; that was all.

Study had always strong fascinations for me, and
the thought of sometime becoming a great lawyer or
statesman set heart and head rapturously a-twirl. I
cannot remember the time when I could not read,
rucite the catechism, and ride and drive a horse. I
am told that I was quick to learn when young, and

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

that at the age of three years I could read the New
Testament without having to spell out many of the
words. If that be true the talent must have ended
with my childhood, for later on taking up study I
found it almost impossible to learn, and still more
difficult to remember, whatever talent I may have
possessed in that direction having been driven out of
me in the tread-mill of business.

One winter I was sent to the brick school-house, a
rusty red monument of orthodox efforts, long since
torn down. There presided over the boys at one time
my mother's brother. The Howes engaged in school-
teaching naturally, they and their children, boys and
girls, without asking themselves why. The family
have taught from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in New
York, Ohio, Iowa, Nevada, Oregon, and California.
They were good teachers, and they were good for
nothing else. Take from them their peculiar knack
of imparting knowledge and there were left only bones
and nerves kept in motion by a purposeless brain.
The one who taught in 'rranville had written a
grammar, and all the boys were compelled to study it.
It consisted chiefly of rules which could not be under-
stood, and contained little of the kind of examples
which remained fastened in the mind to be afterward
of practical value. It is safe to say that children now
learn twice as much with half the trouble. Tlien the
study of grammar under a grammar- making uncle did
me little good.

Those Howe grammar lessons were the curse of
that winter. Often I wept over the useless and dis-
tasteful drudgery, but in vain. Tears were a small
argument with my parents where they deemed duty
to be concerned; and the brother made my mother
believe that if I failed in one jot or tittle of his
grammar there would be no hope for me afterward
in any direction. Mathematics I enjoyed. Stretched
on the hearth before a blazing fire, with book and
slate, I worked out my problems during the long

YOUTHFUL ASPIRATIONS.

evenings, and then took the Howe grammar lesson as
I would castor-oil.

My studies were mixed with house and barn duties,
sucli as paring apples, pounding rusk, feeding and
milking the cows, and scores of like occupations. Long
before daylight I would be called from my slumber
to work and study, a summons I usually responded
to with alacrity. Then my mother called me good,
and my home life was happy. Soon after breakfast,
with books, and tin pail well stored with luncheon,
I was out into the snappish air and over the hill to
scliool. But still the Howe grammar huni; over all
my joys like a grim shadow, darkening all delights.
For, in that I did not love the grammar, the Howe
(lid not love me, and he made the place exceedingly
uncomfortable, until finally my mother became satis-
fied that I was injudiciously and unfairly treated, and
to my great joy took me from the purgatory.

I was passionately fond of music, not so much of
listening as performing. The intensest aspirations
of my life seem to have taken this form ; I longed to dt)
rather than to enjoy. Purposeless pleasure was not
pkasant to me. To-day I find neither satisfaction nor
profit in reading or writing, or doing anything for my
own personal enjoyment. There must be an aim, and
a liigh, immediate, and direct one, if in my doing or
being I am to find pleasure.

In the matter of music, there was within me some-
thing which sighed for expression, and to throw it off
in song or through the melodies of an instrument was
the simplest method of relief This restless desire to
unburden my breast was present in my earliest con-
sciouHiiess. It was always in some way stifled in my
younger days. There were singing-schools which I
could and did attend, but bleating in concert with a
class of boys and girls was not what I wanted. By
saving up dimes and half-dollars I succeeded in buying
an (;ld violin. I paid four dollars for it; and I re-
member with what trepidation I invested my entire

Lit. Ind. 7

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

ilJ

capital in the instrument. For several years I scraped
persistently and learned to play badly a few vulgar
tunes. I had no teacher and no encouragement; I was
laughed at and frowned at, until finally I abandoned
it. Fiddling in that saturnine society was almost as
much a sin as card-playing; for if cards were for
gamblers, fiddles were for dancers, and dancing was a
devilish pastime. Christ never danced ; andalthougli
David did, our minister used to apologize for him by
saying that his was a slow, measured, kingly step,
something of a Shaker dance — at all events nothing
like the whirling embracements of these later times.
To return to the matter of choosing between study
and business. Finding myself possessed of these and
many other burning aspirations, without stopping to
count the cost, childlike I struck at once for the prize.
If self-devotion and hard study could win, it should
be mine. So I chose the life of a student, and spent
another year in preparing for college. There was an
academy as well as a college in the place; indeed, as
I have before remarked, my native town, in its way,
was quite a seat of learning.

It was now the winter of 1847-8, and bravely I set
about my self-imposed task, studying hard, and for a
time making fair progress. I was still obliged to work
morning and evening, and, with now and then a holi-
day, during the vacations. I was much alone in my
studies, although I attended my teacher as zealously
as if I had been under competitive influence. My
nearest and indeed almost the only companion I had
at this time was my cousin Edgar Hillyer, afterward
United States judge for Nevada. In age he was a
year my senior, but in ability and accomplishments
many years. He was a good student, apt in debate,
well read in classical literature, nimble on the violin,
a rollicking, jolly companion, muscular, active, and
courageous, and could hold his own with the best of
them on the play-ground. When violin-playing bc-

• t

ALMIGHTY MONEY.

'S!

Ccame fashionable in churches he sawed away at a
l)ase-viol behind the church choir, reading a novel
luidor cover of his huire instrument durins? the sermon.
He was given a little to sarcasm at tunes, which cut
me somewhat; otherwise we were true and stanch
tViends. He it was who ailed and influenced me
more than any other in many things. In advance of
me in studies, he entered colleije and I was left alone.
Still I toiled on, notwithstanding occasional letters
IVom Buffalo which tended to unsettle my plans. Be-
lore the time for entering college arrived I had lost
somewhat of my interest in study: without the stimu-
lus of sympathizing friends and competition, the unfed
fire of my ambition died away.

Meanwhile Mr Derby, who was an enthusiast in his
l)usiness, had made occasional visits to my father's
liouse, and in listeningf to his conversation 1 became
attracted toward Buffalo. Thei'e was, moreover, in mo
a growing desire for independence; not that I was
dissatisfied with mv home so nnicli as with myself.
1 longed to be doinij somethino: that would show re-
suits; I wanted to be a man, to be a great man, to be
n man at once. The road to learning was slow and
linrd; besides, my father was not rich, and although
leady to deny himself anything for me, I could see
that to continue my plan of study would be a heavy
tax on him. Yet I loved it, and, as the sequel will
si low, left it here only to take it up at a future time.
iN^ow I wanted money, I felt the need of money, and
I determined to have money. Not to hug and hoard,
not to love and cherish as a thing admirable in itself,
not as a master to bid me fetch and carry all my days,
nor as a god to fall befoi-e and worship, sealing the
heart from human sympathy, but as a servant to do
my bidding, as an Aladdin lamp to buy me indepen-
dence, leisure, culture.

Contented poverty, cheered by the sweets of medi-
tation and the play of intellect in friendly converse,
the priceless wealth of mind drawn freely and with-

100

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

1^1

.■\\

out cost from books, which are the world's storehouse
of knowledge, this has found its devotees in all ages.
Most of the thousrhts and words thus ensrcndered have
been idle; some little of such intercourse, however, has
been productive of the greatest results.

But this would never satisfy me. Mine must be a
fruitful life, as I have said. And at the portal of
every ambition, even of intellectual ambition, if it bo
high or rich in results, at the door of every soul
aspiration, of every taste and tendency, of every
moral and social sentiment, stands money. Even the
doors of love, and of heaven itself, are opened by
money. To the mere money-grubber intellectual joys
are denied. His money is useless to him when he
gets it. Of his scholarly friend Iccius, who sold his
library and went to Arabia Felix, the El Dorado of
the day, Horace asked if it was true that he grudged
the Arabs their wealth. Like many a scholar in Cali-
fornia, this Roman Iccius was grievously disappointed.

How marvellous is money I each dollar thrown into
the mill of successful business becoming the grandsire
of many dollars. As society is organized, a moneyless
man is scarcely a man at all, only a beast of burden,
fortunate if he attain the position of hireling, even
as in the time of Socrates, who said, "Nowada3^s
he is wisest who makes most money." In common
with others, this moneyless man entered the world
with a body and a soul, since which time he has
made no addition to his entity; he has body and soul
still, perhaps a mind, and these are his stock in trade
on which he must subsist. To feed his senses some-
thing must be sold, and having nothing else he sells
himself He may sell his body to save his soul, or
sell the soul to save the body, or sell intellect to
keep the rest together. To all our great cities, from
farm and hamlet, mind by want or ambition pinched
is driven to market, offered for sale to the highest
bidder, and sold and slaughtered like cattle in the
shambles. Culture and refinement are for sale; and

THE PRICE OF INTELLECT.

]01

"■'I

too often, as Whipple complains, at ruinously low
prices. "To a man of letters, especially, who may be
holding off in hope of a rise in the article, nothing
can be more irritating than the frequent spectacle of
authors whose souls are literally 'not above nine-
pi'iiccs' — who will squander honor, truth, perception
of t'liaracter, sympathy with all that is pure and high
ill ideal being, in short, a writer's whole stock in
trade, on the cunning hucksters of ninepenny pam-
j)lilcts, thus running the risk of damnation in both
woilds for the paltriest consideration, when a little
iudgment might have given them the chance of a life,
death, and burial in octavos."

I do not know which is the more deplorable, to be
w Ithout money or to be its slave. Money is the best
(if servants, but the worst of masters. As a servant
it is the open sesame to all the world, the master-key
to all energies, the passport to all hearts; as a master
it is a very demon, warping the judgment, searing the
conscience, and fossilizing the affections. Wra|)pe(l
l)y <'old Selene in an eternal slumber deep as that
of Endymion, its victims are lost to the beauties
of earth and the glories of heaven. Give me the in-
dependence, the command of myself, of my time, my
talents, my opportunities, that wealth alone can give,
but save me from the gluttony of greed, the fetters of
avarice, the blind lieastliness and intellectual degrada-
tion engendered by an inordinate heaping up of riches.

We are born under the domination of nature, serfs
of tlie soil, and under this suzerainty we remain
until the intellect rises up and to some extent eman-
^^■i[)atos us. Nevertheless, like crystals, the constitu-
ents of our being are self-existent and perfect, how-
ever minute, and we assume volume and importance
by accretion alone. To the penniless young man
who would cultivate his talents and make something
of liimself I would say, at the outset or as soon
as practicable, get money wherewith to buy time.
Jliis is the order of natural progress: first the

s/'

102

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

physical man, then the intellectual. Civilization
(loL'S not bloom on an empty stomach. Get gold; not
like the one-eyed Arimaspi, who could see nothing
else, but accumulate something, however little; then
shun debt, and, altiiough your liberty necessitates
your dining on a crust of bread, you are on the royal
road to mutdiood. It matters less how nmch you
have than that you have something. There is more
(litlerence between a thousand dollars and nothing
than there is between a thousand and a hundreil
thousand. There is such a thing as too much money.
The young student of unlimited wealth and liberty
has more to contend with in holding to hia purpose
tlian the poorest scholar, for the temptation to spend
and enjoy is so much the greater. Too much wealth
is ])Overty: too much wealth leads to a loss of time,
of heart, of head — the only true wealth.

Adopt a (tailing, if it be only for a time, and labor
in it for your liberty; labor diligently, as if your life
depended on it, as indeed it does. Sei've that you may
command. Get money, but get it only in order that
you may ransom mind, for it is mind antl not money
that makes the man. As Bulwer says of it, " Keep to
the calling tliat assures a something out of which vou
may extract independence until you are independent.
Give to tliat calling all your heart, all your mind.
If I were a hatter, or tailor, or butcher, or baker, I
should resolve to consider my calling the best in the
world, and devote to it the best of my powers. In-
dependence once won, then be a Byron or Scott if
you can."

This competency, moreover, is within the reach of
all able-bodied young men. It consists less in what
one has than in what one need have ; less in large rt.-
sourcch' than in moderate desires. It takes but little,
after all, to satisfy our actual requirements; but once
embarked upon the sea of artificial wants or fancied
necessities and there is no haven. He who earns or
has an income of a dollar a day and spends but half

ifIR*

POVERTY A SIN.

103

'ivilization
gold; iKtt
)o nothing
ittlo; then
eccssitates
I the royal
much you
ire is more
id nothing
a hundred
ich money,
md liberty
lis purpose
)n to spend
uch wealth
»ss of time,

), and labor
if your life
lat you may
order that
not money
," Keep to
which you
idependent.
your mind,
or baker, I.
)est in the
lowers. In-
or Scott if

le reach of
ess in what
in large re-
3S but littlo,
;s; but onto
s or fancied
dio earns or
ds but half

of it is independent, and if satisfied, rich. lie wlio
s|)t lids all his earnings or income is poor, though he
has a thousand dollars a day; doubly poor is he, in
that he must needs waste his life to spend his money.
He who spends all is the slave of his own fortune;
he who lays by something every day is always his
own master. And more; in making and saving there
is a double profit: the addition of skill thus called
forth to one's stock of experience, and the addition of
money thus earned to one's stock of cash; this point
reached, it makes a vast difference whether the time
at one's command be spent in fruitful study, which costs
nothing, or in squandering one's accumulations, which
costs time and too often yields nervous prostration and
niL'utal debasement. This weaving during the day,
only like Penelope to unravel at night, is one of the
N\ orst features attending the efforts of our young men.
" Qui perd peche." He who loses, sins. Whether
a man be in the wrong or not, if unsuccessful he is
blamed. But no man in this age is uniformly and
jtermanently unsuccessful unless there be something
wrong about him, some glaring imperfection of com-
position or character. The rule is that success at-
tends merit; the unsuccessful is pretty sure to be
iliulty. No one has a right to be poor in California.
Unaccompanied by ill health or other misfortune,
poverty is a sin. It is true that wealth is not always
a mark of merit. Jove made Plutus, the god of
Avealth, blind, so that he should not discern knaves
i'nnn honest men. Nevertheless, no boy or man true
to liimself, who does his duty, laboiing with his hands,
or head, or both, as God ordains that men, and beasts,
and birds alike shall labor, practising meanwhile rea-
sonable economy, will for any length of time, except
ui)dcr extraordinary circumstances, remain depend-
ent. Though born naked, providence furnishes the
means wherewith to clothe ourselves. If we refuse
to stretch forth our hands and make use of them, we

In all this I am speaking of

lightly suffer for it.

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

8iin])lc iiulopcntloncc, rather than success and failure
rosultuiLf from attenijjts to achieve {^reat things, to
which 1 shall have occasion to allude hereafter.

Thus unsettled in my mind hy the allurements of
active business and city lil'e, my attention distracted
from studies, discontented in the thouj^ht of plodding
a poverty-stricken path to fame, and unwilling to
hurden my father for a term of years, 1 asked and
obtained leave to enter the shop; selling books, for
the nonce, offering stronger attractions than studying
them.

Nor am I now disposed to cavil over the wisdom of
my final decision. Connncrcial and industrial training
offers advantages in the formation of mind, as well as
scientific and literary traininsf. School is but a mental
gvnniasium. Little is there learned except the learn-
in<' how to learn: and the sysicm that aims at this
gymnastic exercise of mind, rather than cramming,
is the best. He who studies most does not always
learn most, nor is he who reads most always the
best read. Understanding, and not cramming, is
education. Learn how to form opinions of your
own rather than fill your head with the opinions of
others. What a farce it is, on commencement or
examination day, to i:)arade a crowd of boys or girls,
after three or four years' skimming through school-
books, upon a stage before friends and spectators, and
with music and flourish of trunijiets to make a grand
display of their acquirements, and end )y giving them
a certificate of learning which shall fc -ever after set
at rest the question of their educatio ' When just
ready to begin to learn, the diploma iitimates that
their studying days are over; those, onsequently,
who make the loudest noise on exhibi on days are
seldom heard from afterward. Even i in following
a collegiate course the student learns fairly well how
to study, if this acquisition is not combined with
habits of industry and application it avails little.

EDUCATION AND PROFESSIONS.

100

In regard to education, there is too much teaching
fioni books and too httle from nature. liooks are
usi'ful to sui)[)lement the instructions of nature, not
to forestall them. Early training should he such as to
instil a taste for study, rather than a studying; such
as teaches how to learn, rather than an attempt to
a('(|uiro knowledge. This done, that is, the taste ac-
(jnircd and the knowledge how to get knowledge
giiiiiod, every hour of life thereafter will be a gar-
ni ring of knowledge. Hence if I might have another
cliaiu'e at life, with my present ideas I would pay the
most careful attention to three things: I would bend
all the powers within me to learn how to think, how
to write, and how to speak, for I could then command
nivsi'lf and others. The hiixhcst teachinijs are those

i^ CD ~

of truth; the highest morality that which springs
fnjui simple truth. To love the right for its own
sake is the only sure ground on which to build a
uioiid fabric. To hate knavery, licentiousness, and all
ini(iuity because they are hateful, because they arc
low, vulgar, debasing, and misery-breeding — this is a
liL'althful and hopeful moral ideal.

In business, plodding industry and steady apj)lica-
tion lie at the foundation of all success. Though in an
economic sense credit is not capital, in a connncrcial
sense it is. Brilliant talents and extraordinary shrewd-
ness as often outwit the possessor as others. There
is no field in commerce for a great display of genius.
To buy, and sell, and get gain is the object; he who
fancies himself a prophet able to solve business rid-
dl(.'s of the future becomes a gambler, and oftencr
loses than wins. Speculation there may bo, but it
nuist be speculation backed by capital, and conducted
on sound business principles rather than on ilights of
i'ancy or theoretical schemes.

Though few trades are without their tricks, the in-
dustrial life, on the whole, tends to accuracy and
Veracity. The man of business adopts honesty as a
calling; it is at once the capital he employs in buying

Ui'l

106

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

and the guaranty he ofters in sching. Wealth being
the object sought, character is credit, and credit money.
No merchant can long cheat his customers and live;
no manufacturer can make and sell a spurious article
for any length of time. Dishonesty in business not
only does not pay, but, if continued, it is certain and
absolute ruin. Trustworthiness usually attends ap-
plication. Among the laboring classes, as a rule,
skilful workmen are moral men. The habits neces-
sarily growing out of continuous mental or physical
application are such as promote moral growth. He
who is deeply occupied in a worthy calling has little
time for wickedness.

The political life, on the other hand, tends to arti-
fice and circumvention as the Lases of success in
that directicm. All is fair in war, and while honor
must be maintained among thieves, opposite parties
and the public may be lleeced with impunity. The
conscience of a merchant is in his pocket, that of a
politician is in his popularity; with the one interest
is almost always identical with h<^nor, but with the
other success is oftener the result of chicanery or
bribery than of honest merit. And yet it does not
s])eak well for commerce when we see the leading
manufacturers of the United States combining for
purposes of wholesale bribery, and merchants gener-
ally allowing officials commissions on goods bought for
the government.

At an early date in his public career Cicero dis-
covered that the people of Home had dull ears but
sharp eyes. The unprecedented honors devised for
him by the Sicilians were little talked of at Rome,
whereuiion he determined that thenceforth the eyes
of the Romans sliould ever behold him. Daily ho
fre(]ncnted the Forum; no one was denied admit-
tance at his gate, and even sleep was never made an
excuse for not granting an audience. In this Cicero
was serving Cicero and not Rome. If they were
seized, tlieso worthy patriots, with honesty enough to

altli being
(lit money.
5 and live;
ous article
isiness not
sertain and
ttends ap-
as a rule,
bits ncces-
3r physical
:>wtli. He
r has Uttlo

nds to arti-
siicccss in
^hile honor
site parties
niity. The
:, that of a
)ne interest
it with the
licanery or
it does not
the leading
nbining for
mts <j,i'ner-
bought for

Cicero dis-
till ears but
devised for
f at Rome,
th the eyes
Daily he
mied admit-
er made an
this Cicero
they were
y enough to

POLITICS AND THE REMEDY.

107

say with Voltaire, "Le neuplo n'est rien," immedi-
ately their occupation was gone. Theirs is not the
simple ingenuous love that makes the land their
foils ct origo, the soil that fostered them their parent.
Neither is it love of countrymen or loyalty to rulers.
There is no passion in their patriotism.

Our country is not ruled by its best and wisest men,
nor under its present regime will it ever be. The good
and wise are few; the irrational and prejudiced are
many, an<l as long as the majority rule, office can be
obtained only by pandering to the lower passions. In
this senseless display of party pride and prejudice,
which men call patriotism, it is not liberty itself that
is worshipped, but the tinsel and paraphernalia of
liberty. As in the cunning days of sleek lago, pre-
Ici'ment goes by letter and affection, and not by fair
gradations where each second stands heir to the iirst.

0[)posing parties are a necessity in any free politi-
cal system ; not because one side is better or worse than
tlie other, but as stimulants to advancement, checks
on premature progress, and as a means of preventing
that demoralization whicli always attends unlimited
or irresponsible power. But the machinery of gov-
ernment must be worked on some other principles than
those of lying and cheating before it can be very W'or-
shii)ful. The people, who are the government, n^nst
awalvc and act. The wildest delusion of our day is
that good legislation can come from the rej)resenta-
tives of an ignorant and immoral peo[)ie, wIkj at pres-
ent are, to a great extent, our voters; or than ar.^uing
with the bad aijfents of a bad tjovernment will make
them better. "Opinions are numbered, not wcMghed,"
said Pliny, "there is nothing so une(|ual as equality."
Tile specious fallacy of universal sull'rage was better
understood by the Romans than by us, it seems. This
state of things will cease only when politics cease to
he a trade followed for gain, and wdien both the trade
and tlie hucksters who follow it shall be di^^graced in
the eyes of all good men. Before our government can

108

THE COUXTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

»\

1 1

settle upon an enduring foundation it must be reeon-
Htructed in form and in execution. Young as it is the
elements of decay are plainly apparent; our popular
liberty is being consumed by wliat it feeds on. But
before the end there will be wars, political and com-
mercial wars, for the people will not always submit to
tLe tyranny of monopoly, iniquitous trusts, and otiier
im{)ositions of combined capital. More than once in
the history of despotism liave the feuds of Konian
Orsini and Colonna, of Grecian IsauoraidjD and Ale-
niieonidie, given birth to freedom. "A su[)eri()r man
indeed is Kea Pil?yuhl" says Confucius; "when a
good government prevails in his state, he is to be
found in office. Wlien a bad government prevails,
he can roll his principles up and keep them in his
breast."

What in these latter days ^should be the prayer of
the patriot having the true interests of America and
of mankind at heart? From our fi'iends, from those
who woidd serve us, wlio would lay their invaluable
lives on the altar of their country, I'rom political dema-
gogues, political libertinism, political peculation, from
excess of voting and constant I'otation in office, i'rom
legislators who spend in personal and party strife,
to keep themselves in office, the people's time and
money which should be spent in the study of the
nation's welfare — fi'om cant and cori'uption of every
kind, good Lord deliver us! particularly from the
humbug and hypocrisy of political journals; ay,
from the journals themselves, as well as from the
j)arties, and principles, and persons they advocate,
deliver us, we beseech thee, lest we be tempted with
'The Man without a Countrv' to exclaim, "Danm
the United States !" The politician is usually as lean
as Cassius in patriotism, and as hungry for [)lace.
The professional man, if with his broader philosopiiy
and deeper insight into certain secret phases of
human nature lie escape laxity in great things, and
exaggeration in little things, does well.

;. *

THE MENTAL DISCIPLINE OF OTMMERCE.

100

The law as a profession holds i^p its glittering prize
to the youth burning for distinction. Its labors ai'o
arduous; its fortunes precarious. One in a hundred,
perhaps, attains some degree of local eminence; not
one in a thousand achieves a national reputation;
ninety-five of every hundred secure in return for long
and expensive preparation nothing further than a life
of drudgery, fortunate, indeed, if they escape disrepu-
tal^le penury.

In the commercial spirit there are two oppugnant
t'lcnionts, boldness and conservatism, which underlii'
all advancement, and act as powerful stimulants in tlio
strongtliening and developing of mind. These prop-
erly united and nicely balanced produce the liighest
type of intellect, whether for action in the field of coni-
morcc, or of law, or of letters. In the absence of
cither quality, or if disproportionately joined, discom-
fiture is inevitable. The industrial spirit, pcrliaps
more perfectly than the professional, engenders pa-
tience, sobriety, self-control, which tend to thrift and
respectability; at the same time there can be no great
things accomplished in business without risk or spec-
ulation. Now, the principles that lead to success are
identical in all human activities, in letters, law, and
philosophy, as well as in industry and conmierce —
originality of thought, a letting-fly of the imagination,
a lestless impatience over meaningless forms and
( inpty traditions, and bold independence in action
united with caution and a love of truth for truth's
sake. Speculation and conservatism: the one the
in-opclling power which sends forward the machine,
tlio other the brake that saves it from destruction.
One is as necessary as the other; and the two prop-
erly united, under ordinary circumstances, are as
••'rtain to achieve success as the absence of these con-
ditions is certain to result in failure.

About the 1st of August, 1848, I left Granville
tor Buffalo, where I arrived on the 9th. I was now

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

sixteen years of age, and this may be regarded as my
starting out in life. Then I left my father's house,
and ever since have I been my own master, and made
my own way in the world. There was no railway from
my native town, and my journey was made in a canal-
boat as far as Cleveland, and thence by steam-boat
over Lake Erie to Buffalo. The captain of the canal-
boat was a brother of my uncle Hillyer, and permission
was given me to ride horse on the towpath in lieu of
paying fare. I gladly availed myself of the oppor-
tunity, and took my turn night and day during the
whole journey. The day after my arrival in Buffalo
I was permitted a view of the bookseller's shop. It
would not be regarded as much of a store nowadays,
but it was the largest establishment I had ever seen,
and the, to me, huge piles of literature, the endless
ranges of book-shelves, the hurrying clerks, the austere
accountants, the lord paramount proprietor, all filled
me with awe not unaccompanied by heart-sinkings.
A day or so was spent in looking about the city, accom-
panying my sister to the market, and attending a great
political convention which was then in full blast. On
the Monday following my arrival I was put to work
in the bindery over the counting-room, and initiated
into the mysteries of the book business by folding and
stitching reports of the aforesaid convention. There 1
was kept, living with my sister, and undergoing in thi'
shop a vast amount of unpalatable though doubtless
very necessary training, till the following October, when
the bindery was sold. I was then left for a time in an
uncertain, purgatorial, purposeless state, with noth-
ing in particular to occupy me. After being given
plainly to understand by my brother-in-law that my
person was not at all necessary to his happiness, I was
finally thrust into the counting-house at the foot of
the ladder, as the best means of getting rid of me.

The fact is, I was more ambitious than amiable, and
my brother-in-law was more arbitrary than agree-
able. I was stubborn and headstrong, impatient

■4

ATTEMPT AT BUSINESS.

Ill

?d as my
s house,
nd made
vay from
a canal -
3am -boat
tic canal-
;rmission
in lieu of
e oppor-
irlng the
1 Buffalo
shop. It
owadays,
ver seen,
3 endless
10 austere
all filled
-sinkings.
ly, accom-
ig a great
ast. On
to work
initiated
ding and
There I
mg in tlu!
doubtless
3er,\vhen
ime in an
ith noth-
ing given
that my
ess, I was
le foot of
of me.
iable, and
Ian agree -
impatient

, I

I I

under correction, chafing over every rub against ray
country angularities; he distant, unsympathizing, and
injudicious in his management of me. I felt that I
was not understood, and saw no way of making my-
self known to him. Any attempt to advance or to
rise above the position first assigned me was frowned
down; not because he hated, or wished to injure, or
persecute me, but because he thought boys should
not be presumptuous, that they should be kept in the
l)a('kground — especially pale, thin, thoughtful, super-
sensitive brothers-in-law.

For some six months I held this anomalous posi-
tion, till one day the chief book-keeper intimated to
nie that, in the opinion of the head of the house,
nature liad never designed me for a bookseller — a
species of divinity in the eyes of these men born but
not made — and that should I retire from active duty
no one about the premises would be overwhelmed
witli sorrow. In plain English, I was discharged.
The blood which mantled my face under a sense of
what I deemed indignity and wrong was my only re-
s})()nse; yet in my heart I was glad. I saw that this
"was no place for me, that my young life was being
turned to wormwood, and that my bosom was be-
coming a hell of hatefulness.

I have never in my life, before that time or since,
entertained a doubt of reasonable success in any rea-
sonable undertakinj?. I now determined to start in
husniess on my own account. Since I could not work
for the Buffalo bookselling people, I would work for
myself. I was entirely without money, having re-
ceived nothing for my services — which indeed were
\vortli nothinsT — vct I borrowed enou2rh to take me
h.rk to Ohio, and Mr Derby, it appears, had suffi-
cient confidence to trust me for a few cases of goods.
Shipping my stock up the lake to Sandusky, and
thence by rail to Mansfield, the terminus of the road,
I hurried on to Granville for a horse and wagon,
with which I proceeded back to Mansfield, loaded up.

112

THE COUNTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

W 'i

and began distributing my goods among the country
merchants of that vicinity. For about four months
I travelled in this manner over different parts of
my native state, selling, remitting, and ordering more
goods, and. succeeding in the main very well; that is
to say, I paid my ex})enses, and all the obligations I
had before contracted, and had enough left to buy a
silver watch, and a suit of black broadcloth. Never
was watch like that watch, fruit as it was of my first

commercial earnings.

Winter approaching, I sold out my stock, paid my
debts, and went home. Owing to my success, it seems,
I had risen somewluit in the estimation of the Buffalo
book magnates, and just as my mind was made up to
enter school for the winter I was summoned back to
Buffalo, with instructions to bring my youngest sister,
Mary, afterward Mrs Trevett. We embarked at
Sandusky, encountering the first night out a storm,
and after beating about among the short jerky waves
of the lake for two da3's, we reached Buffalo on the
8th of ])ecember, 1841). This time I was to enter
the store as a recognized clerk, and was to receive a
salary of one hundred dollars a year from the first of
January, 1850.

I now began to look upon myself as quite a man.
A hundred dollars vvas a great deal of money ; I was
over seventeen years of age, had travelled, had been
in business, and was experienced. So I relaxed a little
from puritanical ideas of propriety. I bought a high
hat and a cane; smoked now and then surreptitiously
a cigar; a gaudy tie adorned my neck, and a flashy
ring encircled my finger. I do not think I ever held
myself in higher estimation before or since; at no
time of my life did I ever presume so much on my
knowhvlge, or present personally so fine an appear-
ance. )n the street I fancied all eyes to be upon
me; i mrh particularly, I used to think, were all
in love v ith me.

Honored and trusted, my moroseness evaporated at

GEORGE n. DERBY.

113

Intervals. Soon I found myself more in sympathy
witli my employer, and felt that he now began some-
what to understand mc. And here I will pay my
tribute of respect to the memory of George H. Derby.
He was of unblemished reputation, thoroughly sound
in morals, sincere in religion, honest in his business,
kind in his family, warm and lovable in his friend-
ships, patriotic as a citizen, and liberal, chivalrous,
and high-spirited as a man and a gentleman. He was
among the best friends I ever had — he, and his wife,
my sister. He seemed to repose the utmost confidence
in me, trusted me, a green boy in the midst of the
\v])irlpool of the Californian carnival, with property
which he could ill afford to lose, the risk being re-
i;ardcd as little less than madness on his part by
business acquaintances. His death I felt more keenly
the- that of any other man wdio ever died. His
H'oodness will remain fresh in my memory to my dying
(lay. Yet, when thrown together as under our first
lulations — he the master, I the boy — our dispositions
iuid natures were strangely out of tune. He held his
own peculiar views regarding the training and treat-
ment of relatives. He seemed to delight in squeezing
and tormenting, in a business way, all who were in
any wise allied to him by blood or marriage, and the
iiuaior the relationship the greater the persecution.
Of a didactic turn in all his relations, he was particu-
larly severe with me ; and it was only when a younger
1)1 other of his was with him, one nearer to him than I,
and on whom his merciless words were showered, that
1 found relief While but a child, and before I went
to Buffalo, or had ever been away from home, I was
sent into the backwoods of Ohio to obtain subscrip-
tions for a work on the science of government. Of
course I made a failure of it, enduring much head
isickncss and heart sickness therebv, and was laughed
' scorn as a youth who would never succeed at any-
thing. My father, totally inexperienced in the book
business, but having a little money wherewith to make

Lit. Ind. 8

114

THE COUXTRY BOY BECOMES A BOOKSELLER.

the purchase, was induced to take a cargo of books
down the Mississippi river, whicli proved to be another
faihire and a severe loss. In all this my brother-in-law
seemed to care little so long as he sold his wares and
secured the money. All were fish, friend or foe, that
helped to swell the volume of his business.

With a sister ever kind to me, and an employer
really desirous of advancing my best interests, the
training I underwent at this period of my life was
about as injudicious for an ambitious, sensitive youtli
af, could well have been devised. Even after my re-
turn from Ohio I was at times headstrong, impatient
of restraint, impudent, angry, and at open war with
my brother-in-law; yet I was eager to learn, quick,
and intelligent, and M'ould gladly have worked, early
and late, with faithful and willing diligence in any ad-
vancing direction. But it seemed that my employer
still considered it best for me to be kept down; to l)o
censured much and never praised; to have one after
another placed above me whom I very naturally
<!eemed no more capable than myself The conse-
quence was that during the greater part of my stay
in Buffalo I was in a sullen state of mad exasperation.
I was hateful, stubborn, and greatly to be blamed,
but the discipline I received only intensified these
faults, and tended in no wise to remove them. One
word of kindness, and I would have followed this man
to the death; yet while he crucified me he did not
mean to be cruel, and portions of the time I was
really happy in his society. I know ho was full of
generous feeling for me even while I tried him most ;
for \vhen, after leaving for California, I sent him a
letter, opening my heart as I had never done before,
on receipt of it, as my sister told me, he threw him-
self upon the sofa and wept like a child.

The mould destined for me ill fitting my nature,
which would not be melted for recasting, or even made
to assume comeliness by attrition, I fell into ray own
ways, which were very bad ways ; tramping the streets

(vl

THE CLERK'S LIFE.

115

of books
G another
Lcr-iu-law
^-arcs and
foe, that

employer

rests, the
,r life was
ive youth
:er my re-
impatient
war with
rn, qiiiclv,
ked, early
in any ad-
' employer
wn; to 1)0
! one after
naturally
'he consc-
»f my stay
isperation.
)0 blamed,
ificd thesL'
lem. One
d this man
le did not
ime I was
v-as full ot"
him most ;
lent him a
one before,
,hrew hini-

at night with jovial companions, indulging in midnight
Slippers, and all-night dancings. Lo, how the puritan's
son has fallen! Conscience pricked faithfully at first.
I soon grew easier in iniiid; then reckless; and finally
lu^glecting ray bible, my prayers, and all those Sabbath
restraints which hold us back from rushing Jicadlong
to destruction, I gave myself over to hardness of heart.
"^'ct all tiiis time I usually listened with enjoyment
iiud profit to one sermon on Sunday; I also attended
lectures given by Park Benjamin, G. P. R. James,
Gough, and others; these and novel-reading comprised
my intellectual food.

Into that book'sellcr's sliop I went with all tlie un-
toniptcd innocence of a child; out of it I came M'ith the
tarnish of so-called manly experience. There I plucked
iii\' first forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledijfe of
good and evil; yet the sense of right remained, and
tliat remorse which ever mixes bitter with the sweets
of sin. The inherent morality doctrine, and a trust-
ing to it, is flattering, but exceedingly risky. ]\ren
and women, young and old, inherently good or inhe-
rently bad, nine times in ten will stand or fall accord-
ing to environment, according to influence, temptation,
companionship.

Every now and then I would turn over a new leaf;
l)ravely begin a diary, scoring the first page with high
resolves, such as total abstinence from every species
of wickedness, tea, coflTee, wine, tobacco; determined
to think, speak, and do no evil, to walk always as be-
fore the eye of Omniscience, clean in heart, pure in
mind, and strong in body; in short, to be a perfect
man — which sublime state of things, wrought up be-
yond human endurance, would last sometimes for three
flays or three weeks, and end in a collapse. Some-
times I would keep my diary up during the year; then
again I would open a blank book, without fixed dates,
and discharge my burning thoughts into it in the hope
of relief Many a paving-block have I laid in hell ;
that is to say, if good intentions are there used for

IIG

THE COUNTRY 150Y BECOMES A nOOKSELLER.

troadinj^ on. No soonoi' li.'id I doparted fVoin Buf-
I'alo on my way to ('alif'ornia than all desire left me
to commit these foolish hovish excesses. There was
then no one to hoodwink, no watchful eye to circum-
vent; it ceased to be amusinLif when I was my own
master; so when thrown into the pandemonium at
San Francisco I had not the slightest inclination to
make a heast or a villain of myself.

But the time thus lostl How have I longed
to live again the former three years and the three
f(»llowing. Six years of my young life as good as
squandered, hi some respects worse, for instead of
laying the foundation for health, purity, intellect, I
was crushing my God-given faculties, damming the
source of high thoughts and ennobling aflections, and
i8owing by Stygian streams the wild seeds of perdition.
At the time when of all others the plant needs judi-
cious care, when the hard soil needs softening, the
ill-favored branches pruning, the destroyer steps in
and places locusts on the leaves and worms about the
rijots.

How I have longed to go back and place myself
with a riper experience under my own tuition, antl
see what would come of itl How I would tjather in
those golden opportunities which \vere so ruthlessly
thrown away; how I would prize those hours, and
days, and years so flippantly regarded; how I would
cherish and cultivate that body and mind so wellnigh
wrecked on the shoals of youthful folly! Why could
we not have been born old, and from decrepitude witli
learning and wisdom have grown young, and so have
had the benefit of our wealth of experience in the
enjoyment of our youth 1 It seems that if I had
only known something of what life is and the impor-
tance of riafht living, I could have made almost anv-
thing of myself So has thought many another; and
so thinking, life appears such a precious delusion —
the life which to know requires living, and which is
lived only to know that it is lost I

THE PxVCinC COAST.

117

Tt was ft few moiitlis before I left inv home for the
first time that gold had been discovered in California;
Imt not until a year later did the news so overspread
the countiy as to cause any excitement in the (juiet
town of (Iranvillc. Scarcely had I reached Ihili'alo
tlie second time when letters informed nie that mv
tilt her was thinking of jtjoinij to the new El Dorado.
The ancient leaven of industry and enterpiise still
worked in him, and although far past the average age
ol" those who joined tlie pilgrimage to the golden
shrine, he could not resist the temptation. Though
hut little over fifty, he was called an old man in those
(lays in California. By the 1st of February it was
settled that he would go, and in March, 1850, he set
sail fi-(>m New York. I had a boyish desire to ac-
r()ni])any him, but did not think seriously of going at
the time. I was more absorbed in flirtations, oyster
sii|»pcrs, and dancing paities than fascinated by tlu;
jiiiisj)ect of digging for gold.

Xcvertheless the wheel of my destiny was turning.
Ill January, ISf)!, Mr Derby received a letter from
ail uncle of mine, my mother's brother, then in
Oregon, ordering quite a quantity of books. This
dm land, coming from a now and distant market, made
(piite an impression upon the mind of the ardent
young bookseller. Visions filled his brain of mam-
moth warehouses risinsf in vast cities alonuf the shores
ol" the Pacific, of publication offices and manufacturing
cstal »lishments,having hundredsof busy clerks and arti-
sans, l)uving, making, and selHn<]f books, and he would

111' ~ ~ .

walk the floor excitedly and talk of these things by the
liour, until he was wellnigh ready to sell out a safe
iiud profitable business, pack up, and go to California
liiin>-elf These visions were prophetic; and through
his instrumentality one such establishment as he had
dicanied of was planted in the metropolis of this west-
ern sealward, although he did not live to know of it.

^Fy nearest companion at this time was a fellow-
ck'ik, George L. Keiniy, the son of an Irish gentleman.

lis

THE COUNTRY BOY BFX'OMES A BOOKSELLER.

^:||:i

I h; had c(jino to seek his t'ortuuc in America, and found
liis way ahnost direct from the motlier country to tho
Ihiffalo hcjokstore, where he luid been enujiLfed but a
few months wlien I lirst arrived there. From that
day for over a third of a century his Hfe and mine have
been densely liidced. In physique he was tall, thin,
and muscular, somewhat awkward in his movements,
with an open countenance, as we used to call his
lai-Lje mouth, which in laughing he displayed to its
widest extent. I have occasion to remend)er both
the awkwardness and the strength of my ancient
comrade; for- one day in Buffalo, 'skylarking,' as we
termed it, with his huge fist he placed my nasal organ
out of line, where it ever after remained. In dis[)()si-
tion and character he was ixenerous almost to a fault;
affLctionate, warm-hearted, and mild, though passion-
ate and stubborn when roused; jovial and inspiriting
as a companion, stanch and reliable as a friend, and
honest as a man. He it was who introduced me into
the mysteries of bookscllinG:, and other and mori;
(juestionable mysteries, when fii'st I went to Buli'alo.

^Ii- Derby was a man of many ideas. Thougli
practical and conservative in the main, the fertility
of his brain and his enthusiasm often gave him
little rest. Once seized with the thought of Cali-
fornia in connection with his business, he could not
dispossess Ids mind of it. There it fastened, causing
him many a restless day and sleepless night. He talk' m I
of sending out one, then another, then he tliougiit li ■
would go himself; but much of what was said lie '.now
to be impracticable, and all tho while his ideas Vtcrii
dim and shadowy. Finally he talked more directly
of me as tho one to go — why I do not know, unless
it was that I could best be spared, and also that 1
had friends there, who, if they succeeded, might sup-
[)ly me with money. Oregon was the point at this
time talked of. I was ready to go, but had as yet no
special enthusiasm for the adventure.

TIIK WAY OPi:\F.D.

110

Liul found
ry to tlio
^rcd but a
roin that
nine hav(!
:all, thin,
)vcniunts,
) call his
-ed to its
ibcr both
y anciont
11^; as wc
isal organ
n disposi-
:o a fault;
li passion-
nspiritiuL;'
•iund, and
id nic inti)
and moir
o Bulfalo.

Thouo-li

fertility
him

of Cali-
could not
d, causing'
HotalkiMl
imigiLt h ■

1 ho '.now
deas were
1*0 directly
low, unless
so that 1
night suji-
nt at this

as yet no

gave

!Mian\vhilc ]\rr ])eri)y Jiad ventured three whij)-
Hi'iits of goods to the Pacific; one small lot sold at
seventy-five percent above the invoice, and althougli
11m • other two were lost, one by lire and the other by
I'ailure of the consignee, the one success was sulli-
cii-nt to excite great ho])es. This, together with a
letter from my father received toward the latter part
of December, 1851, determined me to go to Cali-
I'uriiia. I was anxious to have Mr Kenny accompany
inc. lie would like much to go, he said, but luul not
till' money. I urged him to speak to ^Ir Derl)y about
it. He did so, when our now most gracious employer
ii'l ilied : ** For a long time 1 have been desirous of your
gdliig to California; only I would not propose it."
1 le then entered heartily into our plans and opened
lilt; way for both of us.

I felt by no means eager for gold; it was rather
lHiyi.>h adventure that prompted me. California was
|i'ntured in my mind as a nondescript country on the
other side of huge mountains, which once overstep[)eil,
w ith most that 1 cared for left behind, there was little
hope of return. I was not so weaned but that I must
see my mother before I departed, perhaps never to
return; and although it involved an unpleasant and
ex|)ensive journey over tlie snow in the dead of winter,
1 immediately performed it. Then bidding all a long
tail well, and calling on the way upon Mr James C.
I )eiby of Auburn, my comrade Kenny and I went
down to New York, entered our names at the Irving
lioiisc, and were ready to embark by the next steamer.

iij

CHAPTER V,

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO PERPETUA!

()

(»

Never despair; but if you do, work in despair.

Burke,

A DETAILED description of an early voyage from
New York to Chagres, across the Istlinms to Pan-
auul, and thence to San Francisco, belonofs rather t
the time than to the individual. So large a por-
tion of the Californian's life, during the first twenty
years following the discovery of gold, was occai)ie(l
in the passage by the various routes from one side of
the continent to the other, that a })icture of that
epoch, with this prominent and characteristic scmu'
left out, would be unfinished. During the first fifteen
years of my residence on the western coast I made
the passage between New York and San Francisc
by way of Pananul no less than eleven times, thus
spending on the water nearly one year, or v/liat would
be almost equivalent to every other Sundaj' during
that time. JNIany made the voyage twice or thrice
as often, and life on the steamer was but a pari: of
California life, It was there the beG^inniniX was matk' :
it was sometimes the ending. It was there the an-
gular eccentricities were first filed off, and rousjfhlv
filed, as many a soft-bearded fledgling tliought. W
was there tlie excrescences of egotism and the morbid
superfluities fastened on the character by local train
ing, or lack of training, first began the rub against tin-
excrescences and superfluities of others, all of wlii
tended to the ultimate polish and perfection of th
mass,

1 120 1

ICll

n !

THE VOYAGE AND ARRIVAL.

121

In my California Inter Pocula I have given a full
account of the voyage out. I have there given it in
detail, not because of anything particularly striking,
hut to show what the voyage in those cla3's was; for,
cxceptijig shipwrecks, epidemicSj or other special hard-
ships, they were all very like. I shall not therefore
]'ej)eat the description here, but merely say that on
the 24th of February, 1852, in company with Mr
Kenny, I embarked at New York on the steamer
(leonje Law, bound for Habana. On reaching this
])ort the sixth day, passengers, mails, and freight were
transfei'red, with those of the steamer from New Or-
leans, to the Georyia, which that night sailed for
(JJKigres, touching at Jamaica. Arrived at Chagrcs
we were sent to Aspinwall to disend)ark, so as to ride
over some six or eight miles of the Panam;! railway
just then opened for that distance— that we might
ride over the road and pay the fare. After the usual
delay on the Isthmus we endnirked on the steamer
Panamd the 12th of ]March, touched nt several ports
oil the Pacific, and reached San Francisco at twelve
o'clock the first day of A]iril.

When I arrived in California John Bi^'ler was gov-
ornor. The capital had just been removed from Val-
lejo to Sacramento. In San Francisco the wars with
snuatters, Peter Smith titles, and water- lot frauds
were attractinij the chief attention. Portions of the
streets were brilliantly lighted from the glare of gain-
Itling-saloons; elsewhere all was thick darkness. O i
]\[oiitgomery street, indeed, lamps were posted by the
occupants, but there was no system of street lights,
and in the dark places about the docks, in the back
streets, and round the suburbs, many dark deeds were
coinmitted. Crime, driven into holes aiul hidiug-plaees
I'V the Vigilance Committee of 1851, was beginning
to show its face again, but the a' , '■ -rities, wakened to
a livelier sense of duty by the late arbitrary action of
tile citizens, were more on the alert than formerly, and
criiuiiials were caught and punished with some degree

122

HAIL CALIFOKNIA! ESTO PERPETUA!

of tliorouijliness. Af^riculturc was attractinij more
atteiitiou than at any time previous. Bull and bear
ii^'lits at the Mission, and the childlike game of A 13
(J on LooLj wharf, were in vogue. Gambling was
somewhat on the decline — times were becoming too
hard to risk a hundred dollars for an evening's amuse-
ment — but it was the day of grand rafHes, grand auction
sales, gi-and ({uartz-mining schemes, and Biscacciauti
concerts. Fire and flood held their alternate sway over
the destinies of town and country, aiding other causes
to accomplish business disruptions and failures.

It was the day of complimenting sea-captains who
a])[)roximated to their duty; of long annual sessions
of the legislature, of fighting officials, and anti-Chi-
nesc meetings— thouii'li concerning this last named
fermentation the Cjuestion arises. When in California
was it not? The most striking feature of the town at
nin'ht to a stranger was the gambling-houses, the more
aristocratic establishments being then situated on the
[daza and Commercial street, and the lower dens prin-
cipally on Long wharf. The better class suppoited
a line orchestra of live or six wind instruments, while
in others a solitary cracked piano or violin squeaked
the invitation to enter. The building was usually a
mere shell, while the interior was gorgeously deco-
rated and illumined with chandeliers presenting a
mass of glittering glass pendants. Monte, faro, rou-
lette, lansquenet, vingt-et-un, and rouge-et-noir, were
the favorite games, though many others were played.
During week-days thesr places were usually quiet, but
at night and on Sundays the jingling of coin and the
clinking of glasses were mingled with the music of
the orchestra in hellish harmony. Above all voices
was heard that of the dealer: "Make your game,
gentlemen, make your game! All down? Make your
game! All down? The game is made! no more; deuce,
black wins."

Then followed the raking-in ])rocess, and the paying-
out, after which came a new shuiile and a new deal;

ii I

i !

BEDIZENED SAN FRANCISCO.

123

and thus the performance was repeated and the ex-
citement kept up throughout the quickly flying hours
(if the ni^'ht. Hound the tables sat beautiiul lemales
ill rustling silks and flaming diamonds, their beauty
;iihI magnificent attire contrasting stran^-elv with the
"lizzlv t'catures, slouched hats, and woollen shirts of
their victims. The license for a single table was fifty
dollars per quarter. In some saloons wore eight or
till of these tables, in others but one; and there were
Inindreds of saloons, so that the revenue to the city
was large. A bill prohibiting gambling was intro-
duced in the legislature just before I arrived, but it
was lost in the senate.

Two days and niu'ht • amid scenes like these in San
I'j'^uicisco were iUlIvuv;, ■ o drive away the little wit left
by tlie strange experieuccs at Habana,on the Istlnuus,
and on board tlie steamers, and to properly pre[iare
tlie boyish mind for the pandemonium of the miners.
The two days were spent by lUu in wandering tdjout
t he business [)arts of the town, wading nmddy streets,
and elimbinu' sand-hills; the ni<jhts in goinii' from one
;j,aining- house to another, observing the erowds of
|ii'()l)le come and go, watching the artistic barkeepers
ill their white coats mixing i'ancy drinks and serving
fiom gorgeously decorated and mirrored bars fiery
]iotations of every kind, gazir.g in rapt bewilder-
ment upon the fortune -turniug (aole with its fatal
i'aseinations, marking the pile: of i^oney increase and
lessen, and the faces behind t- en; ir > \aden and h'ligthen,
ami listening to the music tii; '. mingled witii the
iliinkinu' of u'old, the rattlinn v.5 ulasses, and the
vuicL'S of rough, loud-laughing men. ''There are in-
deed but very few," says Addison, "who know how
tn hu idle and innocent.'"' Two days and nights of
this; t lien from Long wliarf we boarded a steam-boat
and went to Sacramento.

Having letters to E m ' a> T^ecd and Grimm,
reiinnission merchants of S.;' 'nmento, to whom Mr

124

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO PfRrETCA!

t I

Derby had made one or two consignments of books on
a venture, we immediately called on them and talked
over the relative business chances in San Francisco
and Sacranunto. The plan of going to Oregon had
been long s'nce abandoned, and nowSacramcnto seemed
to offer more attractions for the opening of a small
F^op tlian any other place. San Francisco was the
larger field, but it seemed more than f'ulh' (K'cupied,
as lias been the case in every city and town on the
coast from the beginning. As a rule, one half the
merchants with one half the stocks would have sup-
plied all the requirements of trade. Overtrading has
always been a source of loss or ruin '(■■ *h )se enL»nged
in mercantile pursuits. True, this L. -een and is
more or less the case elsewhere. There .^e too many
men anxious for gain without the labor of producing.
All branches of business are overdone; the professions
are crowded to overflowimif, and for everv vacant chrk-
ship there are a hundred ap})licants. In new counti'ics
this is almost always the way; particularly has it
been so in California, where gold mining was added to
the usual allurements of speculative tralKc. Here,
Avhere all started equal in the race for wealth, and
all were eager to secure a pennanent ioothold, where
many opened at once on a large scale, and conq)etitioii
i-an liigh, and almost every one traded ])eyond his ca})i-
tal, the inducements to enter the whirlpool in any
locality were tame enough. But in the breasts t»f the
young and adventurous hope is strong.

Sacramento having been decided on as the morr
fitting field, the next thing was to write Mr Derby and
inform him of our decision. This done we took tin
boat for IMarysville, en route for Long bar, in scairli
of my father. iJiere I was initiated into tlu; mys-
teries of mining and mining life. The placer digging^^
c^f this locality were then good, and so remained for
several years, but the ]>oj)ulation changed every few
months, the dissatisfied leaving and new adventurers
coming in. Ten dollars a dav was too little in tln'

PLACER AXD QUARTZ.

12S

)0()ks on
1 talked
ranc'i.sco
^ou had
) seemed
' a small
was the
)ceupie(l.
n on the
half the
avo sup-
iding has
eiigai^ed
!ii and is
ioo many
roducing'.
•ofessions
mt clerk -
countries
y has it
added t'.i
Here,
dth, and
d, where
npetition
hiscapi-
1 in any

ts of tlK

bho more
|erby and
book tile
hi search
[he mys-
diggings
liined t'H'
Ivery few
fentuivrs
in the

eves of those accustomed to make twenty, and so they
sold or abandoned their claims and prospected for
j'iclier diggings. Wandering thus from placer to placer
tor years, they lost their opportunity, if not their lives,
,iiid usually ended their mining career where they
iK'gaii, without a dollar.

When my father came to the country, m}' eldest
1 not her, Curtis, who had preceded him, was keeping
a stole and hotel at Long bar. He was doing well,
w as making money steadily and safely. At one time
he liad five thousand dollars surplus capital, with
which he started for San Francisco, there to invest it
ill city lots. Had he done so, buying judic-nisly and
lioldiniX. he misrht now be worth millions instead of
nothing. Unfortunately, on his way ho comnmnieated
the ]>lan to John C. Fall, then one of the leading mer-
chants of Marysville, and high in the esteem of my
hrotlier. Bv him he was induced to make a venture
which involved his leavuig Long bar, and idtimately
r'ldcd in financial ruin, liich bar, on Feather river,
Iiad lately been discovered, and was drawing multi-
tU(Ks of fortune-seekers fnmi every quarter. It was
not difficult for Mr Fall to persuade my brother with
an abundance of means and an unlimited credit to
huy a l)and of mules and freight them for that place.
Once there he erected a l)uil(ling, and opened a hotel
and store. For a time all went well. Up and down
the liver the dig^sjinofs were rich, and fjold dust was
poured into his coffers by the quart. The establish-
ment at Long bar seemed insignificant in comparison,
and l)einfj attended with some care, he sold it and
moved his family to Rich bar. My father remained at
Long l)ar. He had been in the count.y now about
two years, had accumulated quite a little sum, and
contein])lated soon returning home. But shortly
hetbve setting out an opportunity offered whereby
he night increase his little fortune tenfold, and witli-
<'Ut a risk of failure — so it seemed to him and to
others.

J 20

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO TERPETUAI

Quartz mining: was about this time attracting; at-
tcntioii, and the prospect \vas very Hatteriiig. The
ledi^o was discovered and staked off, its dimensions
tohl, its rock assayed, the cost of crushing reckoned,
5ind the number of years calculated before tlic mini;
W(^ukl be exhausted. Surely this was no vain specu-
lation, it Mas a simple arithmetical sum, the quantity,
the rpiality, the cost of separation, and the net profits.
Yet it was a suni which wrecked thousands. The
gold was in the mine, and rock enough of an ascer-
tained grade to last for years, but the cost of extract-
ing was more than had been anticipated, and, what
was worst of all, and almost always ovei'looked in
these calculations, the methods of savin<]f the o'old afav
the rock was crushed were imperfect, so that oven
good rock failed to pay expenses.

Two miles from Long bar, near the ^farysvilh'
road, was a place called Brown valley, and thi'ougli
tliis ]-an a fpiartz ledge, long known but regarded a.>
valueless, because no one could extract the gold iVoni
the hard wliite rock which held it. When, however,
fjuartz mining became the fashion, and every one who
owned a share was sure of a fortune, this led'j'e was
taken up and staked off into claims under the names
of different companies. One of these co..i})anies was
called the Plymouth, alwn^'s a pleasing name to tlie
ear '^'" my father, and as it embosomed an abundance
of gold, he was induced to invest — not venture — the
greatei part of the money he had made, before re-
turning homo.

Midway between Long bar and thomineranalittl<'
stream, M'hose name, Dry creek, was significant of its
character, it being, like many other streams in Cali-
fornia, flush with water in the winter and dry as a parlor
floor in the summer. This stream had been dammed,
a race dug, and a quartz mill with eight or ten stamps
constructed, all in working order; and at the time ol'
my arrival it was just ready, as it had been at any
time since its erection, to make every shareholder rich.

MINING INFELICITIES.

127

It was merely necessary to effect some little change
ill the method of extracting and saving tlie gold, and
this was receiving attention.

I fcund my father, in connection with other mcni-
l)crs of the Plymouth association, busily engaged in
wf)]'king this mine. He occupied a little cloth house
in the vicinity of the ledge, and being the owner of a
good mule team, he employed himself in hauling rock
IVom the mine to the mill, about one mile apart, and
in iratherinfj wood with which to burn the rock, so
that it could be the more easily crushed. The first
nig] it I spent with him in the liotel at Long bar.
l'\)rcmost among iny recollections of the place are
tlio ilcas, which, together with the loud snorings and
ahominable smells proceeding from the great hairy
unwashed strewed about on bunks, benches, tables,
;nid iloor, so disturbed ni}^ sleep that I arose and
wiiit out to select a soft place on the hill-sido above
the camp, where I rolled myself in a IJanket and
|)assed the night, my first in the open air of Cali-
inrnia.

Tlio next day found me settled down to business.
As eight or nine months must elapse before i>y letter
from Sacramento could be received by ]\Ir Derby,
and goods reach me by way of Cape Horn, it was
arranged that I should work with my father for the
riyniouth company. In the morning we climbed the
oak trees scattered about the valley, and with an axe
lopped off the large brittle branches, adding them to
the already huge pile of wood beside the mill. At
noon we proceeded to the little cloth house, unhar-
nessed and fed the animals, and then cooked and
ate our dinner. Beefsteak, beans, bread, and pota<
toes, with coffee, canned fruits, pancakes, or anything
ol' the kind we chose to add, constituted the fare
of self-boarding miners in those days; but with all
our culinary talents we could not offer Mr Kenny
a meal sufficiently tempting to induce him to par-
take of it, and so he obtained his dinner from a

128

HAIT. CALIFORNIA! ESTO PEUrETlJA!

boarclliiiif-liouse near by, and left shortly afterward for
Klch bar.

I cannot say that I enjoyed this kind of life, and
could scarcely have endured it but for the thouj^dit
that it was only temporary. At night the animals
v.ere turned loose to graze. Early in the morning,
long l)cfore the sun had risen, I was up and over tiiu
hills after them. Stiff and sore from the pi-evious
day's work, wet with wading through the long dam])
grass, I was in no humor to enjoy those glorious
moriungs, ushered in by myiiads of sweet songstcis
welcoming the warm sunlight which came tremblingly
through the soft misty air. To the clouds of toj)-
knotted quails which rose at my approach, the leaping
hare, the startled deer, and the thick beds of fresh
fragrant flowers which I trampled under my feet, I
was alike indifferent. The music of the mules alouo
allured mo, though the clapper of the bell which told
me wlicre they were beat discordantly on my strained
ear. Back to my breakfast and then to work. How
I loaded and lashed the poor dumb beasts in my dis-
temper, and gritted my teeth with vexation over tlie
unwelcome task! The sharp rock cut my hands, the
heavy logs of wood strained my muscles; and my
temper, never one of the sweetest, fumed and fretted
like that of a newly chained cub. Were it in my
power I would have pluralizcd those mules so as to
smite the more. Some woods send forth fraixranco
under the tool of the carver. Such was not my na-
ture. I never took kindly to misfortune; prosperity
fits me like a glove. It is good to be afflicted; but
I do not like to receive the good in that way. "Bo-
narum rcrum consuetude est pessima," says Publius
Syrus; but such has not been my experience. I will
admit that adversity may be good for other peo})lo,
but the continuance of prosperity, I verily believe,
has never by any means been prejudicial to me, either
in mind or morality. Byron thought Shelley, who

FAILURE AND ABANDONMENT.

129

liad borne up manfully under adversity, the most
.iniiablo of men, until he saw Lord Blessington, wlio
luul retained his gentle good nature through a long
Hci ios of unvarying prosperity.

The night before leaving Buffalo I had danced
until morning. It happened that about the only
clothes saved from the thieves of the Isthmus were
the ones used on that occasion. These I wore until
work turned them into rags. In the pocket I one
day found a pair of white kid gloves, relic of past
rcnelries, and putting them on I gathered up the
reins, mounted the load, and beating my nudes into
a round trot, rode up to the mill laughing bitterly
at the absurdity of the thing. It was the irony of
gentlemanly digging. Ten or twelve loads was a fair
day's work; I hauled twenty or twenty-five. A dollar
a load was the price allowed — but it was not money,
it was wrath, that made me do it. My father, though
mild in his treatment of me, expostulated. He feared
I would kill the animals. I said nothing, but when
out of his sight I only drove them the harder. Little
cared I whether the mules or myself were killed.
Sunday was a day of rest, but on Monday I felt sorer
in body and mind than on any other day. I had
brought plenty of. books with me, but could not read,
or if I did it was only to raise a flood of longings
which seemed sometimes to overwhelm me. My soul
was in harmony with nothing except the coyotes which
all night howled discordantly behind the hills.

After two months of this kind of life the hot
weather was upon us. The streams began to dry
up; water was becoming scarce. We had heaped u[)
the wood and the rock about the mill, and my tally
showed a long score against the company for work.
But the mill did not pay. There was always some-
thing wrong about it, some little obstacle that stood
in the way of immediate brilliant success: the stamps
were not heavy enough, or the metal was too soft,
or they did not work smoothly; the rest of the ma-

Ltt. Isp.

130

IIML CALIFORNIA! ESTO PERrETUA!

chiiiciy was inadequate, and tlie rock was harder than
had been anticipated. Tliat it was hard enough, I
who liad handled it well knew. There was no mone}^
but there were [)lenty of shares.

It is very difficult when once faith, even in a
falsity, has taken possession of the mind, to eivadicate
it. Especially difficult is it when self-interest stands
in the wiiy and blinds the understanding. Skepticism
is a plant of slow growth. The seeds are sown ))V
inexoi'able fact, in an unwelcome soil, and the germ is
smothered by ignorance and prejudice until time and
experience force it to the light. I had not then
readied the point later attained, when I could say
with Dante, "Non men die saver, dubbiar m'aggrata;"
though doubt seldom chains a "old-dijiijer so much as
knowledge of facts. I cannot tell why neither my
father nor I should have seen by this time that the
eiitei'piise was a failure. But wo did not see it. Wv
had scJiooled ourselves in the belief that the rocky
bank contained a mint of money which must soiai.'
day enrich the possessor. But there was then nothiuLf
more to be done, and my father concluded to pay a
pai'ting visit to my brother at Ilich bar and set out
for home. For our work we took more shares, and
still more in exchange for the team and the scattering
eftects, and abandoned it all forever. Several years
afterward I learned that a new company had taken
possession of the claim and was doing well. Not Ions,'
after leaving the place I became convinced tliat the
enterprise was a failure, and firmly resolved that
thenceforth, whatever speculation I might at any time
engage in, it sliould be not with my own labor. 1
might stake money, but if I worked with mv hands 1
would have pay for such labor.

Behold us now! my old father and me, tram])iiig
over the plains beneath a broiling sun about the
middle of June, each with a bundle and stick, mine
containing my sole possessions. In the early morning,
fresh from sleep, with gladness of heart at leaving

IN THE MOUNTAINS.

llio beautiful val^\v of liateful occupation lu'liiud, wo
iiiarclied away over tlio liill« at a round pace;, l^ut
iis tliu sun above our lioads neared tlu> point from
whidi it poured its perpen<li<'u]ar and most effect-
ual wrath, I became excessively fatigued. Mv feet
Mistered; my lind)s ached; water was to be liad only
jit intervals; the prayed-for breath of air en me hot
and suffocating, like a sirocco, mingled with incan-
descent dust beaten from the parclied plain. Thinlcing
over my short experience in the country and my
present position, I exclaimed, "If this be California,
1 lio})e God will give me little of it." As we trotl
slowlv alonsjf, stepiMug lio^htly on the burning ground,
1 hej»an to think the mules would have been better
tor our purpose than the shares, but 1 said nothing.

Tliat tlay we walked tliirty miles, crossed the river
at l)idwell bar, intending to stop over night at a
raiiclio some; distance on in the mountains; but we
liad not ascended far before I persuaded my father
t(i camp, for rest I must. He willingly complied,
and selecting a sheltered ])lace well covered with dry
leaves we sjn'ead our blankets. In a moment I was
asleep, and knew nothing further till morning, when
1 awoke almost as fresh as over. We hatl food with
us, hut the niijfht before I was too tired to cat. The
first day was the M'orst. We were now in the cool
fragrant air of the Sierra, travelling a well-l»eaten path
intersected by numerous rivulets of melted snow.
The third day we reached Rich bar in good con-
dition. My father, after a visit of about a week,
I'eturned with the express train — of mules, not steam-
cai's — to Marysville, where he took the boat for San
Francisco, and thence the steamer homewni'd.

As I had still six months or thereabout to wait for
niv goods, I afjreed to remain witli mv brother (,\irtis
lei' such compensation as he should choose to give.
]\ly duties were to carry on the store and look after
the business generally in his absence. Mr Kenny
was likewise engaged by my brother in an establish-

182

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO TERPETUAI

mont carried on by him at Indian bar, a few miles
down the river. There we remained until November,
when we went to San Francisco.

Shortly before leaving Rich bar I had received
intelligence of the death of Harlow Palmer, elilest
son of George Palmer, a wealthy and highly respected
citizen of Buffalo. Harlow Palmer had married my
sister Emily. For fine womanly instincts and self-
sacrificing devotion to duty and friendship she had no
superior ; and her husband was among the noblest of
men. Away in the heart of the Sierra I received
the heart-rending tidings as a message from another
world. I said nothing to any one; but when the sun
had buried itself in the granite waves beyond, and
had left the sky and earth alone together, alone to
whisper each other their old-time secrets, with my
sad secret I wandered forth beside the transparent
river, where the lusty diggers had honey-combed the
pebbly bottom and opened graves for myriads of hopes,
and there, down in the deep canon, walled in by sky-
[>ropping mountains, I sped my longings upward, tlie
only window of escape for my pent up sorrow. O earth I
how dark and desolate thou art, with thy boisterous
streams singing requiems for the dead. O starlit sky I
dim not my vision that would pierce thy milky veil,
nor speed back my blind intelligence from its unaj)-
proachable source. Behold the immobile sepulchral
moon ! Ghastly the sun's reflected light thrown from
fantastic rocks which cast their phantom shadows
round yawning craters reveals the hideousness of tlie
gentle orb, gentle because dead, tenantless as a ceme-
tery. Bats we are, all of us, teachers and pupils alike,
beating our senseless brains against the murky cavern-
walls that hem us in, screeching about that illimitaldo
brightness beyond, of which we have been told so
much and know so little, only to drop at length upon
the damp floor, despairing.

But this was only the beginning of sorrow. Scarcely
had I reached Sacramento when the death of George

DEATH A?

iCOMFITURE.

133

n. Derby was announced. Surely, said I, there
iiiurit be a mistake. It is Mr Palmer they mean;
they have confused the husbands of the two sisters.
1 would not believe it; it could not be. Letters,
however, soon confirmed the report. The two brothers-
iii law, young, higli -spirited, active, intelligent, prom-
isiiiLT men, the warmest of friends, livinjjf on the same
si(K' of the same street, not more than a mile ai)art,
li;ul both been swept away by the cholera the same
iiK )iitli. I was stricken dumb, stupefied, and for a time,
listless and purposeless, I wandered about the quag-
luirrs and charred I'cmains of the city — for Sacia-
UKiito had about that time bcjii visited by both Hood
and lire — the miry and sombre surroundings accord-
ing well with the despond-sloughs and ashen contem-
})lati()iis within. To the pure fanatic and the pure
philosopher alike death has no sting. Deep medita-
tions on man's destiny only show the folly of harassing
concern about v ' '^t is hidden from human ken or of
loudly bewailii hat is inevitable to all. But where
neither fanaticx^. . nor philosophy exists one suffers
when friends die.

All my plans and purposes I saw at once were at an
end. I knew very well that no one else, now that
^Ir Derby was dead, would do so foolish a thing as to
continue shipments of goods to an inexperienced
nKjneyloss boy in California. Indeed, directly after
iecei\ insj the first sad intelliii^ence came a letter from
the executor, requesting the speedy sale of the consign-
lucut about to arrive and the remittance of the money.
Accompanying this order was an urgent but most
unnecessary appeal to my sympathies in behalf of
my sister, Mrs Derby. The estate, it affirmed, would
net little else than the property in my hands, without
which the widow and children must suffer.

Having no further business in the burned-out mud-
hole of Sacramento, I went down to the bay and
I lilt up at the Rassette house. Kenny was with me.
I was deteimined, whatever the cost, that Mrs Derby

134

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO PERPETUA!

should have the full amount of the invoice, with com-
missions added, as soon as tlie goods covdd bo con-
verted into nu»ney and the proceeds remitted to liei'.
To sell in that market, at that time, a miscellaneous
assortment of l)0(»ks and stationery in one lot, without
a sacrifice, was impossible. I determined thei'o should
\n) no sacrifice, even if 1 liad to peddle the stuff from
door to door. I posses.sed only one hundred and fifty
dollars, the result of my services at Ivich bar, and
l)euan to look about for employment till tlie jjfoods
should arrive. At none of the several book and
stationery sho})s in town was thi-rc; any })rospect. I
was thin, young, awkward, bashful, liad no address,
and was slow of wit. Jiesides, merchants were sliy of
a clerk ^ith shipments of goods beliind him; for why
should lie <lesire a situation except to learn the secrets
of Jiis employer and then use thorn to his own ad-
vantage? 1 explained the poverty of my ])ros[)ect.s
i!id declared the i)U]itv of my intentions. All was in
vain: nobody would have my services, oven as a gilt.
Mr ivennv was nioi-e fortunate. In hi:' nature wei'c
blended the snxrifcr in iikk/o and the Jorfi/cr in n'.
He was older than 1, and ])t)ssessed of an Irish tongue
witlial; he ma<le iViends wherever lie went. An e(pi;il
paitnershi)) was offered him by William B. C'ookc,
who had lately dissolved witli Josiah J. Le Count,
and was then establishing himself anew at the coi'm r
of ^[erchant and Montgomery streets. The terms
were that Keimy sliould place n])on Cooke's shells
the stock sent me; that the proceeds should l)e iv-
mittt'd east as fast as sales were made, oi', if po.ssiblc,
payment:^ sliould be even I'aster than this; in any event
not less than five hundred dollars was to be paid "ii
each steamer day. I must shilt for myself; but llii-^
did not tr(»ul>le mo. I readily consi'iited, sti|)ulati!:;4"
(;nly I'or immediate control of the stock if the liim
did not remit as fast as promised. In no surer "i"
(piicker way could I ivalizo the invoice price for tlio
whole shi})nieiit, and this was now my chief ambition.

DARK DAYS.

13j

Well, the goods arrived, and the firm of Cooke,
Kenny, and Company was organized, the comj)any
beinij: a youn^j friend of jSIr Cooke. I had free ac-
(OSS to t!ie premises, and watehed matters closely foi"
a while. Everything went on satisfactorily, and the
whole amount was remitted to the executors of Mr
1 )cihy's estate according to agreement. ^leanwhile E
had npplied myself more earnestly than ever to obtain
wo;k of some kind. I felt obliged to stay in San
I'rancisco until my account with the estate was settled,
uiiwilliiig to trust any one for that, and I greatly j>re-
tlired remaining in the city altogether. Klines and
the miners, and country trading of any kind, had be-
ciime exceedingly distasteful to me. I felt, if an op-
poitunity were offered, that I would prove »:omj)etent
and i'aiihful in almost any capacity; for though ditlideiit
1 had an abundance of self-conceit, or at least of sclf-
rdiance, and would do anything. Accustomed to work
all my life, idleness was to me tiic j;;i'at.>st of atllic-
tious. ^ly bones ached for occupation and 1 <ii\ii'd
the very hod-caniers.

Thus for six months, day nfter day, I tram])c;d the
stivets of San Francisco seeking work, and i'ailed t'>
liiid it. Thousands have since in like manner applied
to 1110, and remembering how the harsh refusals onci^
rut my sensitive nature, I trv to be kind to ap[tlicauts
of whatsoever degi'ee, and if i.-t alwavs able to givo
Wo, k I can at least offer sympatliyaii^l ;i.l\ ")''o. Finally,
si'k with disappointment, 1 determined to iea\«j tho
city: not for the Sierra foothills; rather China, or
Australia. The choice must be made ([uickly, for
till' last dollar from Rich bar was gone, and I would
int live on othei's, or run in debt with nothing where-
wiih to pay. Often I wandered down about tho
Siii|tpiiig and scanned the vessels for different ports.

I know little of the various parts of the world, and
hi 1 little choice where to go. My future turned u[)oii

II hail'.

Ill the spring of 1853 the San Fi-ancisco papers

136

HAIL CALIFORNIA 1 ESTO PERPETUA!

began to notice a new town on tlie California shore
of the Pacific, some fifteen or twenty miles from the
Oregon boundary line. Crescent City the place was
called, from a long sweep taken by the shore inward
between Trinidad bay and Point St George; indeed,
there was then much more crescent than city, only
a few tents and split-board houses stood trembling
between the sullen roar of the ocean at the fi'ont
door and the ofttimes whistlin<_j wind in the dense
pine forest at the back door to mark the site of the
])i'ospective commercial metropolis of northern Cali-
fornia. On both sides of the boundary line between
Oregon and California were extensive mining districts,
at various distances from the coast, access to which
had hitherto been from Oregon only by way of Port-
land and Scottsbury:, and from the Sacramento vallev
tlirough Shasta. Most of the country hereabout
might have been traversed in wagons but for one
dilhculty — there were no wagon roads; consequently
most of the merchandise carried to this i)()rt by
.steamers and sailing vessels was conveyed into the
interior on the backs of mules. There was ])lenty of
good agricultural land round Crescent City, and forests
of mauuificent timber, but few tliouixht of farminix in
those days, and lumber could be more easily obtained
at other points along the coast. The mines and the
trade with them ofi'ei'ed the chief attractions for es-
tablishiiiu: a citv. Nor was it to dei)eud so nuich on
the mines ali-eady discovered as on those which were
sure to be fouml as soon as the country was i'airly
prospected. The color of gold, they said, had been
seen on Smith river, only twelve miles distant; and
farther up, at Althouse and Jacksonville, was gold
itself, and men at work digging for it. As other paits
boasted tlieir Gold lakes and Gold blufls, so lieiv
was an unsolved mystery wherein gold was the fitftil
goddess — a lone cabin that men talked of in whispcis,
where treasure-diggers long since departed had filKd
bags, and bottles, and tin cans with the glittering

CRESCENT CITY.

187

dirt that made glad the hearts of those awaiting
lliein ill their eastern homes. Several parties went
i)i search of this lone cabin at various times. It was
L'onlidcntly believed that some day it would be found,
mid wlicn that day should come, a seaport town, M'ith
railways, wliarves, and shipping, would be absolutely
necessary to furnish the dierarers in that vicinitv with
food and clothing, tents, strychnine whiskey, and
j)luyiiig- cards, antl receive and export for the honest
luagiiatos the tons of heavy yellow stuff which they
WDuld shovel up,

Ivnowing of no better place, I determined to try
my Inrtune at Crescent City; so, with fifty dollars
Ittiirowed, and a case of books and stationerv bou<jflit
oil credit, I embarked on board the steamer Colinnbia
about the middle of May. Two days and one night
the voyage lasted — lonix enousjrh, with the crowded
state of the vessel and the poor comforts at my coni-
iiiaiid, to leave me on landing completely prostrated
with sea-sickness and fatigue. Taken ashore in a
wiiale-boat, I crawled to a hc^tel and wont to bed. ^[y
bo\ w.iy landed in a lighter, but for a day or two I
iikkIo no attempt at business. Adjoining the hotel
was tlie general merchandise store of Crowell and
i'aiifield, and there I made the acquaintance of !Mr
(Vowell, which resulted in mutual conlideiice and es-
trciii. ]\rr Faii'iield was then absent at the bay. As
oiir rriciidship increased, ]\Ir Crowell occasionally re-
• picsted me to attend the store during his absence, and
also to enter in the day-book sales which he liad made.
At length, (HI learning my j>urpose, he made me an
oiler of jil'ty <lollars a month to keep his bot)ks, with
the |»iivilege of ])lacing my stock on his shelves and
si Hiiig from it for my own account free of charge.
I 'gladly accepted, and was soon enrolled as book-
ktt per and book-seller. On his return ^[r l"\urlield
latliicd the arrangeiiHMit, and we were evt.'r after the
1" I of friends. As I sle)>t in the store, indulgcMJ in
liti 1 ' (lissipation, and was not extravagant in dress, my

1^-

138

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO PERPETUA!

(ixpcnscs were very light, while the ])rofits on my
goods, which I sohl only lor cash, were hiri^e. Mean-
while, as the business of the tirni auiL^niented and the
duties became more i-esponsible, my salary was from
time to time increased, until at the expiration of
eigliteen months, with the use of a few thousand
dollai's which I had accumulated aijd allowed to re-
main at the disposal of the firm, I found myself the
recipient of two hundred and fifty dollars monthly.
Some six months later the firm failed. I bou<;ht a
portion of the stock and tried merchandising on my
own account for a short time, but being dissatisfied
with my life there, I disposed of the business, built a
one-stoiy brick store, which I leased to some hardware
merchants, and leaving my affairs in the hands of an
atjent I went down to San Fiancisco.

Though it was a trading rather than a mining town,
life at Crescent City was in most respects similar t(»
life in the mines. There was the same element in the
community, the same lack of virtuous women, the
same s[)ecies of gaming-houses, drinking-saloons, and
dens of prostitution. Florimel's girdle was woin by
never a woman there. The lleverend Mr Lacy, after-
ward pastor of the first congregational society in
San Francisco, essayed to build a church and reform
the })eople, but his efforts were attended with poor
success.

A rancheria of natives occu})ied the point that
formed the northern liorn of the Cri'scent, and with
them the mild-maimcired citizens of the town endeav-
ored to live in peace. One night the ranchei'ia took
fire, an unusual thing which excited some conuuotioii.
The na+ives thonglit the wliite men wished to burn
them out, and the wliite men began to fear the ml
men intentled to overturn evervthini'' ami massaciv
everybody, beginning with the destruction of thcii'
own houses. MOrniiig, however, threw light upon
the matter. It aj)pears a drunken white man, thf
night before, had taken lodgings in a native hut, and

THE XOBLE TOPERS OF THE CRESCENT.

139

fooling cold, in the absence of the accustomed alcoholic
liros he built a tire of wood to warm himself witluil;
hut being drunk, he built it after the white man's
fashion, at one end of the room against the bark
hoards of the house, and not where the sober savage
WDuld have placed it, in the centre of the room. The
pionoer citizens of the Crescent were orderly, woll
moaning men, who prided themselves on em[)tying a
ti\'o-gallon keg of the most fiery spirits San Francisco
CDuld send them, and on carrying it resj)ectably, with
(yos open, head up, and tongue capable of articu-
lating, even though it did thicken and crisp a little
.sometimes toward morning after a night at })oker.
They could not therefore silently pass by the affront
cast on their dusky neighbors by an unworthy niem-
l)or of their own color; and in the absence of a court
of law they held a court of incpiiry, followed by a
court of retort, requiring the vile white man who
I'ould not di'ink without making himself drunk, first
to ])ay the natives blankets, beads, and knives enough
to I'ully satisfy them for loss and damage to thoir
|ti'opi'rty, and then to leave the place. Well begun,
ni>blo topers of the Crescent, who would not see even
tlio })oor savages at their door wronged by one of
tlu'ir number!

The two and a half years I spent at Crescent Citv
wore worse than thrown awav, although I did accu-
iiiulato some six or eight thousand dollars. Witli
ail abundance of time on my hands, T road littli^ l)ut
trashy novels, and thouiifh from my diffidonce I did ii<^t
iiiinglo greatly with the people, I inqirovcd my mind
no bettor than they. One bosom fViond I had, Tho(»-
iloic S. Pomeroy,county clerk and editor of the Ifci-a/'/,
I'lobably the most intoliigont man in the })laco, and
much of ni}' time outside of business I s})ent with him
at caids oi- billiards. On Sundays there was hoi-so-
rariiig, or foot-racing, or cock-tighting on the l)oach ;
ami (tfton a band (tf rowdies, composed of the most
Kspectable citizens,would start out at anytime between

140

HAIL CALIFORNIA! ESTO PERPETUA!

midnight and daybreak, and with horns, tin pans, and
gongs, make tho round of the place, pounding at every
door, and compelling the occupant to arise, administer
drink to all, and join the jovial company. Knives and
})istols were almost universall}^ carried and recklessly
used. In a drunken brawl a man was shot dead one
night in front of my store. I did not rush out with
others to witness the scene, and so saved myself a
month's time, and the heavy expenses of a journey
to Yreka to attend the trial of the murderer. During
my residence at this place I made several trips on
business to San Francisco, and on the whole managed
my affairs with prudence and economy. I well remem-
ber the first five hundred dollars I made. The sum
was deposited with Page, Bacon, and company, so
that whatever befell me I misjfht have that amount
to carry me back to my friends, for I never ceased
longing to see them. Fortunately, Crowell and Fair-
field being in need of money, I drew it out for their
use just before the bank failed. I have never felt so
rich before or since. Havinsf cfreat faith in the ulti-
mate growth of Crescent City, I invested my earnings
tliere, though after the lapse of several years I was
glad to realize at thirty cents on the dollar.

My sisters had often urged me strongly to return
to the east. INIrs Derby, particulail}^ was quite alone,
and she wished me to come, and if possible settle
permanently near her. I now felt quite independent,
and consequently proud and happy, for my brick store
at Crescent City, worth, as I counted it, eight thou-
sand dollars, and rented for two hundred and fifty
dollars a month, seemed at that time sufficient to
make me comfortable without work. Hence I re-
solved to go home — the eastern side was always
home then, whether one lived there or not — and
my friend Pomeroy promised to accompany me. My
object was to visit friends and make plans for the
future; his was to marry a woman of Albany, with

VISIT TO THE EAST.

141

whom he had opened correspondence and made a
matrimonial engagement through the medium of a
friend, a female friend of course, living in San Fran-
cisco. The firm of Cooke, Kenny, and company hail
failed, from lack of capital, and Mr Kenny, who in
tlic mean time had married an estimable woman, was
doing business for another house. Often have I
thouo'ht how fortunate it w^as that I did not start
in Inisiness at San Francisco or Sacramento at that
time, since the inevitable result would have been
failure. As I have said, almost every firm then doing
l)usiness failed; and if men with capital and experi-
ence, with a large trade already established, could not
succeed, how could I expect to do so? In November,
1855, with Mr Pomeroy as a companion, I sailed from
San Francisco for New York, where we safely arrived,
and shortly after separated for the homes of our
respective friends.

CHAPTER VI.

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

Seest thou a mnn diligent in business, he shall stand before kings; lie
sluill not stand before mean men.

Proverbs.

Home again 1 None but a wanderer, ond a voutliful
wanderer, can feci those words in tlieir fullest import.
Back from the first three years in California. Out
of tlio depths and into paradise. Away from har-
assing cares, from the discordant contentions of
inoney-gettiiig, from the contaminations of filthy de-
baucheries, beyond the shot of pistol or reach of
bowie-knife, safe liome, there let ine rest. Nor docs
tlie prestige of success lessen the pleasure of the re-
turned Californian. Even our warmest friends are
human. Those who would nurse us most kindly in
sickness, who would spare no self-denial for our com-
fort, who, unworthy as we might be of their affection,
would die for us if necessary, the hearts of even these
in tlieir thanksgiving are warmed with pride if to
their welcome they may add "Well done!"

How the snappish frosty air tingles the blood, and
lightens the feet, and braces the sinews. How white
the soft snow resting silently on trees and lawn, and
how the music of the bells rings in the heart the re-
membrance of old time merrjanakings ! Rosy-cheeked
>irls, muffled in woollens and furs, frolic their wav
to school, filling the clear cold air with their musical
laughter, and blooming young ladies grace the side-
walk in such numbers as would turn a mining camp
topsy-turvy for a month. Oysters! How the whilom
bean- and -Ijacon eaters regale themielves! First a

(1*2)

\l':V

OYSTKRS A\D PRETTY GIRLS.

143

raw, then a stew, then a fry, and tlien a raw a«xain.
Tn hvc in a liouso, oat with people, lounge in elegantly
liiiiiished parlors — it is very pleasant, but a little
(lise. The Sundays, how quiet they arc; no one
jiltroad, no trafficking, no rcvehy! And then to go to
(•liiireh, and sit in the old family pew, and meet the
g;iz(» of faces familiar from boyhood. How nmch
smaller things appear than of old. The ancients of
llic church are plainer in their apparel and simpler in
tlitir features than they used to bo, and the minister is
.1 little more prosy and peculiar. But the girls, ah I
there's the rub. Innnediately on my arrival I fell in
love with half a dozen, and, bashful as I was, would have
iiianied one upon the spot, had not her father fancied
ii young man whose father's property was in New York,
ill ])reference to one who possessetl something of his
o\\ n at Crescent City. And how the men, and women,
and children all eyed me; one saying, "You are not
a bear," and another, "I do not see but that vou look
vciy like other people." The impression seemed to
lucvail at the east in those davs that a Calilbrnian
iiiuld not be otherwise than brown and bearded, and
nxigli and red-shirted. I was still a pale, thin, timid
Itoy, though I had passed through furnace lires enough
to deeper bronze or blacken Mephistopheles.

1 found my sister Mrs Derby, M'ith her three
(laughters, cosily keeping house in Aubui'n, New
\ oik. INIy youngest sister, Mary, was with her. Soon
^frs Palmer, my second sister, came down from ]iuf-
f"al( ) to see her Californian brother. It was a happy meet-
ill^. though saddened by the recollection of irre[)arable
(lisru]»tions. Between Auburn and Buffalo I }mssed
tlic winter delightfully, and in the spring visited my
IVicuds in Granville. I tried my best to like it at tlie
easi, to make up my mind to abandon California and
settle permanently in Buffalo or New York, to be a
coin fort to my sisters, and a solace to my parents; but
the western coast, with all its rough hardships and
iiiilM'tuous faults so fascinating, had fastened itself

144

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

1 !

too stronj^ly upon mo to bo shaken off. And so roiinri
many a poor pilgrim California has thrown her witcii-
eries, drawinij^ him back to her brijjht shores whenever
he attempted to leave them, like the magnetic moun-
tain of Arabian story, which drew the nails from any
ship tliat approached it. If the nails from the vessels
entering the Golden Gate were not so drawn by the
metal -veined sierra the men were, for only too often
they left the ships tenantless and unmanageable hulks.
The east, as compared with the west, was very com-
fortable, very cultivated, soothing to the senses and
refining to the intelligence; but society was so proper,
so particular, and business ways seemed stale and
flat.

Suddenly in April, 185G, I made up my mind no
lontjer to remain there. I had visited cnoujjh and
wasted tmie enough. I was impatient to be doing.
So, without saying a word at first, I packed my trunli,
and then told my sister of the resolve. I appreci-
ated her kindness most fully. I regretted leaving
her more than words could tell, but I felt that 1 must
go; there was that in California which harmonized
with my aspirations and drew forth energies which
elsewhere would remain dormant. I must be up and

doing.

On one side of the continent all was new, all
was to be done; on the other side beginnings were
pretty well over. To the satisfied and unambitious
an eastern or European life of dolce far niente might
be delicious; to me if I h.id millions it would bo tor-
ment. The mill must needs grind, for so the makii"
ordained ; if wheat be thrown into the hopper it sends
forth fine flour, but if unfed it still grinds, until it
grinds itself away. I must be something of mvsclf,
and do something by myself; it is the Me, and not
money, that cries for activity and development.

"One thing do for me," said my sister, "and you
may go."

"I will; what is it?"

THE RESOLVE OF MY SISTER,

145

" You remember the money sent from California in
return for goods shipped by Mr Derby?"

"Yes."

" The money is now so invested that I am fearful
of losing it. Help me to get it, then take it and use
it in any way you think best."

" I will help you to get it," said I, "most certainly,
but I could not sleep knowing that your comfort de-
pended on my success. I may be honest and capable,
and yet fail. I may woo fortune but I cannot com-
manil her. The risk is altogether too great for you
to take."

" Nevertheless I will take it," replied my noble
sister, and in that decision she decided my destiny.

How a seemingly small thing, as we have before
remarked, will sometimes turn the current, not only
of a man's own future life, but that of his friends, his
family, and multitudes who shall come after him. In
this womanish resolve of my sister — womanish because
prompted by the heart rather than by the head — the
destinies of many hundreds of men and women were
wrapped. By it my whole career in California was
changed, and with mine that of my father's entire
family. Herein is another cause, if we choose to call
it so, of my embarking in literature. I hesitated yet
further about taking the money, but finally concluded
that I might keep it safely for her; if not, there was
yet the Crescent City property to fall back upon.

After some little difficulty we succeeded in drawing
the money, five thousand five hundred dollars, which
sum was placed in my hands. I then asked her if she
would accept a partnership in my proposed under-
taking; but she answered no, she would prefer my note,
made payable in five or six years, with interest at the
rate of one per cent a month.

Now it was that I determined to execute the origi-
nal plan formed by Mr Derby, in pursuance of which
I first went to California; and that with the very
money, I might say, employed by him, this being the

Lit. Ivo. 10

146

THE HOUSE OF H. II. BANCROFT AND rOMPANY.

M ■'

li:!

exact amount of his original shipments — only, I would
lay the foundations broader than he had done, estab-
lish at once a credit, for without that my capital wouJ» I
not go far, and plant myself in San Francisco with
aspirations high and determination fixed, as became
«)ne who would win or die in the first city of thu
Pacific seaboard.

There was a man in New York, Mr John 0. Barnes,
who had been a warm friend of Mr Derby, To him
my sister gave a letter of introduction, with whicli.
and drafts for fifty-five hundred dollars, she sent nic
forth to seek my fortune. Mr Barnes was paitner in
the large stationery house of Ames, Herrick, ]>arn( s.
and Rhoads, 75 John street. I found liini vciy
affable, stated to iiim my plans, deposited M'ith liiiii
my drafts, and received the assurance that everytliiiiL;'
possible should be done to foi'ward my wishes. First
of all, I wanted to establish business relations withtliii
leading publishers of the east. I wanted the lowest
])rices and the longest time — the lowest prices so that
the advance I was necessarily obliged to add should
not place my stock beyond the reach of consumers,
aiid the longest time because four or six months were
occupied in transportation.

California credit in New York at that time rated
low, as elsewhere I have observed. Nearly every ono
I met had lost, some of them very heavily, either by
flood, or fire, or failure. Some of their customers had
proved dishonest, others unfortunate, and a curst;
seemed attached to the country from which at one
time so nmch had been expected. I told tliem I was
starting fresh, untrammelled, with everything in my
favor, and I believed I could succeed; that they had
met with dishonest men did not prove every man dis-
honest; and because they had lost it did not follow
that they were always sure to lose. I might have
added, if at that time I had known enough of the
manner of eastern merchants in dealing with the
California market, that for nine tenths of their losses

C/VLIFORXIAN CRF:DIT.

147

tlioy liad only themselves to blame, for after selling
to legitimate dealers all the goods necessary for the
iiill supply of the market, they would throw into auc-
tion on their own account in San Francisco such
((uantities of merchandise as would break prices and
nitail loss on themselves and ruin on their customers.
All the blame attending California credit did not be-
long to Californians, although the disgrace might be
laid only on them; but the shippers of New York and
lioston knew a trick or two as well as the merchants
ol' San Francisco.

At all events, before these angry croakers decided
against me, or persisted in their tixed purpose never to
S(,ll ;i dollar's worth of goods to California without first
reeoiving the dollar, I begged them to see Mr Barnes
and ascertain what he thought of it. Tiiis they were
ready to promise, if nothing more; and the conse-
quence was that when I called the second time al-
most every one was ready to sell i.ie all the goods
I would buy. From that day my credit was estab-
lished, becoming firmer wit'i time, and ever afterward
it was my first and constant care to keep it good. "A
good credit, but used sparingly;" that was my motto.
At this time I did not buy largely, only about ten
thousand dollars' worth, j)referring to wait till I be-
came better acquainted with the market before order-
ing heavily. This was in June. My goods shipped,
1 returned to Auburn, there to spend the few months
] tending the passage of the vessel round Cape Horn
rather than await its arrival in California. And very
]>leasantly passed this time with the blood warm and
liojie high.

October saw me aijain en route for San Francisco.
1 lound Mr Kenny occupying his old store with a
small stock of goods belonging to Mr Le Count. I
told him to settle his business and come with me,
and he did so. We engaged the room adjoining, being
in the building of Naglee, the brandymaker, near the

i I

148

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

corner of Montgomery and Merchant streets, where
ten years before a yerba-buena bordered sand-bank
was washed by the tide- waters of the bay. Our stock
arriving shortly after in good order, we opened it and
began business under the firm name of H. H. Ban-
croft and Company about the first of December, 18y(!.
There was nothing pecuhar in the shop, its contents,
business, or proprietors, that I am aware of Durin^i
the closing months of the year, and the opening
months of the year following, the inside was exposed
to the weather while the build intf was taking on u
new front; but in such a climate this was no hard-
ship. At night we closed the opening witli empty
boxes, and I turned into a cot bed under the counter
to sleep; in the morning I arose, removed the boxes,
swept the premises, put the stock in order, breakfasted,
and was then ready to post books, sell goods, or can-y
bundles, according to the requirements of the hour.
We let two oflicos, one to Mr Woods, the broker, and
one to Jonathan Hunt, insurance agent, and thus re-
duced our rent one third, the orisjinal sum beino* t\\o
hundred and fifty dollars a month. With the constant
fear of failure before mo, I worked and watched un-
ceasingl}'. Mr Kenny was salesman, for he was much
more familiar with the business than I; he possessed
many friends and had already a good trade estab-
lished. Affairs progressed smoothly ; we worked hanl
and made money, iirst slowly, then faster. Times were
exceedingly dull. Year after year the gold crop had
diminished; or if not diminished, it required twice the
labor and capital to produce former results. Stocks
had accumulated, merchants had fallen in arrears, ami
business depression was far greater than at any time
since the discovery of gold. In the vernacular of the
day, trade had touched bottom. But hard times ure
the very best of times in which to plant and nourish
a permanent business. Hard times lead to careful
trading and thrift; flush times to recklessness und
overdoing. On every side of us old firms were falling

BUSINESS CHANCES.

149

to pieces, and old merchants were forced out of busi-
ness. The term 'old' was then applied to firms of
tivo or six years' standing. This made me all the
more nervous about success. But we had every ad-
vantage; our stock was good and well bought, our
eicdit excellent, our expenses light, and gradually the
Imsiuess grew.

Towartl the end of the first year the idea struck me
that I might use my credit further, without assuming
much more responsibility, by obtaining consignments
of goods in place of buying large quantities outright.
But this would involve my going east to make the
jnrangements, and, as Mr Kenny would thus be left
alone, I proposed to Mr Hunt, whose acquaintance
had ripened into friendship, to join us, contribute a
cortain amount of capital, and take a third interest
m the partnership. The proposition was accepted,
^fr Hunt came into the firm, the name of which re-
mained unchanged, and soon after, that is to say in
the autumn of 1857, I sailed for New York. My
|ilaii was successful. I readily obtained goods on the
terms asked to the amount of sixty or seventy thou-
sand dollars, which added largely to our facilities.

IJotbre returning to California, which was in the
spring of 1858, I visited my parents, then living as
liapiiily as ever in Granville. My views of life had
<liaiiL;ed somewhat since I had left my boyhood home,
and later tiiey chaiigod still more. 1 was well enough
>aiistii(l then with the choice I had made in foreu'oiiitj:
tlif lu'nefits of a college course, and my mind is nmch
mote clear upon the .subject now than then.

Were a boy of mine to ask me t(t-day, "Shall I vn-
\ry college f I should iiKjuire, " For what |nn|»o.se?
\\ hat do you intend to do or to be? Are vou satis-
til d with your position and po.sse.ssions, or shall you
drsirc tame or wealth ( If tlie former, then in what
diivction ( Have you a taste for lanuuaijes and liter-

atui

mid

would you he a pri'aclier, t)r proiessor, or presi-
iil of a university ; has statesmanship attractions for

150 THK HOUSE OF H. H, BANlUOFT AND COMPANY.

1 -:

you — tho pure and unadulterated article I moan, not
demaj^ogisni, or tho ordinary path of tho politician^
If so, a classical education, as a tool of the tradi',
might be of use to you. But for almost anything
else it would be a downright disadvantage, the time
s})ent upon it being worse than thrown away. 1
know yt)U would not be a clergymen ; you love the
natural and truthful too well. You would not be a
lawyer, having no mental or moral abilities to sell for
money; you could nut reduce the ecjuities wholly to
a traffic, or study law that with it you may .spend
your life in defeating the ends of justice, or jjIucc
yourself in a position where you are expected to ad-
vocate either side of any proposition for pay. You
would not adopt a profession based upon butchering
principles, or spend your life wrangling for money in
the quarrels of other men. In regard to the calling
of the medical man, while it is not ignoble, I do not
imagine that you have any fancy that way." "Well.
then, a scientific course f' I should sav that might
do; but would it not be well for the young man first to
think it over a little, and determine— not irrevocablv,
but as far as an intelligent youth with some degree ot'
an under.standing of himself can roasonabl}^ do — what
calling or pursuit in life ho would like to follow, and
then stutly with that end in view i To bo a black-
smith, the wise boy will scarcely ap[)rentice himself to
a shoemaker. If his ambition is to be a great artist,
he will not spend tho best portions of his best days
in nmsic or oratory. If wealth is his object, a com-
mercial or industrial career is the place for him; atxl
if ho would do his best, ho will begin upon it enil\ .
and let colleges alone altogether. Often is the i\\\v<-
tion asked, but seldom answered, "Whore are your
college men?" Few of them, indeed, put in an ii[>-
pcarancc among those who move the world or conduit
the great atlairs of life.

In all this that relates to a calling and a career, it
is well to consider our point of view, whether our

LOVE AND fJOPLINESS.

ini

oliief purjioso is to bo or to do, to fonimlato or be
I'miimlatccl. It is one tliincf to niako moiicv, and
quite another to be made by money.

While stopping in Buffalo once more I made the
,'it(]uaintance of Miss Emily Ketclium, daughter of
a iiighly respected and prominent citizen of the
jilacc, and of whom my sister ]\rrs Palmer was loud in
I liaise. Her face was not what one would call beau-
t i In 1, but it was very refined, very sweet. She was tall,
w ith light hair and eyes, exquisitely formed, and very
l;i acet'ul. Her mind was far above the average female
iulilloct, and well cultivated; she was exceedingly
Iti iglii in conversation, and with a ready wit possessed
k( 111 conmion-scnse. Her well trained voice in sing-
iii'j was one of the sweetest I ever heard. I was
captivated and soon determined to marry her — if I
cniild. My time was short; I must return to my
all'airs immediately. We had not met half a <lozen
times before I called one afternoon to sav good-bv.
She was entirely unconscious of having aroused any
special interest in me, and as a matter of course I
cduld not then make a proposal.

What to do I did not know. I could not leave
matters as they were and go back to California to be
ahscnt })erhaps for years, and yet I could not speak
my heart. I dared not even ask if I might write, lest
1 should frighten her. At last fortune came to mv
It lief. The young woman had lately become deeply
iuteivsted in religion, was a new convert, as she said,
tlnuigh her whole life had been one of the strictest
ii li^ious training. Naturally she was keen for prose-
lytes, and evidently took me for a heathen, one of
till' worst sort, a California heathen. Zealously she
attacked me, therefore, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks
!L;l't\viiig,lier whole soul lit with inspiration in proclaim-
ing the l>lessedness of her I'aith. I listened attentively ;
1 <<»uld have listened had she been demonstrating a
pinl)k'ni in Euclid, or talking of Queen Victoria's new

152

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AXD COMPANY.

bonnet. After a throe hours' session, during which
by dropping here and there a penitent word the fire
of her enthusiasm had been kept ablaze, I rose to
take ni}' leave.

"Absorbed in business as I am," I said, "away from
home and its hallowing influences, worship is neglected
and piety grows cold. Had I you to icmind me of
my duty now and then I might do better."

"Would that I could be of such assistance to you,"
she replied.

"You can."

"How?" she asked.

" Write me occasionally."

" I will," was the prompt response.

It was enough, more than I had expected, better
than I could have hoped for: I had her promise to
write — little cared I what she wrote about — and then,
of course, I could write to her. My heart was light,
the barrier of conventionalism was broken.

Xor did I forget her sermon. I remembered it on
the railway journey to New York; I remembered it
on the steamer deck, down in the tropics, as I gazed
up into the starlit sky and thought of her and her
sweet words. And I vowed to be a better man, one
more worthy of her. I remembered it when on reach-
ing San Francisco I put my l)rains in my pocket and
joined tlie good people of Calvary cliuroh in tlieir
march heavenward. I remembered it at the Sabbath-
school where I taught, at the prayer-meetings which
I attended. All through the i-(>ligious life which for
the next ten years I so strictly led I never forgot
her, for she was with me, with her holy living and
that dear love and fond devotion of which in part
she robbed God to bestow on me.

Indeed anil in truth I was earnest in my professioii
both of love and of godliness ; and my love was crowned
with success, for during the next visit east I married
Kmily Ketchum. My godliness, ubi Icqysiis? For
ten years I was of the strictest sect a devotee. I

MARRIAGE.

153

paid tithes, attended to all the ordinances of religion,
would not even look at a secular newspaper on the
sabbath; I sank my reason in reasonless dogmas, and
))liudly abandoned myself to blind teachers. Of a
verity mine was iho Jides carbonarii; I believed what
tlie cliurch believed, and the church believed what I
believed. Now, what I believe God knoweth; what
the church believes God knoweth. Belief is based on
blindness: faith in things unseen and unknown is
made a merit; reason is repudiated, but mine will
work whether I will or no.

I will only glance over the leading events of the
next twelve years, and hasten to the subject-mat-
ter of this book. Shortly after my return to San
Francisco, to make room for the large additions to
our stock, we rented two rooms fronting on Merchant
street, in the rear of our store, cutting through the
partition wall to give us access from the ^lontgomerv-
strect store. Subsequently we occupied the whole
building on Merchant street, forty by sixty feet, three
stories. During the next year Mr Hunt withdrew
from the partnership. Meanwhile, though little more
tliau a boy mysolf, I gave special attention to my
boys. I was determined that my establishment
should be a model of order, morality, and disci-
pline. At once studying tlu>m and teaching them,
of some 1 made salesmen, of others book-keepers,
I^ivingto the brightest and most devoted leaderships.

In the spring of 1850 I again visited the east, and
in the autunm of that year my mariiagc took place,
which was in this wise: The sacred correspondence
had long since been cut off. To the parents the device
^vas altogether too transparent. On reaching Buffalo
I innnediately presented myself, and found the lady
unliable and tractable. I told hdr I had come to
marry her; in reply she declared herself willing, but
lea red her parents would object to her going so far
from them. That night I left for Ohio, to give time

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

for consideration. In three weeks I returned and asked
her if she was ready. For lierself, yes, but she woukl
not leave her father and mother without their full
and free assent ; so to the father and mother I went.
They sighed and hesitated; I desired a 'yes' or 'no,'
and receiving neither that night I left for New York.
This time I remained away six weeks, and on return-
ing all was happiness. In due time the ceremony was
performed and we sailed for California. The first t\V( i
years we lived on Harrison street, between First and
Second streets, and there my daughter Kate was born.
Afterward we passed certain seasons at Oakland and
Alameda.

In 18G0 my father was appointed by President
Lincoln Indian agent in Washington territory, and
took up his residence at Fort Simcoe. My mother
soon joined him, and also my youngest sister, Mary,
who afterward married Mr T. 13. Trevett. After the
expiration of the term, four years, my parents settled
in San Francisco, and Mrs Trevett in Portland,
Oregon.

Having now an abundance of means at my com-
mand, I determined to establish a branch in tiio
stationery business among the wholesale houses, as we
had little of that trade. To this Mr Kenny took ex-
ceptions. I persisting, he withdrew; the stock was
divided, and he joining his brother-in-law, Mr Alex-
ander, they opened a shop opposite to me. Naturally
enough we quarrelled; he brought suit against mo,
but, remembering our long friendship, before the case
came up for trial I went to him and told him he should
have all he demanded. Immediately we became friends
again ; and this was our first and last unpleasantness.

As I was now alone, I closed the stationery branch,
and moved the stock to the Montgomery street store,
where I could better control matters. Scarcely was
this done when the political sky darkened ; then roared
rebellion ; and for the next hve years fortunes were
thrust on Californian merchants from the rise in gold,

;^;,.

BUILDING AND BUSINESS.

155

or rather from the depreciation of the currency in
which they paid their debts — fortunes which otherwise
could never have been accumulated but by genera-
tions of successful trade.

In January, 1 8G2, my wife made a visit to her friends
at home, and the following sumuicr I took a hurried
trip to London, Paris, Xuw York, and Buifalo, bring-
iiii^ her back with me. This knocking about the
world, with the time which it forced from business
devoted to observation and thought under new con-
ditions, was a great educator. It was then that am-
l)itit)n became fired, and ideas came rushing in on me
faster than I could handle tlu'm. Notwithstanding I
had read and studied somewhat, vet the old world,
witli its antique works and ways, seen by the eye of
inexperience, was at once a romance and a revelation.
Ill l8(U'-7 I spent a year in Europe with my wife,
made the tour of Great Britain and the continent,
came back to Buft'alo, and there remainetl the following
winter, visited Washington in the spring, and returned
to San Francisco in the autumn of 18G8.

Meanwhile the business had assumed such pro-
p()rti(ms that more room was absolutely necessary.
Although it had two store-rooms on Commercial
street, and suftered the inconvenience of having the
stock divided; and although we had goods stored in
warehouses, we were still very crowded. My friends
had long desired that I should build, and had been
looking for a suitable place for years without finding
one. In the selection of a site two points were to be
regarded, locality and depth of lot. Without the one
our trade would suffer, and without the other, in order
to obtain the amount of room necessarv, so much
frontage on the street w^ould be taken up as to make
the property too costly for the business to carry. In
regard to the site, if we could not obtain exactly what
we would like we must take what we could get.

Following Montgomery and Kearny streets out to

156

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

1:|;

f3'

!'i

■<n

Jj-

\ H^'

Market, we examined every piece of property and
found nothing; then out Market to Third street, and
beyond, where after some difficulty, and by paying a
large [)ricc to five different owners, I succeeded in
obtaining seven lots together, three on Market street
and four on Stevenson street, making in all a little
nkore than seventy-five by one hundred and seventy
feet. This was regarded as far beyond business limits
at the time, but it was the best I could do, and in
six. or seven years a more desirable location could not
be found in the city.

It was one of the turning-i)oints of my life, this
move to Market street. Had I been of a tempera-
ment to hasten less rapidly ; had I remained content
to plod along after the old method, out of debt and
danger, with no thought of anything further than
aocunmlation and investment, for self and family, for
this world and the next world, a comfortable ])lnoe in
both being the whole of it — the map of my destiny,
as well as that of many others, would present quite ,x
differeiit appearance. But like all else that God or-
dains, it is better as it is. The truth is, my frequent
absence from business had weaned me from it — this,
and the constantly recurring question whicli kept forc-
ing itself on my mind, "Is he not worse tlian a fool
who labors for more when he has enough; worse than
a swine who stuffs himself when he is already fuUf"
If 1 could turn my back upon it all, it would add to
my days, if that were any benefit. Had I known
what was before me I would probably have retired
from business at the time, but in my employ were as
fine a company of young men, grown up under my
own eye and teachings, as ever I saw in any mercan-
tile establishment, and I had not the heart to break
in pieces the commercial structure which with their
assistance I had reared, and turn them adrift upon
the world.

In Europe, for the first time in my life, I bad

DEEP WATERS.

157

encountered a class of people who deemed it a dis-
grace to engage in trade. Many I had seen who
were too proud or too lazy to work, but never be-
fore had come to my notice those who woukl not if
th<'V could make money, tliou<di it involved no manual
lahor. Here the idea seemed first to strike mo, and I
asked myself, Is there then in this world somethiiii^
better than money that these men should scorn to soil
their fingers with it? Now I never yet was ashamed
of my occupation, and I hope never to be; otherwise
I should endeavor speedily to lay it aside, Xor do I
conceive any more disgrace attached to laboring with
tlic hands than with the head. I feel no more sense of
slianie when carrying a bundle or nailing up a box of
goods than when signing a check, or writing history,
or riding in the park. A banker is necessarily neither
better nor worse j)fr se than a boot-black, though,
if obliged to chose, I would adopt the former calling,
because it is more important, and productive of greater
results. The consuming of my soul on the altar of
avarice I objected to, not work. I have worked twice,
tell times, as hard writing books as ever I did selling
books. But for the occasional breaking away from
business, long enough for my thoughts to form for
themselves new channels, I should have been a slave
to it till this day, for no one was more interested and
absorbed in money-making while engaged in it than I.
In accordance with my purposes, tiien, historical
and professional, in 18G!) I began building. Already
I had in contemplation a costly dwelling, parts of
which had been constructed in England and at the
east, and shipped hither from time to time, till a great
mass of material had accumulated which must be put
together. I resolved, somewhat recklessly, to make
one affair of it all, and build a store and dwelling-house
at the same time, and have done with it. Times were
then good, business was steady, and with the ex-
perience of thirteen years behind me I thought I
could calculate closely enough in money matters not

158

THE HOUSE OF H. H. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

to be troubled. Consequently my plans were drawn,
I ordered my material, <j;ii\o out contracts for the sev-
eral ])arts, and soon a hundred men or more were at
work.

And now bcfjan a series of the severest trials of
my life, ti'ials which I .i,dadly would have escaped in
death, thanking the merciless monster had he finished
the work which was half done. In December, 18G9,
my wife died. Other men's wives had died before, and
left them, 1 suppose, as crushed as I was; but mine
had never died, and I knew not what it was to disjoin
and l)ury tliat part of myself. That which comes to
every one, in coming to me for the first time brought
sur})iise. If my sorrow had been tlie only sorrow of
the kind inflicted on the race I might publish it with
loud lamentations for the entertainment of mankind;
but all know of death, and it eil'ects, though none
know what it is. It is not a very pleasant sensation,
that of being entirely alone in the universe, that of
being on not very good terms with the invisible, and
caring little or nothing for the visible. Oh the weari-
some sun! I cried, will it never cease shining? Will
the evening never cease its visitation, or the river its
flow? INFust the green grass always grow, and must
birds always sing? True, I had my little daughter;
God bless her I but when night after night she sobbed
herself to sleep upon my breast, it only made mo
angry that I could not help her. Behold the quin-
tessence of folly I to mourn for that which is inevitable
to all, to be incensed at inexorable fate, to remain for
years sullen over the mysterious ways of the un-
knowabl(\ I tried prayer for relief both before and
after her death; if ever one of God's creatures prayed
eai-nestly and honestly, with clean uplifted hands, in
faitJi nothing doubting, that one was myself But all
was of no avail. Then I began to think, and to ask
myself if ever a prayer of mine had been answered;
or if to any one who ever lived was given, to a cer-
tainty, not as seen alone through the eyes of faith, the

;2 ii

SUMMUM JUS S.EPE SUMMA INJURIA.

1.-.9

thinjj he asked because he asked it. And I com-
jdaincd; the Hght of my soul put out — wherefore?
Xot in punishment, as some would say, else God is
not just, because many more wicked than I are not so
aniietcd. I would not treat my worst enemy, lol alono
uiy child, as God deals with me, whom he professes
to love more than I love my child. But the ways of
God are past finding out, saith the preacher. Then
why preach to me as though you had ''.and them out?
Sent hither without our will, thrust hence against our
will — be still, my heart, you know not what you say!
Wait.

It is beautiful, this world, and life is lovely. Death
presents no pleasing prospect. Mortal or immortal,
I lie soul dissolved or hied to realms of bliss; that
mighty miracle, the intellect, which here moves moun-
tains,laughs at the sea, and subjects all things earthly —
this subtile intelligence that knows it is, evaporated,
returned to gas, to cosmic force, to Nirvana, or hover-
ing nuite and inane in space; to close the eyes to this
lair world, to the bright sun, the gorgeous landscape,
and the sparkling waters; to close the mouth to its
ihuughts of life-inspiring air; and the boxed body to
consign to its slimy walled dungeon, there to fatten
^vornls, seems scarcely a fitting end for so much care,
so much straining at higher planes of existence. Bet-
ter befitting death, judging from all we can see of it,
is a Dives' life, wherein pleasure is the only profit,
lluin a threescore and ten years of self-denial, strug-
gling for attainments only to be dissipated in the end.
lifirrible nightmare of a possible future non-exist-
ence ! Better never to have been than to have been
and not to be; else to what purpose this life of dis-
jionsations? Some say they desire death, but few
such I believe. Death is ever at the bidding of those
who seek him. Such arc either half-crazed with
morbid grief, or drunk with pride and egotism, or
smitten with coward fear. No healthy mind is anx-
ious to cast itself into the boundless, mysterious,

KM) THK HOUSK OF H. H. BANCKOPr AXU COMI'ANY.

unknown Ix-ynnd. FanaticH, Christians, Afoliunnnc-
(lans, savaiM^t's, may dcthront! Hcnsc, not up and liui^
to blindness a fancied paradise or happy hunting-
-ground in the boliof that to die is to gam, yet none
are more chary of risking their precious lives upon it
than these.

Life and deatli are most stupendous mysteries, death
not more tlian life, being simply not being. One thing
alone might ever make me covet death, and that would
be an eager anxiety to know what it is, and what is
beyond it. But millions know this, or are beyond the
knowing of it; and when in an aveiage good humor,
though I be as thirsty for truth as Odin, who gave
one eye to drink of the waters of Mimir's well where-
in all knowledge lay concealed, I am willing to wait
the few short swiftly whiiling yenrs left to me.

It is a fearful thing thus to g<> forth into the black-
ness, l)ut still hard(M- t<> en<lure to let wife or little
one groi)e thither' alone, (ilve \nv, () God, no food
for mv hungry love, else snatch it not from me ere I
have scarcely tasted itl For her who so lately clung
to mc as to an anchor of safety, who so often opened
upon me the eyes of her inward nuite pi'ide and conso-
lation, to be as by rude hands hurried hence seemed
not heavenly to me. Not until the fire lighted by
disease had spent itself, not until the hectic flush had
faded, and the fever heat had fled, leaving the heart still
and the limbs cold, did love forsake the glazing eye, or
those fleshless fingers cease to press the clasped hand.

She is gone, and who cares? Neither deities nor
men. The world laughs, and swears, and cheats as
hitherto. The undertaker's long face of mercenary
solemnity haunts you; the hustling crowd, careless <»t'
your cankering grief, madden you. There go the
word-wise M'hippers-in of Charon, the doctors, witli
their luxurious equipages drawn by sleek horses, the
gift of hell-feeding Hermes ; scarce enough they make
themselves their work being done — so ran my bitter
thoughts.

OMNIA AD DEI CLORIAM.

101

IIMIU-

ntinjjj-
: none
ipon it

, death
3 tiling'
, woul«l
vliat is
)nd the
humor,
lo t^avo
where-
to wait

It is <hfru'uh evtii lor a })hil<)st)[)her to .separate
sorrow ami <i,l<»oin I'roiii death. When at the demise
dl' Soenites, Plato wished to elieer and eond'ort Apol-
lodonis, the disciplf ot" the threat ileecasefl, so nn-at
iiulei'd that iieitlicr drath nor time could rob him of
his irrcatiu>ss, he oflVred him a eiip of wine: where-
iipoii A|)ollodonis I'oplicd indii^nantly, '' \ would rather
liave pledged Soerates iu his luMuloek than you in this
\\iiH>." "Aniums aMpms optimum est anumna' condi-
iiK iitum,"' says IMautus, whieh is all Aeiy wrll as a
iiiaxiui. There is uo <loubt that a well halaneed mind
is the host remedy asjainst atllietions, but oroat <n'iet'
nftcii throws mind out of balance, so that, the remedy
!)( inn- ;d)sent, tlu> a])plieation fails.

It often strikes me s^trauinfclv to licar dead men's dis-
courses on death, to read what matchless Shakespeare
>a\s of it, and i)rond, imperious Byron, and suhtile-
sciised Shelley, and Aristotle, Plato, and the rest. Pity
"tis wc" cannot n<»w speak the word that tells us what
(lc;ith is, we who have yet to die.

The burden of my loss was laid n]>on me gradually;

it \v;is not felt in its fullest force at first; it was only

as the years passed bv that I could fuUv realize it.

Ofcupation is the antidote to grief; give me work or

I die; work which shall be to me a nepenthe to oblit-

ciate all sorrows. And work enough I had, but it

was of the exasperating and not of the soothing kind.

\\' I could have shut my.self up, away from the world,

and absorbed my mind in pursuit of whatever was

iiiest congenial to it, that would have been medicine

indeed. Cicero found far more consolation in the

divei'siuii of thought incident to the writing of his

lihilnsophical treatises, tlian in the philosophy they

• entained. But this was denied me. It was building

and business, grown doubly hateful now that she for

"wlium I chieliy labored luul gone. I stayed the work-

lui u en the house, and let it stand, a ghastly .spectacle

to tlio neighborhood for over a year; then I finished

it, thinking it well enough to save the material. The

Lit. Ind. U

162

TIIK IIOUSK OF H. II. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

to'

Ciirpcaiiois still liaiuiiioivd away on tlio store buildin
and coiii[)loiod it in April, 1870.

The business was nctw one oi' the most extensive
of the kind in the woild. It was divided into nine
dejiaitnunts, lach in ehar-ge oi' an e\[n'rienced and
rcispoiisible head, with tlie icquisite nunilter of assist-
ants, and eaeli in itself as lar^e as an ordinary business
in our line of trade. Ihii this was not enough. Thus
tar it was [)urely a mercantile and puMisliing house.
To make it })eri'eet, ('om])lete, an«l syiiiiiietiical, mami-
factuiing must hv added. This I had long been am-
bitious of doing, but was prevented by lack of room.
Now this ohstaele was remo\ed, and 1 determined In
i ly the ex[H;riment. The mercantile stock was brought
up and pro})erly arranged in the dill'erent departments
on tin; first and second ilooi's and basemeid, on one

il(I(! o

f tl

le new huihlmij

ie.se rooms \\v\v each

thirty-live by one hundreil and seventy feet. On the
(hiid and Iburth iloors ii'sjtectively were jdaced a
piiiiting-oOice and bot)kbindeiy, each covering tlie

iiitiix! u'l'ound of the buildin

r>'

'Mnt\-iive by oi

hundred and seventy feet. To accom[tlisli this moiv
easily and economically sc!\eral small establishments
Nvere purehase<l and moved \\ith their business into
tJie new ])remises, such as a ])rinting, an engraving,
a. lithographing, and a stationery establishment. \
steam-(,iigiiie was phuicd in the, basement to dii\('
the machiiieiy above, anil an artesian well was diii;'
to supply the premises with water. A. di'partnu nt

Ided. M\ libi'arv <<(

ol UjUsie ii.

I'lJiiios was also ai

fifth 11

icifie c-o;ist books was al[)habetically arfaiiged on tl

oor, wliicn was o

rooms helow,

i' tl

1 el

le same (liiiieiisions as

ia.ii'>e<l the name o

t t

i)Usit\t!ss, the initial letters only, my I'esponsibilil

lowever, remanun''"

tl,

e san>e

le Idea w as

not

ii\

emi-

nently praetieablt>, i will admit, that 1 should exped,
to remain at the head of a lai'ge and intricati> busiiu -s,
involving many interests and accompanied by endless
detail, and see it coni'ime its successful course, and ;it

TIIK I'AST .\\l> THK TO('(>MK.

l(i:t

the saiiu> time withdraw mv tliouulits and atti^ntinu
iKnii it SO as to do justice to any litrrary or liistoncal
iiiidi'rtakiiiL;;. "Ifow dart d yoii uiiilcrtakc ci'ossiniLif
tlic Si(M'ra!"' till! pioneer railn»ad nit ii wore asl<('d.

"' Because we were not I'ailroad men.' was tlio
rrpiy.

\\n>

I felt.

was en(

le<l tl

le iirst e|)iS(

de ..f

niv llle

I had l»e<'un witli uotliinu' Ituddin''- up l>v nu own

IIM

li\idu.al etlorts. in sixtei'ii v

oar;

a niannnorii

msi-

iii'ss of wliieli I nii^'lit Justly feel proud, I liad
scli'tnled I'lDni the rudiments, and carried them
ihiouuli all tlit^ rainitieatitins and e(»iii|>!ie;itii>ns of
t!i;it husine.ss, a score and moi'(> of acti\e ;ind inlelli-
L^i lit younn' men, each competent to take ihi* li.id in
Ills department, and of tlieni I \va-< jiroud. Arrived
at tli;it estnte wlu're moiu'y-makin'^ li;id ceased to Ite
till' cliief pleasure, 1 mij^lit nowi'i-tire int(» idleness, or
I't Liin life anew. 'I'lie short spui't <»t" self-consciousness
viinclisafe(l our \itality ouLifht not all to l>e spent in
uvttiii'4' ready to live.

liut this was not yet to 1)0. I nni.st first pay the
|H]i;il(y of oNcrdoinn;', a )ienal(y which in my busincvsH
'•.liver J hav(> oflenor paid than the penalty ai'isint;"
iVniii lack of onorny. 11iat 1 had huilt simultMn(M)usly
a line stoi'(^ aixl an expensive (

dwell

ini;' was no n>:i,rk
'f l''11\', for my tinancos were such that I couM aiVo^d
it. That I hatl reorn'anizod the l)usint>ss, spread i( out
n]n'ii a new basis, douhlod its capacity, ai..! doubled
!'~ cNpcnsos, was no mark <tf folly, for rvcvy dejtai't-
im ;it. both of the inercantih^ and miuiufactuiin^' paits,
had i^rown into o.\istonc(\ Thoro was nothinn' about
file establishment theoretical, lani'iful, oi' speculative
ill ' liai'ucter. All was i'lnineiilly practical, the n^-
>nli o|' natin-al ^'I'owth. The business extended from
l>i'itidi ( 'oh.unbia to jVFt^xico.and over to the I lawaiian

ami

.1,

ipan. and China, and was in a ilouiishiuL!^
•'""iilition; and reports from the heads of the several
il'piifiinents showed its status every month. That it

104

THE HOUSE OF H. 11. BANCROFT AND COMPANY.

should .sucoos.sfully carry us through the most tryinj^
time which was to follow, am[tly proves that its con-
dition was not unsound, nor its establishment on such
a basis impracticable.

AVocs, iKJWever, were at hand. First appeared one
folic )winL,^ the opening of tlie Pacilic railway. This
grand event, so ardently desired, and so earnestly
advocated on both sides of the continent since the
occupation of tlie country by Anglo-Americans, was
celebrated witli guns, and banners, and music, as if tht;
millennium liad comr; and cNery oik; thouixht it had.
There Mei'e many al'tcrward who said thev knew ami
affirmed it at the time that this road at iirst would
brinsj nothini>: but financial disaster and ruin to Cali-
fornia, but before such disaster and ruin came I
for one heard nothing of its a})proacli. On the con-
trary, tliough j»iices of I'cal estate weiv already in-
flated, and the' city had been laid out in homestead
lots for a distance of ten miles round, and sold at rates
in ket'j»ing witli a po])ulation of tliree millions, the
universal imi)ression was tliat prii'es would go liighcr
and that eveiy one on completion of the railway would
be rich. J Jut e\eiy one did not become rich. EviT)'
one wanted to st>ll, and could not, and there was a gen-
eral collapse. For live years the best and most centr.il
property' j-emained stationary, with scarcely a movi -
ment i/i all that time, wliile outsi<K' projterty fell in
some .'ases to one tenth its foi-mer estimated value.

liusitiess was likewise revolutioni/A>(l. 1 nunediatcly
the raihN'ay was in lunning order the attention "t"
buyers throughout the coimtry, large and small, \\;is
turned towaid the east. "A\'e can now ])urcliase in
New York as well as in San Francisct)," they sniil,
"and save one profit." Consecpieiitly prices in San
Francisco fell far below" remunerative rates, and tlio
question with our jobbers was, not whether theycoiiM
make as much nH>ne\- as formei'ly, but whether thi'V
coidd do l»usiness at all. Some classes of busiiK'SS
were obliged to succumb, and many merchants failed.

A CENERAL COLLAPSE.

165

r.aige stocks, ac(3umulatccl at low rates during the
war \\ lieu currency was at a discount of from twenty-
five to fifty per cent, were tliroMii u]ion tiie market,
;ui(l ])rices of many articles ruled far below the cost of
icjyroduction. Thus, with heavy ex])enses and no
|iri'Hts, affairs began to look ominous. At such times
,1 large, broadly extended busintjss is mucli more
unwieldy than a small one. Certain cxjienscs are
iiicessary; it is impossible to retluce them in jiro-
jiortion to the shrinkage of prices and the stagnation
ul' trade.

More was yd to come. As all Californians well
know, the prosperity of a season depends on tlie rain-
J'iill. Sometimes the eftects of one dry winter may be
I'lidged over by a j)rosperous year before and after.
I lut wlien two or three thy seasons come together the
ivsult is most disastrous, and a year or two of favor-
;ililt! rains are usually reciiiii vd before the state entirely
rt'cupcrates. As if to t \ ('le endurance of our mer-
'liants to the utmost, three dry winters and five
I'M in' years of hard times followed the opening of the
lailway. That so many lived through them is the
wiMulcr. That my business i'sjtccially did not fail,
with sui-li an accunnilation ot" imtoward cii-cumstancts,
|iiMV('(l conclusivt'ly that it was sound and wrll i.ian-
;il;i(1. Ihiilding has ruined many a man; I had
hiiilt. Jiranching out has ruinfd many a man; 1
li;i(l l>raiu'hc(l. The tall in real I'statr, the I't'Vohition
ill |ii'<itits incident to tin- ojirning of thf lailway, and
til'' (liy seasons, each of these h.-is ,>e\er;i]ly ruined
many men. All these eanie u[Kin nie at due time,
aii'l y<i the IhUlse h\-e(l through it.

It may easily be seen that to draw one's mind from
l'ii>iuess at such a time and fix it on literary pursuits
^'.;ls no easy matter. ('ar(>s, like ilies, buzz jierpetu-
itlly in one's ears; lock the door, and they creej) in
tliiMUgh invisible apertujcs. Yet I attemjited it,
tli<'ii._h at fu-st with indiifen'ut success. The work
"11 the lil'th lloor, hereinafter to be described, was

lltii

'I'lIK lUlLSK OK 11. II. l'>.\Nt i;ulT ANK ^(»MI'A^^'.

not .'(Ks'.'tvs rcucardi'd witli fav<ir liv those kI'lIk; <»tli

OOI'S.

< ]•

(hew iiioiiL'V tVom tho buHiue.^

hich

reniainiii!4' might ho th(! means of savinu- it from
clcstruction. It alhirocl the; attoiitioii of one wliose
prosoneo miu^ht be the salvation of tlie estabh.shnient.
After all it was but a hobby, and would result in
neither prolit nor honor. Of course I ((juld do as J
liked with my own, but was it not folly to j(>o|»ardize
the life of the business to gain a, few years of lime foi
profitless work' Would it not bo better to wait lill
times were better, till money could \h) spared, and
dang

(fQV was passtM

Althouoh the years of financial uncertaintv thai

ft.ll

owet

I th

10 coni]»ietion o1 the railwav weit

withering to my work, gloomy and de))ressing, yet
1 jx'i'sisted. Day after day, and year after year, J
lavislied time and monty in the vain attempt to ae-
comj>]ish 1 knew not what. It was sonu'tliiiig !
desired to do, and J. was determined to jind out w!i:M
it was, and then to do it if 1 couliL Although ni\
mind was in anything but a condition suitable
the task, [ felt in no mood to wait. I'lvery dav

to)'

I ll

month, or year (Ujlayed was so much taken from ni\
life, j\ly ago — thi!'ty-se\ en or thereabout — was some
what advanced I'or undertakini"' a liteiarv work of an\
magnitude, and no time imist be lost. Sucli was m\
infatuation that J would not h.n«' hesitated, any nie
nieiit these do/.en yeai's, had the (piestion arisen to
abandon the business or my plan. L did not considei-
it right to bring disasti-r on others, l)ut I never believed
that such a result would follow my cours(\ '.fine, it
is one thing to oiiginate a business and (piite anothei
to maintain it; yet 1 f( It that the heads of di^paif
nicnts were competent to mana-je atfairs, lepoitinL!' te
me every month. The busines.s was itayin^' well, anu
I would I'estrict my expenditures in cmtv other wa\
except to fore<>"o or dejav a Mork which iiad becoui'
dearer to me than life. So 1 toile(i on with greati r
or less success, oftentimes with a heavy heart ami a

SUCCESS THROUGH TRIBULATIOX.

167

lieated brain, t'wod out, disooura'^cd. mA, kn()\vin<r
it' (jver I should be ponnittcd to cuiiiplcto auytliiuj^
I l>ad imdcrtakeii, in wliieli event all would ho lost. I
tniled a-* it' divinely c^inniissioned, lli;-,n<rh dealin-j;' Il^sk
and loss in divinity. 1 was eonsti'aiiKYl to the etl'ort,
if any one can toll what that is.

It was hetweon tho hours of work tliat I i^\-
])orionced the greatest de}»ression; once at niy tahhi
:ui(l ('airly launcliecl ujion my writinl,^ J was ahsoihod
liy it, and forgot for the tinio' the ri,>ks I was taiiing.

This season of trial was not without its luMielHs.
Jt foreed upon inr ;i species of sell'-ahuegation whieh
I might ne\'er otherwise h:i\e attained. Had pleasni'o
heen pleasurahitt to nie; hail I h<>en al)l<' toeiiiov hiuli
ri\int'' and eKtravaiiant exnenditiii'es with niv aifairs
ill so \UK\>rtain a state, or had my linaiiees h(>en such
a> t(» enahle me without stint to enjoy gentlenmiily
K KUiv, or litei'iiry or other idling, it is douhtful
whether I could ha\e inustei-ed < outage and persist-
ence to carrv forwai'd mv undi'riakinu^, or rather t.o
uiidei'take it. (hie kn<»ws not what c;in he done nr
suir''red until necessity makes the demand. It \\;rs a
trial ^4' tenijier which wcll-nigh p''o\-ed liitah My life
di'.i'iiig these years was a series of ixci'sses, tlu3 vcj-y
w *y<i state into which a man can tall — excess of
work, followed by its natntal reaction, and ending in
ill liealthand despondency. Work is the amethystine
antidote to e\(>ry excess, except excess <;f work.

Ill time, howi'ver, the clouds cleared; the wheels
"[' liu>incss revolved with smoothness and )'egularity;
iiiy v.ork assumed shap(\ ]);irt of it was tinishe<l and
l)]:iis(>d; letters of encouiagement came ])om'ing in
like healthful hn-ezes to i\\y' heated hrow; T a.<'(]uii'ed
a nain(>, and a!i n)en smile<( upon me. 'i'hen 1 built
IJihylonian towers, and clindjing heavenward peered
into paradise.

CHAPTER VII.

FROM BIBLIOPOLLST TO IJIHLIOl'HILE.

Still am T bosy bokos asscmblyngc;

For to have plenty, it is a pleiisauiit tliyn;,'e.

liraiult.

It"

Jir.:

'it''

Thus far, all tlirongli liCo, liad div intellectual boijio-
c'l'aved ever more substantial nutriineut. While in
business I was ^ranunou's ilevotec; yet money did not
satisfy me. lleli^ion tended ratliei' To (>xeit(! longinj^s
than to allay them. K. lij^ionists would say 1 did
not have (Miouuj'h of it, if* indeed 1 bad any at all — in
other words 1 was not doetiinally dead drunk. Yet
J tasted and prayed, })rayed as if to enlist all the
f(»i'oes of heaven to make a man of me, and fancied
1 had laith, fancied I saw miracles wj-ouiiht in my
behalf and n)oimtain^ removed; though hiter, when
my (y .-■ v ere «;j#«ned ami my j)rtiudiiMS melted by
till lio'lit of reason, even as the sun dis|)els the foj^,
1 saw the mountains standinj;' just ^^ h<'re thoy were.
Y(.!t for a time 1 revelled in tin' (d liohts <if fanaticism.
The feeling" th.d in ( lod's pieseiiee and before the

very eves ot mteri'

>te(l

onuupoteilr

was conscieii

tiiKisly accomplishiui;" my dutit.>, this j^-ave a consola-
tion that the (hnilu;('ry of Snnday-selux*! etforts, or

hel

even tlio overw lielnun^" siiamc oi i>r(!aRm_n' down iii

aycr-inectniij;, could no+

holl

v erac

licat(

Aev

Ttl

mys. U to be not what 1 ]>rot'esscd to be, better or di
i'ei'i'ut from other sinners, any \i\i>fr than wero tho>
\\\u) sat in tlf ju'ws around mt
in-^' the air and lon^jm; tor a nioic realistio exi.steiic

1 1'« I

ic-

saintshii» >at not i^raeefully U[)on me. I knew

I stru^oled, beat-

A NKW LIFE.

100

I could not iindoi-staml it tlicn, but I soc it dearly
now. It was tlitf onlari^oment and onnoblonient of
the immaterial Me that 1 longed foi-. My intelleet
srciued oaijfed in brass, and my soul smothere<l in the
clieatiug nianmaisms ol' society. Often I asked my-
s( If, Is this then all of life? to heap up merehandiso
I'm) those Avho come after nio to scatter, and to listen
nil Stmdaj's to the stupid I'eiteratioii of tUiul loi'unilas !
Iiis.itiable grew my craving; and I said, I will dit> now
ill .>i(ler tliat I may live a little before I die. 1 will
ilir ti) the jiast, to money getting, to station rooting;
I will takeasti'aight look u|)wai'd and beyond, and set;
ir 1 e;in realize I'eligion; I will unlock the cage of my
tliouulits and let them roam whithersoever thev will;
I" Iter, I will bare my soul to its maker, and throw
myself, as he made me, lunnltly and trustingly on him.
Away with the continual (juaking fear of (hjd's wrath,
like that of the savage who hears his demon howl in
tlif temjiest; away with the I'ashionable superstitions
of society, that saj) manliness and lay Iturdens upon
iH tlu)t would shame an African slave to bear! Span-
ning the circle of knowledge, which swee|)s round from
the lu'giniiing of knowledge to tluj present time, hence-
forth 1 will eonsidcr with Socrates, "how I shall prc-
MMit my soul whole and undehled before the judge in
that day. Renoimcing the honors at which tlie world
jiiiiis, I desire only to know the truth, to live as well
.I-- 1 can, and when the time c-omes, to die."

Ah I this gradual unloading of hope, as slowly along
the )i[)i'r years of our experience we awake IVom tlie
purple colorings of youth to a senst? of what and where
wo ai'c. Mothers should be carefid rigarding the
stories tliey tell their children, lest theli' minds ri'Uiain
Jilways infantile. Ciecro would not, while he lived.
lunc his mistaken belief in the innnortalii\ of the sold
upinottid, if it were a mistaken belief Hut Cicero me
1H> ('icvros. I Wf)uld know the truth. 'J'hough death
IS a hideous thing, I would not have mine sugar-coated
wit!i a lie. Intellectual cultivation inqilies thiid^mg,

170

FROM niBLIOPOLIST TO niBLlOI'ltlLK.

, V j,.

and tliinkiiijTf tends to woakeii faith. There is no ln-lp
for it. At the border hiiul of I'aitli reason must [)ausc.
To know, you must ((iiestioii; once (juestion and y(»u
are lost. 1'iie will can ac'('om|)lish its j>ui'j>oseonly In
resolutely shuttinj^^ the (yes and jthuininj^' itsi-ll" into
the hhickness of rejisonless belief; just as in aiiv
kind of Juimau development one part ean reach its
fullest attainment only at the c!\.pense of another p.nt,
and the moment you attempt to strike the haj>pv
mean you to]»p]e over to the other side. If iiolhinL;
else, nihilism is (piickly reached; just as Spinoza, in
abiiinloiiiii'^c Judaism without aeciptinL,'" christiauit\
beeanif, ;is soini' said, the I'lank leaf bctwern tiie ohi
testament and the m w .

Mind ])ro<vi-ess(.'s in surt^^es. An tx'^o of ske])ticisin
succeeds ;m ai^c t>f faith. History separates ei\ili/.;i
tion into perio<ls, now orLjanic and atlirmative, no\>
critical and ne^atixe; at one time creeds and con\ ii -
tions are established and di'velo|n'd, at another tini'
they urow old and die or are abolisluMl. (Jreek and
lioman ])olytheism, aii'l Christianity, each marked an
oro'anic perifxl ; (ireek philosophy, the rt'foiniation.
and mode]ii science, each marked an epocli of ske[)ti-
cism.

There is no hin'hei' morality than disinterestodnes>.
Theie is no virtue like intellectual liberty. There i>
no vice so scourn'inn' as ]»rcjudice. To be the slave <<['
sect oi- jiai'ty, or to bartei- truth for ])ri(le of opinion,
i.s to sell one's soul to the father of lies, i woidd lath. i'
be till! doi4'of 1 )ion'enes than hi-^h-priest of the pi'oude>t
superstition, it is pitil'ul to see the waves oi' int( i-
Ici'tiial bias <in whi<h mankind I'ide into I'ternity, tu
realize how little is true of" all that is written in books
and newspapers, of .-dl that is sp(»ken by politician^,
preacheis. men of business, and women of society.

When Francis JWon wrote, "I had rather believi'
all till' fal)les in the leu'ends, and the tahnud, and tlu'
alcoran, than that this universal frame is witlioui
mind," he did not display that i^reat wisdom for which

SHADOW ANh SUHSTAN( !•;.

171

he is acrrotlitcd. Of courso. Bacon was ])f*ivil('u;(xl t«»
Ik'I'k'vc wliat ho chose, hut what lio hclU-vi-d <l«us not
all'cct the tact — what anyhody helievos does not alKect
;uiv tart. Tins universal frame niav n<>t he without

lind ; let

ho))e that it is not ; if tl

u- uni\fi'sal

ftaine luis not mind, where does man's intellect come
from? Bacon was a ;j;reat |)hiioso|)lier. hut a had man
and a mean man too imiately mean an<l had ever to
have written the matchless plays of Shakespeare, in
iii\' opinion. IMato was also a Ljreat philoso|)lH'r,
likewise Aristotle and the rist. J-Jut the ancients and
th.il' wisdom, as concernin'j; things spiritual, wei-e as
ijrviiid of common sense as what is too often preached
upon tlu! suhject to-day.

A thiid<inL'' man who deals in fads is ski^ptical
hifnre he knows it. To he ar all titled I'oi' writin^j^
hi>toi'y, or indeed [nv wiitini;' aiivthin'^", a man nmst
lia\e at his command a wide rair^i' of i'aets which he
>taiids i-eady to re<j;;ird liiiily and to haiidh' truthfully.
Iiiless ho is ready to he led wheifscr truth will take
him he should h'a\e iiiNcst i'jal iu'^' alone. If he holds
III shadows and ]H'i/es tlfui more than realities, if he
prefers hiTiefs to truth, it v.'ere hetter he kept to his
tarin or his merchandise, and let teachin;^' and piH'ach-

i:^' al(
and cant.

one, lor \\v

avc e

nouiiii alroad\- of hypocri

And so it was that, as time and my work wont on,
and faith in traditions, in what others had .said and
hijicved, heeame weakened; seeing;" in all tliat had
I" II written so mu<h diversity of opinion, .so uuich
palpahle error and liat contradiction, I foimd within me
.stioiijfer and ev^r incr-easiiiLf the desire of in(K'j)endont
iiiid ('xa(^t thinkinij^. Still, as the rosy e\|)ectations of
Nuiith are scorched hy the li^ht of e.Kj»ei'ience it is
litijr comfort to know that one is growinj^ wiser; it
i-- hit l( comfort to the oyo of faith to have tho dinuioss
"t \i>ion roniovod, only to see its dearest hopes melt
iisio illiniitahle ether.

ITS

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

While in Europe and elsewhere every moment of
my Hpnre time was occupied in liistorical rearliuij^ and
in the study ( »t' languajifes ; yet it seenu'd like pourini;'
watei" into a sieve. The appetite was I'avenous, in-
citascd hy what it l'e<l on. Jio<tks! hooks! I riivcllcd
in hooks. After huyiiiu' and scllini;', after ministeriiiL;-
to others all niy hfe, I would n<»w enjoy them; I wouM
hathe my mind in them till saturated with the better
part of their contents. And still to this day I cry
with Horace, Let me have hooks 1 Not as the languid
])leasuro of Montaigne, but as the substantial world
of \V ordsworth.

I read and crammed my head with basketfuls of facts
and figures, only to crowd them out and overflow it
with others. Hundreds of authors I skinnned in rapid
succession until 1 knew or felt I knew nothing. Then
I threw aside rea<ling for a time ami let my thoughts
loose, only to return again to my beloved books.

Had my min<l been able to retain what it received,
there would have beiMi greater hope of tilling it. The
activities and anxieties of trade had left me unpre
]>ared all at once to <ligest this great and sudden feast.
As I have before said, oidy a trained mind possesses
the power of j)ure abstraction. Even reading without
I'etlection is a weakening process. It seemed to me I
had no memory for isolated or individual facts, that
as yet there was no concretion in my attainments, nctt
enough of knowledge within me to coalesce, central-
ize, or hold together. For many months all seemed
cluiotie, and whatever Avas thrown into my mental
leservoir appt^aii'd to evaporate, or become nebulous,
and niingh' obscurely with the rest. While in J^uti'ah*.
after my return from Europe, I wrote somewliat; hut
the winter w'as s|)ent under a cloud, and it was not until
after a trip to New York and Washington, and indeed
a longer one to San Francisco, wherein 1 was forced
to pause and reHect,that the sk}' became bright and
my mental machinery began to work with jnecision.
The transition thus acconii)lished was like the ending,'

OMNIPOTENT ACCIDKNT.

\::\

of ono life and the ontcrim,' upon jinothcr, so difFuront
iind di.stinct ai't3 the two worlds, thu world of biisini'ss
;iii(l the world of letters.

Ill an old «liarv Ix-i^nin the otli of N[ay, 185!), I find
written: "To-day J am twi-uty-si-vcn yoars of aye.
Ill my youni^^t'r days I used to think it |»raisoworthy
1m kri'[> a diary. I do a <^n.'at deal of thinking'' at
times; some of it may amount t<t stjnu'tiiinjj^, much of
it diK'S not. 1 ofttMi feel tliat if 1 could indultjje, to
the fullest an<l i'rcost extent, in flu; simj)le act of
(liscluuxinLj my thoughts on paper, it would ail'ord my
mind some I'clief."

To begin at the heginning. In ISoO William H.
Knight, then in my service as editor and compiler of
statistical works relative to the Pacific coast, was en-
gaged in j)reparing the Ihnid-Iiook Almnnac for the
year 18G0. From time to time he asked of me certain
lutdks required for the work. It occurred to me that
\vi' should probably have frequent occasion to refer to
hooks on California, Oregon, Washington, and Utah,
and that it might be more convenient to have them
all together. I always had a taste, more pleasant
than prolitable, for publishing books, for conceiving a
work and having it wrought out under my diri'ction.
To this taste may be attributed the origin of half the
hooks published in California during the first twenty
years of its existence as a state, if we exce])t law re-
jiorts, legislative proceedings, directories, and compila-
tions (if that character. Yet I have seldom j>ublish(.'d
anything but lawd)ooks that did not result in a Ljss
of money. Books for general reading, miscellaneous
liooks in trade vernacular, even if intrinsically good,
tound few purchasers in California. Tin; tield was not
laigr enough; there were not enougii book buyers in
it to absorb an edition of any work, except a law-
hook, (n- a book intended as a working tool for a class.
Lawyers like solid leverage, and in the absence of
hooks they are powerless; they cannot afford to bo

4 ^ '^^'■

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

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Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIS STREET

WEBSTER, N.V. I^SSO

(716) 872-4503

&A
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..♦v
f^'

174

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

without them; they buy them as mill-men buy stones
to grind out toll withal. Physicians do not require
so many books, but some have fine libraries. Two or
three medical books treating of climate and diseases
peculiar to California have been published in this
country with tolerable success; but the medical man
is by no means so dependent on books as the man of
law — that is to say, after he has once finished his
studies and is established in practice. His is a pro-
fession dependent more on intuition and natural in-
sight into character and causations, and above all, on
a thorough understanding of the case, and the closest
watclifulness in conducting it tlirougji hitricate and
ever-changing complications. Poetry has often beoii
essayed in California, for the most part doggerel; yet
should Byron come here and publish for the first time
his Cliilde Harold, it would not iind buvers enough to
pay the printer. Even Tuth ill's Ilistorij of CaUfornia,
vigorously offered by subscription, did not return the
cost of plates, paper, presswork, and binding. Ho wlio
dances must pay the fiddler. Either the author or tho
publisher must make ^n his mind to remunerate the
printer; the people will not till there are more of them,
and with different tastes.

By having all the material on California togcthci',
so that I could see whatliad been done, I was enabled
to form a clearer idea of what might be done in tin;
way of book-pnblishing on this coast. Accordingly I
requested Mr Knight to clear the shelves around liis
desk, and to them I transferred every book I could
find in my stock liaving ivference to this country, i
succeeded in getting together some fifty or seventy-
five volumes. This was the origin of my library,
sometimes called the Pacific ]jibrary, but latterly the
Bancroft Lil)rary. I looked at the volumes tliiis
brouijht totjcther, and remarked to Mr Knight, "That
is doing very well; I did not imagine there were so
many."

I thousrht no more of the matter till some time after-

RATIONAL PURPOSE.

175

ward, happening in at the bookstore of Epes Ellery,
on Washington street, called antiquarian because he
dealt in second-hand books, though of recent dates,
my eyes lighted on some old pamphlets, printed at
different times in California, and it occurred to me to
iidd them to the Pacific coast books over INIr Knight's
(k>sk. This I did, and then examined more thoroughly
the stocks of Ellery, Carrie and Damon, and the Noisy
Carrier, and purchased one copy each of all the books,
pamphlets, magazines, and pictures touching the sub-
ject. Afterward I found m3'self looking over the con-
tents of other shops about town, and stopping at the
stands on the sidewalk, and buying any scrap of a
kindred nature which I did not have. Frequently I
would encounter old books in auction stores, and pam-
phlets in lawyers' offices, whicli I immediately bought
and added to my collection. The next time I visited
the east, without taking any special trouble to seek
them, I secured from the second-hand stores and book-
stalls of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia, what-
ever fell under my observation.

Bibliomaniac I was not. This, with every other
species of lunacy, I disliked. I know nothing morally
wrong for one ])ossessing the money, and having an
ai'.potite for old china, furniture, or other relics, to
hunt it down and buy it; but it is a taste having no
[)ra('tical purpose in view, and therefore never would
satisfy me. So in books ; to become a collector,
one should have some object consistent with useful-
ness. Duplicates, line l)indings, and rare editions,
seemed to me of loss importance than the subject-
matter of the work. To collect books in an ob-
jectless, desultory manner is not profitable to either
iniiid or purse. Book collecting without a purpose
may be to some a fascinating pastime, but give it an
object and you endow it with dignity and nobility.
Not half the books printed are ever read; not half the
books sold are bought to be read. Least of all in the
rabid bibliomaniac need we look for the well read man.

176

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE,

It is true that thus far, and for years afterward, I had
no well defined purpose, further than the original and
insignificant one, in gathering these books; but with
the growth of the collection came the purpose. Acci-
dent first drew me into it, and I continued the pastime
with vague intent. "Very gcuerally," says Herbert
Spencer, " when a man begins to accumulate books ho
ceases to make much use of them;" or, as Disraeli
puts it: "A passion for collecting books is not always
a passion for literature."

And the rationale of it? Ask a boy why he fills
his pockets with marbles of different varieties, will-
ingly giving two of a kind of which he has three for
one of a kind of which he has none, and his answer
will be, "To see how many kinds I can got." Collect-
ors of old china, of coins, of ancient relics, and of nat-
ural objects, many of them have no higher aim than
the boy with his marbles, though some of the articles
may be of greater utility. At the residence of a gen-
tleman in London I once saw a collection of old china
which he affirmed had cost him twenty thousand
pounds, and Ids boast was, simply, that his was the
best and largest in existence. I remember with what
satisfaction he showed me an old cup and saucer, worth
intrinsically perhaps half a crown, for which a certain
nobleman was pining to give him fifty guineas. " But
lie cannot have it, sir! he cannot have itl" cried the
old virtuoso, rubbing his hands in great glee. After
all, what are any of us but boys?

I had a kind of purpose at the beginning, thougli
that was speedily overshadowed by the magnitud*;
the matter had assumed as the volumes increased. I
recognized that nothing I could ever accomplish in
the way of publishing would warrant such an outlay
as I was then makiny:. It was not long before anv
idea I may have entertained in the way of pecuniai y
return was abandoned; there was no money in making
the collection, or in any literary work connected with
it. Yet certain books I knew to be intrinsically val-

FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE.

177

liable; old, rare, and valuable books would increase
rather than diminish in value, and as I came upon
them from time to time I thought it best to secure all
there were relating to this coast. After all the cost
ill money was not much; it was the time that counted;
aiul the time, might it not be as profitable so spent as
ill sipping sugared water on the Paris boulevard, or
other of the insipid sweets of fashionable society? It
M as understood from the first that nothing in my col-
lection was for sale; sometime, I thought, the whole
iiii^ht be sold to a library or public institution; but
I would wait, at least, until the collection was com-
pK'to.

The library of Richard Heber, the great English
bibliomaniac, who died in 1833, consisting of about
1 40,000 volumes, cost him, when rare books were not
half so expensive as now, over $900,000, or say seven
<l()llars a volume, equivalent at least to fifteen dol-
lars a volume at the present time. Two hundred and
sixteen days were occupied in the sale, by auction, of
this famous collection after the owner's death. And
there are many instances where collections of books
have brought fair prices. The directors of the British
Museum gave Lord Elgin £35,000 for fragments of
the Athenian Parthenon, collected by him in 1802,
worth to Great Britain not a tenth part of what the
Bancroft collection is worth to California. And yet
1 well knew if my library were then sold it would not
bring its cost, however it might increase in value as
the years went by.

1 had now, perhaps, a thousand volumes, and began
to 1)0 pretty well satisfied with my cfl:brts. When,
however, in 1862 I visited Ijondon and Paris, and
ruin 111 aged the enormous stocks of second-hand books
ill the hundreds of stores of that class, my eyes began
to open. I had much more yet to do. And so it was,
when the collection had reached one thousand volumes
I fancied I had them all; when it had grown to five
thousand, I saw it was but begun. As my time was

IiIT. Ind. 12

178

PROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

short I could then do little beyond glancing at the
most important stocks and fill a dozen cases or so; but
I determined as soon as I could command the leisure to
make a tiiorough search all over Europe and complete
my collection, if such a thing were possible, which I
now for the wrst time began seriously to doubt.

This opportunity offered itself in ] SGG, whoa
others felt competent to take charge of the business.
On the 17th of August I landed with my wife at
Quecnstown, spent a week in Dublin, passed from the
Giant's causeway to Belfast and Edinburgh, and after
the tour of the lakes proceeded to London. In Ire-
land and Scotland I found little or nothing; indeed I
visited those countries for pleasure rather than for
books. In London, however, the book mart of the
world — as in fact it is the mart of most other things
bought and sold — I might feed my desires to the full.

During all this time my mind had dwelt more and
more upoii tlie subject, and the vague ideas of matc-
lials for history which originally floated through iny
brain began to assume more definite proportions,
though I had no thought, as yet, of ever attempting'
to write such a history myself But I was obliged to
think more or less on the subject in order to determine
tlic limits of my collection. So far I had ■^•earchcJ
little for Mexican literature. Books on Lower Cali-
fornia and northern Mexico I had bought, but Mexican
history and archeology proper had been passed over.
Now the question arose. Where shall I draw the di-
viding line? The history of California dates back to
the days of Cortes; or more properly, it begins with
the expeditions directed northward by Nuno de Guz-
man, in 1530, and the gradual occupation, during two
and a quarter centuiies, of Nueva Galicla, Nuo\;i
Vizcaya, and the Californias. The deeds of Guzman,
his companions, and his successors, the disastrous at-
tempts of the great Ilernan Cortes to explore tlio
Pacific seaboard, and the spiritual conquests of the
new lands by the society of Jesus, I found recorded

BOOK-COLLECTING AS AN ART.

179

iu surviving fragments of secular and ecclesiastical
archives, in the numerous original papers of the Jesuit
missionaries, and in the standard works of such writers
as Mota Padilla, Ribas, Alegre, Frejes, Arricivita,
and Beaumont, or, of Baja California especially, in
A'oucgas, Clavigero, Baegert, and one or two im-
portant anonymous authorities. The Jesuits were
good chroniclers; their records, though diffuse, are
very complete; and from them, by careful work, may
l)e formed a satisfactory picture of the period they
represent.

Hence, to gather all the material requisite for a
complete narrative of events bearing on California, it
would bo necessary to include a large part of the early
history of Mexico, since the two were so blended as
to make it impossible to separate them. This I as-
certained in examining books for California material
alone. It was my custom when collecting to glance
ihrough any book which I thought might contain in-
formation on the territory marked out. I made it no
jiart of my duty at this time to inquire into the nature
or (|uality of the production; it might be the soundest
science or the sickliest of sentimental fiction. I did
not stop to consider, I did not care, whether the book
was of any value or not; it was easier and cheaper
to buy it than to spend time in examining its value.
J)csi(les, in making such a collection it is impossible to
determine at a glance what is of value and what is
not. The most worthless trash may prove some fact
wherein the best book is deficient, and this makes the
ti'ash valuable. The thoughtful may learn from the
!^tui)id much respecting the existence of which the
possessor himself was ignorant. In no other way
*'oiil(l I have made the collection so speedily perfect;
so peT'fect, indeed, that I have often been astonished,
ill writing on a subjeot or an epoch, to find how few
iiii])ortant books were lacking. An investigator should
have before him all that has been said upon his sub-
ject; he will then make .such use of it as his judgment

180

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

dictates. Nearly every work in existence, or which
was referred to by the various authorities, I found on
my shelves. And this was the result of my method
of collecting, which was to buy everything I could
obtain, with the view of winnowing the information
at my leisure.

Months of precious time I might easily have wasted
to save a few dollars ; and even then there would have
been no saving. I would not sell to-day out of tho
collection the most worthless volume for twice its
cost in money. Every production of every brain is
worth something, if only to illustrate its own worth-
lessness. Every thought is worth to me in money the
cost of transfixing it. Surely I might give the cost
for what the greatest fool in Christendom should take
the trouble to print on a subject under consideration.
As La Fontaine says: " II n'est rien d'inutile aux
personnes de sens." Indeed no little honor should
attach to such distinguished stupidity.

A book is the cheapest thing in the world. A
common laborer, with the product of a half day's
work, may become possessor of the choicest fruits of
Shakespeare's matchless genius. Long years of prepa-
ration are followed by long years of patient study and
a painful bringing-forth, and the results, summed, are
sold in the shops for a few shillings. And in that mul-
tiplication of copies by the types, which secures this
cheapness, there is no diminution of individual value.
Intrinsically and practically the writings of Plato.
which I can buy for five dollars, are worth as mueh
to me, will improve my mind as much, as if mine was
the only copy in existence. Ay, they are worth in-
finitely more; for if Plato had but one reader on this
planet, it were as well for that reader he had none.

Gradually and almost imperceptibly had the area
of my efforts enlarged. From Oregon it was but a
step to British Columbia and Alaska; and as I was
obliged for California to go to Mexico and Spain, it
finally became settled to my mind to make the west-

SECOND VISIT TO EUROPE.

181

crn half of North America my field, including in it
the whole of Mexico and Central America. And
thereupon I searched the histories of Europe for in-
formation concerning their New World relations; and
the archives of Spain, Italy, France, and Great Britain
were in due time examined.

In London I spent about three months, and went
faithfully through every catalogue and every stock of
books likely to contain anything on the Pacific coast.
Of these there were several score, new and old. It
was idle to enter a shop and ask the keeper if he had
;uiy works on California, Mexico, or the Hawaiian
islands : the answer was invariably No. And though
I might pick up half a dozen books under his very
eyes, the answer would still be, if you asked him, No.
California is a long way from London, much farther
than London is from California. None but a very
intelligent bookseller in London knows where to look
for printed information concerning California. The
(»nly way is to examine catalogues and search through
stocks, trusting to no one but yourself

Believing that a bibliography of the Pacific States
would not only greatly assist me in my search for
books but would also be a proper thing to publish
some day, I employed a man to search the principal
libraries, such as the library of the British Museum
and the library of the Royal Geographical Society,
and make a transcript of the title of every book, manu-
script, pamphlet, and magazine article, touching this
territory, with brief notes or memoranda on the sub-
ject-matter. It was necessary that the person em-
ployed should be a good scholar, familiar with books,
and have at his command several languages. The
l>c]son employed was Joseph Walden, and the price
piid him was two guineas a week. My agent, Mr J.
^^'llitaker, proprietor of The Bookseller, engaged him
for me and superintended the work, which was con-
tinued during the three months I remained in Lon-

188

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

don, and for about eight months thereafter. Tlie
titles and abstracts were entered upon paper cards
about four inches square; or, if one work contained
more matter than could be properly described within
tliat space, the paper would bo cut in strips of a uni-
form width, but of the requisite length, and folded to
the uniform size. The cost of this catalogue was a
little over a thousand dollars. In consulting material
in these libraries, which contain much that exists
nowhere else, this list is invaluable as a guide to the
required information. It might be supposed that tlii >
printed catalogues of the respective libraries would
give their titles in such a way as to designate the con-
tents of the works listed, but this is not always the
case. The plan adopted by me was to have any book
or manuscript, and all periodicals and journals of soci-
eties, likely to contain desired information, carefully
examined, the leaves turned over one by one, and notes
made of needed material. By this means I could at
once learn where the material was, what it was, and
turn to the book and page.

From London I went to Paris, and searched the
stalls, antiquarian warehouses, and catalogues, in the
same careful manner. I found much material in no
other way obtainable, but it was small in comparison
with what I had secured in London. Dibdin speaks
of a house in Paris, the Debures, bibliopolists, dealers
in ra^e books, who would never print a catalogue.
It was not altogether folly that prompted the polic\',
for obvious reasons. Leaving Paris the 3d of January,
1867, I went down into Spain full of sanguine antici-
pations. There I expected to find much relating to
Mexico at the stalls for old books, but soon leariud
that everything of value found its way to London. It
has been said that in London any article of any descrip-
tion will bring a price nearer its true value than any-
where else in the world. This I know to be true of
books. I have in my library little old worthless-
looking volumes that cost me two or three hundred

SPANISH BOOKSELLERS.

183

(If)llars each in London, which if offered at auction in
San Francisco would sell for twenty-five or fifty cents,
luiloss some intellicifcnt persons who understood
hooks happened to he present, in which case competi-
tion might raise the sum to five dollars. On the
otlicr hand, that which cost a half dollar in London
iiiiL^ht sell for five dollars in San Francisco.

There were not throe men in California, I venture
it) say, who at that time knew anything either of the
intrinsic or marketahle value of old books. Book-
sellers knew the least. I certainly have had cxpe-
lionce l^oth as dealer and as collector, but I profess to
Iciiow little al)out the valne of ancient works, other
than those which I liave had occasion to buy. Let
1110 pick up a volume of the Latin classics, for exam-
ple, or of Dutch voyages, and ask the price. If the
liook were as large as I could lift, and the shopman
told me half a crown, I should think it much material
for the money, but I should not question the integrity
dl" the shopman; if the book were small enough for
tlic vest pocket, and the seller charged me twenty
pounds for it, I should think it right, and that there
must be real value about it in some way, otherwise
tlio man M^ould not ask so much. There may be six
or eight dealers in New York, Boston, and Phila-
(Idnhia, who know something of the value of ancient
books; but aside from these, among the trade through-
out America, I doubt if there are three. A collector,
devoting himself to a specialty, may learn something
])}■ experience, by looking over his bills and paying
tli'.'m, reo^arding the value of books in the direction
(if liis collecting, Init that must be a small part of
the whole range of the science of bibliography.

I thought the London shopkeepers were apathetic
enough, but they are sprightly in comparison with the
Sj)auish booksellers. To the average Spanish book-
st'llor Paris and London are places bordering the
mythical; if he really believes them to exist, they are
nuipped in his mind with the most vague indistinct-

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPIIILK.

ness. As to a knowledge of books and booksellerH'
shops in thogc places, there are but few pretensions.

Opening on the main plaza of Burgos, which was
filled with some of the most miserable specimens
of nmftled humanity I ever encountered — cutthroat,
villainous-looking men and women in robes of sewed
rags — were two small shops, in which not only books
and newspapers were sold, but traps and tiinkets of
various kinds. There I found a few pamphlets which
spoke of Mexico. Passing through a Californian-
looking country we entered Madrid, the town of
tobacco and bull-fights. If book-selling houses arc
significant of the intelligence of the people — and wc
in California, who boast the finest establishments of
the kind in the world according to our population,
tlaim that they are — then culture in Spain is at a,
low ebb.

The first three days in Madrid I spent in collecting
and studying catalogues. Of these I found but few,
and they were all similar, containing about the same
class of works. Then I searched the stalls and stores,
and gathered more than at one time I thought I
should be able to, sufficient to fill two large boxes;
but to accomplish this I was obliged to work dili-
gently for two weeks.

To Saragossa, Barcelona, Marseilles, !> ^ce, Genoa,
Bologna, Florence, and Rome; then to Naples, back
to Venice, and through Switzerland to Paris. After
resting a while I went to Holland, then up the Ilhiiio
and through Germany to Vienna; then through Gei-
many and Switzerland again, Paris and London, and
finally back to New York and BuiFalo. Everywheii;
I found something, and seized upon it, however in-
significant, for I had long since ceased to resist tlio
malady. Often have I taken a cab or a carriage lu
drive me from stall to stall all day, without obtainin',^
more than perhaps three or four books or pamphlets,
for which I paid a shilling or a franc each. Then
again I would light upon a valuable manuscript whicli

ItfEXICAN BOOKS.

18S

ii'lioved my pocket to the extent of three, five, or
(iiffht hundrca dollars.

Now, 1 thoujOflit, my task is done. T have rifled
America of its treasm-es; Europe liave I ransacked;
jiiid after my succc^ss in Spain, Asia and Africa may
as well be passscd by. I have ten tliousand volumes
and over, fifty times more than ever I dreamed were
ill existence when the collecting began. My Ubrary
is a fait accomj)li. Finis coronal opus. Here will I

I'L-St.

]iut softly 1 What is this inch-thick pamphlet that
coincs to me by mail from my agent in London? By
the shade of Tom Dibdin it is a catalogue I Stripping
oif the cover I read the title-page: Catalogue de la
Jiiche Bibliothbque de D. Jose Maria Andrade. Livres
iiKimiscrits et imprimes. Litterature Franqaise et
Kspagnole. Histoire dp L'Afrique, de L'Asie, et de
J! Ameriquc. 7000 pieces et volumes at/ant rapport an
Mi'xique ou iTrq.imes dans ce pays. Dont la rente se
Ji'ra Lundi 18 Janvier 1869 et jours suivants, ti Leip-
'J[l, dans la salle de ventes de MM. List & Francke, 15
rue de L' Universite, par le ministh'e de M. Ilerniann
Francke, commissaire priseur.

Seven thousand books direct from Mexico, and
]>rol)ably half of them works which should be added
to my collection! What was to be done? Here were
treasures beside which the gold, silver, and rich mer-
chandise found by Ali Baba in the robbers' cave were
dross. A new light broke in upon me. I had never
considered that Mexico had been printing books for
tlirco and a quarter centuries — one hundred years
longer t]ian Massachusetts — and that the earlier
works were seldom seen floating about book-stalls and
uuetion-rooms. One would think, perhaps, that in
Mexico there might be a rich harvest; that where
the people were ignorant and indifferent to learning,
books would be lightly esteemed, and a large collection
easily made. And such at times and to some eiitent

186

FROM BIBLIOPOLTST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

has been the fact, but it is n.ft so now. It is charac-
teristic of the Mexican, to say nothing of the Yankee,
that an article which may be deemed worthless until
one tries to buy it, suddenly assumes great value.
The common people, seeing the priests and collectors
place so high an estimate on these embodiments of
knowledge, invest them with a sort of supernatural
importance, place them among their lares and penates,
and refuse to part with them at any price. Besides,
Mexico as well as other countries has been overrun
by book collectors. In making this collection Seilor
Andrade had occupied forty years; and being upon
the spot, with every facility, ample means at his
command, a thorough knowledge of the literature of
the country, and familiarity with the places in which
books and manuscripts were most likcl}' to be found,
he surely should have been able to accomplish what
no other man could.

And then again, rare books are every year becoming
rarer. In England particularly this is the case. Im-
portant sales are not so frequent now as fifty years
ago, when a gentleman's library, which at his death
was sold at auction for the benefit of heirs, almost
always oft^ered opportunities for securing some rare
books. Then, at the death of one, another would atld
to his collection, and at his death another, and so
on. During the past half century many new public
libraries have been formed both in Europe and Amer-
ica, until the number has become very large. These,
as a rule, are deficient in rare books; but having with
age and experience accumulated funds and the know 1-
edge of using them, or having secured all desirable
current literature, the managers of public librariis
are more and more desirous of enriching their collec-
tions with the treasures of the past; and as institu-
tions seldom or never die, when once a book finds
lodgment on their shelves the auctioneer rarely sees
it again. Scores of libraries in America have theii'
agents, with lists of needed books in their hands,

THE ANDRADE COLLECTION.

187

roady to pay any price for any one of them. Since
there is but a limited number of these books in ex-
istence, with a dozen bidders for every one, they are
hecoming scarcer and dearer every year.

There were no fixed prices for rare and ancient
l)ooks in Mexico, and they were seldom or never to
be obtained in the ordinary way of trade. Until
recently, to make out a list of books and expect a
bookseller of that country to procure them for you
was absurd, and you would be doomed to disappoint-
11 10 lit. It was scarcely to be expected that he should
ho, so much in advance of his bookselling brother of
Spain, who would scarcely lca\'(^> his seat to serve you
with a book from his own shelves, still less to seek it
elsewhere.

Book collecting in Mexico during the midst of my
efforts was a trade tomhe des nites, the two parties to
the business being, usually, one a professional person,
representing the guardianship of learning, but so
carnal-minded as to require a little money to satisfy
his cravings, and tlie other the i-ecipicnt of the favors,
who cancelled tliem with monfsy. The latter, ascer-
taining the whereabouts of the desired volume, bar-
gained with a politician, an ecclesiastic, or a go-between,
and having agreed on the price, the place and hour
were named — which must be either a retired spot or
an liour in which the sun did not shine — whereupon
the book was produced and the money paid; but there
must be no further conversation rej^ardinQf the matter.
Should the monastic libraries occasionally be found
(leiieiont in volumes once in their possession, owing
to the absence of catalogue.? and responsible librarians
it is ditlicult to fasten upon the guardian the charge
that such books and manuscripts had ever been in his
possession.

Jose Maria Andrade combined in himself the pub-
lisher, journalist, litteratenr, bibliopole, and biblio-
phih); and the tenacity with whicli he clung to his
collection was remarkable. Nor was he induced to

11 i:

188

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

part with it except for the consummation of a grand
purpose. It was ever the earnest desire of the unfor-
tunate Maximihan to advance the interests of the
country in every way in his power; and prominent
among liis many praiseworthy designs was that of im-
proving the mental conuition of the people by the
elevation of literature. Scarcely had he established
himself in tlie government when he began the forma-
tion of an imperial lil)rary. This could be accom-
plished in no otlier way so fully or so easily as by
enlisting the cooperation of Senor Andrade, while on
the other hand the intelligent and zealous collector
could in no other way reap a reward commensurate
with his lonjy and diligfcnt researches. It was there-
fore arranged that, in consideration for a certain sum
of money to be paid the owner of the books, this
magnificent collection should form the basis of a
Biblioteca Imperial de Mcjico. By this admirable and
only proper course the fullest collection of books on
Mexico, together with valuable additions from the
literature of other countries, would remain in the
country and become the property of the government.
But unfortunately for Mexico this was not to be.
These books were to be scattered among the libraries
of the world, and the rare opportunity was forever
lost. Evil befell both emperor and bibliophile. The
former met the fate of many another adventurer ot"
less noble birth and less chivalrous and pure inten-
tion, and the latter failed to secure his money.

When it became certain that Maximilian Mas
doomed to die at the hands of his captors, Senor
Andrade determined to secure to himself the pro-
ceeds from the sale of his library as best he might.
Nor was there any time to lose. Imperialism in
Mexico was on the decline, and the friends of the
emperor could scarcely hope to see their contracts
ratified by his successor. Consequently, while all eyes
were turned in the direction of Querdtaro, immedi-
ately after the enactment of the bloody tragedy, and

THE LEIPSIC SALE.

180

before the return wave of popular fury and vandalism
had reached the city of Mexico, Sefior Andrade has-
tily packed his books into two hundred cases, placed
them on the backs of mules, and hurried them to
Vera Cruz, and thence across the water to Europe.

Better for Mexico had the bibliophile taken with
liim one of her chief cities than that mule-train load
of literature, wherein for her wore stores of mighty
experiences, which, left to their own engendering,
would in due time bring forth healing fruits. Never
since the burning of the Aztec manuscripts by the
1 >igot Zumiirraga had there fallen on the country such
a loss. How comparatively little of human experi-
ence has been written, and yet how much of that
which has been written is lost I How many books
liave been scattered; how many libraries burned : how
few of the writings of the ancients have we. Of the
hundred plays said to have been written by Sophocles,
only seven are preserved.

M. Deschamps says of Sefior Andrade's collection:
"The portion of this library relating to Mexico is in-
contestably unique, and constitutes a collection which
neither the most enlightened care, the most patient
investigation, nor the gold of the richest placers could
ref)roduce. The incunabula of American typography,
six Gothic volumes head the list, printed from 1543
to 1547, several of which have remained wholly un-
known to bibliographers; then follows a collection of
documents, printed and in manuscript, by the help
of wliich the impartial writer may reestablish on its
triKi basis the history of the firm domination held by
Spiun over these immense territories, from the time
of Cortds to the glorious epoch of the wars of Inde-
jxiuicnce. The manuscripts are in part original and
in part copies of valuable documents made with great
caro from the papers preserved in the archives of the
empire at Mexico. It is well known that access to
tlu'so archives is invariably refused to the public, and
that it required the sovereign intervention of an en-

190

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

lightened prince to render possible the long labors of
transcription."

Such is the history of the collection of which I
now received a catalogue, with notice of sale beginning
the 18th of January, 1869. Again I asked myself.
What was to be done? Little penetration was neces-
sary to see that this sale at Leipsic was most im-
portant; that such an opportunity to secure Mexican
books never had occurred before and could never
occur again. It was not among the possibilities that
Senor Andrade's catalogue should ever be duplicated.
The time was too short for me, after receiving the
catalogue, to reach Leipsic in person previous to the
sale. The great satisfaction was denied me to make
out a list of requirements with my own catalogue
and the catalogue of Andrade before me. Yet I was
determined not to let the opportunity slip without
securing something, no matter at what hazard or at
what sacrifice.

Shutting my eyes to the consequences, therefore,
I did the only thing possible under the circumstances
to secure a portion ";f that collection: I telegraphetl
my agent in London five thousand dollars earnest
money, with instructions to attend the sale and pur-
chase at his discretion. I expected nothing less tlian
large lots of duplicates, with many books which I did
not care for; but in this I was agreeably disappointed.
Though my agent, Mr Whitaker, was not very familiar
with the contents of my library, he was a practical
man, and thoroughly versed in the nature and value
of books, and the r-esult of his purchase was to increase
my collection with some three thousand of the rarest
and most valuable volumes extant.

There were in this purchase some works that gave
me duplicates, and some books bought only for their
rarity, such as specimens of the earliest printing in
Mexico, and certain costly linguistic books. But on
the whole I was more than pleased; I was delighted.
A sum five times larger than the cost of the boolcs

NOTABLE SALES.

191

would not have taken them from me after they were
once in my possession, from the simple fact that though
I sliould live a hundred years I would not see the time
Avlieu I could buy any considerable part of them at
any price. And furthermore, no sooner had I begun
authorship than experience taught me that the works
thus collected and sold by Seilor Andrade included
foreign books of the highest importance. There
Avere among them many books and manuscripts inval-
uable for a working library. It seemed after all as
though Mr Whitaker had instinctively secured what
was most wanted, allowing very few of the four thou-
sand four hundred and eighty -four numbers of the
catalogue to slip through his fingers that I would have
purchased if present in person.

But this was not the last of the Andrade-Maxi-
inilian episode. Another lot, not so large as the
Lcipsic catalogue, but enough to constitute a very
important sale, was disposed of by auction in London,
by Puttick and Simpson, in June of the same year.
The printed list was entitled: Bihliotheca Mejiccma.
A Catalogue of an extraordinary collection of hooks
rdating to Mexico and North and South America, from
the first introduction of iwinting in the New World,
A. D. 1544, to A.D. 1868. Collected during 20 years'
official residence in Mexico. Mr Whitaker likewise
attended this sale for me, and from his purchases I
was enabled still further to fill gaps and perfect the
collection.

Prior to these large purchases, namely in Decem-
ber, 1868, Mr Whitaker made some fine selections
for nie at a public snlo in Paris. This same year was
sold in New York toe library of A. A. Smet, and
the year previous had been sold that of Richard W.
Roclio. The library of George W. Pratt was sold
in New York in March, 1868; that of Amos Dean, at
private sale, in New York the same year; that of W.
L. Mattison in New York in April, 1869; that of John
A. Rice in New York in March, 1870; that of S. G.

192

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

Drake in Boston in May and June, 1876; that of
John W. Dwindle in San Francisco in July, 1877;
that of George T. Strong in New York in November,
1878; that of Milton S. Latham in San Francisco in
April, 1879; that of Gideon N. Searing in New York
in May, 1880; that of H. R. Schoolcraft in New York
in November, 1880; that of A. Oakey Hall in New
York in January, 1881; that of J. L. Hasmar in
Philadelphia in March, 1881 ; that of George Brinley
in New York, different dates; that of W. B. Law-
rence in New York in 1881-2; that of the Sunderland
Library, first part, in London in 1881; that of W. C.
Prescott in New York in December, 1881; and that
of J. G. Keil in Leipsic in 1882; — from each of which
I secured something. Besides those elsewhere enu-
merated there were to me memorable sales in Lisbon,
New York, and London, in 1870; in London and New
York in 1872; in Paris, Leipsic, and New York, in
1873, and in New York in 1877. The several sales
in London of Henry G. Bohn, retiring from business,
were important.

The government officials in Washington and the
officers of the Smithsonian Institution have always
been very kind and liberal to me, as have the Pacific-
coast representatives in congress. From members of
the Canadian cabinet and parliament I have received
valuable additions to my library. From the many
shops of Nassau street, New York, and from several
stores and auction sales in Boston, I have been recei\ -
ing constant additions to my collection for a period of
over a quarter of a century.

From the Librairie Tross of Paris in April, 1870,
I obtained a long list of books, selected from a cata-
logue. So at various times I have received accessions
from Maisonneuve et C'*^, Paris, notably quite a ship-
ment in September, 1878. From Triibner, Quaritch,
Rowell, and others, in London, the stream was con-
stant, though not large, for- many years. Asher of
Berlin manasred to offer at various times valuable cata-

THE SQUUGE COLLECTION.

103

loiTiics, as did also John Russell Smith of London;
v. A. Brockhaus of Loipsic; Murguia of Mexico,
;ind Madrilena of Mexico; Mullcr of Amsterdam;
Weigel of Leipsic; Robert Clarke & Co. of Cincinnati ;
Schoiblo of Stuttgart; Bouton of Now York; Hcnrv
Miller of New York, and Olivier of Bruxelles. Henry
Stevens of London sold in Boston, through Leonard,
liy auction in April, lL/0, a collection of five thousand
^•()lumes of American history, which he catalogued
under the title of Bihliotheca Ilistorica, at which time
he claimed to have fifteen thousand similar volumes
stored at 4 Trafalgar square.

Li April, 187G, was sold by auction in New York
the collection of Mr E. G. Squier, relating in a great
measure to Central America, where the collector,
wliun quite young, was for a time United States
iniiiister. Being a man of letters, the author of sev-
ttal books, and many essays and articles on ethnology,
history, and politics, and a member of home and
Ibruign learned societies, Mr Squier was enabled by
his position to gratify his tastes to their full extent,
and he availed himself of the opportunities. His
hbiary was rich in manuscripts, in printed and manu-
script maps, and in Central American newspapers, and
poHtical and historical pamphlets. There were some
tine original drawings by Catherwood of ruins and
nmnolith idols, and some desirable engravings and
jihotographs. Books from the library of Alexander
Vun Humboldt were a feature, and there was a
section on Scandinavian literature. In regard to
his manuscripts, which he intended to translate and
print, the publication of Palacio, Cartas, being the
ijcginning, Mr Squier said : " A large part of
these were obtained from the various Spanish ar-
ehives and depositories by my friend Buckingham
Sinitli, late secretary of the legation of the United
Stati 's in Spain. Others were procured during my
iesi(h'rice in Central America eitlier in person or
through the intervention of friends." I gladly availed

Lit. Ind. 13

104

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

myself of tlio opportunity to purcliase at this salo
whatever the collection contained and my library
lacked. Of Mr Squier's library Mr Sabin testified:
"In the department relative to Central America tlu;
collection is not surpassed by any other within our
knowledge; many of these books being published in
Central America, and having rarely left the land of
their birth, arc of great value, and are almost unkncnvii
outside the localities from which they were issued."

The next most important opportunity was the sale,
by auction, of the library of Caleb Cushing in Boston,
in October, 1879. This sale was attended for me by ^fr
Lauriat, and the result was in everyway satislactoiv.

Quite a remarkable sale was that of the library of
Ramirez, by auction, in London in July 1880, not so
nmch in regard to numbers, for there were but 1200, as
in variety iind prices. The title of the catalogue reads
as follows: Bihliotheca Alexicana. A catalogue of the
Library of rare hooks and important mamtscripts, re-
lating to Mexico and other parts of Spanish America,
formed by the late Senor Don Jose Fernando Ramirez,
president of the late Emperor Maximilian s first min-
istry, comprising fine specimens of the 2^resses of the
early Mexican typographers Juan Cromberger^ Juan
Pahlos, Antonio Espinosa, Pedro Ocharte, Pedro Bal/i,
Antonio Ricardo, Melchior Ocharte; a large numher of
works, both jwinted and manuscript, on the Mexiccn
Indian languages and dialects; the civil and ccch'sl-
astical history of Mexico and its provinces; collections
of laws and ordinances relating to the Indies. Valuahic
unpublished manuscripts relating to the Jesuit missions
in Texas, California, China, Peru, Chili, Brasil, etc;
collections of documents; sermons preached in Mexico;
etc., etc. Ramirez was a native of the city of Dii-
rango, where he had been educated and admitted to
the bar, rising to eminence as state and federal judi^e.
He was at one time head of the national museum of
Mexico; also minister of foreign affairs, and again
president of Maximilian's first ministry. Upon the

THE RAMIREZ SALE.

106

retirement of the Frcncli expedition from Mexico
Soilor Ramirez went to Europe and took up his resi-
(knco at Bonn, wliere he died in 1871. The books
comprising the s.ale formed the second collection made
l)y this learned bibliographer, the first having been
sold to become the foundation of a state library in the
city of Durango. The rarest works of the first col-
It rtion were reserved, however, to form the nucleus of
the second, which was formed after he removed to the
capital; his high public position, his reputation as
s'liolar and bibliographer, and his widely extended
iiiHucnce affording him the best facilities. Many of
liis literary treasures were obtained from the convents
after the suppression of the monastic orders. From
tlie collection, as it stood at th>' death of Ramirez,
his heirs permitted A. Chavero to select all works
relating to Mexico. "Wo believe we do not exag-
ti^oratc," the sellers affirmed, "when we say that no
similar collection of books can ao;ain be brouGiht into
tho Encflish market." Writinij me in 18G9 refjard-
iiiLj the Paris and London sales of that year, Mr
Whitaker says: "If I may argue from analogy, I do
ixit think that many more Mexican books will come
to Europe for sale. I remember some twenty-five
years ago a similar series of sales of Spanish books
which came over here in consequence of the revolu-
tion, but for many years there have been none to
speak of" Thus we find the same idea expressed by
an expert eleven years before the Ramirez sale. In
one sense both opinions proved true; the collections
were different in character, and neither of them could
l>e even approximately duplicated. With regard to
I>i'iccs at the respective sales of 18G9 Mr Wliitakor
itniarks: "Some of the books sold rather low con-
sidering their rarity and value, but on the whole prices
ruled exceedingly high." Had Mr Whitaker attended
the Ramirez sale he would have been simply astounded.
If ever tho prices of Mexican books sold prior to
this memorable year of 1880 could in comparison be

190

FROM BIBLIOPOLIST TO BIBLIOPHILE.

called high, such .sales Imvc been wholly outside of my
knowhjdgc. I had before paid hundreds of dollars
for a thin 12mo volume; but a bill wherein page after
page the items run from $50 to $700 is apt to call
into question the general sanity of mankind. And yet
this was at public sale, in the chief book mart of tlu;
woild, and it is to be supposed that the volumes were
sold with fairness.

Notice of this sa]e, with catalogue, was forwarded to
iiic by Mr Stevens, who attended it in my behalf I
made out my list and sent it on with general instruc-
tions, but without special limit; I did not suppose the
whole lot would amount to over $10,000 or $12,000.
The numbers I ordered brought nearer $30,000. j\Ir
Stevens did not purchase them al^ preferring to forego
his commissions rather than subject me to such fear-
fully high prices. My chief consolation in drawing a
check for the purchase was that if books were worth
the prices brought at the Ramirez sale my library
would foot up a million of dollars. And yet Mr Stevens
writes : " On the whole you have secured your lots very
reasonably. A few are dear; most of them are cheap.
The seven or eight lots that you put in your tliirtl
class, and which Mr Quaritch or Count Heredia
bought over my bids, you may rest assured went
dear enough." There were scarcely any purchasers
other than the three bidders above named, thougli
Mr Stevens held orders likewise for the British j\1u-
seuni library. There was no calling off or hammering
by the auctioneer. The bidders sat at a table on whic-li
was placed the book to be sold; each made his bids
and the seller recorded the highest.

Referring once more to Mr Walden and his work,
Mr Whitaker writes in April, 1869: "The delay in
sending off all the Andrade books arose from the
desire to have them catalogued. Mr Walden has been
terribly slow over the work, but it was difficult to stop.
He has now finished all that I bought first, and I told

THK RESULT IX 18C9.

197

liini that lio is altoi^L'tlu'i" to suspend operations upon
your account after Saturday, May 1st, to which date I
liavc paid liini. It a])j)ears to nie tliat you will now
have cnouj^h materials in the l)ooks you have hou«jfht
.111(1 the sale catalogues, etc., to enaljle you to get all
the information you re(|uire. Walden sees his way to
seven years' more work." And from Mr Walden him-
self a month later: "It has afforded me great pleas-
iiii' to hear at different times from Mr Whitaker that
you are satisfied with the slips received, and the
manner in which I have catalogued the books. In
I'ollowing out your instructions much time must evi-
dently bo taken up in searching for works on the
various subjects, and the time and money thus spent
will assuredly repay itself in having such a list of
hooks on the various suljjects required, and on that
jiait of America; it will not have its equal in any
catalogue yet made. I have not yet catalogued the
whole of the manuscripts relating to your subjects in
the l^ritish Museum."

Thus it was that in 1 800, ton years after beginning to
collect, after the Maximilian sale, but before those of
Iiainircz, Squier, and m.any ot^ ors, I found in ray pos-
session, including pamphlets, about sixteen thousand
volumes; and with these, w^liich even before its com-
plrlion I placed on the fifth floor of the Market-street
iniikling, I concluded to begin work. As a collector,
however, I continued lying in wait for opportunities.
All the new books published relative to the subject
weie immediately added t(5 the collection, with oc-
fasional single copies, or little lots of old books secured
by my agents. Before leaving Europe I appointed
ai^t'iits in other principal cities besides London to
|iuichase, as opportunity offered, whatever I lacked.
There were many other notable additions to the
lilnary from sources not yet mentioned, of which I
shall take occasion to speak during the progress of
this history of my work.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LIBRARY.

Could a man Ixs scciiro

That lii.s (liiyx woiiM onduro

Ah of old, for a tlioiisand long years,

What thiiiL's mifjlit ho knt)wl

What dceih) might he do!

And uU without hurry or care.

Old Song,

If as Plato says knoNvled<j;e is goodness, and g<»(»(l
ncss (lod, tlien lilnaiioH occupy lioly ground, and
books breathe tlie atniosplierc of heaven. Altlioui;Ii
this |)hiloso[)hy inuy be too transcendental for thi'
present day, and although the agency of evil souie-
tinies appears in the accumulation of knowledge as
well as the agency of good, thus making sclujlais not
always heii-s of (jod, we have yet to learn of a coIKm-
tion of books having been made for purposes of v\\\,
or the results of such efforts ever having been other-
wise than beneficial to the race. Particularly is such
the case where the main incentive has been the accu-
mulation of facts for the mere love of such accuiiiii-
lation, and not from devotion to dogma, or for the
purpose of pleading a cause — for something o'i the
instinct of accumulation inherent in humanity may
be found in the garnering of knowledge, no less than
in the gathering of gold or the acquis'tion of broad
acres.

My library, wh( i first it came to bo called a
library, occupied o corner of the second stoiy of
the bookstore buildii ' on Merchant street, which con-
nected with the fron room on Montgomery street, as

IN TIIK MARKET STHKET DUTLDINa.

109

iM'Torc described. When placed on the fiilh floor of the
Market-street biiildinj^, it oecu[»ie(l room e<|uivalent to
1 hii'ty-flve by one liiindred and seventy feet, bein*i^ ubont
lilt y feet wide at the south en<l, and iiarrowint^- irre<,'u-
liiily towards the north end. The ceilinj,' was low, and
l!if view broken by the enclosures under the skylights,
;iiul by sections of standin<( supports with which it
was found necessary to supplement the lialf mile and
more of shelving agaiii..t the walls. Following the
works of reference, the books were arranged ali)ha-
httically by authors, some seventy-five feet at the
north end, both walls and floor room, being left for
IK wspapers. On the east side were four rooms, two
occupied as sleeping apartments by Mr Oak and Mr
Xi.mos, and two used as working rooms by Mrs
\ ictor and my.self There was one large drau'ditsman'.j
W()iking-C(junter, with drawers^ and a rack for ma[)s.
The desks and writing tables stood principally at the
soutli end of the main library room, that being the
lust locality for light and air. A large, high, revolv-
ing table occupied the centre of my room. Attached
to it was a stationary stand into which it fitted, or
I'ather of which it formed ])art. At this table I could
stand, or by means of a high chair with revolving
scat I could sit at it, and write on the stationary part.
The circular or revolving portion of the table was
s(jnio eight or nine feet in diameter. Besides this
niacliinc there were usually two or three common
[ilaiu tables in the room. On the walls were maps,
and drawings of various kinds, chiefly referring to
early history; also certificates of degrees conferred,
and of membership of learned societies.

Ill the main room, in addition to the long tables
shiiwu in the drawing, there were a dozen or so
small movable tables, and also aliigh table and a high
d(.sj<, the two acconnnodating four or five persons,
should any wish to stand. AH was well arranged,
lint only for literary but for mechanical work, for
close at hand were compositors, printers, and binders.

200

THK LIBRARY.

No ]>lace could better have suited my purpose l)ut
f'oi- iuteiTuptioiis, for I was never entirely I'ree I'roni
business.

Yet, all throujj^h the dozen >X'''H''^ the library was
there I trembled lor its safety throuj^h fear of tire, as
indeed did many others wlio apj)re(riated its historicial
sijjcnilieanee to tiiis eoast, well knowinij^ that once lost
no j)ower on earth could re])roduce it. Hence its jdace
in this buildiuijf was regarded as temporary from the
tirst. We all thought constantly of it, and a hundred
times 1 have talked over the matter of removal with
^Er Oak and others. Now and then the danger would
be more vividly brought home to us by the alarm of
tire on the ])remises; and once in particular a fin-
broke out in the basement of the furniture store occu-
])ying the western sid'^ of the building, tilling the
liUrarv with dcMise snioive, and drivinti" the inmates to
the roof It occurred about half-past five in the after-
noon. The furniture store was nearly destroyed, and
the bookstore suffered serious damage. It was a nar-
row escajie for the library.

Tluis, when in the autumn of 1881 Mr William !>.
Bancroft, my nephew, in charge of the manufacturing
department, regarded tlie room as essential to his ever
growing pur]K)ses, and as the money could be spared,
I lent a willing ear.

First to be considered in choosing a new locahty
was whetlier the library should remain on the})iMiiii-
sula of San Francisco, or take its place at some jxiint
across the bay. Oakland was seriously considertwl.
and San Rafael, not to mention Sonoma, where l«Min
before my enthusiastic friend (Jeneral Vallt^jo li.id
otferetl to furnish land and all the building re()uiii -
ments free. There were pleasant jdaces in the (lircc-
tion of San Mateo and Menlo Park; but we finally
concluded to remain in the city. Before ever it saw
Market street I had divamed of having the lil)raiy
near my house on California street; but that was not
to be. I had deemed it advisable st)me time belt no

■■ s

LIBRARY SITE SELKCTKD.

201

cf, iWlwjs; the
lie inmates to
in the ul'ter-
estroyocl, und
It was a uar-

r William r>.

laimtactiiriiiU'

lial to his ever

Id be spared,

to siH my residence property in tliat locality, so tliat
it was now necessary to select another spot. In
makinL( such selection I could not take as f'ldly into
tlu! account as I would have liked the inlluence
of a lihrary u[)on its locality. For iwaniple, wlio
slialj say what miijflit or nii;_;ht not be the efl'ects upon
tlie <>nuluatin<>- nuMubers of a ufreat institution of learn-
iii!4', or ui)on the assembled la.w-mak(>rs for the nation,
or U[)on that <'lass of wealthy and intelligent iidiabi
tiuits of the conunercial n)etroj)olis wlio deliL;lit in
sciiiitiHc or historic association for the gocxl of their
louiilry? \Vc cannot set up in our miilst a theatre,
hotel, race-course, cliurch, or driidvin^-saloon without
\\\o whole comnmnity Ikmiil^ att'ectiHl thereby. A
libraiy is not merely a depository of learninjj;-, but a
society for the j>romotion of knowledge in whatsoever
direction its contents tiMids. If it be a libr.-iry of law,

medicine, or

theol

oo'V

le corresiionduiir

)l'ot

I'ssion IS

atlected by it in a degree greater than we realize; it
it be a library of history, then sooner or later its in-
lliieiue is felt in the direc tion of historical investiga-
tion and elucidation. Tlu; veiy fact of its existince
pit-supposes somewhere a demand for its existence,
and this not without cause or reason —the causi; or
ivason being its use for the purposes for which it was
created; that is to say, for the jvrotection and proinul-
;;atioii of liistorical data. The ed'ect of an abundance
ef rich historical (.lata on a local historical societv is
iinK h greater than the elleet of the socit'ty on the
eoljecting of data. With tl ^ data at hand, members
will set tlieinselves at woi'k; wliile if it be absent
they will not seek it.

Afti>r some sc^arch a place wns found uniting several
aiKantages, and whii'h on tlio who!-; proxt'd satisfac-
t nv. J t was on \'alencia street, the natural continua-
tioii of Market str(>et, on the line of the city's growth,
and r ached by the cars from the ferry which ])assed
tile store. There, on the west siili', nt-ar its junction
With .Mission street, I purchased a k)t one hundred and

202

THE LIBKAEY.

,!:

liii

I'
i ^

t.-i

twenty by one hundred and twenty-six feet in size,
and proceeded forthwith to erect a substantial two
story and basement brick building, forty by sixty feet.
In order that the building might be always detached
it was placed in the centre of the lot, and to make it
more secure from fire all the oiDcnings were covered
with iron. A high fence was erected on two sides
for protection against the wind, and the grounds were
filled with trees, grass, and flowers, making the place
a little Eden. On the glass over the entrance was
})laced the number, 1538, and on the door a plate
lettered in plain script. The Bancroft Library.

The building proved most satisfactory. No attempt
was made at elaboration, either without or within;
plain neat good taste, with comfort and convenience,
was alone aimed at. Every part of it was ordered
with an eye single to the purpose; the rooms are
spacious, there are plenty of large windows, and the
building is well ventilated. From the front door the
main room, lower floor, is entered, which, though
almost without a break in its original construction,
became at once so crowded as to render its proper
representation in a drawing impossible. Ample space,
as was supposed, had been allowed in planning the
building, but such a collection of books is susceptible
of being expanded or contracted to a wonderful extent.
On the wall shelves of this apartment are placed for
the most [)art sets and various collections aggre-
gating 1G,000 volumes. These sets are conveniently
lettered and numbered, in a manner that renders eacli
work readily accessible, as will be described in detail
elsewhere. They consist of large collections of voy-
ages and travels; of documents, periodicals, legislative
and other public papers of the federal government
and the several states and territories of the Pacitif
slope; of laws, briefs, .and legal reports; series ol"
scrap-books, almanacs, directories, bound collectit)ns
of pamphlets, cumbersome folios, Mexican sermons,
papcles varios, and other miscellaneous matter. Three

VALENCIA STREET BUILDING.

lofty double tiers of shelving, extending across the
room from north to south, are loaded with 500 bulky
files of Pacific States newspapers, amounting, if a
year of weeklies and three months of dailies be ac-
counted a volume, to over 5000 volumes. It is a
somewhat unwieldy mass, but indispensable to the
l(jcal historian. Also was built and placed here a huge
case, with drawers for maps, geographically arranged ;
also cases containing the card index, and paper bags of
notes, all of which are explained elsewhere.

To the room above, the main librarj' and working-
room, the entrance is by a staircase rising iiom the
middle of the first floor. Here, seated at tables,
are a dozen literary workmen, each busy with his
s|iecial task. The walls are filled with shelving nine
tiers high, containing four classes of books. ]Most of
the space is occupied by works of the iirst class, the
working library proper of printed books, alphabeti-
cally arranged, each volume bearing a immber, and
tlio numbers running consecutively from one to 12,000
under alphabetical arrangement, and afterward with-
out arrangement, as additions are made indefinitely.
The second class consists of rare books, of about 400
volumes, set apart by reason of their great value, not
nioruly pecuniary, though the volumes will bring from
t^oj to ^800 each in the book markets of the world,
l)ut literary value, representing standard authorities,
bii'liographic curiosities, specimens of early printin
and rare linguistics. The third class is composed en
tircly of manuscripts, in 1200 volumes of three sub-
<li\ isions, relating respectively to Mexico and dentral
iVuiei'ica, to California, and to the Northwest Coast —
tlu; Oregon and interior territory, British Columbia,
and Alaska. The fourth class is made uj) of 450
works of reference and bibliographies. When the
f'olloetion was placed in the library buikling it nuni-
htrcd 35,000 volumes, since which time additions have
t^tcadily been made, until tlie number now approaches
^U,U00. At the east end of the upper room is situated

(I'

204

THE LIBRARY.

my private apartment, while at the other end are the
rooms of Mrs Victor, Mr Nemos, and Mr Oak. All
otherwise unoccupied wall space, above and below, is
filled with portraits, plans, and other drawings, en-
gravings, and unique specimens, all having reference
to the territory covered by the collection.

Considerable inconvenience had been experienced
during the first twelve years' use of the library, foi'
want of proper numbering and cataloguing. Mr Oak
had made a card catalogue which about the time of
removal to Market street was copied in book form;
but though the former was kept complete, the latter
M^as soon out of date owing to the rapid increase of
the books. For a time an alphabetical arrangement
answered every purpose, but under this system boojvs
were so often out of place, and losses so frequent, that
it was deemed best on removing to Valencia street to
adopt a book-mark, a system of numbering, and make
a new catalogue. The book-mark consisted of a litho-
graphed line in plain script letters, The Bancrc^lt
Library, with the number. Preparatory to numbei-
ing, the several classes before mentioned were sepa-
rated from the general collection, the whole weeded
of duplicates, and every book and pamphlet [)ut in
place under the old alphabetical arrangement. Tlir
main working collection was then numbered from one
to 12,000 consecutively. This prohibited fui'tini'
alpliabetical arrangement, and thereafter all volunus
that came in were added at the end without reu'ard to
any arrangement, and were covered by new numbers.
In regard to the other several classes, letters wei'f
employed in the numbering to distinguish one from
the other. The first catalogue was written on narrow-
ruled paper, six. by nine inches when folded, and then
bound; the second was written on thick paper, fourteen
by eighteen inches when folded, and ruled for tlie
purpose with columns, and with subsidiary lines for
numbers and description. This catalogue indicates

GENERAL CATALOGUE.

205

the shelf position of every book in the library; and
the plan admits of additions almost limitless without
l)reaking the alphabetic order. In copying it from
the original cards Mr Benson was engaged for over
a year. When completed it was strongly bound in
thick boards and leather.

Xo one can know, not having had the exporionco, the
(iidless labor and detail attending the keeping in order
iind under control of a largo and rapidly growing col-
lection of historical data. Take newspapers, for ex-
ample. The news{)aper is the first and often tlio only
printed matter pertaining directly to the loeal aifairs
sometimes of a wide area. As such its historical
nni»ortauce is obvious. It is tiie only printed record
of the history of the section it covers. No collection
I if early historic data can be deemed in any dtgree
complete without liberal files of the daily and weekly
journals. But when these files t)f periodicals reach
the number of five hundred, as before mentioned, equiv-
alent in bulk and information to five thousand vol-
mnes of books, with large daily additions, it becomes
puzzling sometimes to know what to do with then),
tor these too must be indexed and put away in their
proper place before the know^ledge they contain can
be leaclied or utilized. The course we pursued was
lirst of all after collocation to enter them by their
names, and arranged territorially, in a ten-quire demy
record book, writing down the numbers actually in
the library, chronologically, with blank s[)aces left for
luissing luimbers, to be filled in as those numbers
Were obtained and put in their places. But before
l>utting away in their proper places either the files or
the incoming additional numbers, all were indexed,
after the manner of indexing the books of the library,
and desired information extracted therefrom in tlie
Usual way.

In describing the contents of the library, aside
fi'oni its arrangement in the building, one would
classify it somewhat differently, territory and chro-

20(5

THE LIBRARY.

nolojvy talcing prcoodenee of outward form and con-
venience, more as I liavo done in another place. Any
allusion in this volume must be necessarily very brief;
any approach to bibliographical analy^is is hereout
of the question. We can merely glance at the sev-
eral natural divisions of the subject, namely, abori-
ginal literature, sixteenth-century productions, works
of the seventeenth and eifjhteenth centuries, nine-
tcenth-century publications, maps, manuscripts, and,
by way of a specialty, the material for California and
North vv'cst Coast history.

Passing the books of the savages, as displayed by
the scattered picture-writings of the wilder northern
tribes, which indeed have no place even in the cate-
gory first named, we come to the more enduring records
of the southern plateaux.

First there arc the picture records of the Aztec
migrations, from Gemelli Carreri and the Boturini col-
lection, and representations of the education of Aztec
children, from the Codex Mendoza. Specimens of tlio
next aboriginal class, superior to the Aztec picrure
writing, may bo found in the sculptured hieroglyphics
covering the tablets of Palenque, and the statues of
Copan. Among the works of Lord Kingsborough and
of Brasseur do Bourbourg are volumes of free dis-
cussion, which leave the student at the end of his *ii-
vcstigations exactly where he stood at the beginning.
Then there is the Maya alphabet of Bishop Landa,
and the specimens preserved in the Dresden codex,
which so raise intelligent curiosity as to make us wish
that the Spanish bigots had been burned instead of
the masses of priceless aboriginal manuscripts of whidi
they built their bonfires. In the national museum of
the university of Mexico were placed the renmants
of the aboriginal archives of Tezcuco; and we may
learn much from the writimxs of some of their fornur
possessors, Ixtlilxochitl, Sigiienza, Boturini, Veytia,
Ordaz, Leon y Garaa, and Sanchez. Clavigero has
also used this material with profit in writing his history.

ABORIGINAL LITERATURE.

207

The calendar stone of the Aztecs, a representation of
which is given in the Native Races, may be exaniined
with interest; also the paintings of the Aztec cycle,
the Azte(! year, and the iVztec month. Some remains
of Central American aboriginal literature are pre-
served in the manuscript Troano, reproduced in lithog-
raphy by the French government.

The sixteenth-century productions relating to Amer-
ica, talcen as one class begin with the letters of Colum-
bus written during the last decade of the fifteenth
century. Of these there were printed two, and one
l)y a friend of the admiral, and the papal bull of Alex-
iiiider VI., in 1493, making four plaquettes printed
])rior to 1500. Then came more papal bulls and more
letters, and narratives of voyages by many navigators;
tliore were maps, and globes, and cosmographies, and
numerous 'mundus novus' books, conspicuous among
their Avriters being Vespucci, Peter Martyr, the au-
thors o^Ptolemi/s Geographia, and Enciso, wdio printed
in 151!) his Siima de Geografia. After these Nvcro
itincrarios and relacioncs by Juan Diaz, Cortes, and
others. The doughty deeds of Pedrarias Ddvila were
sung in 1525, and not long afterward the writings of
the chronicler Oviedo began to appear in print. In
1532 appeared the De Insulis of Cortes and Martyr,
and in 1534 the Chronica of Amandus, and some letters
hy Francisco Pizarro. Between 1540 and 1550 were
(hvcrs plaquettes, besides the Relacioties of Cabeza do
A'aca, the Comentarios of Pedro Hernandez, and the
A/)(>/o(j[a of Sepiilveda.

Tliu chief works touching the Pacific States terri-
tory which appeared during the last half of the six-
teenth century were those of Las Casas, Gomara,
l:)('nzoni, Monardes, Fernando Colon, Palacio, Acosta,
Piiez, and Padilla. The many accounts of voyages
and collections of voyages, such as Ramusio, Huttieli,
aiul Hakluyt, appearing during this period, and the
hundreds of orclenanzas, nuevas leyes, and c^didas,

208

THE LIBRARY.

I cannot here enumerate. Nor is it necessary to men-
tion here the oft described earHest books printed in
America.

I ;

Now chroniclers, historians, compilers of voyai^os,
cosmographers, and geographers came forward cluring
the seventeenth and ei<jhteenth centuries. Amonsx
those were Ens, Philoponus, the author of Wcst-
Indische Spiegliel, Gottfried, D'Avity, Ogilby, Mon-
tanus, Garcia, Herrera, Torquemada, Villagra, Simon,
De Bry, Purchas, Bcrnal Diaz, Pizarro y Orollana,
Do Laet, Gage, Soils, Cogolludo, Piedrahita, Votau-
curt, and some English books on the Scots at Darion ;
there were likewise innumerable sermons, and tlie
De Indiarum Ivre of Sol6rzano Pereira, the views of
Grotius, the Teatro Eclcsidstico of Gil Gonzalez Dii/ila,
and other kindred works. The mission chronicles were
a literary feature of the times, and toward the latter
part of the epoch come the English, French, and Dutch
voyages of circumnavigation.

The name of Humboldt stands prominent at the
beginning of nineteenth-century Pacific States liter-
ature; and near him the Mexican historian Busta-
mante. Then follow Escudero, Prescott, Irving,
Alaman, Carbajal Espinosa, Chevalier, Brantz Mayer,
Domenech, — among voyagers and collections of voy-
ages, Krusenstern, LangsdorfT, Lisiansky, Kotzebue,
Roquefeuil, Beechy, Petit-Thouars, Laplace, Duhaut-
Cilly, Belcher, Simpson, and Wilkes, Burney, Pink-
erton,Bicharderie, La Harpe, fm({ Annales des Voymjcx.

Collections of original documents are a feature of
this century, conspicuous among which are those of
Navarrete, Ternaux-Compans, Buckingham Smith,
Icazbalceta, Calvo, Pacheco and Cdrdenas, and of
somewhat kindred character the works of Saliaguii,
Veytia, Cavo, Tezozomoc, Scherzer, Brasseur do
Bourbourg, Palacio, Landa, Duran, Mota Padilla,
Mendieta, — and yet more relating to the aborigines,
the works of Cabrera, Leon y Gama, Morton, Brad-

ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS.

809

ford, Catlin, Boscana, Holmberg, Miillcr, Baldwin,
Dupaix, Waldeck, Nebel, Cathcrv^ood, Charnay, Ade-
liing, Du Ponceau, Vcniamino, Liidcwig, Pimentel,
()i-ozco y Berra, Arenas, Amaro, Molina, Avila, antl
many others. The century presents a lengtliy list of
valuable books of travel, and physical and political
(kscriptions, such as the works of Lewis and Clarke,
, lames, Hunter, Cox, Stephens, Squicr, Strangeways,
^[ontgomcry, Dunlop, Byam, Mollhausen, Robinson,
Ihyant, Bayard Taylor, De Mofras, and a thousand
others, covering the entire range of territory from
Alaska to Panamil. Periodical literature likewise
assumes importance.

With regard to maps, the field resembles that of
books in these respects, that it dates from the fifteenth
century and is without end. It would seem that
sometime such delineations should be finished; yet I
suspect that my works, as full and complete as I can
make them, will prove only the foundation of a hundred
far more attractive volumes. In our examination of
maps we may if we like go back to the chart of the
brothers Zeno, drawn in 13 90, following with Behaim's
Globe in 1492, Juan do la Cosa's map in 1500, and
tliosc by Buj^sch in 1508, Peter Martyr, 1511, that
in tlio Ptolemy's Cosmography of 1513, those in the
Munich Atlas and Schoner's globe, 1520, Colon's and
Ivibcru's, drawn in 1527 and 1529 respectively,
Oi'ontius Fine in 1531, and Castillo, 1541, showing
the ])oninsula of California, after which the number
becomes numerous.

Ill my collection of manuscripts, taken as a whole,
I su[)i)ose the Concilios Provinciales Mexicanos should
bo mentioned first. It is in four volumes, and is a
record of the first three ecclesiastical councils held in
Mexico; in comparison with which a number of more
strictly religious works are hardly worth mentioning — ■
tor example, the Cathcclsmo echo por el Concilio IV.

Lit, Ind. 14

210

THE LIBRARY.

Mexkano; the Explicacion de la doctrina hecha par el
Conc'dio IV.; (^uinarrar/a, Joannes de, Pastoral, in
Latin; the Moralia S. Orer/orii Papw, and the hkc.

Of more value are the Sermones, of the discursos
paner/iricos stamp, and other branches of the rcHgio-
historical type, while the worth of such works as
Materiales para la Ilistoria de Sonora, the same of
Texas, Nueva Galicia, Nueva Vizcaya, and otlicr
provinces thereabout, secured mostly from the Maxi-
milian collection, is past computation. Among tlie
hundreds of titles which present themselves haviiij^r
greater or less claims to importance are Memorias de
Mexico; Rivera, Diario Curioso; Mexico, Archivo Gen-
eral; Beaumont, Cronica de la Provincia de S. Pedro
y S. Pablo de Mechoacan; Cartas Americanas; Gomez,
Diario de Mexico. Some of the Squier manuscri^jts
are Grijalva, Relacion; Andagoya, Carta; Yzaguirre,
Pelaeion; Alvarado, Cartas; Cerezeda, Carta, and
Relacion; Viana, Gallego, and Cadena, Relacion;
Criado de Castilla, Relacion; Ddvila, Relacion; Docu-
mentos relativos d la Ilistoria de la Audicncia de los
Confines; Leon Pinelo, Relacion, and Velasco, Capi-
tiilos de Carta. From the Ramirez collection I ob-
tained Reales Cedulas, Reales Ordenanzas, Leyes, etc.;
Adas Provinciales; Alhieuri, Ilistoria de las Misioncs;
A utosformados a Pedimento de esta Noblessima ciudad;
Figueroa, Vindicias; Papeles de Jesuitas; Disturhios
de Frailes; Noticias de la Nueva California; Morfi,
Apuntes sobre el Nuevo Mexico; Monteverde, Menioria
sobre Sonora; Monunientos Ilistoricos; Relacion de la
Orden de San Francisco en la Nueva EspaTia; Me-
morias p)ara la Ilistoria de la Provincia de Sincdoa;
Tamaron, Visita del obispado de Durango; Tumultos
de Mexico, and many others.

In regard to the hundreds of manuscript volumes
of copied archives, histories, and narratives iijion
which the histories of the northern half of the Pacific
territory is based, it is useless here to attempt any
mention; I can only refer the reader to the biblio-

MANUSCRIPTS.

911

j^raphical notices in rny histories of that region, and
to other places, where somewhat more space is de-
voted to the subject. It is impossible, however, to
o'ive in a few chapters any adequate idea of the vast
army of authors, arranged in battalions, reginients,
and companies, quartered in the library building on
Valencia street. The best exposition of the contents
of the books of the library may be found in my vol-
ume of Assays and Miscellainj, where I devote four
chapters to the literature of the territory covered by
iny writings, entitled, respectively, Literature of Cen-
tral America; Literature of Colonial Mexico; Liter-
ature of Mexico during the Present Century; and
Early California Literature. These chapters, to-
gether with the bibliographical notes carried through
all my historical works, and which I have endeavored
to make systematic, thorough, and complete, consti-
tute not oidy an expose of the contents of the library,
hut a very fair history and analysis of Pacific States
literature, the library containiiiij as it does the entire
literature of these lands. While thousands of authors
must obviously remain unmentioned, yet in spirit and
in essence the writings of the place and time are fairly
presented, the object being to tell so far as possible
all that has been done in the various fields of learnir)g
and letters.

In these chapters are presented not only results, but
causes, whence emerged, under conditions favorable or
unfavorable, natural or abnormal developments. The
colonial literature of Central America and Mexico
was some advance on the aboriginal, but not so great
as many imagine; but when we reach the republican
era of material and mental development, we find a
marked change. The Pacific United States are
bringing forth some strong men and strong books,
though thus far authors of repute as a rule have conie
in from beyond the border-line, and are uot sons of
the soil.

IP';;

212

THE UnilARY.

A collootion of iKKtks, like every thii)<jf else, has its
history and iiidividuaHty. Particularly \i* this tln'
case ill rci^ard to eollections limited to a Hpeeial suit
jeet, tiiii(\ or territory. Such colle(;tioiis are the re
suit of hirth and «;rowt]i; they are not t'oiind in the
market for sale, ready made ; there must have heen
sometime the enufeiidering idea, followed by a long
natural development.

From the ordinary point of view there is nothint;
remarkable in gatherinLj 50,000 volumes and provid
itiij a buildinsj: for their recei)tion. There are inaiiv
libraries lar<^er than this, some of them having been
founded and carried forward by an individual, with-
out goveriifncnt or other aid, who likewise erected a
building for his books. Nevertheless, there are some
remarkable features about this collection, some im-
portant |)oints in connection therewith, which cannot
be found elsewhere.

First, as an historical library it stands apart from
any other, being the largest collection in the world of
books, maps, and manuscripts relating to a special
territory, time, or subject. There are larger niiissi s
of historical data lodij^ed in certain archives or liltra-
ries, but they are more general, or perha[)S universal,
relating to all lands and peo[)les, and not to so limitcil
an area of the earth. And when the further tacts
are considered, how recently this country was settled,
and how thinly peopled it now is as compared with
what it will be some day, the difference is still iiioix!
apparent.

Secondly, it gives to each section of the area cov-
ered more full, complete, and cocurate data concern-
ing its early history than any state or nation in the
civilized world, outside of tiiif. territory, has or over
can have. This is a stupendous fact, which will liiid
its way into the minds of men in due time. I repeat
it: so long as this collection is kept intact, and
neither burned nor scattered, California, Oregon, and
the rest of these Pacific commonwealths may lind

COMPAHATIVK ANALYSIS.

213

licrc fuller luaterial rcnra ding their early history than
Mussaehusctts, New York, or any otiier Amtriean
state, than England, (icrniany, Italy, or any other
iMiropcan nation. The reason is obvious: they lost
tluir opi)ortunity ; not one of them can raise the dead
or gather from oblivion.

Third, it has been put to a more systematic and
jiiiictieal use than any t)ther historical libraiy in the
Will 1(1. 1 have never heard of any considerable colhc-
tion being indexed according to the subject-matter
(•oiitained in each volume, as has been the case here;
or of such a mass of crude historic niiitter beinsj ever
licfore worked over, winnowed, and the })arts worth
in'cserving written out and ])rinted for general use, as
lias been done in this instance.

Says an eminent writer: "Respecting jVIr Ban-
crotVs J^acific Jjibrary as a storehouse of historic tlata,
lui'taining to this br<:id and new western land, but
(iiu; o[)inion has been expressed during the twenty
viars that the existence of such an institution has
hccii known to the world. In all that has been said
or written, at home or abroad, by friend or foe, by
iuliiiirers, indifferent observers, conservative critics,
(ir hypercritical fault-finders, there has been entire
uiKuiiinity of praise of the library as a collection of
historic ilata. Disinterested and impartial visitors,
iifti r a personal ins[)ection, have invariably shown a
dL'i:^rec of admiration far exceeding that of the warm-
est IVionds who knew the librai-y only from descrip-
tion. The praise of those who might be suj^posed to
Ite iiilluenced to some extent by local pride has never
('(lualK'd that of prt)minent scholars from the east
ami I'^urope.

"There is no American collection with which this
can fairly be compared. There are other large a«id
costly private libraries; but tiic scope, plan, and pur-
post of the Bancroft Library place it beyond the pos-
sil)ilitv of comparison. It is made up exclusively of
priut. d and manuscript matter pertahiing to the

THE LIBRARY.

Pacific States, from Alaska to Panamd. To say that
it is superior to any other in its own field goes for
litti(>, because there are no others of any great mag-
nitude; but when we can state truthfully that nowliBre
in the world is there a similar collection equal to it, the
assertion means sometliing. And not only does this
collection thus excel all others as a whole, but a like
excellence is apparent for each of its parts. In it
may be found, ibr instance, a better library of Mexi-
can works, of Central American works, of Pacific
United States works, than elsewhere exists. And t(^ sio
further, it may be said to contain a more perfect
collection on Alaska, on New Mexico, on Texas, on
Colorado, on Utah, on Costa Rica, and the other
individual states or governments than can be found
outside its walls. Not only this, but in several cases,
notably that of California, this library is regarded as
incomparably superior to any state collection existing,
or that could at this date be formed in all the United
States or Europe.

'There is no other state or country whose historic
data have been so thorouo-hly collected at so early a
})eri()d of its existence, especially none whose existence
has been so varied and eventful, and its record so com-
jtlicated and perishable. Mr Bancroft has attem})teil,
and successfully as is believed, to do for his country
a work which in the ordinary course of events woukl
have been left for a succession of historical societies
and sjiecialists to do in a later generation, ai'ter the
largest part of the material had been lost, and the ac-
coni[)lisliment of the purpose would be absolutily
impossible. Then, too, from such work the resultiipj,"
stores of data, besides their conijuirative paucity,
would be scattered, and not accessible as a whole to
any single investigator. The advantage of having'
such historic treasures in one i>lace rather than in
many is almost as obvious as that of preventing the
loss of valuable material."

In this cfMuiection it is worthy of our serious c<jii-

RARE BOOKS.

215

ioriDUS con-

sideration what the comino: jjreat libraries of the
world are going to do for those ancient and nnpor-
taiit works which constitute at once the ioundation
and gems of every great collection. However it may
1)0 some time hence, it is certain that at the present
(lay no collection of books is worthy of the nanie of
library without a fair share of these rare ana valuable
works. Particularly is this the case in our own coun-
try, where the value and im|x>rtance of every library
must depend, not on Elzevir editions, elaborate church
missals, or other old-world curiosities, often as worth-
less as they are costly, but on works of material in-
tnest and value relating to the discovery, contjuest,
si'ttlement, and development of America, in its many
parts from south to north, and east to west, from the
days of Columbus to the present time — books becom-
ing every day rarer and more costly. A prominent
Xcw York bookseller thus prints in his catalogue, in
regard to old and valuable books as an investment:
" W'u have often, in tlie course of our experience as
booksellers, heard more or less comment on our prices.
'You have good books and rare books,' our customers
will say, 'but your priceb are high.' And yet there
is not a c»)llector in the country who would not be
ulad to have books in his line at prices catalogued by
us throe or four years ago, could we supi)ly them at
tlio same prices now. So it may be safely aifirmed
that in rare books the tendency of prices is upward,
till' number of colloctt)rs increasing, a'ld tho diliiculty
ill tindintx U'ochI books also increa inix. We have
always found it nu^re difficult to obtain a really rare
lioiik in good condition than to sell it. To the ijfen-
uino lovor of books it may be said: First find the
hook you want, then buy it, and if you think you have
hrrii oxtravagant, repent at your leisure, and by the
tinio vou have trulv repented the book will have
iiKirasod sufficic ;•' ' in value to give you full absolu-
tion.' The tini.e will come, indeed, when men will
•-•tiso their efforts to measure the value of knowledue

If
1^

'V!

210

TlIK LIBRARY.

by money. Any person or any people have tlie
I'iglit to ask, not, How nuu'h gold is a barrel of
knowledge worth i but, Can wo afford to be intelli-
gent or learned, or must we by reason of our poverty
forever remain in ignoranee? Let all wlio love
knowledge, and deliglit in tlie intelligenee and pro-
gress of the race, gather while they may.

Thus in these various forms and attitudes the mag-
nitude and in)[)ortanee of my work kept con)ing up
and urging me on. This western coast, it seemed to
me as 1 came to know and k)ve it, is the best ])art of
the United States, a nation occupying the best jiart
of tlie two Americas, and raiiidlv becoming the most
intellectual and powerful in the world. Its early his-
tory and all the data connected with it whieh can be
gathered is of corresponding im[)ortance.

Nor is this view so extravagant as to some it may
ajjpear. Already New England is physically en the
decline, while there is surely as much mental vij^or
west as east. Along the Atlantic; seaboard are tlu.u-
sands of farms whicli will not sell Ibr what the im-
])rovements cost, while the extremes of climate aie
killing and drivinir awav. Woik has scarci'ly vtt
begun on the J?aei[ic seaboard, where a;e millicns
of unoccupied acres, ten of which with proper culti-
vation will sup[)ort a family in comfort. The com-
monwealths of the New World are becoming more
and more uniteel under the beneficent influences of
peace and jirogress; and the ]\lonroe doctrine, at
first negat've I'ather than positive in its asseitions,
is pointinsjf the way toward world-wide domination liv
American brotherhood. The greatest of re[iubli(s.
surrounded and sustained in all that is elevatin<>- and
progressive by lesser free governments, enters upon
its second centuiy of national existence under cir-
cumstances more favorabh' than has ever before Ik ( n
voui.'hsafed to man. The integrity of the union li.is
been tried and preserved; the stain of slaveiy has

INTELLECTUAL STRENGTH.

217

been eradicated ; and while there is yet enough of
cniruption and Hcentiou.sness, political and sorial,
tliLic is more than enouiih of ijood to counterhal-
ar.ce the evil. In moral health and intellectual fiee-

tloni wc are secon

d to

none,

and

) ra[>idJy is our

Avcalth increasing that England will soon be left
iK'hind in the race for riches. Give to tlu' United
^^tates one half of the five centuries Home iiave her-
s( If in which to become established in that inherent
sticiigth which made her mistress of the world, and
tlie great American republic cannot be otherwise if
she would than the most powerful nation on earth.
And when that time comes, California and the com-
niiiiwealths around, and up and down this J*acific
seal >a;d, will be a seat of culture and ])o\ver to
\Mc' ■< ' roads shall lead. So I oive mvself no con-
< .1 ;i - to the insportance or ultimate appreciation of
! iv iVork, however hund)l(! or imijcrfect mav be the
iii>tiuiuent of it.s accom[>lishment. And of the two
s ('tictns, the h'^torieul narrative proper and the bio-
UiMpliical section, tlie latter I should say has even

imu'e ()

f the inva

luabli

)ra(

tical

exi)eriences o

f tl

lildeis of these commonwealths, wliich otheiwise
Id have iiassed out of existence, than the former.

WiUll

The biographies and characterizations of the eminent
sonages who during the first fitly years of the

ih'i

xistence uf t!ie Pacific commonwealths laid tlu
luiidatiens of' iHjUre, and built upon them with such

ur-

iiiar\i

inni(

•lh>us I'M; 'idit\\ skill, and inti'lligeiice, and s
led

<>•{' in a framework of the material
iiich cvolveil their magnificent des-

linv', contain »-i^^. n- .gazines of valuable knowledge

..1

AS ti.

( I'lidit i(ins v>ut (

iims

t altooethcr iiijw and iKjwliere else existin'.

'•I !

ill

CHAPTER IX.

DESPERATE ATTEMPTS AT GREAT THINGS.

Some have been scene to bite their pen, scratch their head, bend their
browcif, bite their lips, beat the boord, teare their paper, when they were
faire for somewhat, and caught notuing therein.

Camden.

Heaps and heaps of ai; ds and — sawdust ! Good
gold and genuine silver, pu. Is and oyster-shells, cop-
per and iron mixed with refuse and debris — such was
the nature and condition of my collection in 18G9,
before any considerable labor had been bestowed upon
it. Surrounded by these accumulations, I sat in an
embarrassment of wealth. Chafl' and wheat; wheat,
straw, and dirt; where was the brain or the score
of brains to do this winnowing?

What winnowing? I never promised myself or
any one to do more than to gather; never promised
even that, and probably, had I known in the bep-in-
ning what was before me, I never should have unacr-
taken it. Was it not enough to mine for the precious
metal without having to attempt the more delicate
and difficult task of melting down the mass and re-
fining it, when I knew nothing of such chemistry?
But I could at least arrange my accumulations in
some kind of order, and even dignify them by the
name of library.

Luring my last visit abroad Mr Knight had been
clipping in a desultory manner from Pacilic coast
journals, and classifying the results under numerous
headings in scrap-books and boxes; and I had also at
that time an arrans^ement with the literarv editor uf

'if,.

OAK AXD THE OCCIDENT.

219

the New York Evening Post, whereby he 'clipped
from European and American journals, and for-
warded to San Francisco, monthly, such articles of
value touching this territory as fell under his eye.
By this means much pertinent matter was saved
which I should never otherwise have seen. These
clippings were all arranged, as nearly as possible,
under such several divisions as sujxijested themselves.

While these persons were thus engaged, which was
for little less than a year, there came to the establish-
ment of H. H. Bancroft and Company a young man,
a native of New England, Henry L. Oak by name,
reconnnended by Mr S. F. Barstow for the position
of office-editor of a religiou - iournal called The Oeci-
dent, which the firm was then publishing for a religious
association.

Knight was then manager of the publishing dcpart-
mont, and to him Mr Oak was introduced. I had not
yet returned from the east, where I remained some
time on my way back from Europe. After talking
the matter over w4th the persons interested, Mr Oak
was finally installed in the position. His predecessor
remained a few weeks instructing him in his duties,
and he had no difficulty in filling the position to the
satisfaction of all concerned. These duties consisted
at first in writing the news items and minor editorial
notes, making selections from printed matter, readmg
])io()f, folding and mailing papers, keeping the accounts,
corresponding with contributors and subscribers, and
collecting bills. Gradually the whole burden of edit-
ing' the journal fell on him. The persons interested
I'ailiiigto carry out their agreement, the firm declined
the I'urther publication of the journal, and the young
editor was thrown out of employment. Thus tlie
matter stood on my return from the east, and then
my attention was first directed to Mr Oak.

^Meanwhile I had ensxaofed as assistant, and finally
successor, to INIr Knight, an Englishman of erratic

»il

SI !

IJ '!

!■"■

220

DESPERATE ATTEMPTS AT GREAT THIXGS.

mind and manner, who called liimself Bosquetti. lie
Avas remarkably quick and clear-headed in some direc-
tions, and a good talker on almost any subject. Large
additions had lately been made to the library; there
Avere some wagon loads of old musty books, appar-
ently unfit for anything, which had been thrust pro-
miscuously as received into laru^e bins in one corner
of the second floor wareroom of the Merchant-street
building, before mentioned.

Bosquetti was directed to arrange and catalogue
these lots. He had some knowledge of books and
even of cataloo-uinfj, but his mind was not remark-
able for breadth or depth; the capability to produce
fmishcd results was wanting. He had been thus oc-
cupied about a month when I engaged Mr Oak to
assist him. Oak knew little of books except such
as he had studied at college, and professed to know-
nothing of cataloguing; but he possessed to an
eminent degree tliat rarest of qualities, common-
sense. Within a few Avecks he had familiarized him-
self with the best S3"stcms, impi'oving on them all in
man}^ respects, or at least he had taken from them
such parts as best befitted his work and had applied
them to it. Thick medium writing paper was cut to
a uniform size, three and a half by five inches, antl
the full titles were written thereon; these Avere then
abridged on smaller cards, two and a half by four
inches, and finally copied alphabetically in a blank
book made for that purpose. The United States
government documents were examined, a list of
volumes needed to fill sets was made out, and the
contents of those at hand determined. A copy was
likewise made of the catalogue of the San Diei^o
archives, kindly furnished by Judge Hayes, whicli
subsequently fell to me as part of the collection
l)urchased from him. Shortly afterward Bosquetti
decamped, leaving Oak alone in his work, which lie
pursued untiringly for over a year. Indeed, he ma}'
be said to have done the whole of the cataloouing

ADVENTURES OF BOSQUETTI.

221

liimself, for what his coadjutor had written was of
little practical benefit.

The flight of Bosquctti was in this wise : First I
sent him to Sacramento to make a list of such books
on California as were in the state library. This he
accomplished to my satisfaction. On his return,
liavini; heard of some valuable material at Santa Clara
college, I sent him down to copy it. A month pfussed,
(hiring M'hich time he wrote me regularly, reporiiiig
his doings, what the material consisted of, what the
jiriosts said to him, and how he was progressing in
liis labors. He drew his pay religiously, the money
both for salary and expenses being promptly sent
him. It did not occur to mo that there was anything
wrong. He had been with mo now for several
montlis and I had never had cause to distrust him,
until one day the proprietor of the hotel at which ho
lodged wrote me, saying that he understood the gen-
tleman to be in my service, and ho thought it but
liglit to inform me that since he came to his house
lie had been most of the time in a state of beastly
intoxication and had not done a particle of work.
When his bottle became low he would sober up enough
to make a visit to the college, write mo a letter,
rocoive his pay, and buy ^iore liquor.

In some way Bosquctti learned that I had been
informed of his conduct, and not choosing to wait for
my benediction, he wrote me a penitent letter and
turned his face southward, seemingly desirous above
all to widen the distance between us. I was satisfied
to 1)0 rid of him at the cost of a few hundred dollars.

Oak was thus left in sole charge of the literary
aocunmlations, of which he was duly installed libra-
rian. When the card copying was nearly comph^ted
thn books were alphabetically arranged, tied up in
pa<']{agcs, and placed in one hundred and twenty-one
lai'^o cases, in which shape, in May, 1870, they were
transferred to the fifth floor of the new and yet un-
linished building on Market street. After supcrin-

222

DESPERATE ATTEMPTS AT GREAT THINGS,

'IM

tending their removal tlie librarian daily climbed a
scries of ladders to one of the side rooms of the new
lil)rary, where a floor had been laid and a table placed.
There ho continued copying into a book the contents
of the small cards previously prepared, and thus made
the first manuscrijit catalogue of the library, which
was in daSy use for a period of twelve years. He
was assisted a portion of the time by a cousin of mine,
son of my most esteemed friend and uncle, W. W. Ban-
croft, of Granville. Shelving was then constructed ;
the cases were opened, and the books placed alpha-
betically upon the shelves. During this time I made
some passes at literature, writing for the most part
at my residence. Shortly after we had fairly moved
into the Market-street building, the full effects of the
bui^iness depression before mentioned were upon us.
The business outlook was not flattering, but never-
tlieless we pressed forward, well knowing that to
falter was perdition.

During: the autumn of 1870 Mr Oak continued
his labors on the fifth floor, cataloguing new lots of
books as they came in, arranging maps, briefs, and
newspapers, copying and clipping bibliographical notes
from catalogues, and taking care of the books and
room. It was still my intention in due time to
issue a bibliography of the Pacific coast, which
should include all of my own collection and as
many more titles as I could find. Before the end of
the year there was quite a pile of my own manu-
script on my table, and in the drawers, monographs,
mostly, on subjects and incidents connected with the
Pacific coast. All my thoughts were on history, and
topics kindred thereto, Pacific States history, and the
many quaint and curious things and remarkable and
thrilling events connected therewith. I was passion-
ately fond of writing; I would take up a subject
here or an episode there and write it up for the pure
pleasure it gave me, and every day I found myself

WRITING AT RANDOM.

able with greater ease and facility to discharge my
thoughts on paper. But even yet I had no well
defined intentions of writing a book for publication.
The responsibility was greater than I cared to assume.
I had seen in my business so many futile attempts in
that direction, so many failures, that I had no desire
to add mine to the number.

While I was wavering upon this border land of
doubt and hesitancy in regard to a yet more direct
and deeper plunge into the dark and dangerous
wilderness of eruchtion before n)e, Mr Oak concluded
to visit his old home and pass the winter with his
friends at the east.

I continued writing, though in a somewhat desul-
tory manner; the idea of anything more systematic at
this time was somewhat repugnant to me. As yet my
feebly kindled enthusiasm refused to burn brightly.
I longed to do something, I did not know what; I
longed to do great things, I did not know how; I
longed to say something, I had nothing to say. And
yet I would write as if my life depended on it, and
if ever a bright thought or happy expression foil from
my pen my breast would swell with as much jileasure
as if I saw it written in the heavens, though the next
moment I consigned it to a dungeon there to remain
perhaps forever. Much of what I last published was
thus first written. The difficulty, so far as more sys-
tematic effort was concerned, was to flee the incubi
of care, and of pecuniary responsibility that leech-like
had fastened themselves upon me these twenty years,
and now threatened destruction to any plans I might
make. For weeks at a time I would studiously avoid
tlic library, like a jilted lover hating the habitation
of his mistress ; and the more I kept away the more
the place became distasteful to me. Then I would
arouse myself, resolve and re -resolve, dissipate de-
pressing doubts, shut my eyes to former slights, and
turn to the dwelling of my love.

Long before I had a thought of writing anything

224

DESPERATE ATTEMPTS AT GREAT THINGS.

myself for publication, the plan of an cncyclopredia
of the Pacific States had boon proposed to me by
several gentlemen of California, who liad felt the
need of such a work. The idea presented itself thus:
My collection, they said, was composed of every species
of matter relating to the coast — physical geography,
geology, botany, ethnology, history, biography, and so
on through the wliole range of know]ed<j:e. Was it
not desirable to give to the world the fruits of such a
field in the most compact shape, and was not an en-
cyclopa)clia the natural, and indeed the only feasible
form?

I did not at all fancy the task which they would
thus lay upon me. It was not to my taste to manipu-
late kno^vledge merely. To write and publish a
treatise on every subject embraced within the cate-
gories of general knowledge would be a task almost
as impracticable as to reproduce and offer to the world
the books of the library in print. Yet it was true
that an encyclopaedia of knowledge relating wholly t(^
the territory covered by the collection, which should
supplement rather than supersede eastern and Euro-
pean encyclopaedias, would certainly bo desirable. The
volumes should be rather small, and the articles which
treated purely of Pacific coast matters longer than
those contained In other encyclopaedias. Some sul)-
jects miglit occupy a whole volume — as, for example,
bibliography, mines and mining, physical geograpliy,
ethnology — and might be published separately, if
necessary, as well as In the scries. The matter wa:>
discussed, with rising or falling enthusiasm, for some
time.

Mr Oak departed for the east in December, returned
the 28th of April, and on the 1st of May, 1871, re-
sumed his duties as librarian. Ten days were spent
by him In attending to the preparation of two guide-
books for tourists, the publication of which I had
undertaken, and In discussing the scheme of an en-
cyclopaedia, which I finally consented to superintend.

LITERARY SCHEMES.

223

7 tlion l)cgjm to look about for contributors. It was
(K'sirablo at once to ch'aw out as much as possil)lo of
talent latent on thi.s coast, and at the same time to
secure the l)cst writers for the work. Circulars were
acooi'dini^ly issued, not only to men eminent in litera-
tun^ and the professions, but to pioneers, and to all
likely to possess information, stating the purpose and
requesting cotiperation. To several of the judges,
lawyers, physicians, clergymen, and others in San
1 'I'aiicisco of known literary tastes and talents, I made
personal appeals, and received flattv^ring assurances.

I appointed an agent in New York, ^Ir Henry P.
.lohnston, then on the editorial staif of the Sioi
newspaper, to call on Californians and others capable
and willing to write, and engage their contributions.
Mv Coleman promised to dictate to a stenographer
an account of the San Francisco Vigilance Committee,
and ]\[r Simonton ao^reed to contribute an article on
journalism provided I would furnish the data. ]\fr
Kenible, Professor Wood, Dr Scott, Mr liaymond,
Mr Squier, and many others, placed themselves freely
at my service.

i\[r John S. Hittell took a lively interest in the
scheme, carefully preparing a list of the principal sub-
jects which according to his idea should be treated,
and tlie space to be given to each. A prospectus
was printed, and letters sent out inviting coopera-
tion. Manv promised to contribute, among them.
Isaac Bird,'C. H. Eberle, W. W. Chijmian, A. N.
l''islicr of Nevada, Matthew P. Deady of Oregon, M.
Ijaeohtel, Archbishop Alemany, John W. Dwindle,
Charles H. Sawyer, James De Fremcry, John B.
1 larinon, J. G. Icazbalceta of Mexico, J. J. Warner, R.
C. ( Jrcene of Washington, K. McCormick of Arizona,
L. F. Grover of Oregon, E. S. Holden, J. B. Lamar, J.
F. Lewis, T. M. Logan, O. C. Marsh of Yale College,
L. r>. jNIizner, A. R. SafFord of Arizona, A. F. White,
Oii'den Iloft'man, Wm. Ingraham Kip, John B. Felton,
I la 11 ^IcAllister, Horatio Stebbins, Frank Soule.

Lit. Ind. 15

■r ■'

M 1

220

DESrERATE ATTIIMTTS AT GREAT TITIXCS.

John T. Doyle. TIcMiry IT. TIai-lit, W. Looiuis, Win.
!M. (iNvin, David I ). Colton, iImiiios S. ]»ush, ^ruuricc (\
Bluk(% Fivd W. liorini^r <»(' nosioii, Nutlianicl Ju'imctt,
Ilciirv C'ox, Jainos '^r. (iardiuT, Jolin K. Juilxx-,
]Chvoo(l Evans, G. A. Sliurtlcft', John Ji. Fri.sl)ic;, Jolin
!M('lIonry, James Blake, II. 11. Toland, John (J.
!ArcCulloujjfh, Andrew \j. Stone, Al})honse L. PinaiT.
M. do G. V^allejo, ^[orris M. Estee, James T. I^oyd,
Charles N. Fox, Albert Hart, and a hundred moi-c.
Many other projected works have at various times
connnanded my attention, and to execute them would
have given me great pleasure, but I was ohligi-d
to forego tlic achievement, a thousand years of life
not having been allotted me. Among them Avei'e
A History of Ciold; Physical Features of the Pacitic
States; a volume on Interoceaiiic Comnumication ;
one on Pacific Railways; a series of volumes of con
deiised Voyages and Travels; a Geograjihy in small
8vo; also a similar volume on Ethnology, and one on
History, all of a popular nature embodying certain
i<leas which I have never seen worked out. On this
last meitioned project, and indeed on some of l!ir
otluTs, considerable work was done. I have likewisi
intended to print fifty or one hundred of the most,
valuable of my manuscripts as material for Pacilic
States history. Whoever has lived, laboring untk-r
the terrible pressure of the cacocthes scribendi, witli-
out promising himself to write a dozen books lur
every one accomplished!

For the first time in my life health now began io
fail. The increasing demands of the vast mercantile
and manufacturing structure which I had reared drew
heavily upon my nervous system. I grew irritable,
was at times despondent, and occasionally desperately
indifferent. I determined on a chancfe of sc(iie.
Accordingly the 1 0th of May I started for the pur-
pose of recreation and recuperation on a visit to the
east, sto})ping at Salt Lake City for the ])ur)t(ise

AT THE EAST.

227

of enlisting the Mormons in my behalf. President
Yonii'jf and the leadinff elders entered heai'iilv into
my project, an<l a scheme was devisi'd for obtaining
infoi-mation from every part of Utah. A sche(hile
of the material n^qnired was to 1)0 forwarded tlirough
the channels of the government, with such instrnc-
fions from the chief authorities as M'onld conimantl
I ho immediate and careful attention of their subor-
dinates throughout the territory. With the intention
of calling on my return and then to carry out the
]>l;in I continued my journey. Then I fell into
despondency. The state of my m^rves, and the un-
ci i-tainty of my tinancial futui'c, had so dissij)ated
iinibition that much of the time I found myself in
a mood fitter for mahinix mv exit from the world
ihan for be<xinnin<]f a new life in it.

At this time the chances that any important results
wouUl ever emanate from the library tlirough my in-
tervention were very slight. Gradually T abandoned
ill!' idea of having anything to do witli an cncydo-
]);edia. ]My energies were sapped. ]My grip on destiny
Mci'nicd relaxing. I had helmed the ship of l)usiness
until exhausted, and the storm continuing, I left it
to others, little caring, so far as I was jK-rsonally
concerned, whether it weatlu^red the gale or not.
There was too much of a lengtliening out of the
a'^oiiy; if I was to be hanged, let mc be hanged and
have tlono with it. Such was my humor during the
summer of 1871, as I lounged about among my friends
at the east, listless and purposeless.

I'rom this lethargy I was awakened by the acci-
dental remark of a lady, at whose house I was visit-
ing with my daughter. She was an earnest, practical
Woman, cool and calculating ; one whose friendship
liad been of long duration, and whose counsel now was
as wise as it was beneficent. Conscious of sujUM-ior
intellect, vain of her wealth and her influence, her
strong character had nnich in it to admire in its energy
and decision, though often wraped by egotism and jeal-

228

DESPERATE ATTEMPT AT GREAT THINGS.

ousy. Clearly comprohcnding the situation, slie saw
that for me activity was life, passivity death, and
her mind seemed to dwell on it. One day she said
to me, "The next ten years will be the best of your
life; what are you going to do wath them?" A lead-
ing question, truly, and one I had often asked myself
of late without ability to answer; yet her womanly
way of putting these few simple words brought them
home to me in a manner I had never before felt. I
was standing by, waiting to see whether I might
proceed with my literary undertaking or whether I
should have to go to work for my bread.

Those were the days of unattempted achievements,
of great things unaccomplished. Imaginary sprout-
ings of imaginary seeds sown and to be sown were
visible to the mind's eye on every side, embr3'o vol-
umes and germs of great works, and there were at
hand the soil and fertilizers ti stimulate development,
but as yet I could point to little that betokened suc-
cess. There was a rich field of honors yet to be sown
and reaped. Huge quantities of invaluable material
lay strewn on every side, material absolutely valueless
in its present shape. And thus was I held in a sort of
limhiis jycitrum, half way between earth and heaven.

What w^as I to do? I did not know; but I would
do something, and that at once. I would mark out a
path and follow it, and if in the mean time I should
be overwhelmed, let it be so; I would waste no more
time waiting. Once more I rubbed my lamp and
asked the genius what to do. In due time the answer
came; the way was made clear, yet not all at onet';
still, from that time I was at less loss as to what
next I should do, and how I should proceed to do it.
From that day to this I have known less w^averiuij:,
less hesitation. I would strike at once for the highest,
brightest mark before me. I would make an effoit,
whatever the result, which should be ennobling, in
which even failure should be infinitely better than
listless inaction. Exactly what I would undertake I

RETURN TO CALIFORNIA.

229

could not now determine. History-writing I con-
ceived to be among the highest of human occupa-
tions, and this should be my choice, were my ability
equal to my ambition. There was enough with which
to wrestle, under these new conditions, to strengthen
nerve and sharpen skill.

Tlius roused I went back to California. I entered
the library. Oak, alone and rudderless on a sudorific
sea, was faithfully at work cutting up duplicate copies
of books and scvcralizing the parts upon the previous
])lan, thus adding to the numerous scraps hitherto
collected and arranged. It was a sorrowful attempt
at great things; nevertheless it was an attempt. To
this day the fruits of many such plantings in connec-
tion with these Literary Industries remain unplucked.
Yet, if never permitted by my destiny to accomplish
great things, I could at least die attempting them.

CHAPTER X.

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

We were the first that ever burst
Into that silcut sea.

Coleridije.

It was the 20th of August, 1871, that I returned
from my eastern trip, being summoned to the sup-
port of a greatly imperiled business. My friends
had become fearful for the safety of the firm, and
had telegrapliod me to return. Wicked reports of
things undreamed of by ourselves had been so long
and so persistently circulated by certain of our coni-
l>etit6rs, who feared and hated us, that the confidence
of even those sk)W to behevo ill of us began to be
shaken. No Achilles was near to smite to earth tho.se
sons of Thersites.

The fact of my changing the name of the firm, tlio
reason for which I had some dehcacy about loudly
proclaiming, was perverted by our enemies into a fear
as to the ultimate success of the business, and a deter-
mination on my part in case of failure not to be brought
down with it. And this, notwithstanding they know,
or might have knowm, that I never shirked any part
of the responsibility coimected with the change of
name, and that every dollar 1 had was pledged for the
support of the business. To their great disappoint-
ment we did not succumb; we did not ask for an exten-
sion, or any favors from any one. Nevertheless my
friends desired me to return, and I came.

But I was in a bad humor for business. I never
thought it possible so to hate it, and all the belittlings

(330)

SWEEPING OF COBWEBS.

231

and soul-crusliings connected with it. Even the faint
iflinipse of the Above and Beyond in my fancies had
boon sufficient to spoil me for future money grubbiiigs.
"Only those who know the supremacy of the intellect-
ual life," says George Eliot, "the life which has a seed
of ennobling thought and purpose within it, can un-
derstand the grief of one who falls I'rom that serene
aitivity into the absorbing soul-wasting struggle with
worldly annoyances." Had I been alone, with only
myself to suffer, and had not even my literary aspira-
tions been dependent on the success of the shop, I
would have turned my back on it forever to let it sink
or swim, as it pleased or was able.

This, however, was not to be. My duty was too plain
before me. The business must have my attention; it
must have more money, and I must provide it. Into
the breach I threw myself, and stood there as well as
1 was able, though at such a cost of feeling as no one
ever knew, and as few could ever appreciate. Having
(ione this, all that I could do, and in fact all that was
necessary to save the business, I mentally consigned
the whole establishment to oblivion, and directed my
attention once more, and this time in desperate earnest,
to my literary infatuation.

At the very threshold of my resolve, however,
stared me in the face the old inquiry, Wliat shall f
do, and how shall I do it? One thing was pbuu, even
to a mind as unskilled in the mysteries of book-
Hinking as mine. On my shelves were tons of un-
winnowed material for histories unwritten an<l sciences
iiii<leveloj)ed. In the present shape it was of little use
to me or to the woi'ld. Facts were too scattered;
indeed, mingled and hidden as they were in hugi;
masses of debi'is, the more one had of them the woi'se
one was off. All this was like mixing chlorine and
livthogen in the dark: so loni; as the mixture is kept
ii'"iii \\'A\i the inoredients manifest no disposition to
unite, but once let sunshine in and (piickly they ct)m-
hiue into nmriatic acid. Thus, not until the rays of

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

experience illuminated my library did the union of
my efforts and material fructify. A little truth in such
a form as one could use, a quantity such as one could
grasp, was better than uncontrollable heaps. Much
knowledge out of order is little learning; confusion
follows the accumulation in excess of ungeneralized
data.

To find a way fo the gold of this amalgam, to
mark out a path through a wilderness of knowledge
to the desired facts, was the first thing to be done.
He who would write at the greatest advantage on
any practical subject must have before him all that
has been written by others, all knowledge extant on
that subject. To have that knowledge upon his
shelves, and yet be unable to place his hand upon it,
is no better than to bo without it. If I wished to
write fully on the zoology, for example, of the Pacific
slope, nine tenths of all the books in my library con-
taining reference to the animals of the coast mijjht as
well be at the bottom of the ocean as in my possession
unless I was prepared to spend fifteen years on this
one subject. And even then it could not be thoroughly
done. Fancy an author with thirty or fifty thousand
volumes before him sitting down to reid or look
through ten thousand of them for every treatise or
article he wrote! De Quincey gives a close reader
from five to eight thousand volumes to master betwotii
the ages of twenty and eighty; hence a man beginning
at thirty-seven with twenty thousand volumes soon
increased to forty thousand, could scarcely hope in his
lifetime even to look into them all.

This was the situation. And before authorship could
begin a magic wand must be waved over the assembled
products of ten thousand minds, which would several-
ize what each had said on all important topics, and
reduce the otherwise rebellious mass to form and sys-
tem. This, after the collection of the material, was
the first step in the new chemistry of literary reduc-
tion. Here, as elsewhere in the application of science.

EXTRACTING MATERIAL.

233

I could
rabK'd
overal-
ls, aii<l
id sys-

III, M'US

rcduc-
cieuoc,

facts must be first collected, then classified, after which
laws and general knowledge may be arrived at.

How was this to be accomplished ? It is at the in-
itial period of an undertaking that the chief difficulty
arises. I had no guide, no precedent by which to formu-
late my operations. I might write after the ordinary
mt.'thod of authors, but in this field comparatively
little could come of it. To my knowledge, author-
ship of the quality to which I aspired had never be-
fore been attempted by a private individual. A mass
of material like mine had ne/er before been collected,
collocated, eviscerated, and re-created by one man, un-
assisted by any society or government. The great
trouble was to get at and abstract the information.
Toward the accomplishment of this my first efforts
were crude, as may well be imagined. I attempted to
read or cursorily examine such volumes as were likely
to contain information on the subjects to be written,
and to mark the passages to be extracted. A system
of figures was adopted, one of which, pencilled on the
margin of the page, denoted the subject-heading under
^\ liieh the extracted page or paragraph should appear.
I'liesc passages were then copied. Of course it would
have been easier to purchase two copies of every im-
])ortant book, and to have cut them up, as in fact was
done in many instances; but nine tenths of the library
could not be duplicated at any cost, and to destroy a
\nM)k or even a newspaper of which I could not buy
another copy was not for a moment to be thought of.

l>ut what was one man, one reader, among so many
th(Misand authors 1 After going over a dozen volumes
or so in this manner, and estimating the time required
for r(\iding and marking all the books of the library,
1 found that by constant application, eight hours a
day, it would take four hundred years to go through
tlu' l)ooks of the library in a superficial way. It
Huist be borne in mind that these books had been
(dlli'cted on a special subject, and therefore it was
necessary to examine every one of them. I concluded,

234

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

1^
'I

therefore, that other men must also be set to read,
and more men to copy literatim all information likely
to be required in the study of any subject. Thus
these literary industries beuan jj^radualiy to assume
broader i)roi)ortions, and so they continued till Decem-
ber of this same year.

On trial, however, the plan proved a failure. The
copied material relating to the same or kindred topics
could indeed be brought together, but on begin-
ning to write I found the extracts unsatisfying, and
felt the necessity of the book itself. The copyist may
have made a mistake; and to appraise the passage at
its full value I must see the connection. Any expe-
rienced author could have told me this; but there was
no experienced author at hand.

After some twenty-iive reams of legal cap paper
had thus been covered on one side, to consign thu
labors of these six or eight men for these several
months to the waste heap was but the work of a mo-
ment. There was too much involved, the enterprise!
was projected on too large a scale, to admit of a wrong
beginning; and prepared as I was to stake past, present,
and future on this literary adventure, it appeared
folly to continue a path shown to bo wrong. La Fon-
taine's idea was not a bad one: "Le trop d'expediens
pent gater une affaire: on perd du temps au choix, on
tente; on veut tout faire. N'en ayons qu'un; mais
qu'il soit bon."

Meanwhile, after frequent and protracted discus-
sions, I determined to have tlie whole library indexctl
as one would index a single book. This surely would
bring before me all that every author ha<l said on any
subject al)out which I should choose to write. This,
too, would give me the authors themselves, and em-
body most of the advantaiifes of the former schenio
without its faults. In pursuance of this plan Oalv
took up the voyage collections of Hakluyt and Na-
varrete, while less important works were distiibuted to

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS.

235

such of the former readers and copyists as were
deemed competent. For example, one Gordon made
an index of California legislative documents. Albert
(jroldsclimidt's first work was to make an index, on a
somewhat more general plan than that of Navarrete,
of the Atlantic Monthly, and other magazines and
reviews. He afterward catalogued a large lot of
^Mexican books. To Cresswell, since in the Nevada
senate, Pointdexter, and others, was given less im-
portant work.

Among other parts of the outlined encyclopsedia was
a collection of voyages and travels to and throughout
the Pacific States. As the more comprehensive pro-
(^raunne was gradually set aside, my attention became
more and more concentrated on these several parts.
True, history was ever the prominent idea in my
iiiiud, but, audacious as was my ambition, I had not
the ]iresumption to rush headlong into it during the
incipient stages of my work. At the beginning of my
liturary pilgrimage, I did little but flounder in a slough
of despond. Until my feet touched more solid ground,
1 (lid not dare essay that which appeared to me no less
dillicult than grand.

A collection of voyages and travels such as I pro-
jected offered many attractions as an initial step in
my literary undertakings. Incident and instruction
wcic therein so combined as under a sparkling pen
to awaken and retain the liveliest interest. Here was
less risk of failure than in more ambitious attempts;
I alone possessed the material, and surely I could serve
it in a style not wholly devoid of attractions. If this
weic not within the scope of my accomplishment
iiolJiiiig was. So, during the first half of 1872, in
conjunction with the indexing, under a d(j\"ised system
of c(jndensation, several persons were emjiloyed in ex-
tracting Pacific coast voyages and travels. Mr Ora
Oak, a younger brother of the librarian, was so
employed for some time, displaying marked ability.
^\ alter M. Fisher wrote out the travels of Bryant,

236

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

Bayard Taylor, Humboldt, and others. This work
alto^fcther lasted about a year, and resulted in — ■
nothing.

Several women were also employed upon those
voyages; one, a pretty widow whose name I have
forgotten, brought her luncheon and made her tea
at my fire. I know not why it is, but almost every
attempt to employ female talent in conne€tion with
these Industries has proved a signal failure. Many
poor and needy women, all educated, and some i)f
them talented and highly cultivated, came to nio
begging employment. They had done great things
hitherto, and were sure they could do this so simple
work. Indexing, as they imagined, was nothing; and
as for travels, Lad they not been up and down the
world writing for this weekly or the other monthly :*
I know of no object on earth so pitiable as an in-
competent, impecunious woman, has bleu or brainless,
obliged to earn her living and too proud to work with
her hands; and there are always thousands of such
in California. Sympathizing with their forlorn con-
dition, I have often given them work when I knew
they could not do it, giving the time of a valuable
man to teach them, paying perhaps for a fortnight's
anno3^ance, and then throwing the results of her
efforts into the waste-basket.

I have to-day nothing to show for thousands of
dollars paid out for the futile attempts of female
writers. What it is they lack, justly attributable to
their sex, I hardly know. That a woman has not the
mental or physical force and endurance of a man iloes
not seem a sufficient reason. True, in literary labors,
strength is taxed to the utmost. I have tried many
occupations, and there is no kind of work, I venture
to say, so wearing as literary labor. The manage-
ment of a large commercial establishment is play be-
side it. A mercantile and manufacturing book and
stationery business, with two hundred men at work at
fifty different things, is as intricate and full of detail

FEMALE ASSISTANTS.

237

night's

as any otlior occupation; and yet while deep in literary
lahors I have voluntarily assumed the solo management
of the business which I had built, for several years at
u tiinc, finding relief and recreation in it. It was well
systematized; there were good men at the head of
every part of it ; and for me to manage it was as easy
and pleasurable as driving a well trained four-in-hand.
An enduring attack by tlie mind on the tableful of
mind spread out before it; a grappling of intellects
and a struggle, if not for preponderance at least for
identity, for life — this, while the brain saps the
essences of the body until the head is hot, and the
feet cold, and the limbs stiff, this is the work of men.
Tt is not the play at work of women. If a woman
lias genius, that is another thing. But even then
jj^enius alone is of little avail to me. My work de-
mands drudgery as well. If she have genius, let her
stay at home, write from her effervescent brain, and
8t'll the product to the highest bidder.

Hard work, the hardest of work, is not for frail and
tender woman. It were a sin to place it on her. Give
her a home, with bread and babies; love her, treat
lior kindly, give her all the rights she desires, even
the defiling right of suffrage if she can enjoy it, and
she will be your sweetest, loveliest, purest, and most
devoted companion and slave. But life-long applica-
tion, involving life-long self-denial, involving constant
pressure on the brain, constant tension of the sinews,
is not for women, but for male philosophers or — fools.
So. long since, I forswore petticoats in my library;
hreeches are sometimes bad enough, but when unbe-
fitting they are disposed of somewhat more easily.

Later in my work, and as an (;xcc[)tion to the
above, I am glad to testify to the ability and success
of one female writer, if for no other reason than to de-
li\(i' nie from the charge of prejudice. I have found
in Mrs Frances Fuller Victor, during her arduous
Itiliors for a period of ten years in my library, a
lady of cultivated mind, of ability and singular cp-

288

A LITERARY WORKSHIP.

plication; likewise her pliysical endurance was ro-
nmrkahle.

Loiij^r before this I had discovered the plan of the
index tlicn in progress to be inipracticable. It was
too exact; it was on too minute a scale. Ki'sidcs
absorbing an enormous amount of time and money in
its making, when comi)Ieted it would be so volumi-
nous and extended as to be cumbersome, and too un-
wieldy for the purpose designed.

Others realized this nioie fully than myself, and
from them came many suggestion in perfecting tlie
present and more practical system. This is a modi-
fication and simplification of the former, a reduetion
to practice of what before was only theory. Three
months were occupied in planning and testing tliis
new system. When we became satisfied with th(^
results, we began indexing and teaching the art
to the men. As the work progressed and the plan
inspired confidence, more indexers were emj)loy((l.
Hundreds were instructed, and the efficient oiks
retained. Mr William Nemos came in, and as he
quickly mastered the system and displayed marked
ability in various directions, the indexing and the in-
dexers were placed under his supervision.

The system as perfected and ever since in successful
and daily operation, I will now describe:

Forty or fifty leading subjects were selected, sucli
as Agriculture, Antiquities, Botany, Biography, Com-
merce, Drama, Education, Fisheries, Geology, His-
tory, Indians, Mining, etc., which would embrace all
real knowledge, and cover the contents of the whole
collection, except such parts as were irrelevant. Vnr
example, a writer's ideas of religion were considered of
no value, as was anything he saw or did outside of our
Pacific States territory; or his personal affairs, unless
of so striking a character as to command general in-
terest. These forty or fifty subjects formed the basis
of the index, embracing the whole range of practical
knowledge, history, biography, and science, while ex-

INDEXIXCJ THE LIBRARY.

239

IS re-

)f the
[t was
li'sitK's

IK'V ill

olumi-

(K) Ull-

If, and
iig the
L uiotli-
luctioii
Tln(;c

ith tlif
ho art
10 ]»liin
])h)yo(l.

it Ollt'S

I as ho
markod
the hi-

3CCSS'

ssful

rhi(Hni^ tons of trash, witli which every author seems
hound in a greater or loss degree to (Ulute his writings.

Now as to the collootion of minor sulyects or sub-
topics under the general headings, so as to i)erniit a
roa<ly use of the material with the least possii)le fric-
iion. The device is at once ingenious, simple, and
otlo(itual. The lists of subjects were so chosen that
oacli niiglit be made to embrace a variety of sub-
divisions. Thus under the head Agriculture are in-
olndod stock raising, soils, fruits, and all other products
of farm cultivation. Under Antiquities are included
ruins, relics, hieroglyphics, and all implements and
other works of native Americans prior to the coming
of Europeans; also ancient history, traditions, migra-
tions, manners and customs before tlie conquest, and
speculations, native and European, concerning the
origin of the Americans. The same system w'as
obsorvcd with Architecture, Art, Bibliography, Biog-
ra})hy, Ethnology, Jurisprudence, Languages, Manu-
factures, Medicine, Meteorology, Mythology, and all
tlio other chief subject-headings, including states and
locahties. A list of abbreviations was then made, and
tlio ])lan was ready for application.

Tlio operation of indexing was as follows: A list of
suhjocts, wdth their subdivisions and abbreviations,
was placed before an assistant, who proceeded to read
t[ie book also given him, indexing its contents upon
cards of heavy writing paper three by five inches in
size. When he came to a fact bearing on any of the
s^ulijocts in the list he wrote it on a card, each assist-
ant following the same form, so as to produce uniform
results. For example, the top line of all the cards was
written in this manner:

Agric. Cal., Silk Culture, 1867.

Antiq. Clii.apas, Palenque.

Biog. CorWa (H.)

Hist. Mexico. 1519.

Ind. Ncv. Shoshones (Dwellings).

Ogn. Portland. 1870.

240

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

The second line of each card gave the title of the
book, with the volume and inv^o where the infortna-
tiou was to bo found; and, finally, a few words were
given denoting the character of the information. Here-
with I give a .specimen card complete:

Ind. Tchuan. Zapoteca. 1847.

Macgrcgor, J. Progress of America. Lontlon, 1847.
Vol. I., pp. 848-9.

Location, Character, Dress, Mannfacturea.

Here we have a concise index to a particular fact
or piece of information. It happens to relate to the
aborigines, and so falls under the general heading
Indians. It has reference especially to tlie natives of
Tehuantepec. It is supposed to describe them as they
were in the year 1847. It concerns the Zapotoc tiihi'
particularly. It has to do with their location, cluu-
acter, dress, and manufactures, and it is to be found
on pages 848 and 849 of the first volume of a book
entitled Progress of America, written by J. JMacgregor,
and published in London in 1847. Of course, wlien
the cards are put away in their cas? all the cards on
Indians are brought together. Of the Indian oai-ds
all those relating to Tehuantepec are brought togetlier.
Of the Tehuantepec natives all in tlie library that
relate to the Zapotec tribe will be found together;
and so on.

Thus the student is directed at once to all the sources
of information concerning his subject, and the ordt rly
treating of innumerable topics, otherwise impossihle,
is thus made practicable. If, for example, a person
wishes to study or write upon the manners and cus-
toms of all the aborigines inhabiting the territory
covered by the library, he takes all the cards of tho
index bearing the general heading Indians, and is l^y

RESULTS FROM THK INDEX.

241

of the

ifonna-

is wvvc

llcro-

Lilar fact
,G to the
hcadiiiL,'
atives ul"
a a« they
ptce tribe
on, char-
jc fouuil
■ a bt>()k
u'gre;j;<»i")
sc, when
cards on
an cai'cls
oi^other.
ary that
toiiether;

lo sources
Ic onltnly
•ssible,
la person
land cus-
Itorritory
[h of tUo
md is l»y

them directed iuiuiediately to all the sources of infor-
nuition, which else would taico him ten years at loast
to ferret. If information is desired of Tehuantepoc,
take tlio Tehuantcpec cards; or if of the Zapotee
tribe only, the Zapotoc cards. So it is with any sub-
ject i'elatin<; to mining, hi^tory, society, or any otln'r
tute'-ory within the ranije of knowlodi^c

Tims book by book of the authorities collected wa ;
passed through the hands of skilled assistants, and
with cheeks and counter-checks an innnenso and a!l-
roiiiprehending system of indexing was applied to each
vdhiiue. Piiysical, moral, geographical, historical, from
the libreofan Eskimo's hair to t]iQ coup dc nuiU re ui'
Cortes, nothing was too insignificant or too great to
liiid its place there. With the index cards before him,
the student or writer may turn at once to the volume
iind page desired; indeed, so simple and yet so elleet-
ual are the workings of the system that a man may
seat himself at a bare table and say to a boy, Bring
nie all that is known about the conquest of Darieii,
llu' mines of Nevada, the missions of Lower Califor-
nia, the agriculture of Oregon, the lumber interests
of \\'ashington, the state of Sonora, the town of
(^ULictaro, or any other information extant, or any
(k'st'ription, regarding any described portion of the
western half of North America, and straightway, as
at the call of a magician, such knowledge is spread
before him, with the volumes opened at the page.
Aladdin's lamp could produce no such results. That
counnanded material wealth, but here is a sorcery that
conjures up the wealth of mind and places it at the
disj)osition of the seer.

Hundreds of years of profitless uninteresting labor
may be saved by this simple device; and a prominent
feature of it is that the mdex is equally valuable in
connection with any other library where copies of my
material may exist. The cost of this index was about
thiity-five thousand dollars, but its value is not to bo
measured by money.

Lit. Ind. 18

242

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

■.:i

After the explanation given, one would think it easy
to find men who could make this index. But it was not
so. Never was there man or woman who looked at it
but instantly knew or thouglit tliev knew, all about it;
yet nineteen out of twenty who attempted it failed.
Tlie difliculty was this: to be of value, the work nuist
all be done on a uniform plan. If one competent ]u r-
son could have done the whole, the index would \)o
all the better. But one person could not do all; from
live to twenty men were constantly employed u])f)ii
it for years. Many of the books were indexetl two or
three times, owing to the incompetency of those who
first undertook the task.

It was extremely difficult to make the indoxers
comprehend what to note and what not. Rules for
gcmeral guidance could bo laid down, vet in evorv
instance something must be left to the discretion oi'
tlie individual. All must work to a given plan, yet
all must use judgment. In attompting this, one would
adhere so i-igidly to I'ule as to jnit down a snbjoct-
heading wlienever a mere word was encountered,
oven though unaccompanied by any information. U',
for exami)le, the sentence occurred, "The machinoiy
of government had not yet been set in motion along
the Sierra footliiils," su(^h an indexer would mak( a
card under Machinery, to tlie infinite disgust of llic
investigator of meclianical affairs. At the same time,
most im])ortant facts might be omitted, simply i'e-
cause tliey were not expressed in words which broadly
pointed to a subject on the list. Then, too, there \v,is
nuich difference between men in aptness, some find-
ing it necessary to i)lod through every line bel'oiv
grasping the pith of the matter, while others acquired
such expertness that they coukl tell by mow !y
glancing down a page whether it contained any nsi iid
information. But by constant accessions and elimina-
tions a sufficient number of competent persons was
found to carry the work forward to comjnetion.

When a volume was finished the indexer would

A UXrV'ERSAL INDEX.

l\nicl it with his cards to Mr Oak or Mr Nemos, who
Li.inccd over the work, testing it licre and there to
s.c that it was jiroperly done, and then oave <iut
iiiiother book. Finally the cards were all classitied
under their distinguishhig title, and placed in alpha-
lii'tical order in npright cupboard-like cases madi^ lor
the purpose. The cases are each about five ieet in
li( ight, lour feet in width, and less than six inches in
lliiclaiess, with board partitions, and tin shelves slant-
iii.;' inward to hold the cards in place. The partitions
ni'c distant apart the length of the card, and the
depth of the case is equivalent to the width <if the
<;ir(l. In other words, the receptacles were made to
lit the cards.

In special work of great magnitude, such as cx-
liiiustive history, it is necessary to invest the system
oi' indexing with greater detail, more as it was lirst
estahlished, making innumerable special references,
so tliat when done and arranged accordinuf to subli-et
and date, all that has been said by every author <»u
ewry pnint is In'ought together in the form of notes.
I sliall have occasion to refer to this subject again.

Such was tlie machinery which we found neces-
saiy to contrive in order to extract the desir(,'d material
finni the cumliersome mass beibre us. And by this
nr other similar moans alone can the contents of any
lai'ne library be utilized; and the larger the colleetitm
the more necessity for such an index. A universal
iniloN, applicable toany library, or to the books of the
woilil collectively, might ])e made with incalculable
advantage to civilization; but the task wouUl be hcr-
(uLan, involvinij the rcadinjj: of all the b()ok> and
manuscripts in existence. Such an instrument in tho
hands of a student may be likened to the dart gi\ cu
hy Aharis, the Ilyporborean priest, to Pythagorns,
\vhicli cairied the possessor over rivers and mountains
whithi-rsoever he liste<l. This will probably ne\ er bo
<lon", although theoretically the [)lan is not so ])rtp<»-
t« rolls as ni'.glit at first glance ap[>ear. No individual

244

A LITERARY WORKSHOP.

possessed of reason would undertake it as a private
Bchcme; necessarily it must be a national, or rathei-
an international, work; and the number of persons ol'
different climes and tongues to be employed would very
likely prove fatal to it. Yet I believe the time will
come when all the chief libraries of the world will
have their index. Surely in no other way can scholars
command the knowledge contained in books; and as
books multiply, the necessity increases.

it 11

CHAPTER XI.

SOMIO OF MY ASSISTANTS.

Vot cliaos-likc togetlicr crusliM and bmis'd,
3\it, as the M'orUl, liarnioniously confus'd,
Where order in variety wc see,
And wlierc, though all thiugs difTer, all agree.

Pope.

Those to whom I apply the term assistantn by no
means include all the army of workers who have at
various times and in various ways lent me their ser-
vices in my historical efforts. I)urin<^ the long term
of H>y labors, it is safe to say that no less than six
hundred different ])ersons were at work for nu; at
various times in my librar}''. As tlie minimum, the
iiuuibor ent^a^ed in tljc library at any ono time dur-
ing' a jieriod of thirty years seldom fell below twelve;
tlir liio-hest beinu: fiftv, some thirtv of whom were on
i'(;4ular details. The hii^hest nund)er was e-mployed,
Imvcver, only when there was extra work to do, such
lis special indexini^, extracting, eo|)yiiig, (»r verifications.
My assistants proper, as the term is used here, are
those who aided me in my more responsible labors, and
may be reduced to twenty in all, though more than a
hundred made the effort unsuccessfully at one time or
aiiolhcr.

All my life, whatever I have had in hand, whether
in the field of business or of literature, I have always
hieu fortunate enough to liave good men about me,
iiDtonly efficient aids, but those whom I could call my
li lends, and the enjoyment of whose r< gard was ever
a source of gratification. Obviously this is a neces-
>'ity whenever a person undertakes to accomplish

(215)

246

SOME OP MY ASSISTANTS.

! t

more in any direction than a single head and pair of
hands can do in a hfetinie. Tliough all have not
:ibility and integrity, I have always found some in
mIiosu faithfulness I could trust as in my own; and
while the responsibility must always rest upon me
alone, some portion of that praise which has been so
lavishly bestowed upon me and my enterprise rightly
belongs to them.

Not only must the man who would assist in his-
torical work aiming at the truth be honest, but
honesty must be so inbred, so permeating the blodd
and bones of him, that deceit shall find no entrance.
Not only must he be conscientious, but conscience
must have full possession, and all his thoughts and
tictions be as under the all-seoing eye. For the oji-
portunities, and to the careless and unprincipled the
inducements, for slighting the work, for takinnf tlie
easiest rather than the most thorough wav of doing
a thing, are so great, that if so disposed he may devote
the requisite nnniber of hours to his task and ac-
(•()m})lish worse than nothing. If heedless and indit-
i'erent, and he be so disposed, he may save himself
much drudger}', the perfornKince of which never would
be known or appreciated. Hence, I say, love of truth
for truth's sake must be to every one of these men :is
tlie apple of his eye. It is true, every man is known
to his fellows, and thoroughly known in the end. No
one, however cunning, can deceive and escape detec-
tion always. He will be weighed and measured as
time passes by at his exact value; but in researches
like mine, ho could, if ho would, sul)ject one to gn at
annoyance, and sjioil jis much as or more than he
aeeonijilished, which, indeed, was not unfrequentty
done in my library.

First among my collaborators I may mention hero
Henry Lebbeus Oak. I have already told how he
first came to the library, and at an early day became
an imi)ortant adjunct to it. I have often regarded it

HENRY L. OAK.

2-17

as remarkable tliat so true and conscientious a friend,
so faithful a librarian {ind laborer, should so early
and opportunely have come to my aid. lie was born
at Garland, Maine, on the 13th of May, 1844. Hia
Welsh, English, and Scotch ancestry was American
on all four sides from a date preceding the revolution ;
his great-grandfather, the liev. Ebenezer Hill, was a
Harvard man of 1786, and his grandparents, unmind-
ful of the star of empire, moved to Maine from Bos-
cawen and Mason, New Hampshire, early in the
})rosent century.

Childhood and youth were passed uneventfully in
his native village. School duties were mingled with
a little work in garden, stable, wood-shed, or in the
shop of his father, who was a harness-maker. His
parents, however, weie indulgent; there was but lit-
tle work to be done, and I cannot learn that he was
over anxious to do that little; thus most of his time
was spent in idleness, mischief, and novel-reading,
varied with out-door sports of the (juieter class; for
vice and dissipation he had slight inclination, and still
li'.>s oj)portunity. He was educated at the eonnnon
and high school, attending the latter, which was lx-
(Hptionally good at Garland, in autumn and spring,
iVom tile age of ten years.

In 18G1 he entered the freshman class of Bowdoiii
college, and was graduated at Dartmouth in the class
of 1805. His college course corresponded in tiuie
wiih the great civil war which called away many tit'
liis classmates; and indeed, Oak often had the desire
— a most foolish one, as it seemed to him later — to
enlist, but was ke))t from doing so by the o])positioii
e!' his parents, who were giving him a college educa-
tiiMi at a sacrifice they could ill afford. In the winter
vacations he taught school in different towns of his
nati'vu state; and after graduation was eni[)loye(l for
a year as assistant in an academy at j\lorristo\\ n,
New Jersey. The occupation was most distasteful,
though our Yankee schoolmaster seems to have had

Ill

■f

I. I
i i

248

SOMK OF MY ASSISTANTS.

i I
■■ ■! I'

fair success as instructor and disciplinarian; and in
the hope of one day shaking it off, he prepared for
commerce by devoting some evenings to the study of
book-keeping, and for law by borrowing a law-book
and letting it lie on his table till the owner wanted it.
California then came to his rescue, as she has rescued
many another, saving some from hell, but vastly more
from heaven. Through the aid of his college room-
mate, George R. Williams, an old Californian, then
studying law at Petaluma, he obtained an engagement
as clerk in the grain warehouse of McNear Brothers,
and came to California by steamer in 18GG. Illness,
something new in Oak's experience, soon forced him
to quit this employment, and reduced him, financially,
to nothing; indeed, I have heard him attribute his
escape from permanent lodgings at Lone mountain,
or some less expensive resort for the dead, to the
kindness of Mr and Mrs S. F. Barstow of San Fran-
cisco, the latter a sister of Williams, at whose house
he was well cared for. A.nd, here I sav, mav God's
best blessing rest on those who, at the cost of time,
money, and personal convenience, befi-iended sick and
destitute wanderers in the early gold-getting days of
California and later.

On his feet again, with the aid of John Swett,
in the spring of 18G7 Oak found a position as princi-
pal of the llaywards public school, where he remained
for one term, rapidly regaining Ins health; and then
for a term became assistant at the Napa collegiate
institute, a methodist institution, where the tcrui
'assistant' was somewhat com])rehensive, since the
])iincipal was on the circuit and but rarely made hi^^
appearance. A peculiar phase of his experience heie,
to which I have heard him allude, was the rather em-
barrassing necessity of conducting school and family
prayers, besides asking a blessing on rather doubt I'ul
food three times a day, as he had recklessly agreed at
the first to do, rather than l«)se the job, if the prinei-
jxil should chance now and then to be absent. Five

HENRY L. OAK.

240

months of this sort of thing became somewhat tedious,
thou;^h, b}' developing episcopalian tendencies, he
avoided having to keep up a reputation with the
brethren at prayer-meetings, and even read his family
service from a book, though the school prayer some-
tiines became prayed out and required remodelling.
I find nothing of hypocrisy in all this; in a sense,
though i'ast drifting into free thought, he was in ear-
nest; it lakes a long time for a boy to rid himself of
the old beliefs that are breathed in with the New
England air, and Oak saw no harm in addressing pe-
titions to a supreme being, even if that being and his
methods were not quite so clear to him as they seemed
to others. And later, when his religious creed — that
of entire ignorance respecting the affairs of another
woild, mingled with respect and somewhat of envy
i'or those who know all about it — had become moie
stttkid, I doubt not he would have performed the
stiange task with nuich loss embarrassment, even if
Nbiliannned or Quetzalcoatl had been the object of
It Kill worship.

From Napa ho came ngain to San Francisco; and
in (lie spring of 18G8, after a long period of idleness;,
when on the point of being forced by lack of funds to
become again a teacher, he was employed as office
e(Utor of the Occident, a presbytcrian organ; and a
year later, when the publication of that pa))cr passed
from the control of our firm, he assumed the position of
liltiarian aiitl superintendent of that wide rangi' of
intiicate detail essential to extracting material in the
liaiiddft lil)i'ai'v, a })laee he held continuouslv lor a
pciiod of nearly twenty years.

I Kup|)ose nature has a place and purpose for every-
thing she n)akes, thougli it cei'tainly would seem tliat
ii"t everything made by naturt; iinds its place and
]»inpnse. This nian, however, certainly found his vo-
lation. and fitted himself to it perfectly, in him
Wt ic condtined, in a remai'kable de^rei', th(»se rare and
luiniiiahle (jualities essential to the work, .\bility,

2J0

SOME OP MY ASSISTANm

• f

application, endurance, clear-headedness, and sound
judgment, united with patience and enthusiasm, en-
abled him to trample down many of the obstachjs
which constantly beset our path. He had a thorougli
knowledge of Spanish and French, with a useful
smattering of other languages. Pleasant and affable
to all around him, he sought no man's company.
Methodical in his habits, having little to do with so-
ciety, he fastened his mind upon the work, and there
kept it day after day, and year after year. No one
ever has known, or ever will know, the early history
of California or the Spanish northwest as we knew it
then — I say never will know it, because, if possessed
of taste, time, talent, and all other necessary quali-
ties, no one will have the same opportunity. His-
tory was in the mouths of men, and in the air as well
as in old letters and musty manuscripts. Soon all
this clianued; and tonu'ues that then talked of mis-
sion life, the Bear Flag war, and the gold-gatheriii;,^
struggle of the nations, were forever silenced; yit
only henjafter will the value of a com[)lete record
made before it was too late be fully ai)[)reciated.

Oak is plain of speech Without dogmatism ho
has an oj)inion, and usually a clear and correct oik;,
on almost every current topic, particularly if it 1>j
connected with his work or the library. And in the
expression of opinion he is not timid. It has been
my custom from the beginning to discuss freely with
him and others every question of importance arising
in my work. I have always courted criticism from
those about me as freely as I have been ready to be-
stow it on them. Often somewhat radical differences
of opinion have arisen between Oak and myself;
but during the many pleasant years we have labored
together, the first disrespectful thought has yet to find
utterance, the first unkind word has yet to be spoken.

It is a remarkable fact that this is the only live
Yankee to find permanent occupation in my work.
New Englanders in California, as a rule, make better

WILLIAM NEMOS.

SSI

business men than literary men. Tiiey are here too
eager for traffic, too anxious to trade jack-knives, too
.sharp after the dollars, to settle down to plodding
brain-work which yields them no substantial return.
Their minds are no better iitted for it than their
inclinations. Their education has taken a different
turn. Their ambition is of that caste that culture
alone will not satisfy. They want money, houses,
horses, wine, and tobacco. We of the fifth floor,
and of Valencia Street, did not eschew all these. Wo
were no anchorites, though trimming our midnight
lamp and working in a garret. But when our stom-
achs were full, and divers other longings gratified, wo
remembered that we had heads.

In the mercantile and manufacturing parts of the
business, on the other hand, the Anglo-American
element was displayed to the greatest advantage.
There boys were to be found brimful ^)i' energy and
ambition, bound to carve for themselves a fortune
or die; also men of ability and intogi-ity, many of
whom I reared and educated in the book-selling occu-
pation myself.

Working in the library at one time I have had
representatives from England, Ireland, and Scotland ;
from France, Germany, and Switzerland; from Rus-
sia, Poland, Spain, and Italy — with but one from any
part of the United States. ]3ut let me say that this
one, in regard to ability, integrity, and life-devotion
to me and my cause, was surpassed by none.

Never was there a more devoted, faithful worker in
any field than my valued friend William Xemos, a nom
(le j)]ume by which he preferred to be known among
us. Jletiring in all his tastes, and enthusiastic as a
student, he loved to dip into lore of eveiy description,
witli a ])redilection for the abstruse and for linjjfuistics.
Jle' possessed, indeed, a knowK-dge more or less
complete of all the principal languages of Europe,
W'om those of Spain and Italy in the south, to Kus-

2r)2

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

I i

i i

ii,

sian and Swcdisli in tlio nortli, the latter liis native*
t(tiij4H(\ Fuither than this, after lit' ciitcred luy
library lu' improved ra|>idly in inetiiod, taste, and
style. ]^ut let iiie hrielly tell the story <»f his early
lite.

At the foot of Bore, where the .snow-crowned sum-
mits of the lofty fjelds <(leam in perpetual defiance of
Helios, beside a roaring torrent that issued from the
rugged mountains, he was born, in February 1 848,
his natal day being next after Washington's. Poor
Finland! Will naught satisi'y the tyrannous Musco-
vite till the last drop of Scandinivian blood be let upon
the thirsty earth?

His father was a nobleman, not rich; his mother of
a wealthy family of good stock. His ancestry and
his country's glorious past, with stories of the mighty
Kucko, and of the famous Oden, who gathered the
braves unto his Walhalla, were duly impressed uptju
his youthful mind. German and piano lessons were
first given him by his mother. A talent for lan-
guages was early developed under parental tuition, so
that an uncle insisted he should go to St Petersbuig,
and thttre prepare himself for some position under the
tzar.

Wrapped in contraband stuffs, he w^as passed
tremblingly through the hands of the fierce jMusco-
vites into the gentler ones of a lady for whom the goods
were intended, and who unrolled him with affectionate
earc. After a year at private school he returned
home to attend the church or granunar school; it
was finally determined that the g3'mnasium, or classic
high school, at Sto('klK)lm was the place for him;
so to the Venice of the north he was forthwitli
sent, prej»aratory to entering the lljjsala imiversity,
where at the time was a brother whom he visited
occasionally to obtain initiation into the student life
proposed for him also, but not to be realized.

After a pretty thorough course of mathematics and
the classics at Stockhohn, com[)licated family aflaiis

WILLIAM NEMOS.

compelled him to break off his studies, go to London,
and enter a commission and ship-broker office. The
place was procured tlirouij:h th<) favoring influence
of a family friend in London, who wisely deemed a
thorough acquisition of the English language and
business routine of the highest advantage to his young
friend.

Pride and sensitiveness would not permit him to
(hag the time-honoreil family title into the dusty pur-
lieus of a London trafficker's office, or to consent Miat
it should otherwise be lightly treated. Rather let it
be laid aside until such time as it might Ije worn
again with befitting form.

He continued his studies, which now included a
course of philosphy under an Upsala graduate. Well
grounded in the critical system of Kant, with its sub-
jective methods, this tutor could not but feel the in-
consistency of theories which, centring everything in
the ego, yet left this involved in hopeless confusion.
On coming to England, therefore, Nemos was natu-
rally drawn more strongly to her typical empiricism,
as presented in the sense-perceptions of Locke, al-
though even here the mist could not be cleared, for
instance, from the hypothetic duality in the i elation
between ideas and qualities. Nemos profited by these
inquiries in a comparative study of both the experi-
mentarian and transcendental doctrines, and this under
the guidance of a devotee whose enthusiasm tenikcl
to impress his teachings.

Alter a business training of eighteen months he
was transferred to a position in a leading house trad-
ing with India. There he remained at a good salary
tor five years, acting as junior corres[)ondent, aftei-
l)eing for a time in charge of the shipping depart-
ment, and sometimes aid to the cashier. Trips to the

iitinent during summer vacation afforded a pleasing

variation from business routine, and added to the
instructive sights of l^ondon.

Ill health, apparently more imaginary than real, now

264

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

broke Ills connection with the British metropolis nnj
sent him adrift upon the sea. Hard study, and a
neglect of due attention to hours and exercise, had
affected his spirits, and as a sister had died of con-
sumption, the fear seized him of congenital tendencies.
Correspondence with the family physician at home
brought about the resolution to take a long voyage
In the spring of 1870 he left Liverpool by sailing
vessel for Australia, and arrived at Melbourne, after
a i)leasant voyage, the third month out. There, with
many of his fellow-passengers, he made haste to sock
employment, and as thousands have done in that
city as in San Francisco, sought in vain^

The allurement of gold stole upon his youthful
fancy, with dreams of hidden treasures and speedy
enrichment. A still feeble constitution pleaded,
moreover, for bracing mountain air, and confinement
within the narrow bounds of a ship, after a still
longer enchainment to the desk, assisted by mere
contrast to gild the unfettered life in camp and forest.
Soon came disenchantment.

In the mines he fell amonjj thieves. One of his
partners was an ex-convict, who prompted the rest
to recompense him for furnishing all the supplies of
flour, bactm, whiskey, and tobacco for the company
by concealing in their mouths the little gold they took
out. This was, perhaps, as neat an arrangement as
the villains ever concocted, and remarkably simple —
they had a man to furnish all the provisions, wliili:
they took all the proceeds.

When his money was gone, Nemos concluded to dis-
solve the partnership and retire from business. Driv-
ing his partners out of cam]), he packed up and
returned to Melbourne, and thence proceeded to
Sydney. There he revelled in the tranquil beauties
of that southern Pacific garden — to him a paradise
of verdure-clad promontories creeping softly into tlie
still waters, as if to woo the orange groves of the tiny
isles bathing at their feet; to the California of tliu

THOMAS SAVAGE.

rushlnjif, roaring times, a pararliao of Satan-scrpojits
si'iuling its slimy hrood across the ocean to set on firo
the incipient licll already there prepared by the as-
bcinl'led }jj()ld-drunken hosts.

Jfawaii next, and then San Francisco, landini^ at
the latter in midsummer 1871; and thence to Orej^on
to accept an engagement as assistant civil engineer on
tlu) proposed railroad. This being finished, 1H73 saw
him again in San Francisco. Failing to obtain con-
genial employment, he determined to go to New
York, satisfied that his linguistic attainments would
ho better appreciated there than in the far west. ]3ut
ill the menu time my efforts attracted his attention,
juid ho readily obtained permanent employment in
the library.

In this labor his rare abilities for the first time
found fitting occupation. Little by little, through-
out almost the entire period of my historical efibrts,
his talents unfolded, until in many respects he stood
first, and became director of the lil)rary ilctail, includ-
ing later the librarianship. He h.ad a reuiarkable
faculty for systematizing work, and drilling men into
a common method, as before ex))lained. Alive to tlu'
iiitcrests of the library as to his own, he was ever
jealous of its reputation, and untiring in his efforts to
see produced historical results only of the soundest
and most reliable order. I would that the countries
among whose archives he has spent the better part of
his life laboring, might appreciate his services to them
at their proper worth.

Thomas Savage was born in the city of Habana, of
Now England parents, the 27th of August, 1823.
His ancestors were among the earliest settlers of
Boston, many of whom acquired wealth and distinc-
tion in various professions.

When nine years of age the boy could speak Span-
ish better than English, and French more fluently
than either. He read Don Quixote in Spanish be-

896

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

•

fore he had been taught the alpliabet. Masters were
provided him, and he was also sent to scliooi at
lfaba,na, wliere he read the Latin classics, became
proficient in mathematics, and prepared himseU' lor
the legal profession.

His father, who was a man of fine business ability,
making money easily and rapidly, but somewhat de-
ficient in the art of keei)ing it, died when Thomas Avas
quite young. Ill hcaltli obliged him at length to
abandon study; besides, he had no taste for the law.
Yet in the short time spent at his studies he learneii
enough to be able to rapidly transcribe for me, in a
hand as neat as Thackeray's or Leigh Hunt's, upon
the usual half-sheets of legal paper, a clear transla-
tion of almost any language I might choose to })la((5
before him. He was sickly fnnn childhood; many
times his life was despaired of, and ever since I have
known him he hos been a constant sufferer; yet all
the while he has worked as industriously and as clicer-
rully as if «'nj()ying t\\v best health.

Several children were the result of marriaije in 1 8r)(>.
but sickness and death kept his purse low. Within a
period of ten years Mr Savage buried thirteen mem-
bcr.s of his family.

A few years in a mercantile house as book-keeper
were followed by an engagement in the Ignited Stales
consulate, as clerk under Robert B. Cami)l)ell, then
consul at Habana. For twenty-one and a half years
thereafter Mr Savage was in continuous consulati;
service, portions of the time in charge of the olhcc as
deputy and as chief

During his long tenure of oflfice many important
international questions arose, in which he took {)art,
and many were the acts of disinterested chaiity j)er-
formed by him, particularly to ])assing Californians in
trouble. The years 1849-51 at this port were si)e-
cially impoitant, both to the United States and t'>
California. Then it was that his thorough knowl-
edge of the Spanish language, and his long experience

THOMAS SAVAGE.

2.-7

iters wore
school iit
J, became
imselt' lor

iss abilit)',
jwliat de-
loinas ^va^^
length to
• the law.
he learncil
: nic, in a
int's, u})oii
ir transla-
l; to pliic(i
3ocl; mai\y
nee I liavo
or; yet all
id as cheer-
lire in 1 8r)(>.
Within a
Iteen nieni-

)ok-keeper

I ted Stales

|)bell, tlion

half years

consulate

10 olhcc as

limportant
[took part,
liarity pev-
Vornians in
[were s\)v-
.'S and to
rh knosvl-
ixperience

in consular business, rendered his services Invaluable.
In Mexican-war times General Santa Anna was there
whiliiig away the tedious hours of exile by cock-
ligliting. Mr Savage was present at an interview
between ^Ir Cain])bel) and Santa Anna to obtain the
hitter's views as to tjie future policy of Mexico. Al-
uionto, Hi'jon, J>a,sadre, and others were present, but
l!ic wily ^lexican, though by no means reserved, was
extremely non-con)mittal. The invasions of Cuba by
liOpcz in 1850-1, the last of which terminated so
(lisastiously to tlio expedition, made Savage much
work ill tlio copious correspondence wh'ch followed.
Many Callfornian gold-seekers, on their reUirn, reached
]labana broken in health and without means to ])ro-
cced fartlier to their home and friends. These must
bo provided for; and all such relief came out of the
puekots of- their p.oorly naid countrymen there sta-
tioned. And to his enduring honor be it said, never
(lid distressed stranger appeal to him in vain. While
I. a green boy for the fir.st time fr(jm home, in the
spring of 1852, was gazing in rapt wonderment about
the .^^treets of ITabana, and taking in my fdl of the
str.inge sights, !Mr Savage was in the consulate office
engaged in his duties, each oblivious, so far as the
other was concerned, of the present and the pregnant
I'll tn re.

Prominent men, both from the United States and
^lexleo, were now his associates. He always strongly
opposed the slave-tradt. When the war for the union
hinke out he remained kiithful to his government,
theugh his chief was an active secessionist. One
(lav a man called oa Mr Savaije and revealed a plot
Ilitii hatching in San Francisco to capture the Paeilio
Mail 'onipany's steamer at Acapuleo. At another
time o;io informed him of a ])lan of revolution then
luiiig prepared in southern Calilbrnia, detailing to
iiiiu how much of money each cons])irator had sui>-
scribed in suppoi't of the scheme. These facts were
made known by Savage to the government officials at

Lit, Iso. 17

258

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

Washington, who telegraphed them to General ^NIc-
Dowell. For twenty months during the liottest of
the war, wliile bhx-kade-running from Ilabana to
]\Iobi]e and other southern ports was of almost tiaily
occurrence, Mr Savaixe was in full charge of the
consulate at Ilabana. Every movement adverse to
the government he narrowly watched and reported,
and the capture of many a valuable prize was due di-
rectly to his exertions. For which service, of emi)(y
thanks he received abundance, but no prize-money, as,
indeed, he was not entitled to any. Neither did tlio
government remunerate him for his extra service and
expenses, though to that he was justly entitled.

To ^Ir Savage is duo the credit of discovering tlio
plot of capturing tlie San Francisco treasure steamer
in IRGt. It Wiis to be effected through the prior
capture of the Paiiamd llailway company's steamer
Giiatvmahi, with whicli, when taken, the conspiratoi-s
were to lie in wait for tlio treasure steamer boitint
down, from San Francisco to Panamd. They em-
barked at HaliaiKi, where many schemes of this kind
were concocted requiring the utmost care of the consnl
to frustrate, on board the liritish Ro^-al Mail steann i-
for St Thomas, thence to go to Pananul and seize tlw
Guatemala.

The 31st of DGceiid)er, 18G7, Mr Savage retlr.d
from the consulate at Ilabana, poorer by the Nx^s ^'l'
twent3'-one laborious 3'ears than when he entered it.
After spending the greater part of 18G8 in the Unili/'l
States, in November of that year he went to Panama
and edited the S|)anish part of the Star and ITerahi
Likewise for a time while at Panama he acted as
consul for Guatemala. At Pananul, in 1870, In;
married his second wife, a most charming lady, young,
beautiful, accomplished, and wealthy, and withal tlc-
votedly attached to her husband. Soon after tluir
marriage a disastrous fire swept away a large port inn
of her property.

Mr Savage then went to San Salvador, whore,

FRANCES FULLER VICTOR.

259

after teaching and writin*^ for the newspapers for a
time, be was appointed United States consul. Shortly
iifterward a revohition broke out. The city was bar-
lic.ided and threatened with an attack. The United
States minister, Torbert, and the consul lived on the
same street, opposite each other. Day and night they
kept their flags flying, and at times their houses were
lilli'd with refugees. Finally at Santa Ana the royn-
liitionists won a battle; the government of President
] )uefia8 fell to the ground, and in duo time order was
again restored.

The climate of Salvador did not agree with Mrs
SavaLje. A sister of hers died there. So Mr Savaijo
(li'tonnined to try Guatemala. There he edited a
p;i]»er, which did not pay expenses, and after a resi-
dence of eighteen months, he determined to try the
(•(last northward. The 20th of March, 1 873, he arrived
at San ]'>ancisco, and four months afterward entered
thi! library.

F(ir many 3'ears Mr Savage was my main reliance
o:. Spanish-American affairs. All my chief assistants
Vv T ■ good Spanish scholars, but all in cases of doubt
Mere glad to refer to him as an expert. With good
scliolarslilp, ripe experience, and a remarkable knowl-
edge of general history, he brought to the library
strong literary tastes, a clear head, and methodi-
iid habits. At my suggestion he prepared for The
liineroft Company a must valuahle work, entitled
th'' Spdtiisli-Arncricini MuiiuaJ. The work was wi'it-
ti'ii lor the purpose of givitig to the commenMal world
a vast amount of information lying hidden under tlu'
toi'eigii language and peculiar custt)ms of the peo[)le
"i Ijatin America.

Frances Fuller was born in the township of Kome,
X< w York, May 23, 182G, and educated at the semi-
nary in Wayne county, Ohio, whither her parents
croloiig removed. Her mother, who was married at
fcixteun, while the father was but eighteen, v as a

':r.o

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

i.)

passlonato lover of the beautiful in nature and art.

Given the parentage, what of the children'? They
had for their inlieritance pride of race, susceptibility
to beauty, intellectual strength, the rhythmic sense,
and good pliysical traits. Out of these they shouLl
without doubt evolve that temperament which, on
account of its excessive sensibility, we call the poetic,
ahhough it is not always accompanied by the poetic
faculty or sense of numbers. In tliis case, however,
of five girls two became known as writers of both
verse and prose, and a third of prose only.

Frances was the eldest of the family, and was but
tliirteen years of age when her father settled Jti
Wooster, Ohio. Her education after that was de-
rived from a course in a young ladies' seminary, no
great preparation for literary work. At the age of
fourteen she contributed to the county papers; wlicn
a little older, to the Cleveland Herald, whicb paid iVi-
her poems, some of which were copied in English
journals. Then the New York papers sought Ik r
contributions, and fin.-diy she wont to New York for a
year to become acquainted with literary people, ami
WMS very kindlv treated — too kindlv she tells nie,
l)oeaufio they persuaded her at an immature age to
])uMish a volume of her own and her sisior JMeUa s
p(jems. But worse things were in store than this
mistaken kindness. Just at the tinu) when a plan
was on foot to make the tour of Eun^pe v\ith sonic
iViends, the ill-health of her motlier recalled her to
Ohio and the end of all her dreams. What with
nursing, household cares, and the lack of sthiiulatiii;
society, life began to look very real. A year or twti
later her futlier died, and there was still more real
work to do, for now there must be an effort to in-
crease the family income month by month. lii this
struggle !Metta was most successful, having a great
fjicllity of invention, and being a rapid writer, and
stori(^s being much more in demand than poems
brought more money. Frances possessed a widv.i'

FRANCES FULLER.

2G1

range of Intellectual powers, of the less poriiular be-
cause more solid order. The sisters were twin souls,
and very happy together, "making out," as Charlotte
JJioato says, the plan of a story or poem by thtir
own bright fireside in winter, or under the delicious
iii.Kiiilight of a summer evening in Oliio. A })osition
\v;is oH'ored them on a pei-iodieal in Detroit, and they
nnioved to Michigan. This did not prove rcnuuiera-
tivc, and was abandoned. By and by came mania^e,
and the histers were separated, Metta going to New
York, where she led a busy lit'e. Their husbands
wvrc brotliers. Frances married Henry C. Victor, a
liuval (iugineer, who came to California under ordi-rs
ill lb(JO. Mrs Victor accompanied him, stopping a
while at Acapulco, where tlie Narragaitscit to which
.Mr Victor was ordered, was lying. At San Fi-an-
(isc'o, she found the government paying in greenbacks.
To make up the loss of income something must be done.
So she wrote for the JJaUtUa city editorials and a
seiii.'S of society articles, undtir the nom do plume of
'■ Fl(jrence Fane," which were continued for nearly
two years, and elicited much pleasant comment by
ihtir humorous hits, (!veu the revered pioneers not
hoing spared. About the time tlie war closed, ]\i r
^ icior resigned and went to Oregon, where, early in
1S('>5, Mrs Victor followed him, and was (juickly
'•ajitivated by the novelty, romance, and grandeur of
tlie wonderful north-west. Her letters in the lUiUdi'^,
uiticlcs in the Overland Jilonthh/,. and her books, AlJ
over Oregon and Washington and The Ricer of iJic Wcsi,
with other writings, show how cordially siie entered
into the exploration of a fresh field, la 1678 she ac-
<i'[»t('(l a hint from me, and came readily to my assist-
a.'icc. with greater enthusiasm tiian one less acquainted
wi;li her subject could be expected t^» feel. In abil-
ity, conscientiousness, and never-ceasing interc^5t and
iailhfuluess Mrs Victor was surpassed by none.

Walter M. Fisher and T. Arundel llarcourt came

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

to tlio lihiiiry i>i 1872, the former early in the year,
and the latter in November. Albert Goklsolimidt
luui been at ^vork about a year when llarcourt came.
Fisher was the son of an Irish clergyman; llarcourt
claimed to be a scion of the Enf;lish aristocracy; whihi
(jioldschmidt was of German extraction. Fisher, fresh
from college, was brought in by a fellow-countryman,
the Reverend Hemphill, and set to woik taking out
material for voyages. He applied himself clobcly,
devoting his days to writing and his nights to tin;
study of languages and literatui-e. Throughout his
college course he had paid special attention to litera-
ture, and now he determined to adoj)t it as a profes-
sion. Probably at that time there was no better
school for him in the world in which to make rapid
and practical advancement in his I'avorito literary paths
than my library. For although the work therein
was in one sense local, yet all literary work of any
pretensions must be in some res[)ccts geneial, and the
ex[)erience he obtained while with me was invalu-
able to him. And this he was ever ready to acknowl-
edge. In a book entith.Hl The Ci'(///t»'>//a;/.s', i)ublishe(I
in London soon after his return to the old country,
wherein men and tiiinijjs here were somewhat severeU'
spoken of, all his references to the library and to the
time spent there were of the most cordial and [ileas-
ing character.

Born in Ulster in 1849, he used to call himsell' ;i
'49er, His father was of the Scotch presbyterian
church, and tlie family were mend)ers of a Scotch and
Knglish colony " in the Atlantic Ocean to the we-t
of C/eat .Britain," as the son said. Indeed, Fisher
always insisted that he was an Fnglishman, holding
apparently no great respect for the Irish. In his own
religious belief, or i. 'her in the absence of any, he
was (piite liberal, and it was on this account, as
much as any other, that he originally left his fathers
bouse.

After the tutors and pedagogues came three years

WALTER M. FISHER.

203

with old Doctor Tiniotliy Blaino of the Royal Aca-
(I'lnR'al institution of Uflfast, whoso lessons and lec-
tures on the Eni^lish laiiguaj^'o and its literature were
then as novel in middle-class schools as they were
niasteily and attractive in themselves. Fisher was
jiinoiig his favorite ])U|)ils. After that he nuitricu-
],iled in the (,)ueen's university, attending lectures
(uiiiKX'ted witli that institution at J Belfast. Tlie col-
le^i! library, however, did nioi'e for him than all the
Iretures, and there he was so sedulous a student that
his pi-ofcssors often looked in vain for him on their
h( iK'lies.

University patlis he saw, in duo time, were not his.
Old-time ways by ruh' and rote he could neither j)r«)-
I'l'ss, pi-caeh, nor ])ractise; so he went to liondon, and
tlience to Paris — boohs, books, books, beinfj^ ever the
substance of his dreams. The French war upsetting
his plans, he returned to Loudon. There, one day,
h ' picked up a book in the British ^[useuin on the
subject of California, and before he laid it down the
drteiinination was on him. lie packed his books,
;iud in Di.'cember 187! steamed out of Ijiveipool with
a ticket in his pocket-book marked San Francisco.
Two days after his arrival he was at work in the li-

hlillT.

Toward the close of 1875 he returned to London,
]n'()p()sing between London and Paris to spend his
(l.ivs doini^: such work in literature as he found to do;
"lojiio- it, as he says of it himself, "better every way,
I Ixdievo, for the sun of California, for the fellowship
and labors we had together there, and for the loves
thi le born. Oh, the grand days we had, warm with
li"|)e and stroiiij with endurance! If no man saAs it,
1 dare to say it, there have been lesser heroes than
wo, up on that lil'th lloor in a San Francisco book-
shop, fighting against the smiles of the children of
iMaiiniion and of Belial, lighting alone, modest and
Sill ;it, each of us 'travaillant pour son coeur, laissant
a iJieu le resto.'"

264

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

.< 5

! i

Goldschmidt was a pleasant, social man, of no very
pronounced parts, in ago about thirtN'-five, given to
ease and quietness rather tlian to pliysical exertion or
hard study. He made himself familiar with tln^
books of the library, and was apt and useful in many
ways. There was scarcely any language with wliich
we had to do but that he would decipher it after a
fashion. Old Dutch was his delight. ^lany of thos(;
sixteenth-century writers done into the purest and
best Enjjlish are nieaninulcss enough, some of tin in
in places absolutely unintelligible, any one of hall" ;i
dozen constructions being equally applicable to tin-
words; and yet Goldschmidt was never so hap[ty as
when seated before a table full of those works, in
various languages, and written from widely dideroiit
standpoints by authors oceatis asunder, with ])lontyiif
time at his command, enga<;ed in the work of recoucil-
ing their jargon.

Harcourt, as ho called himself, said that ho was
born in London in 1851; that his father was a gen-
tleman of old family and considerable property, wliidi
was slightly increased by marriage with a lady of high
birth; and that when eight years old his mother died,
and then for the first time he was sent to scImh.I.
Possessed of quick perceptions, he might easily liasi'
outstripped his i'ellows in learning; indeed, at theei:i!
of his first half-year he carried home the prize i'nr
superior attainments in Latin. But in those days it
was not the fashion for aristocratic l)oys to study.
The hard workers were poor weaklings, casil3'-thraslied ;
creatures to be despised, s[)at upon; beings expressly
contrived by nature to be used, to bo punched into
writing the verses of their superiors in station, streiigt li,
and laziness. lEe to whom the mysteries of daet\ I
and spondee were plain as a pikestaff, whom the tv-
rors of Xenophon could not ap|)al, stood at the heid
of the row, ]ude, weak, and 'lickable' to ev(>ry olln r
boy in the class. The winning of a jirize at th<; out-

■f't

HARCOURT AND PEATFIELD.

265

o very
vcn to
tioii or
th tho
\ 111.1 iiy
Avhicli
after ;i

if tllO!S(^

'.«t anil

f th.'iii

half :i

to til.'
appy as
)rUs, in
liilcront
lentv'if
•ccoucil-

he wns

s a ;j;'Mi
,', wliirli
of lii;j,li
or (lifd,
sc1m'"1.
ly liav-'
1hL'oi:(!
ri/.e I'lf
(lays it
» stii'lv.
raslicd;
pressly
led int')
|ron;4tIi.
daVtvl
Ihe tcr-
\\c In-iil
■y otli'T
|hi' ollL-

set of Ills school career hy the youth Ilarcourt was a
mistake wliich he took care never again to repeat, so
<,Tcatly was ho chagrined as he pressed liis way hack
t(» liis place amidst mutterings of 'craimner,' 'little
Utind,' and like epithets significant of the cunteiupt
ill which he was held hy his fellows.

A voyage to India was i'ollowed hy a term at a
(Jcrniau university, and after that the young man
(Iril'ted to California, and entered the lil)rary in 1873.
He later engaged in newspaper work, and died in 1884
at San Francisco.

A strong man, and one of talent, was J. J. Peatfleld,
lioin in Nottinghamshire, England, August 20, 18r>:).
liis father, a conservative tory clergyman, educated
liim lor the church, lie took his decree at Camhiidge
ill 18j7, having graduated in the classical tripos. The
eliureh heing distasteful to him as a profession, he
obtained a tutorship, with occasional travel, the last
jKvsiiion of the kind being in a llusslan family in St
iM(;rsl)urg.

I 'entlield was now twenty-nine years of age. and the
life he was leading did not satisl'y him. He deter-
mined to emiixrate. The tjold discoveries in British
('oliimbia attracted his attention; and while he was
tliiiiking of going thither, a college friend |)resented
the llatterlng prospects of gains to be derived from
(ukivatinix cacao on the Atlantic seaboard of Central
Aincriea, and he finally concluded to make the latter
Vfiiture. Taking jiassage on board the steamship
Xcr^i'Kiian to Portland, Maine, he proceeded thence
l>y rail to New York, and after a fortnight's stay there
he went to (Jreytown, Nicaragua, in the schooner
ticciye S. Adams.

The cacao-planting enterprise was a failure. The
cultivation of the tree had been tried there without
success years before, both by AnuM'leans and l]urope-
aiis. Nevertheless ho remained in that vicinity Ibr
two years, locating himself on the Serapique river.

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

nil nfllucnt in Costa Rican turiiti)ry of the San Juan,
lie tried cotton-rai.siiij^, as ilio price was very hi L;h
tluiiii;,^ the eivil war in tlio United States, Init the
excessive rains destroyed the cro|». He then tried,
likewise, cncao and eoflee. Ila|)id and luxuriant
growth attended evoy experiment, hut the flowers of
the cacao-tree dropped off without fructifyinjr; thu
cotton rotted in the bolls; the coffee berries did not
ripen.

As there was nothing to sta}'' for but the fever and
ague, which he did not want, about the middle of
18G5 ^Tr Peatfield crossed the sierra to San Jose,
tile capital of Costa Rica. He there accepted tlit3
situation of book-keeper in a mercantile cstal)lisli-
nieiit. In January 18G8 he was appointed clerk ami
translator to the legation at (Juateniala, and two
vears later, on the de})arture of ^linister Corbett lor
England, Peatfield was a[)poliited British vice-consul
in (jiuateniala. Upon the death of Consul Wallis, of
Costa JV\ci\, in whose charL^e the lejjation had l)eeii
left, Peatfield received from the foreign oflice, Loiido!i,
the appointment of acting consul-general of Centml
America. After that ho held the C(insulshi[) of
Guatimala for a time. Then his health began to
fail, and at the end of 1871 ho resigned and left
Gualeniala for San Francisco, where he arrived in
November.

A winter of teaching was followed by a hcmot-
rliago from which he barely recovered. In August
1872 he obtainecl a lucrative position as book-keeper
and cashier of a mine owned by an English com[)aiiy
in White Pine, Nevada. His engagement coneluili>il,
he went to Piochc, where sickness soon reduced liini
to poverty. For ten weeks he lay in the hosiiital
suffering intensely with inflammatory rheumatism,
much of the time unable to move, and occasionally in-
sensible. One day, on recovering consciousness, ho
was told by the physician that he could not live;
nevertheless he slowly recovered. Then he taught

BATES AXD KKMP.

nai

school a while; after which ho returned to San
Fiancisco, wlicre lie nearly died fi'oni pneuiuoiiia.
lIcCDvery was lollowed l»y another period of teaching
niid l)ook-lveeping, until February 1881, v.licn ho
filtered the Hhrury, and soon bocanio one of my
most valued assistants.

Alfred Bates, a native of Leeds, Enijland, entered
the liljrary after two years' work on llie Gnnmore
II 11(1 Ii)diist)'ics of the Pacijlc Coast, under its editor,
Jolin S. Ilittell. Mr Bates displayed the niostahilltv
(if any one of ^ir Hittc^ll's dozen assistants, and was
a vahiahle acquisition to my corps of workers. lEo
was born the 4th of May, 1840, Ids father buiiii; a
v,()()l-stai)ler, who made a fortune during the railway
excitement of 1845-G, and had the misfortune to lose
it in the panic of 1847.

Alfred recollects of his childhood that ho was ovcr-
ui'i'wn, weak, and always huni;ry. At the a'jfc of lif-
Iren years he earned his own livelihood by teaching,
fiiuong other placets in INrarlborough college, at the
tluH^ the clean of Westi.ninstcr being heatl-master, and
t'> whom he was private secretary in 18G2. While
I'lN pariiig for Cambi'idge the following year, he ac-
< ('I lied a lucrative situation in Sidney, New South
\\ ales. Though his life there was by no means an
unJKijtjty one, he suflered from ill health, being given
II j I for dead at one time by three doctors. Ind(>ed,
!ihiiiinti(ni was totally suspended for a time; and when
the s]tark of lifi; revived, supposing at the first that
l:i' was really dead, he says the sensation was by no
means disagreeable.

Invited by his brother to come to California and
take charge of a school, he made the passage by the
f'tKiiif/, the first year after his arrival being occupied
ill leachiniT.

Alfred Kemp, a most worthy man and earnest
w u];or, was born in October 1847, in England, liia

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SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

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father being a landed proprietor in Kent. Alfred was
educated fur the army at a military school near Wool-
wich; but his father losing most of his property, the
young man was (.>bligod to al>andon his contemplated
career. In 18G9 he went to France to learn tlie lan-
guage, but the war with Germany breaking out, he
returned to England, narrowly escaping the siege
After a clerkship from 1871 to 1874 in a commission
house, he engaged in business on his own account,
but making a loss of it, he came to California with liis
wife and daughter, and in 1883 he joined my corps
of laborers at the liljrary.

Edward P. Newkirk, a native of New York state,
after passing an academical course, spent one year at
Fort jNIonroe artillery school, four years in a bank,
then joined the army in 18G1 and fought for tin;
union until 18G5,amon<ic other service ooing throuijh
the peninsular campaign with ]McClellan, and through
the campaigns of Sherman resulting in the cajjturo
of Atlanta and Savannah; was twice wounded, and
reached the nmk of captain. From November 1800
to November 1872 he served in Washinti'ton C'itv,
Fort Delaware, and other stations. At the date Ja>t
mentioned he accompanied a detachment of his regi-
ment to California, and after a stay of two weeks at
the presidio of San Francisco, two of the batteries
were ordered to Alaska.

Newkirk landed at Sitka in the midst of a blinding
December snow-storm, after a rough passage of two
weeks by steam. After three years of monotonous
frontier life, during which the arrival of the monthly
mail or some small trading-vessel was tlie chief cMiit,
he retired from the service and returned to San
Francisco. Not satisfied with what he had seen of^
Alaska, he joined an ai'ctic expedition in pursuit et
walrus, antl found himself at midniglit, on the -Ith et
July, 187(5, standing on a cake of ice with the sun in
full view. The vessel rounded Point Barrow, siiikd

1 1£

NEWKIRK AND COPrr.RTIIWAITE.

2Ca

two days cast, was driven back by fogs and ice, and
while soekiny; more lavorablo urounds had her rudder
crushed by an ice-cake, which compelled her captain
to seek a sheltered cove for repairs. What appeared
a snug harbor was chosen, but it proved the vessel's
tomb. Nt) sooner had the repairs been conqileted,
tliati wliilc the l>arty wvrv confident of an easy escape
tVniii these iidiospitable regions, a large ici^bcig
grounded directly in the mouth of the co\e, shutting
Ihu vessel in. ¥ov two weeks or more a close watch
was ke[)t in the hope that a change of wind might
unlock the prison-door; but it came not, and the
iiartv, abandoninijf their vessel, with hastilv con-
^tructed sledges drew their provisions several miles to
open water, where they were picked up by the boats
of a returning w'haler. On reaching San Francisco,
]\[r Xewkirk worked for a year or so with ]\rr Ilittell
on Commerce and Industries, and then entered the
liiirary.

Thomas Matthew Copperthwaitc, born in Dublin in
1S4S, began his education in London, and thence pro-
ceeded to Belgium in 1850, where he entered the
college of La Sainto Trinitd at Louvain, following in
thai institution the classical course, and at the same
time gaining a practical knowledge of French and
Spanish.

1 [Is father about this time losing his fortune, the
i^on was obliged to discontinue his studies and earn his
livelihood. lie went next to Berlin and engagc<l witli
a furniture manufacturing conipauv, remaining there
till 1SG8, meanwhile learnincf German. Then he en-
tered a conunission house in Paris, and in 1800 came
(e California, where he obtained emplo^^mcnt in a mill
and milling company near Georgetown, and subse-
• liuntly for a time was teller in the Colusa County
l)aiik.

Li 1872 Mr Copperthwaitc bought a tract of land,
iiig ill debt for part, and finally losing the whole of

270

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

1 ^l u

it. In 1875 ho became a naturalized citizen of the
United States, being repnUican in politics. It wa.s
thought that El Paso M'ould become a great railroail
centre, and thither, after leaving the bank, Mr Cop-
porthwaite went, but only in time to be attacked by
malarial fever, which nearly took his life away. His
p]l3^sician recommended his return to California,
where, his health being in due time restored, ho went
to work in the libiary.

Ivan Pctroff, born near St Petersburg in 1842, was
of great assistance to me in preparing Russian ma-
terial for the history of Alaska, and of the Russian
colony at Fort Ross, in California. For one so lately
and so thoroughly a l^ussian, he had a I'cmark.aMc coiii-
mand of Ensj^lisli. He was likewise a o^ood dran-jhts-
man, and made for me many surveys and ])lans, also
visiting Alaska and Washington in search of histor-
ical matter.

His life before entering my service was briefly as fol-
lows: The son of a soldier, and losing his mother in
inl'ancy, at the age of five he was placed in the edu-
cational estal>lishment of the first corps of cadets in
St Petersburg to prepare for a military' career. At
the battle of Inkerman his father was killed, and as
the boy displayed a wonderful faculty for the acquisi-
tion of languages, he was transferred to the depait-
nient of oiiental languages of the imperial academy
of sciences for training as military interpreter. An
impediment of speech, the result of serious and pro-
longed illness, put an end to the proposed career, Imt
the y^Huig orphan was permitted to continue liis
studies in the oriental department, first serving as
amanuensis to Professor Bohttink during his labors
connected with the puljlieation of a Sanskrit dictioib
ary. Subsequently he was attached to another mem-
ber of the academy, M. Brosset, engaged at that period
in the study of Armenian antiquities and literatniv,
during which time he became so proficient in the luu-

ffi

IV AX PETROFF.

271

guage that lie Wcas cliosen by !^^. Bropsct to nceoin-
paiiy liiiii on a voyage of scientific exiiloration through
the ancient kingdoms of Georgia and Armenia.

Ileturned from tliis expedition, which occupied two
years, PctrofT was sent with part of the maici-ial
there obtained to St Ililaire at Paris, to assist hlni
ill a proposed work on American antiquities; but St
Ililaire not being at that time ready to continue liis
libors, Pctroff determined to sec more of the wide
world, and so in the midsummer 18G1 set sail for New
York.

So little attention had he hitherto given to the
Enulish lanixnaGre, that on landing he could scarcely
iiiako himself understood. After a tem})orary en-
gagement on the Couricv dcs Etats Unis, he joined the
union army, and by hard study was soon so far master
ef the language as to be able to write it easily and
cnirectly, often writing letters for the soldiers as a
means of practice.

First private, then corporal, then he l)ecamc ser-
geant and culor-bearer, which rank he held when in
18G4 the company to which he belonged, the Seventh
Xew Hampshire, was sent to Florida. Pet rotf took
}iin't in all the battles fought by Butler's army, and
was twice wounded. After the capture of Fort Fisher
he was made lieutenant.

Satisfied that Alaska would one day become the
property of the United States, when mustered out of
service in July 18G5 he returned to New York and
made a five years' encjaijement with the Russian-
American company to act as English and German
cnirespondent in the company's ofHce at Sitka. De-
laved en route at San Francisco, he thoucjht to im-
prove the time by making a horseback tour through
iierthern California, Idaho, Washington, and Oregon,
ill which he narrowly escaped death at the hands of a
l)and of Shoshones, in encountering which his horso
was killed and he wounded in the arm. When lu
reached Sitka he found his place in the office filled;

■:'SJ

272

SOME OF MY ASSISTANT??.

but he was given charge of a trading post at Cof)k
inlet, which position he held until the transfer of the
territory, when he went to Kodiak island and was
appointed acting custom-house officer to take charge
of the barkcntine Constitution, which had been seized,
and with that vessel he arrived in San Francisco in
October 1870, and entered the library almost im-
mediately afterward.

William J. Carr and John H. Gilmour were two
young Englishmen of fine education and ability, in-
troduced by Hall McAllister. The latter had spent
most of his life in India, and was employed for several
years in the library.

Charles Welch was born and educated in San Fran-
cisco, perhaps the only native Californian among all
my Avorkers. Though but a boy when he came to
the library, he soon made himself a useful member of
tbo corps, doing most faithfully and efficiently what-
ever was given him to do. For several years Iiis
duties w-ere those of what might be termed an assist-
ant librarian, a place that was by no means a sineenro,
and that could hardly have been better filled than by
Welch. He was subsequently transferred to our mer-
cantile establishment, in which for many years he
held a responsible position.

W. H. Benson was, in a sense, the successor of
Welch in the work of keeping the library in ordec,
attending to various and complicated details in tlio
routine of extracting material, and the catalogiiiiin"
of new matter that was constantly swelling the bulk
of the collection. He was an Englishman of goml
education, whose experience had been marked by the
usual routine of adventurous wanderings. Benson
was an intelligent man, a hard worker, a fine penman,
and altogether a faithful and useful assistant; but
consumption had marked him for its victim, and he
died in 1884. The duties of his position were subrfo-
quently performed by Newkirk and Kemp.

BOWMAN, GALAN, SIMPSON.

293

; at CodIv
ifer of til
and was
,ko charge
;en seized,
•anciscd iu
Imost iiu-

werc two
ability, in-
had spoilt
for several

San Fran-
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tie came to
L member of
cntly what-
|1 years liis
d an assist-
a sinecure,
ed than by
;o our iiier-
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successor of
ry in order,
tails in the
cataloguing-
the bulk
an of gootl
ked by the
■s. Benson
Iric pennmn,
blstant; but
lim, and bo
Iwere subso-

Amos Bowman was a stenographer of scientific at-
tainments, with some experience in government sur-
veys and mining explorations, who first aided me in
my northern tour of investigation, and later, for a
brief jieriod, in library work. Harry Larkin was an
English adventurer of good abilities, many accomplish-
nu iits, and an adventurous career, which was termi-
nated by his murder in California.

There was a class of men who possessed decided
talents in some directions, but whose lack of ability
as applied to my work it took me some time to dis-
cover. There was Galan, formerly governor of Lower
California, and Paton, an Irish captain who had seen
service in India.

Galan was in some respects a singular character.
He undertook to practise law in San Francisco, but
was ui.able to sustain himself He was a middle-aged
man, medium height, dark-skinned, with a handsome
face and a quick, clear, bright, intelligent eye. Ho
conversed, not only fluently, but eloquently and learn-
edly, on almost any topic concerning Mexican or Cen-
tral American affairs, at any epoch of their history,
whicb might be started ; but let him undertake i)racti-
cal ;iii(l exact work, and his powers failed him.

Thus it will 1)0 seen that althouijfli mv assistants
were of marked and diversified abilities, I had not
at my command at all times tlie best material for my
pui'iiose. On the whole, my tools were not of the lat-
est anil best pattern; and though this was no fault of
theirs, it threw the whole burden and responsibility
nil me, where it remained from first to last, even my
b'st and most eflScient assistants being able to prove
u|) tbc correctness of but a portion of the work, leav-
iiiii; mc to do the rest as best I was able.

Of Enrique Cerruti, Murray, and some others, I
say enough elsewhere. I might make mention of
scores of others, each of whom had his history, more
or less eventful, more or less strange. There was

Lit. I.vs. 18

274

SOME OF MY ASSISTANTS.

Samuel L. Simpson, who came down from Oregon
and edited the Pacific coast readers for the fiini ; a
young man of rare ability, though lacking somewhat
in steady application.

There were many of Spanish and Mexican origin,
not half of whose names I ever knew. IMonth alter
month they plodded more or less diligently along, as
part of the great combination, directed perha[)s by
Savage, Oak, or Nemos, and drawing their pay every
Saturday.

Of these, Vicente P. Gomez was one. A native of
Mexico, he came to California when a child, was s(.iit
back to be educated, and came again with General
Micheltorena. His father was a merchant and a
ranchero here, and held an office under government.
The elder Gomez built the only sea-going vessel the
Spaniards ever attempted on the California shore.
Launches and lighters they had built, and the Tlus-
sians had constructed small craft, but no Hispano-
Californian before or since. It was only twenty and
a half tons burden, and was called Peor es Nadu,
"nothinij would be worse," from which namino; one
would think the owner was not very proud of it.
The younger Gomez had a wonderful memory, suji-
plcmented with broad inventive faculties, with line
conversational powers, and a fund of anecdote. Ho
wrote a beatitiful hand, and spoke the most graceful
Spanish of any man in California. He was the Victor
of Bret Harte's Story of a Mine.

Besides laboring long and faithfully at the sur-
veyor's office extracting material from the archives,
he accompanied Mr Savage to Santa Clara, Salinas,
Monterey, and Santa Cruz, on the same mission.
He copied from the archives at all these places, and
knowing everybody, he was able to secure much out-
side information of early times. But further and far
more important than all this was the manuscript vol-
ume of 430 pages of his own reminiscences. While
extracting material for history, or in conversation,

MEXICAN WORKERS.

273

v.hcrever ho happened to be, whenever recollections
arose in his mind wc had a man ready to take them
down. It was singular how it worked. lie could
extract material well enough, but if left to write his
(iwn experiences ho would never do it, but he could
talk fluently of his past, so that another could easily
write from his dictation. After the work of copying
i'loui the archives was finished he was put to work in
the library, and definite topics given him to write
IVoni his own knowledge, and in this way he suc-
ceeded quite well, and the result was the manu-
script volume before mentioned, a most magniliccsnt
contribution to the historical literature of this coast,
and invaluable because it contains much knowleduo
nowhere else found, and which but for this method
would have been forever lost.

riosendo V. Corona was another good man. lie
was a native of Topic, INIexieo, and cousin of the ^lexi-
can minister at Madrid. Educated as a civil engineer
at Guadalajara, he came hither to pei'fect his education
and obtain employment. lie assisted in extracting
material at the archbishop's library, and accompanied
Savage and Gomez to Santa Clara and the southern
coast.

Emilio Pina, a native of Chihuahua, was the son of
a distinguished jurist. lie was employed in the li-
brary and at several of the missions copying and ex-
tracting material, before which time he was engageti
as editor, schoolmaster, and in the public service in
^Mexico.

Labadie was a native of Mexico, of French parent-
age, and educated in France. While there the war
broke out, and he entered the army against Germany,
going in a private and coming out a sergeant, lie
was iincly educated, being among other things a good
painter and musician. In tlie mines of Mexico ho
took the fever, and came to California for health and
improvement.
Manuel Fernandez Martinez was more French than

;:8

SOME OP MY ASSISTANTS.

S]\inish in appearance. Sorcini was an educated
!^icxican with an Italian father. Eldridgc was a
native Peruvian witii an American father. He cainu
to Cahfornia in 1849, bringing a ship with him hiduii
with merchandise, but wliicli was lost, vessel and cargo.
He was translator of the laws of California from Eng-
lish into Spanish for several years, and had a brotlicr
also employed in the library.

Martin Barientos, born in Chili, boasted his pure
Araucanian blood, being of that race of aborigimils
who were never conquered. He was a skilful pen-
man, did some illuminated title-pages beautifully, and
could turn his hand to almost anything, being a
printer, writer, and singer. Indeed, he came to Cali-
fornia from South America as one of a French opera-
bouifc company, and often appeared upon the stage
here.

Among my stenographers were some not merely
mechanical men, but possessed of the spirit of research
sufficiently to gather and write out for me much fresh
and valuable information. Among these was j\Ir
Leighton, from Boston, who labored for me most
successfully for several years.

Thus I might go on enumerating and describing
until half a dozen chapters were filled. Those named
are few as compared with those not named ; but I have
mentioned enough to give some idea of the wonderl'ul
variety of nationality and talent employed upon tliis
work, not the least wonderful part of which was tlio
strange coincidents bringing together so heterogeneous
an assembly; and yet, under tlie perfect system and
organization which we finally succeeded in establish-
ing, all laboring with regularity and harmony.

CHAPTER XII.

MY FIRST BOOK.

Tno stronj» angola stand by the sido of History as heraldic supporters:
till :iniri!l of I'oseiirch on tlio left lian<l, that must road niillions of dusty
]i:i'iliiiicnts, and of pages blotted with lies; the angil of meditation on the
n,hl hand, that must cleanse tiie.so lying records with fire, even as of oKl
111. (hiiperies of asOeslos were clcunseJ, and must quicken them into rrgeii-

''■''^''^ ^«- J)e Quiuceif.

How many of the works of authors may bo at-
tiil)uted purely to accident! Had not Shakespeare
lici'u a play-actor wo should have had no Shakespcnri's
]tlays. Had not Bunyan been imprisoned and Milton
liliiid we migiit look in vain for the Pil(/n'ms PfOfjrcss
and Paradise Lost, llobert Pearse Gillies says of
Sir Walter Scott, "I have always been persuaded that
liad he not chanced, and in those days it was a rare
(•liaiice, to get some German lessons from a competent
professor, and had he not also chanced to have Lenora
and The Wild Huntsman played before him as exercises,
^\■o siiould never have had llie Lay oftJie Last Minstrel
or The Ijrxdy of the Lake." More than any other one
lil'nt, Thackeray's writing for Punch taught him
^\il(!l•cin his strength lay. The great satirist at the
l>i'.;i lining of his literary career was not successful,
and it is a question whether he ever would have
been but for a certain train of circumstances which
crowded application upon his genius. Apelles, unabU^
todolinoate to his satisfaction the foam of Alexanders
liorso, dashed his brush against the canvas in angry
drsjiair, when lol upon the picture, eftected thus by
accident, appeared what had baffled his cunningest
skill. Turning-points in life are not always mere

(277)

278

MY FIRST DOOK.

af''i(lc;nt. Oftoii tlicy urc the result of toacliing.s or
iiihorn aspirations, and always they are frauLjlit with
some iiioi'al lesson of s[)(('ial siLjiiilicanee.

Althou'^h my Native liaccscnnnoi be ('allod a cliaiK-e
creation, its comint^ as my lirst work was juirely
aecident. Followini,^ my jL^eneral plan, which was ;i
series of works on the western half of Xorth .VmiTici,
I must of necessity treat of the aborijjcines at souu;
time. But now, as ever, I was intent only on histoiy,
whoso fascinations increased with my over increasing,'
api)rccIation of its importance. All our learninu^ wo
derive from the past. To-day is the pupil of yesterday,
tliis year of last year; drop by drop the activities (»t
each successive hour arc distilled from the experiences
of the centuries.

And the moment was so opportune. Time enonu'li
had elapsed for these western shores to have a histoiy,
yet not enouufh, since civilization llurhtod here, to lose
any considerable portion of it. Then, strange as it
may seem, from the depths of despair I would some-
times rise to the firm conviction that with :ny facilities
and determined purpose I could not only do this woik,
but that I could save to these Pacific States moie
of their early incidents than had been })rcserved to
other nations; that I could place on record annals ex-
ceptionally complete and truthfu; that I could write
a history which as a piece of thorough work, if un-
accompanied by any other excellence, would be given
a place among the histories of the world.

Nor was the idea necessarily the offspring of egoism.
I do not say that I regarded this country as tlio
greatest whose history had over been written, or my-
self as a very able historian. Far, very far from it.
There were here no grand evolutions or revolutions
of mankind, no mighty battles affecting the worlds
political balance, no ten centuries of darkness and
non-progressional torpidity, no pageantry of kings, or
diplomacy of statesmen, or craft of priestly magnates
with which to embellish my pages and stir to glowing

PRACTICAL HISTORY.

270

admiration the interest of my readers. The incidents
(it" history here were in a measure tamo, and for that
reason all the more dillicult of dramatic presentation.
The wars of cominest were mostly witli savages, (•!•
with nations palsied by superstition; and since tlio
(•()ii(|uest no such s[)asms of j)ro<;ress have been made
;\A to command the world's attention or admiiation
lur any leni^th of time. Not that ii^litiuL,' is thts
littest subject for record, or that without social con-
vulsions the nation has no history. The time has come
when war should be deemed the dee]»est disi^race, a
Itrutal way of settling diiferenees, and the evolutions of
alls, industries, and intellect the fairest ilcnvers of pr' >;_;■ -
ress. That wliich is constant is history, that which i ■;
elevating and ennobling, no less than debasing war and
social disru})tions. The [)hiloso[)hic or didactic v iter
i>t" the ])reseut day is of opinion that to form 0(jrrect
conceptions of n people one should know sonicthing of
the state of society and institutions that evolved them.
The devuiopmentof a nation's institutions, their slruct-
ui'i! and functions, are of no less importance than a
narrative of a nation's fortunes in other respects, or
the sayings and doings of its great men. Yet, if over
fancy whis[)ered I could write well, I had but to read
a jiage of Shakespeare, whose pencil was dipped in
colors of no earthly extraction, and whose every
tiiiishod sentence is a string of pearls, and the foun-
tains of my ambition would dwindle to insignificance.
A\ hat wore my miserable efforts beside the conceptions
of a J)ante, the touch of a Dore, the brilliant imagery
of a St John! How powerful are words to him who
can handle them, and yet how insignificant in the
iiands of weaklings to describe these sul>tile shades of
human qualities! What are the many thousand ditfer-
cut words, made by the various combinations of the
twenty-six letters of the al[)habet, and of which many
iiioro might be made, since the possible combination
et these words into others and into sentences is prac-
tically infinite — what are all these word-iitting possi-

290

MY FIRST BOOK.

I ' i

• 11 .ii

bilities in the hands of r. bun'jlor, or of one wlio laelcs
1 he ideas to call thciu forth and array thcni? And yet,
Avero tlie scope of hnnian laniijuaij^e a thousand times
more varied, and there should arise one capable of
Avieldlnij this cnlarfjed vocabulary, the varied thouuht
and feeliii'j;' incident to humanity would still bo but
])ooily expressed.

Not only the thoughts of a great poet but tlie
language in which his thoughts are clothed display
his genius. Undertake to express his idea in wonls
of your own, and you will find its essence evaporated.
( 'olerido-e savs you *' nii»>-ht as well think of pushiii''-
a bri k out of the wall with your forenni»'er as al-
tenij>t to nnnove a word out of any of the finished
])assages of Shakespeare." Become possessed with
an idea, and 3'ou will then find language according
to your ability to express it; it is povcrt}' of ideas
that makes men comjilain of the ]>overty of language.
In the writings of 8hakesiK\ire imagination and ex-
j)erience, wisdom, wit, and charity, connningle ami
play upon and into each other until simple woi'ds
glow like fire illuminated by supernatural signi Il-
ea nee.

Arid as thought becomes elevated, the simpler and
jilalnei' becomes expression. The seed of elocjuence
lies in the conception of the thought, and the siiii-
]ilieity with which it is expressed gives the subliiiio
si»ul-stii']'ing power. It is significant that the books
which have held their highest place in literature I'or
centuries have been written in the jjurest and simjtlest
Saxon. The English language as used by Sliake-
s|)eare and ]\[ilton shows amazing strength, llexibiliiy,
delicacy, and harmony.

Thus the billows of despondency passed ovor rae,
and at times it scciried as if my lite and all my labors
Vvore empty aii'. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of
my taslc, I sat for days and brooded, heart-sick and
<liscouraged. Wliat pi'ofiteth me this heavy labor;'

INEXORABLE NECESSITY,

2S1

My mind is vapid, my nerves unstrung: I have not
the strength, physical or intellectual, for a Avork of
su'-h magnitude. I may succeed or I may fail. In
cither case some will approve, others will ridicule.
And what is approval or ridicule to me? ]Cven if
Mieccss comes, what good will it do me? I do nt)b
jiiofeys to love ni}'' race or country better than anotlier.
J do this work to please neither God nor man, but
only myself It is based on a schislmess almost as
l)r()ad as that of patriots and propagandists. I must
1 lil on, denying myself companionship, wliich indeed
Nv.is small hardship; I must deprive myself of every
jiK'asure, even of the blessed air and sunshine, the
sweetest gifts of nature, and which are freely bestowed
iipoii tlie meanest of created things. These and nine
tenths of the joys of association and recreation I must
yield to musty books and dusty garret; I nuist hug
this heaviness, and all because of an idea. .Vll the
] lowers of mind and body must be made captive to
this one ptirpose; ])assion, ])rejudiee, and })leasure,
vliere they interfere. And yet must the worker often
gro])e in vain for the })ower of mental concentration,
while })rogress laughs moekinglj'. For such work,
such sell'-denial, I cannot take my ])ay in i)raise.
Thei'e must be some higlier, some nobler aim. Ah!
these faihn-es, these heart-sicknessi's. ]]ut write!
write! write! The ilend is at my el In >n' and I must
write. jNIaudlin stuff it may be, but I must write it
down. Death alone can deliver me from these toils,
(MU open a wide current for my stagnant thoughts
and hjadeu sensibilities. ^Vud my j)rayer shall be, Let
me die like I'lato, at my table, jien in hand, and be
hvnied among the scenes of my labors.

Tliere have been Uieii, and many of them, who felt
tlial t iiey must write, and yet who wi'ott^ with difrieulty,
and t'l'om no ilesji'e for fame, who wrote ni'itlui' t'lom a
|irit<iuled anxiety to make men better nor under nec(>s-
M'\ . Whv, then, did thev write ( IV'rhaps from the
[in ssure of genius, ])erha))s from a lack ofconunonsensi'.

282

MY FIRST BOOK.

;.5!i

No person knows less of tlic stuff he is made of than
he wlio takes pen in hand and has nothing to say.

What profitcth it me? again I ask. Money? I
shall die a poor man, and my (children will have only
their father's folly for an inheiitance. Does God ])ay
for such endeavor? I should have more heart did I
but feel assured of some compensatic-.n hereafter, for
this life seems pretty well lost to me. But even such
assurance is denied me. Posthumous fame is but a
phantom, the off-float from scarcely more solid con-
temporaneous opinion, the ghost of a man's deeds. In
looking over my writings I sometimes doubt whom I
serve most, Christ or Belial, or whether either will
acknowletlge mo his servant. And yet the half is
not tokl, for if it were, with the good Cid Ilamete I
might be applauded less for what I have written than
for what I have omitted to write.

There is a quality of intellectual application that
will never be satisfied with less than grand results.
It i:- enough for some money-makers to gather and
hoard, to feel themselves the possessors of wealth,
their power increased by the power their dollars will
measure; others such toad-life fails to satisfy; tlicro
must be with them a birth, a creation, as the fruit of
their labor. And amidst such labors many cares arc
dissipated. As the Chinese say, "The dog in his
kennel barks at his lleas, but the doGf that is hunting
does not feel them." Labor pursued as pleasure is
light, yet ho who seeks only pleasure in his work will
never find it. Pleasure is a good chance acquaintance,
but a bad companion. It is the useful, the bcnciicial
alone which gives true enjoyment, and in the attain-
ment of this there is often much pain. Yet if lit'o
like the olive is a bitter fruit, when pressed it yields
sweet oil, Jean Paul Ilichter would say.

It does not make much difference whether one re-
ceives impressions through the ears like Madame do
Stael, or through the eyes like Huskin, so long as oiio
embraces opportunities and utilizes the results. To

LAW OF COMPENSATION.

read for my own pleasure or benefit was not sufficient
for me; it was not consistent w^tli the aims and in-
dustries of my past life, as I have elsewhere observed,
which were never content unless there appeared some-
tliiiiiT taniiil)le as the result of each vear's endeavor.
Hence tlie melancholia which Albert Diircr pictures,
iind whicli otherwise would have devoured me, 1 never
felt to that degree of intensity experiencetl by many
students. Speaking of this brooding melancholy,
which is so apt to be inseparable from the lives of
severe workers, Mr Hamerton says: ''I have known
several men of action, almost entirely dev\)id of in-
tellectual culture, who enjoyed an unbroken flow of
animal energy, and were clearly free from the melan-
clioly of Dlirer, but I never intimately knew a really
cultivated })erson who had not sufl:ered from it more
or less; and the greatest suflerers were the most con-
scientious tliiidcers and students."

Then another train of thought would take posses-
sion of me, and I would argue to myself that after all,
in tlie absence of a quality, material or accpiired, there
is always compensation, if not conjplete at least i)ar-
tial. Public speaking is an art which I have olten
oovcted. To hold in rapt attention a thousand listeners
whose presence and sympathy should feed fires radi-
ating in dazzling conceits is a fascination often risin'_j
bcfoi'e the student of ardent longings, and most vividly
of all before him in whom such talents are lamenta-
bly absent. Yet the rule is, to which I know excep-
tions, that the brilliant speaker is seldom the best
scholar or the most profound thinker.

It is told of the vocalist Lablache that by ficial
expression he could represent a thunder-storm in a
iiinst remarkable manner. The gloom which over-
si uulowed the face, as clouds the sky, deepened into
(laiknoss, then lowered as an angry tempest. Light-
ning flashed from the winking eyes, twitching tlie
musclos of the face and mouth, and tliunder shook
the head. Finally the storm died away, and the le-

284

MY FIRST BOOK.

1 1'

turniiiGf sun illumined the features and wreathed the
face iu smiles. There is somethin'j' irresistible in the
tone and manner of an eloquent speaker; likewise in
the ilowinix thouj^hts of a o-raceful writer. As iu meet-
iiig a stnuiger, wo arc at first attracted by the dress
and ])olish which conceal character I'athcr than by
qualitics of the head and heart, of which wc know
nothing. But since science now so often strips from
the kernel of things their soft and comely covering,
history is no longer willing to sacrifice for meat liiu,
or for the body raiment.

Following violent exercise, mental or physical,
comes the reaction; sinking of spirit follows eleva-
tion of spirit. Night succeeds day in mental eifoi-ls,
and dark indeed is the night of the intellectual life.
The men wliom wc regard most happy and success-
ful arc not free from this blue-sickness; for, passing
the extreme cases of morbid melancholy such as
was displayed by Wordsworth, Byi'on, and Shelley,
the curses attending the imaginative tcmpcramont
are too plainly palpable even in such happy produc-
tions as Wertht sxnd Maud. The intensity and ex-
citement which produce a poem, as a matter of course
can be but transient; that which follows too often
causes the poet to appear as much less than man, as
in the authoi'ship he appeared to be more than man.

Books are a mighty enginery. Yet before men
became bookish there issued from them an inlluence
subtile as air and strong as the tcnnpest. To the sur-
vivors of the Athenian host annihilated at Syi'acuse
it was ordained that any prisoner who could recite
passages or scenes from the dramas of Euripides
should be taken from the quarries and kindly treated
in Sicilian houses. What weapon was here! One
little dreamed of, even by him who held it.

Literary activity manifested itself in the days of
the empire, when for two hundretl years there had
been a steady ilow of wealth from all parts of the
civilized world into the lap of Home. Helincd tastes

ti 'i

IXC.VRXATIOX OF THE IDEA.

285

followed that love of enjoyment and display which i.s
the first fruits of uioncy, and with luxury came culture.
In gorgeous palaces were crowded the treasures of
Ilrlienic civilization; manuscripts and works of art,
gathered by Greek collectors, found their wa}' into
the libraries of Asia and Europe. In Rome, two
tliousand years ago, when an author about to read his
manuscript appeared before the audience, he some-
times arraj^ed himself in a gayly colored hood, ear
])andagcs, and a comforter about his neck, hoping by
thus decking his person to give the greater eilicacy
to his discourse. So runs fashion. In the davs of
cliivalry learning was accounted almost a disgrace,
Piiests might know a little without loss of caste, but
M'omen and churls had other and more highly esteemed
u^;cs. All else were knights-errant, and if one of these
could road he kept the knowledge of the accomplish-
iiiont hidden from his fellows. To the soldier of the
fiixteenth century money-making was a low occupation,
especially if it involved work. They might kill for
gold but they must not dig for it. Now any one may
lualvC money, even at the cost of damaged honor, and
all is well; yet few understand how a sane man can
eschew fortune, pleasure, and indeed fame, for the
satisfaction of gratilying his intellectual tastes. Mrs
Tutliill says in an introduction to one of Ruskin'.s
volumes : " The enthusiasm of a man of genius appears
to the multitude like madness."

Before my cooler judgment my self-imposed task
presented itself in this form: Next after gathering,
already partir^' " accomplished, was the ac(piisition of
power over the mass. From being slave of all this
knowledge, I must become master. This was already
l»artially accomplished by means of the index, as be-
fore explained, which placed at my connnand the in-
stantaneous appearance of whatever my authors had
said on any subject. To know anything perfectly,
out' must know many things perfectly. Then surely

286

MY FIRST BOOK.

1 „

with all tho evidence extant on any historical point
or incident before me I should be able with sufficit'ut
study and thought to determine the truth, atid in phiin
languajj^c to write it down. My olijcct seemed to bo
the pride and satisfaction it woidd afford \\u\ to im-
prove somewliat tlie records of my race, save some-
thing of a nation's history, which but for me would
drop into oblivion; to catch from the mouths of living
witnesses, just ready to take their final departure,
important facts explaining new incidents and strange
experiences; to originate and perfect a system by
which means alone this history could be gathered and
written; to lay the corner-stone of this fair land's
literature while the land was yet young and ambitious,
and accomplish in one generation what l)y the slowci-
stage-coach processes hitherto employed even by tho
latest and best historians would have occupied ten
generations, or indeed from the very nature of things
might never have been accomplished at all. Here-
upon turns all progress, all human advancement. One
of the main diifer-enccs between civilization and sav-
agism is that one preserves its experiences as tliey
accunuilatc and the other does not. Savagism ceases
to be savagism and becomes civilization the moment
the savage begins a record of events.

Mine was a great work that could be performed
by a small man. As Beaumarchais says: "Mediocre
et rampant, ct Ton arrive a tout." Vigorous and per-
sistent ett\)rt for twenty or thirty years, with sutHcienl
self-abnegation, a liberal outlay of money, and an
evenly balanced mind, not carried away by its en-
thusiasm, could accomplish more at this time than
would be later possible under any circumstances. And
althougli in my efforts like the eagle, which mistook
the bald head of ^sch3dus for a stone, I sometimes
endeavored to crack the shell of my tortoise on the
wrong subject; and although much of the time the
work was apparently stationary, yet in reality like a
glacier it was slowly furrowing for itself a path.

ENNOBLING ENDEAVOR.

287

"Good aims not al\va3's niako good books," says
^[rs Browning. So with mind well toni[)ored and
ambition held in strict control, I determiiu'd to work
and wait. Some men live in their endeavors. Uidess
they have before them intricate work they are not
satisfied. The moment one difficult undertaking is
accomplished they straightway [)ine for an<^tlier.
(Ireat pleasure is felt in finishing a tedious and diffi-
cult piece of work, but long before one was done by
me I had a dozen other tedious and difficult ])ieces
planned. Early in my efforts the conquest of Mexico
attracted my attention. This brilliant episode lay
directly in my path or I never should have had the
audacity to grapple with it after the graceful and
]ihilosophic pen of Prescott had traced its history.
This story of the conquest possessed me with a thrill-
ing interest which might almost carry inspiration; and
but'ore mo lay not only the original authorities, with
much new and unused collateral information, but com-
l)lete histories of that epoch, in English, Spanish,
French, Italian, and German — careful histories from
able and eloquent pens. Those might be the guide
of the literary fledgling. Ah! there was the trouble.
Had there been any need for such a work; had the
work not been done better than I could hope to do it;
had I not these bright examples all before me, seem-
ingly in derision of my puny efforts, I should have
been better able to abstract the facts and arrauije
thorn in readable order.

]My first concern was the manner of fitting words
together; the facts seerned for the moment of second-
ary consideration. To array in brilliant colors empty
ideas was nearer model history-writing than the
sharpest philosophy in homely garb. The conse-
quence was, this mountain of my ambition after hard
labor brought forth a few chapters of sententious
imtliings, which a second writing seemed only to con-
tuse yet more, and which after many sighings and
heart-sinkings I tore up, and cleared my table of

288

MY FIRST BOOK.

I i

■',"1:

authorities on the grand coiirjuest. Tlic result brought
to uiy mind the experience oi' K;uit, who for the second
e(Ulion ot" his Critiqne (if Pure Jteason rewrote some
jKirts of it in order to give tlieni greater perspicuity,
though in reahty the exi)kination was more enigmat-
ical than what hatl been first written.

Now, I said, will I begin at tlie beginning, where I
should have begun. The Pacific States territory, as
by this time I had it marked, extended south to the
Atrato river, so as to include the whole of tlie
isthmus of Darien. I would notice the first appear-
ance of the Spaniards along these shores. I Mould
make my first volume the conquest of Darien, bring-
ing the Jiistory down from the discovery ])y Cohnnbus
and the first touching of f i.e North American conti-
nent at the Isthmus by Il(^drigo de Bastidas in 1501,
to about the year 1530, to be followed by a chapter
on the expedition of Pizarro from Panama to l*eru.

So I entered upon a thorough study of the discov-
ery of America, of society and civilization in Europe
at and prior to the discovery; paying particular atten-
tion to Spanish character and institutions. At this
time I was almost wholly occupied in handling tlio
ideas of others: but it was not long before I began to
have ideas of ray own; just as Spinoza in writing a
s3'nopsis of the system of Descartes threw into the
principles of Cartesian philosophy much original
thought and speculation while scarcely conscious of
it, I wrote a long dissertation for what I conceived
a fit introduction to a history of the Pacific States.
To follow this introduction, with some assistance I
})repared a summary of voyages and discovery from
the earliest times to about 1540.

Over these two sunnnaries I labored long and faith-
fully, spending fully six months on them with all the
assistance I could utilize. Oftentimes work arose
where assistance was impracticable; I could perform
it better alone: with a dozen good men at my elbow
I have nevertheless written many volumes alone,

UNAVAILABLE HELP.

289

taking out all Jiotus myself, because I could not
profitably employ help. And further than this, I
often carried on no less than four or five distinct

woi'ks |9a>v' jx«.%'?<.

To my help in writing this introduction I called a
m.in well informed in all mediaeval knowledcre. In all
scicucc and regarding all schools his opinions were
iiKidorn, yet ho could readily explain the theories of
t'liose who held opposite doctrines. Surely, I thought,
ill preparing such an essay as I desired such a person
^\(Mlld l)o invaluable. So I instructed him to study
llic sul)ject, particularly that part of it relating to
literature, language, and learning, with the view of
his gathering some pertinent facts for me. He read,
and read, eagerly devouring all he could lay hands on.
Anil he would have continued reading to this day had
I been willing to pay him his salary regularly for it.
He liked to read. And I said to myself, this is
glorious ! Surely, as the result of such enthusiasm I
sliall liave a bushel of invaluable notes.

Mianwhile I labored hard myself, studying care-
fully over two hundred volumes bearing upon the
j<uhjeet, taking notes and committing my ideas to
paper. The trouble was — as was always the trouble —
to limit the sketch, yet make it symmetrical and
complete. Occasionally I would urge my assistant
to hring his investigations to some practical result,
for after rcadinof two months he had not half a dozen
pages of written matter to show.

" Lot me get it fairly into my head," said he, "and
I will soon commit it to paper."

And so for another month he continued the stuffing
prcjcess, until I became tired of it, and told him plainly
to give me what he had gathered and leave the sub-
ject. A fortnight later he handed me about thirty
pages of commonplace information, in which there
was hardly a note that proved any addition to my
own researches. And this was the result of his three
months' hard work, for he did really apply himself

Lit. Ins. 10

200

MY FIRST BOOK.

diligently to the task, and thought all the time that
ho was making ju-ogrt'ss until he came to the sum-
ming up, which di.sa[)poiniod him as much as myself.
Wliile engaged in the study his mind had absorbed a
vast amount of information, wliich might some tinio
prove valuable to him, Ijut was of no use to me. And
so it often ha])pene(], particularly at the first, and be-
fore I had a|'j)lii'(.l u thorough system of drilling;
months and years were vainly spent by able persons
in the eHbrt to extract material Ibr me. With regai'd
to the introduction, as was yet often the case, I had
vague conceptions only of what I should require, lor
the reason that I could not tell what shape the suIj-
ject would assume when wi »u«dit out. This was the
«;ase with many a chapter or volume. Its character I
eould not altogether control; nay, rather than control
it I would let fact have free course, and record only
as directed by the subject itself. One is scarcely fit
to write upon a subject until one has written much
upon it. That which is I would record; yet that
which is may be differently understood by different
persons. I endeavored always to avoid planting my-
self upon an opinion, and saying thus and so it is,
and shall be, all incidental and (X)llateral facts being
warped accordingly; rather would I write the truth,
let the result be what it might.

He who aims at honesty will never leave a subject
on which he discourses without an effort at a judicial
view, or witliout an attempt to separate himself froiu
his subject and to marshal the arguments on the otli<r
side. He will contradict his own statement, and demur
at his conclusions, until the matter is so thoroughlv
sifted in his own mind that a highl}'' prejudiced x'lcw
would be improbable. He who warps fact or fails to
mva ui evidence against himself is not entitled to our
respect. The writer of exact history must lay aside,
so far as possible, his emotional nature. Knowing
that his judgment is liable to prejudice, and that it is
impossible to be always conscious of its presence, he

THE TREACHERY OF BIAS.

201

will constantly suspect himself and rigidly review his
work. If there was one thing David Hume piqued
himself on more than anotiier, it was his frectlora
from bias; and yet the writings of no historian un-
cover more glaring prejudices than do his in certain
phiccs. A classicist of the Diderot and Voltaire school,
he despised too heartily the writings of the monkish
chroniclers to examine them. Macaulay sacrificed
truthfulness to an epigrammatic style, the beauty and
force of which lay in exaggeration. It has always
b(;('ii my custom to examine carefully authorities cur-
rent ly held of little or no value. Not that I over de-
rived, or expected to derive, much benefit from them,
but it was a satisfaction to know everything that had
been written on the subject I was treating. And as
fur bias, though not pretending to be free fi-om it —
wlio that lives is? — yet were I ever knowingly to reach
t\w point where pride of opinion was preferred before
truth, I should wish from that moment to lay down
my pen. Should ever any obstacle or temptation inter-
])Ose to warp the facts before me; should ever fear,
ilivor, conventionality, tra'^'tion, or a desire for praise
or [)opularity,or any other vile contravention, wittingly
come between me and plain unadulterated truth, I
should say, Palsied be the hand that writes a lie !

The introduction to my history was exclusively my
own theme; in some subjects others might to some
extent participate with me, but not in this. Hence,
(luring the fourteen weeks my really talented and
mtelligcnt assistant was floundering in a sea of erudi-
tion, with little or nothing available in the end to
!>li()\v for it, I myself had taken out material from
which I easily wrote three hundred pages, though
after twice re-arransfinj? and rewriting I reduced it
one half, eliminated half of what was left, and printed
the remainder.

To form a critical estimate of our own literary
ability is impossible. "It is either very good or very
bad, I don't know which," sighed Hawthorne as he

292

MY FIRST BOOK.

i I

placed in the hands of a friend the manuscript of
his Scarlet Letter. It is oi'ton more difficult to form
a just opinion of the chanictur or ahility of a Ioiil,'
esteemed friend than of an ordinary acquaintance; it
is more difficult to form a critical estimate of a citii-
temporary than of a writer of tlie past. As Cer-
vantes says: "Porquo no ay padru ni madre a quieu
sus hijos le parezcan fcos: yen los que lo son del
entendimionto, corremos este enofano." Did not Jeaii
Paul Ilicliter, with faith in himself, labor in the
deepest poverty for ten long years before his genius
was even rccoGfuizcd? Who are our j^reat men o['
to-day? Blinded by the dust of battle, if we ha\i
them we cannot see them. Our children and grantl-
children will tell; we do not know. The current of
passing impressions, the record of contemporaneous
opinion, differ widely from the after judgments of
history. "Yet the judgment of history," says oiu',
"must be based on contemporaneous evidence."

In all this the failure of certain of my assistants to
prove profitable to my work was a source of small
anxiety to me as compared with my own failures. It
was what I could do with my own brain and fingeis.
and that alone, which gave me pleasure. " Not what I
have, but what I do is my kingdom," says Teufel>-
drockh. If by securing help I might accomplish more,
well ; but the work itself must be mine alone, planned
by me and executed by me.

And now was fully begun this new life of mine, the
old life being dead; a sea of unborn experiences wliich
I prayed might be worth the sailing c"er, else might
I as well have ce sed to be ere myself embark inu,\
This change of life 'as as the birth of a new creature.
a baptism in a new tmosphere. With the olnysalis
of business was left he ambition of ordinary acquisi-
tion, so that the wii ed intellect might rise int(j the
glorious sunshine c yet nobler acquisition. The
wealth which might minister to sensual gratification
was made to subserve the wealth of intellectual grati-

TRIUMPH AND FAILURR.

293

liration. Litoraturo is its own lucoinpcnso. "Tho
reward of a good scntonco is to have written it," says
Iliijg'insQn. And again, "the literary man must love
Ills art, as the painter must love painting, out of all
proportion to its rewards ; or rather, the delight of
the work must be its own reward." Ten thousand
>m-v Hippocrates have said that art is longer than
life. Wiiatcver I undertook to do scorned long, in-
ttiniinably long it seemed to me. In the grammar
(it" mankind it requires nearly half a century of study
to learn that the present tense t)f life is now. Nay,
not only is the present tense now, but the present is
the only tense; the past for us is gone; the future,
who shall say that it is his?

Looking back over the past my life lies spread
before me in a series of lives, a succession of deaths
and new life, until I feel myself older tlian time,
though young and hopeful in my latest, newest life.
And each life has its individual jjrowth. The thousjht-
till student of books is an endogenous plant, growing
tniin the inside; the man of the world is the exoge-
iiuiis, or outside-grower. Each has its advantage; the
inside-growers are cellular and fibrous, while the out-
tido-growers are woody and pithy.

I had now become fully imbued with the idea that
tlicre was a work to do, and that this was my work.
I "utered upon it with relish, and as I progressed it
satisfied me. The truth is, I found myself at this
time nearer the point reached by Gibbon when ho
said, "I was now master of my style and subject, and
while the measure of my daily performance was en-
larged, I discovered less reason to cancel or correct."
ViV reason of the late Roul-storms, through the clear
<h V atmosphere of my present surroundings, the dis-
tant mountain of toilsome ascent was brought near

and made inviting

Following a fit of despondency, a triumph was like
the dancing of light on the icy foliage after a gloomy
stoini. In planning and executing, in loading my

Ill

^iM/i' '"

I in

If
"if

.■J * ■

\ i I

294

MY FIRST BOOK.

mind and discharging it on paper, in finding outlet
and expression to pent thought, in the healthful exer-
cise of my mental faculties, I found relief such as I
had never before experienced, relief from the cor-
roding melancholy of stifled aspirations, and a pleasure
more exquisite than any I had hitherto dreamed of
There is a pivot on which man's happiness and un-
happiness not unevenly balance. How keen this
enjoyment after an absence or break of any kind in
my labors. Back to my work, my sweet work, sur-
rounded by wife and children; away from hates and
heart-burnings, from brutish snarlings, law courts, and
rounds of dissipating society; back to the labor that
fires the brain and thrills the heart. For weeks after
a period of business and society desiccation, the lite-
rary worker can di little else than plant himself in his
closet, day after day, until he again in some degree
becomes filled with his subject.

Hermonitas thought he might achieve virtue, as it'
by scaling a mountain, and reach the top in twenty
years. " iBut," said he, " if once attained, one minute
of enjoyment on the summit will fully recompense me
for all the time and pains."

Let the world wag. There might be wars, convul-
sions, earthquakes, epidemics; there might be busi-
ness or social troubles, none of them should come
nigh so long as I had my library and my labors iii
which to hide myself My mind had hungered for
food, and had found it.

" The consciouLaess of a literary mission," says
Stoddard, "is an agreeable one ; for however delusive
it may bo, it raises its possessor for the time being
above his fellows, and places him in his own estima-
tion among the benefactors of his race." With Pliny
I can heartily say, " I find my joy and solace in liteni-
ture. There is no gladness that this cannot increase,
no sorrow that it cannot lessen."

This, however, may be all very well for the sorro\\',
but it is bad for the literature. Yet Schubert says:

A SOMBRE SUBJECT.

295

"Grief sharpens tlie understanding and strengthens
the soul, whereas joy seldom troubles itself about the
former, and makes the latter eitlior effeminate or
frivolous." Sorrow may drive a man to study, as hun-
ger does to labor, but as labor can be better performed
when the body is not overcome l)y hunger, so litera-
ture prospers best when the heart is free from grief.

Though ever steadfast in my purpose, I was often
obliged to change plans. I kept on, however, at
the history until I had completed the first volume,
until I had written fully the conquest of Darien and
the conquest of Peru — until I had rewritten the
volume, the first writing not suiting me. This I did,
taking out even most of the notes myself. But long
before I had finished this volume I became satisfietl
that something must be done with the aborigines.
Wherever I touched the contment with my Spaniards
they were there, a dusky, disgusting subject. I did
not fancy them. I would gladly have avoided them.
T was no archaeologist, ethnologist, or antiquary, and
liad no desire to become such. My tastes in the
matter, however, did not dispose of the subject. The
savages were there, and there was no help for me ; I
nmst write them up to get rid of them.

Nor was their proper place the general history, or
any of the several parts thereof; I'or was it the place
tf» speak of them where first encountered. It would
not do to break off a nairative of events in order to
describe the manners and customs, or the language,
or the mythology of a native nation. The reader
should know something of botli peoples thus intro-
duced to each other before passing the introduction;
he should knoAV all about them.

Once settled that the natives must be described in
a work set apart for them, the question arose, How
should they be treated? Uppermost in the mind
when the words 'Indian' and 'Digger' appeared were
the ragged, half-starved, and half-drunken prowlers

If)

i'i

296

MY FIRST BOOK.

round the outskirts of civilization, cooped in reserva-
tions or huddled in missions; and a book on them
would treat of their thefts, massacres, and capture.
Little else than raids, fighting's, and exterminations
we heard concerning them; these, coupled with op-
probrious epithets wiiich classed them as cattle ratlicr
than as human beings, tended in no wise to rendoi
the subject fascinating to me. Indeed I never could
bring my pen to write the words ' buck,' 'squaw,' or
' Digger,' if I could help it. The lirst two arc
vulgarisms of the lowest order; the third belongs to
no race or nation in particular, but was applied indis-
criminately to the more debased natives of California
and Nevada,

In fact the subject was not popularly regarded as
very interesting, unless formed into a bundle of
thi'illing tales, and that was exactly what I would
not do. Battles and adventures belonged to history
proper; here was required all that we could learn of
them before the coming of the Europeans: some
history, all that they had, but mostly description.
They should be described as they stood in all their
native glory, and before the withering hand of civil-
ization was laid upon them. They should be d<
scribed as they were first seen by Europeans along
the several paths of discovery, by the conquerors of
Darien, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and
Mexico, during the first half of the sixteenth century;
by the missionaries to the north; by the American
lur-hunters, the French Canadian trappers, the Hud-
son's Bay Company's servants, and the Russian voy-
agers and seal -catchers on the shores of Alaska;
also by circunmavigators and travellers in various
parts — thus the plan presented itself to my mind.

As a matter of course, nuicli personal investiga-
tion in such a work was impossible. For the purpose
of studying the character and customs of hundreds of
nations and tribes I could not spend a lifetime with
each; and to learn the six hundred and more dialects

DESCRIBING THE NATIVES.

297

which I found on these shores was impracticable,
even had they all been spoken at the time of my
investigations. I must take the word of those who
had lived among these people, and had learned during
the three centuries of their discovering whatever was
kiK)wn of them.

Spreading before me the subject with liardly any
other guide than practical common-sense, I resolved
tlio question into its several divisions. What is it we
wish to know about these people? I asked myself.
First, their appearance, the color of the skin, the text-
ure of the hair, form, features, physique. Then there
were the houses in which they lived, the food they
ate, how they built their houses, and obtained and
preserved their food, their implements and weapons;
tliorc were ornaments and dress to be considered, as
well as many other questions, such as what constituted
wealth with them; their government, laws, and re-
ligious institutions; the power and position of rulers,
and the punishment of crimes; the arts and intel-
lectual advancement; family relations, husband and
wife, children, slaves; the position of woman, in-
cluding courtship, marriage, polygamy, childbirth, and
chastity; their amusements, dances, games, feasts,
bathing, smoking, drinking, gambling, racing; their
diseases, treatment of the sick, medicine-men; their
mourning, burial, and many other like topics relative
to life and society among these unlettered denizens of
this blooming wilderness.

Manners and customs beinsf the common tei'm em-
jiloyed by ethnologists for such description, unable
to tind, after careful study and consideration of the
question, a better one, I adopted it. Tlie first division
of my subject, then, was the manners and customs
of these peoples. But here a difficulty arose. In
]i<iiiits of intellectual growth and material progress,
of lelative savagism and civilization, there were such
wide differences between the many nations of the vast
Pacific seaboard that to bring them all together would

298

MY FIRST BOOK.

uii

make an incongruous mass, and to fit them to one
plan would be far-fetched and impracticable.

For example, there were the snake-eating Sho-
shones of Utah, and the cloth-makers and land-tillers
of the Pueblo towns of New Mexico; there were
the blubber-eating dwellers of the subterranean dens
of Alaska, and the civilized city-builders of the
Mexican table-land; the coarse brutal inhabitants of
British Columbia, and the refined and intelligent
Mayas and Quiches of Central America. What had
these in common to be described more than Arab,
Greek, and African?

Obviously there must be some division. The sub-
ject could not be handled in such a form. Whatever
might be their relation as regards the great continental
divisions of the human family, the terms race and
species as applied to the several American nations I
soon discovered to be meaningless. As convincing;
arguments might be advanced to prove them of ono
race as of twenty, of three as of forty. Some call the
Eskimos one race, and all the rest in America from
Hudson Bay to Tierra del Fuego one race. Some
segregate the Aztecs; others distinguish the Call-
fornians as Malays, and the natives of Brazil as
Africans. I soon perceived that ethnologists still
remained mystified and at variance, and I resolved
not to increase the confusion.

This I could do: I could group them geographi-
cally, and note physique, customs, institutions, behefs,
and, most important of all, languages; then he who
would might classify them according to race and
species. In all my work I was determined to keep
upon firm ground, to avoid meaningless and even
technical terms, to avoid theories, speculations, and
superstitions of every kind, and to deal only in
facts. This I relied on more than on any other ono
thing. My work could not be wholly worthless if 1
gathered only facts, and arranged them in some form
which should bring them within reach of those who

EVILS OF DOGMATISM.

290

had not access to my material, or who could not use
it if they had; whereas theories mis^lit be overthrown
as worthless. I had not studied long the many
questions arising from a careful survey of the material
brought forth and arranged for my Native Races
before I became aware that many things which were
long since supposed to be settled were not settled, and
much which I would be expected to decide ncv^er
could be decided by any one. The more I thought of
these things the stronger became an inherent repug-
nance to positiveness in cases where nothing was
positive.

Often we hear it urged upon the young, "Get
opinions, make up your mind upon the leading ques-
sions of the day, and once having formed an opinion,
hold it fast." All matters from Moses to Darwin,
all disputed questions relative to this world and the
next, are to be forever decided in the mind of a
young man just setting out in life, and whether the
conclusions thus jumped at be right or wrong they
must be forever fixed and immovable. None but the
ignorant egoist, or one with an ill-balanced mind, will
attempt to arrive at fixed conclusions on any subject
with only partial data before him.

Many complained because I did not settle insol-
uble questions for them, because I did not determine
beyond peradventure the origin of the Americans,
where they came from, who their fathers were, and
who made them. But far more found this absence of
vain and tiresome speculation commendable.

Finally, after much deliberation to enable me to
grasp the subject which lay spread over such a vast
territory, I concluded to divide manners and customs
into two parts, making of the wild or savage tribes
one division, and of the civilized nations another. The
civilized nations all lay together in two main families,
tlie Nahuas of central Mexico and the Mayas of Cen-
tral America. The savage tribes, however, extended
from the extreme north to the extreme southern limits

(

300

MY FIRST BOOK

of our Pacific States territory, completely surround-
ing the civilized nations. The wild tribes, therefore,
must be grouped ; and I could reach no better plan
than to adopt arbitrarily territorial divisions, never
dividing, however, a nation, tribe, or family that
seemed clearly one. There were the Pueblos of New
Mexico, who could be placed among the savage or
civilized nations according to convenience. I placed
them among the wild tribes, though they were as far
in advance of the Nootkas of Vancouver island as
the Mayas were in advance of the Pueblos. Indeed,
like most of these expressions, the terms savage and
civilized are purely relative. Where is the absolute
savage on the face of the earth to-day; where tlio
man absolutely perfect in his civilization? What wo
call civilization is not a fixed state, but an irresistible
and eternal moving onward.

The groupings 1 at last adopted for the Manno:
and Customs of the Wild Tribes were: Beginning at
the extrcne north, all those nations lying north of the
fifty-fifth parallel I called, arbitrarily. Hyperboreans;
to those whose lands were drained by the Columbia
river and its tributaries I gave the name Columbians;
the Californians included in their division the inhab-
itants of the great basin ; then there were the New
Mexicans, the Wild Tribes of Mexico, and the Wild
Tribes of Central America. There was no special
reason in beginning at the north rather than at the
south. Indeed, in treating the subject of antiquities
I began at the south, but this was partly because the
chief monumental remains were in Central America
and Mexico, and few of importance north of Mexico.
And there were other topics to be examined, sueli
as languages, myths, and architectural remains; and
the civilized nations had their own written history to
be given.

It was my purpose to lay before the world absolutely
all that was known of these peoples at the time of the
appearing among them of their European extermi-

THE BUILDING OF IT.

301

New

the

nators. All real knowledge of them I would present,
and their history, so far as they had a history. I had
little to say of the aborigines or their deeds since the
coming of the Europeans, of their wars against in-
vaders and among themselves ; of repartimientos, pre-
sidios, missions, reservations, and other institutions for
their conquest, conversion, protection, or oppression.
!My reason for this was that all these things, so far as
thuy possessed importance, belonged to tlie modern
liistory of the country where they were to receive due
attention. The wild tribes in the absence of written
records had very little history, and that little was
mingled with the crudest of supernatural conceptions.

Besides these several branches of the subject I
could think of no others. These included all that re-
lated in any wise to their temporalities or their spirit-
ualities; everything relating to mind, soul, body, and
estate, language, and literature. The last mentioned
subjects, namely, myths, languages, antiquities, and
liistory, I thought best to treat separately, and for
the following reasons: The myths of these peoples,
their strange conceptions of their origin, their deities,
and their future state, would present a much more per-
fect and striking picture placed together where they
might the better be analyzed and compared. And so
with languages and the others. These might or might
not be taken up territorially; in this respect I would
be governed by the subject-matter at the time I
treated it. It resulted that as a rule they were so
treated; that is, beginning at one end or the other of
the territory and proceeding systematically to the other
end. Myths and languages each begin at the north;
antiquities proceed from the south; history is con-
riiicd mostly to the table-lands of Mexico and Central
Aiporica, and had no need of territorial treatment.

All this I hoped to condense, at the outset, into two
volumes, the first of which would comprise the
inauners and customs of both savage and civilized
tribes, the other divisions filling the second volume.

302

MY FIRST BOOK.

rii i

But I soon saw that, after the severest and most per-
sistent compressing, the manners and customs of the
wild tribes alone would fill a volume. In each of the
six great territorial divisions of this branch of the
subject there was much in common with all the rest.
A custom or characteristic once mentioned was seldom
again described, differences only being noticed; but
in every nation there was much which, though gener-
ally similar to like characteristics in other tribes, so
differed in minor if not in main particulars as to de-
mand a separate description. Hence I was obliged
either to take more space or let the varying customs
go unnoticed, and the latter course I could not make
up my mind to adopt.

So the first volume became two almost at tho out-
set; for it was soon apparent that the portraiture of
the civilized nations — a description of their several
eras; their palaces, households, and government; their
castes and classes, slaves, tenure of land, and taxa-
tion; their education, marriage, concubinage, child-
birth, and baptism; their feasts and amusements; their
food, dress, commerce, and war customs; their laws
and law courts, their arts and manufactures; their
calendar and picture-writing; their architecture, bo-
tanical gardens, medicines, funeral rites, and the like —
would easily fill a volume.

Proceeding further in the work it was ascertained
that myths and languages would together require a
volume; that the subject of antiquities, with tho
necessary three or four hundred illustrations, would
occupy a volume, and that the primitive history of
the Nahuas and Mayas, with which Brasseur de
Bourbourg filled four volumes, could not be properly
written in less than one.

Thus we sec the two volumes swollen to five, even
then one of the principal difficulties in the work being
to confine the ever swelling subjects within these
rigidly prescribed limits. So great is the tendency,
so much easier is it, when one has an interesting sub-

TREATMENT OP THE SUBJECT.

303

joct, to write it out and revel in description, rather
than to cramp it into a somer.mes distorting com-
pass, that whatever I take up is almost sure to over-
run first calculations as to space.

Five volumes, then, comprised the Native Races of
the Pacific States: the first being the Wild Tribes,
their manners and customs; the second, the Civilized
Nations of Mexico and Central America; the third,
Myths and Languages of both savage and civilized
nations; the fourth. Antiquities, including Architect-
ural remains; and the fifth. Primitive History and
^Migrations. A copious index, filling one hundred and
sixt3^-two pages, and referring alphabetically to each
of the ten or twelve thousand subjects mentioned in
the five volumes, completed the work.

Maps showing the locations of the aborigines ac-
cording to their nation, family, and tribe, were intro-
duced wherever necessary, the first volume containing
six, one for each of the great territorial divisions.

Such was the plan; now as to the execution. As
the scheme was entirely my own, as I had consulted
with no one outside of the library about it, and with
my assistants but little, I had only to work it out
after my own fashion.

The questions of race and species settled, to my
own satisfaction at least, in an Ethnological Introduc-
tion, which constitutes the first chapter of the first
volume, I brought together for following chapters all
the material touching the first main division, the
Hyperboreans, and proceeded to abstract it. It was
somewhat confusing to me at first to determine the
subjects to be treated and the order in which I should
name them; but sooner than I had anticipated there
arose in my mind what I conceived to be natural
sequence in all these things, and there was little diffi-
culty or hesitation. Above all things I sought sim-
plicity in style, substance, and arrangement, fully
realizing that the more easily I could make myself
understood, the better my readers would be pleased.

804

MY FIRST BOOK.

II''

III

One of the most difficult parts of the work was to
locate the tribes and compile the maps. Accurately
to define the boundaries of primitive nations, much
of the time at war and migrating with the seasons, is
impossible, from the fact that, although they aim to
have limits of their lands well defined, these bound-
aries are constantly shifting. The best I could do
was to take out all information relative to the location
of every tril)c, bring together what each author had
said upon the diftercnt peoples, and print it in his
own language, under the heading Tribal Boundaries,
in small type at the end of every chapter.

Thus there were as many of these sections on tribal
boundaries as there were divisions; and from these I
had drawn a large ethnographical map of the whole
Pacific States, from which were engraved the subdi-
visions inserted at the beginning of each section. In
this way eveiy available scrap of material in existence
was used and differences as far as possible were recon-
ciled.

When my first division was wholly written I sub-
mitted it in turn to each of my principal assistants,
and invited their criticism, assuring them that I
should be best pleased with him who could find most
fault with it. A number of suggestions were made,
some of which I acted on. In general the plan as
first conceived was carried out; and to-day I do not
see how it could be changed for the better. I then
went on and explained to my assistants how I had
reached the results, and giving to each a division I
requested them in like manner to gather and arrange
the material, and place it before me in the best toiiu
possible for my use. During the progress of this
work I succeeded in utilizing the labors of mv assist-
ants to the full extent of my anticipations; indeed, it
was necessary I should do so. Otherwise from a quar-
ter to a half century would have been occupied in this
one work. Without taking into account the indexing
of thousands of volumes merely to point out where

UTILIZATION OP ASSIST.VNCE.

805

material existed, or the collecting of the material,
there was in each of these five volumes tlie work of
til'tocn men for eight months, or of one man for ten
years. This estimate, I say, carefully made after the
work was done, showed that there had been expended
the Native Races labor equivalent to the well di-

oll

icctcd efll'orts of one man, every day, Sundays ex-
c'litcd, from eight o'clock in the morning till six at
iii^ht, for a period of fifty years. In this estimate I do
iKtt include the time lost in unsuccessful experiments,
hut only the actual time employed in taking out the
luatorial, writing the work, preparing the index for the
tivt' volumes, which alone was one year's labor, proof-
reading, and comparison with authorities. The last two
icquirements consumed an immense amount of time,
tUo proof being read eight or nine times, and every
reference compared with the original authority after
the work Avas in type. This seemed to mo necessary
to insure accuracy, on account of the many foreign
laii'^uagcs in which the authorities were written, and
the nmltitude of native and strange words which
crowded my pages. Both text and notes were re-
written, compared, and corrected without limit, until
they were supposed to be perfect; and I venture to say
that never a work of that character and magnitude
went to press finally with fewer errors.

Fifty years 1 I had not so many to spare upon this
work. Possibly I might die before the time had ex-
pired or the volumes were completed; and what
should I do with the two or three hundred years' ad-
ditional work planned?

AVhen the oracle informed Mycerinus that he had
but six years to live, he thought to outwit the gods
by iiiaking the night as day. Lighting his lamps at
nightfall he feasted until morning, thus striving to
double his term. I must multiply my days in some
way to do this work. I had attempted the trick of
Mycerinus, but it would not succeed with me, for
straightway the outraged deities ordained that for

Lit. Inc. 20

aw MY FIRST BOOK.

every hour so stolon I must repay fourfold. The work
of my assistants, besides saving me an immense amount
of drudgery and manual labor, left my mind always
fresh, and open to receive and retain the subject as a
whole. I could institute comparisons and indulge in
generalizations more freely, and I believe more effoot-
ually, than with my mind overwhelmed by a mass of
detail. I do not know how far others have carried
this system. Herbert Spencer, I believe, derived
much help from assistants. German authors have tlio
faculty of multiplying their years with the aid of
others in a greater degree than any other people.
Besides having scholars m various parts of the country
at work for him, Bunsen employed five or six secre-
taries. Professors in the' German universities are
most prolific authors, and these almost to a man have
the assistance of one or two students.

Thus says Hurst: "While the real author is re-
sponsible for every word that goes out under his
own name, and can justly claim the parentage of the
whole idea, plan, and scope of the work, he is spared
nmch of the drudgery incident to all book-making
which is not the immediate first fruit of imagination.
Where history is to be ransacked, facts to be grouperl,
and matters of pure detail to be gleaned from various
sources, often another could do better service than
the author." The young Germans who thus assist
authors, highly prize the discipline by means of which
they often become authors themselves. At Hallo,
during his half century of labor, Tholuck had several
theological students at work i^^v him, some of whom
were members of his own i^i,niil .'. And thence pro-
ceeded several famous aut]<aT,s, among whom were
Kurtz and Held. So Jacobi and Piper started forth
from Neander. And the system is growing in favor
in the United States.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHINO.

Murci^Iagos literarios
Que haceis & pluma y A pelOi
Si querela viyir con todos
Mirtos en este espejo.

Iriarte,

All the anxiety I had hitherto felt in regard to
the Native Races was as author thereof; now I had to
undergo the trials of publishing.

Business experience had taught me that the imme-
diate recognition, even of a work of merit, depends
almost as much on the manner of bringing it forth
as upon authorship. So easily swayed are those who
pass judgment on the works of authors; so greatly
arc they ruled by accidental or incidental causes who
form for the public their opinion, that pure substantial
merit is seldom fully and alone recognized.

I do not mean by this that the better class of
critics are either incompetent or unfair, that they
cannot distinguish a meritorious work from a worth-
less one, or that, having determined the value of a
production in their own minds, they will not so write
it down. Yet comparatively speaking there are few
reviewers of this class. Many otherwise good jour-
nals, both in America and in Europe, publish miserable
book notices.

To illustrate: Would the average newspaper pub-
lisher on the Pacific coast regard with the same eyes
a book thrust suddenly and unheralded upon his at-
tention as the production of a person whom he had
uever known except as a shopkeeper, one whom he

(307)

808

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHING.

!; '.m
1« - .)

had never suspected of aspiring to literature, as if the
same book were placed before him with explanation,
: iid bearing upon it the approving stamp of those
whose opinions must overrule even his own; would
he handle it with the same hands, and would the print
of it, and the paper, binding, and subject-matter, and
stylo of it be to him the same?

How diflerciitly the most discriminating, for thi-
moment at least, would regard a volume of verses it'
told beforcliand that in the writer burned briijhtlv tin,'
fires of genius, or if with ridicule he was pronounced
an illiterate crack-brained rliymster. How mucli has
the lewdness of Byron and the religious infidelity til'
Shelley to do with our appreciation of their poems '.
Lamartine called the author of Cosmos, before Hum-
boldt had made his greatest reputation, "a cltnci'
man, but without much real merit." '* Motley," writes
Mc'rimee to his Incognita, "though an American is a
man of talent." ITere was sound judgment, in diK^
time, seen rising above prejudice. Sannazaro, the
Italian poet, for an epigram of six lines on the beauty
of Venice received six hundred ducats from the Ve-
netian senate. Vet who reads Sannazaro now ? The
pride of these old men was flattered, and the scniti-
mont went farther with thein than merit. Yet tliere
is no study productive of liigher results, and sucli ;i-
are the most beneficial to tlio race than the life .md
labors of ])rominent men; for in it we find all tliat
is host of both history and l)iogra[)hy. PericKs
boasted that at Athens sour looks were not thrown
by Ins neighbors upon a man on account of his eecen-
tricities.

Addison wished to know his author before reading
his works; Do Quincey, afterward. Yet many, in
forming the ac(piaintance of an author, like best the
natural way ; that is, as one forms the acquaintanee
of the man : first an introduction, which shall tell who
and what he is, time and place of birth, education ami

PUKDILKCTION.S OK AUTHORS.

occupation. Then let it he seen what he has done to
demand attention; give of the lal)()r.s of his brain
some of tlie fruits ; and if hy tliis time they have not
had enouj^h of him, they wiU enter with rehsh into the
details of his hfo, habits, temper, and pecuharities.

Hordes of hterary adventurers are constantly
cuuiing and goin;^', not one in a thousj^nd of whom
will be known a century hence; and among these aro
so-called scientists with their long-drawn speculations
and unansw ;rable theoi'ios, to say nothing of doctors
iif \arious degrees and instructors in supernatural
sleight-of-hand.

I'hilosophers are these fellows after the order of
Diogenes the cynic. "One needs no education," they
say with their master, "or reading, or such nonsense,
fur this system; it is the real short cut to reputation.
Be you the most ordinary person, cobbler, sausage-
mmigcr, carpenter, })awnbroker, nothing hindci's your
beotiming the object of popular admiration, ])rovided
only that you've impudence enough, and brass enough,
and a happy talent for bad language." Almost every
man endowed with talents which woidd win success in
i<\u- Held aflects, or has some time in his life afiected,
a jairsuit for which he has no talent. Bentley, Sainte-
Beuve, and many another, fancied themselves great
{imts when criticism only was their forte. Praise
< iiiardet's pictures and he brings you his verses; praise
Cano\ a's sculpture and he brings a [)icture. The good
coll lie actor often cares little for comedy, but delights
in tragedy; if Douglas Jerrold, tlu; successful wit,coidd
"Illy write on natural philosophy la) would be a made
nian. To his dying day Sainto-lleuve did not cease
til lament his slighted muse; yet he would never have
Ikciiuc a poet, even had he written a,5 many lines as
till,' Persian Ferdosi who in thirty years ground out
"nc lnuidred and twenty thousand verses. After his
thill 1 failure he abandoned the idea of further attempts
ai publishing j; '.cry and confined himself to criticism.
Croethe says: "Dor Mensch mag sich wenden woliin

ife

■m

310

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHINa

iri'i

! IB II' ill g '

Ml '

iii:i'

wmv

er will, er mag unternehmen was es auch sey, stets
wird er auf jenen Weg wieder zuriickkehren, den ilim
die Natur einmal vorgezeichnet hat." In his younger
days Jean Paul Richter fancied that his genius was
especially adapted to satire, when nothing was further
from his nature.

In ranging the field of modem literature, one can
but observe upon how slight a foundation some repu-
tations have been built; not slight as regards alono
the quantity of work done, but the quality. Fortu-
nately for mankind such reputations never last. Tlu;
public may be for the moment deceived, but time is
a true measure of values. No book can live for lilty
years unless it has merit; and no meritorious book in
these present days can remain very long hidden.

There is a dift'erence in books in this respect, how-
ever. Scientific data, for example, might be faitli-
fully collected from a new field by an unknown auth( )r
and brouixht to the lisrht in a far-off corner of the
literary world, there remaining unnoticed for sonic
time before scholars should hear of it. This misfor-
tune, assuming that my work was meritorious, I was
anxious to avoid.

Experience had told me that a book written, printed,
and published at this date on the Pacific coast, no
matter how meritorious or by whom sent forth, that
is to say if done by any one worth the castigating",
would surely be condemned by some and praised
coldly and critically by others. There are innume?-
able local prejudices abroad which prevent us from
recognizing to the fullest extent the merits of our
neighbor. Least of all would a work of mine be
judged solely upon its merits. Trade engenders com-
petition, and competition creates enemies. There wore
hundreds in California who damned me every day,
and to please this class as well as themselves there
were newspaper writers who would like nothing better
than, by sneers and innuendoes, to consign the fruits
of laborious years to oblivion.

UlfFAIR CRITICISM.

311

" This man is getting above his business," some
would say. " Because ho can sell books he seems to infer
a divine mission to write them. Now it may be as well
first as last for him to understand that merchandising
and authorship are two distinct things; that a com-
mercial man who has dealt in books as he would deal
in bricks, by count, weight, or dollars' worth, cannot
•suddenly assume to know all things and set himself
up as a teacher of mankind. He must be put down.
Such arrogance cannot be countenanced. If writing
IS thus made common our occupation is gone."

All did not so feel; but there was more of such
sentiment behind editorial spectacles than editors
would admit even to themselves. I have seen through
,.ni, usy, or conscienceless meanness, the fruits of a
;4('!> nan's best da3'^s thrown to the dogs by some
'lil>[)ant remark of an unprincipled critic. Tuthill's
history of California was a good l)ook, the best by
I'ar which up to its time had bi.cn written on the sub-
ject. It v'cisi in the main truthful and reliable. The
author was a conscientious worker; lying was foreign
to his nature; he spent his last days on this work,
and on his death-bed corrected the proofs as they
l)assed from the press. And yet there were those
auiongf his brother editors in California who did not
scruple, when the book was placed in their hands for
luvien, to ctuor their criticism from some insignificant
flaws whicli iht }' pretended to have discovered, and
so consign a x"a; '.liful, true history of this coast to per-
dition, 1 x'M.i't the author had taken a step or two
alidve th';ni.

To local fa., r. or a literary reputation restricted to
(nilifornia, I did not attach much value. Not that I
A>as indifferent to the opinions of my neghbors, or that
I distrusted Pacific-coast journalists as a class. I had
among them many warm friends whoso approbation T
coveted. But at this juncture I did not desire the
criticisr cither of enemies or friends, but of strangers ;
I was •• .iirous above all that my book should be first

rii

a.'

a 'I

: I

312

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHIXQ.

reviewed on its merits and by disinterested and un-
prejudiced men. Adverse criticism at home, "here the
facts were supposed to be better Ivuown, might injure
me abroad, while if prejudiced in my favor, the critic
might give an opinion which would be negatived by
those of New England or of Europe. Besides, I could
not but feel, if my work was wortli anything, if it A\as
a work worth doinij: and well done, that the hiijher
the scholar, or the literary laborer, the higher to him
would appear its value.

The reason is obvious. I dealt in facts, gathered
from new fields and conveniently arranged. These
were the raw material for students in the several
branches of scion i'i\ and for philosophers in theh
generalisations. ]\i_) . ories, if I indulged in any,
would be worse than tn \vi\ away on them. This was
their work; they would theorize, and generalize, and
deduce for themselves. But they would not despist;
my flicts; for were they as mighty as Closes they
could not make bricks without straw. Hence it was
by the verdict of the best men of the United States,
of England, Franco, and Germany, the world's rij)est
scholars and dL'e[)est thinkers, that my contribu-
tions to knowledge must stand or fall, and not l)y
the wishes of my friends or the desire of my enemies.
This is why, I say, a home reputation aloro never
would have satisfied me, never would have paid mo
for my sacrifice of time, labor, and many of the
amenities of life.

To reach these results, which were as clearly defined
in my mind l)efore as after their accom])lishment,
involved a journey to tiie eastern states. Yet before
leaving' this coast on such a mission there should bo
some recognition of my eftorts here. It were not best
for me to leave my state entirely unheralded. If those
who knew me best, who lived beside me, who fre-
quented my library and should know of my laboi" ,
if these had nothing to say, woukl it not appear some-

EXAMINATION INVITED.

313

defined
inient,
before

)uld bo
)t best
;' tlio.so

lO iVl'-

labof',
■ Home-

wliat strange to those at a distance before whom I
was now about to make pretensions?

Up to this time, about the beginning of 1874, 1 had
f;|iuken httle of my work to any one, preferring to
M.'conipHsh something first and then point to what I
IkkI done rather than talk about what I intended to
do. I was fully aware that often the rei)utation which
|m cedes performance is greater than that which comes
ai'trr it, hence I would husband whatever good was to
l)c said of me until it had something to rest on.
During the previous year several notices had crept
into the papers, mostly through visitors from the east,
concerning the library and the work going on there.
M(nil)crs of the San Fran^ 'sco press often came to me
liii' information, but were a kcd to wait till I was
ready to publish something on the subject. At })res-
ciit all I desired w^as to be let alone.

AVlicn the plan of the Natire Rcces was fully set-
tled, and the first volume, and parts of the second
and third volumes were in type, I invited a num-
licr of men eminent in their several callings, and
ill wliom I knew the public had confidence, to in-
spect my work and report. Among these were Brantz
Mayer, author of several works on Mexico; Benjamin
P. .Vvery, editor of the Overland Monthhj, and shortly
alter minister to China; Daniel C. Gilman, president
of the university of California; J. Boss Browne,
luubably the foremost writer on the coast; Frederick
AVhynipcr, author of a work on Alaska; and others.

The opinions formed from these investigations were
Iniwardod to me in the form of letters, wliich 1 printed
as a eirculrr, adding to my list of letters Irom time to
tiuKj until the circular reached sixteen pages of flat-
tering testimonials.

Some of these men were exceedingly interested
and astonished. There was Professor (ieurge Da-
vidson, 1 remember, for many y(;ars at the head of
tlif Ignited States coast survey, president of the
Califdrnia academy of sciences, and in every respect

314

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHING.

one of the first scientific men of the age. He hap-
pened to be absent from the city when I issued my
first invitations, and on his return I sent GoldschmiJt
to him with a copy of the Native Races, as far as
printed, for his examination.

Goldschmidt found the professor in his rear office,
stated his errand, and laid the printed pages before
him. Davidson looked at them, looked at the list of
twelve hundred authorities quoted which stood at
the beginning of volume i., turned over the leaves,
dropped now and then an ejaculation, but said little.
Presently his colored attendant came to the door and
addressed him.

"A gentleman wishes to see you." No response.
The black man retired; but it was not long before he
appeared again with a similar message.

"All right," returned Davidson.

Some ten or fifteen minutes now elapsed, during
which the professor was examining the pages and
asking Goldschmidt questions. Again the black liico
appeared at the portal, this time wrinkled by porten-
tous concern.

"There are four or five men in the outer oJtico
waiting to speak with you, sir."

"Very well, let them waitl" exclaimed the profes-
sor. "Such work as this doesn't fall into my hands
every day."

Though I had not then met Professor Davidson,
I admired him, and valued his opinion highly.
If from disinterested intelligent men my efforts
could not secure approval, I felt that I need go no
farther.

Among the literary notes of the Overland Mondili/
for March 1874 appeared a brief account of the col-
lecting and indexing, with intimation that the mass
was to be sifted and the results given to the world in
some shape. This notice of the library was copied
by several of the daily newspapers.

Next appeared a long article in the same inagu-

THE NAME 'PACIFIC STATES.'

315

zine of June 1874, under the headini? of "Some
liare Books about California." The Overland was
the first and indeed the only literary journal of any
jirctensions west of the Rocky mountains. The arti-
cle was based on the library, and treated of the
rare historical works it contained, but no allusion
whatever was made to the Native Races, or any other
work undertaken or in contemplation, except that it
spoke of a bibliography of the coast which sometime
might bo made b}- somebody, also of writers in and
on California, and again alluded to Mr Bancroft's
"self-imposed life work of condensing his material
into a series of standard works on Spanish North
America, with its English and Russian additions in
the north-west, a territory which ho terms the Pacific
States."

The name I should give to the territory marked
out had often troubled me. There were the original
Spanish- American, English, and Russian possessions,
for which it was absolutely necessary to have some
one simple appellation, such as would be most appli-
cable and most easily understood by the world at large.
There were objections to the term Pacific States. It
had been applied by mc as publisher, and by some
few others, to the UiUted States territory on the
Pacific, and if it had any signification it meant only
those states and territories. I could not say the
Pacific coast, for the territory embraced much more
than the coast. It included half the North American
continent, and the whole of ]VIexico and Central Amer-
ica. Why I selected this territory as the field for
my historical investigations I have already exi)lained.
I i)roposed to do a lai'ge work, and I would cover a
l;irL,^e territory: it was all new; its history was un-
written; it had a past and would have a future; and
there was no one part of it claiming attention more
than another, unless it was the central part, which
must over exercise a dominant influence over the rest.
I did not like the term Pacific nations, or Pacific ter-

316

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHING.

ritories. The several nationalities on these shores
had often changed, were still changing, and might ))c
all one confederacy, republic, empire, or kingdom some;
day for aught I knew. At all events, they were states
now; there were the Central American states, the
states of the Mexican and American republics, and
the colonial possessions of Great Britain and lately
of Russia, which were, and always would be in some
form, states, using the term in a broad sense. Open
to the charge of lack of unity was my whole scheme,
in all its several bearings, physical, etlmographicnl.
and historical; and yet, the territory being all noM'
occupied by European nations, it was no more diverse
in its origin, character, and interests than Europe,
and men had written histories of Europe ere now.
The Pacific States of North America, therefore, as
the best and most tittinpf term for the desiijnation of
this territory, its past, present, and future, I finally
settled upon, and I know of no more simple and com-
prehensive expression to apply to it now.

At last I was ready for the newspaper reporters,
if not for the reviewers. They might publish what
they pleased about the library, its contents, and how
collected, but my work was not yet on exhibition. In
they came, and made sweeping work of it, representa-
tives of English, French, Spanish, German, and Italian
journals, of the interior towns as well as of the cities.
The Bulletin, Alta, Post, and Chronicle of San Fran-
cisco came out in long articles, vying with each other
in the extent of their description and the loudness of
their praise. From Sacramento the proprietor of the
Record-Union sent one of its editors who by appoint-
ment with Mr Oak spent a whole day in a critical
examination of the contents of the fifth floor, which
resulted in a highly flattering article covering an
entire page of that journal. From Oregon and from
Mexico, from British Columbia and from Central
America, tho journals now came to be laden with
elaborate description of my collection.

PROPOSED VISIT EAST.

817

There wAs nothing so terrible in all this. It was
about as might have been expected. But there was
}ilcnty which was worse before me, now and for
twenty years. I must presently go east, call upon
fifty or a hundred of the leading literary men, scien-
tists, and journalists, and explain personally to them
the character of the work I was engaged in.

This I dreaded. To go with my book, like a can-
vasser for praise, from one stranger to another, tell
them of myself, what I was doing, and ask their
opinion — proud and sensitive, I felt it to be a most
difficult, most unpleasant task, one repugnant to my
nature, whieh coveted retirement above all things else.
Writers are sensitive. It is well they arc. The
tlioroughbred is thinner-skinned than the ass. A man
^vho is not sensitive about his reputation never will
make one. A writer of the first class represents not
onlv his own fjcnius, but the ijenius and highest culture
of his time; little wonder is it, therefore, that the re-
sults of long labor, involving the best efforts of a new
aspirant, are given to the bulls and bears of literature
tremblingly.

Yet it must be done. I felt that I owed it to my-
self and to my work. Life and fortune were now
fully embarked in this enterprise, and my enthusiasm
for the work w^as mountin*]: lii2;hcr as the months
and years went by. Now was the turning-point with
rac. My first work was read}' for publication, and
on its reception would depend in a measure my whole
I'uture.

Not that a failure of the Native Races to sell
would have discouraged me. This was the least that
troubled me. It was altogether a secondary matter
wliotlier copies of the book were sold or not. I merely
wis! led to assure myself whether mine was a good
worlc well performed, or a useless one poorly done. I
Would have the book issued by first-class publishers in
Xiw York and Europe, for it must bear upon it the
btanip of a first-class publication, but the people might

31S

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHINGk

buy it or not, as they pleased. That was not what
concerned mo.

Crabbe was not more timorous in asking the gen-
erous Burke to look at his verses than I in begging
critics to glance at my productions. Not every one
can understand the feeling. Not every one would
hesitate to show a book of which one might be proud
to men interested in such books. But there was the
trouble with mo. I did not feel sure that my work
was sufficiently meritorious to awaken their interest,
that I had done anything to be proud of, and I did
not know whether or not they would be interested.
It came up to me as a species of beggary in which to
indulge was worse than starvation. I must appear
before these literary lords as a western adventurer,
or at best a presumptuous litterateur — coveting their
praise — a role I despised above all others. I must
appear as one asking favor for a product of his brain
so inferior in quality that if left to itself it could not
stand. But there was behind me work piled moun-
tain high, and for the sake of the future I would
undertake the mission.

If the object be to bring the book to the notice of
these eastern literati, cannot that be done as well by
letter, accompanied by a copy of the work? I asked
myself No. The book was not yet published, although
I had printed one hundred copies with Author's Copy
on the title-page for private distribution before the
plates were sent east; and I could and did use the
copies for such distribution. But this was not the
vital point. Mine was a peculiar work, originated and
executed in a peculiar way. I required the opinion
of these men concerning it. No amount of writing
would lay the matter before them as I could do my-
self I must have direct and immediate assurance
as to the quality of my work from the only class of
men the critics feared, and then I should not fear the
critics.

It was no part of my purpose at any time to pub-

THE FIRST REVIEW.

Sit

lish my first work in San Francisco, or to permit the
imprint of our firm upon the title-page either as pub-
lisher or agent. The firm should have the exclusive
sale of the book upon the Pacific coast, but it seemed
to me in bad taste for the author's name and publish-
ing house to appear upon the same title-page.

Another time I should not be particular about it;
that is to say, if this proved a success. But now I
must obtain for it all the weight of a first-class eastern
publisher, and not impart to it the appearance of
having been originated by a bookseller as a com-
mercial speculation. In his Q/ropcedia, Xenophon
places the department of public instruction in the
grand square near the king's palace and government
offices, whence merchandise and trade "with their
noise and vulgarity " were banished. So with my bant-
ling; I could not afford, even in appearance, and in
this instance at least, to expose the product of my
brain to doubts and risks.

>tice of
(Tell by
asked

lOUSfll

; Copy

e the

;c the

ot the

ed and

lo my-
urancc
[ass of
fear the

Returned from my eastern pilgrimage, an account
of which is given in the next chapter, and armed
with letters from the high-priests of New England
learning, I was ready to have my book reviewed in
the Overland. This of all others was the proper jour-
nal to publish the first notice of my first work. It was,
for a western magazine, ably edited and enthusiasti-
cally published, at a monthly loss of certain hundreds
of dollars. The article should bo by a first-class
writer, and printed before reviews began to arrive
from the east. Mr Fisher and Mr Ilarcourt, as we
shall see, had assumed the joint editorship of the
magazine after the departure of Mr Avery for China,
and they were solicitous for the appearance of such
an article in the holiday number, namely that of De-
cember 1874.

But the question was. Who should be the writer
of the article? Obviously no one in the library, nor
any one who had participated in the work. It must

S20

THE PERILS OP PUBLISHINa

be by some one thoroughly competent to judge of
Huch work, and whose name would carry weight with
it here and in distant i)arts. The editors suggested Mr
Giknan. I was well enough satisfied, I had often met
him since his assuming the presidency of the uni-
versity of California; he had been a guest at my
house, had frequently visiti'd the library, spcndinc,'
considerable time there, and had always expressed
much interest in my work. It was a favorite piojtct
of his in some way to transfer my library to the lauds
of the university, evidently with the idea that once
there it would never bo removed.

One day he came to me and stated that a buildiiiL,^
fund was about to be appropriated to the purpose of
the univciolty, that the plans of new buildings wore!
drawn, and that if I would agree to move my library
to Berkeley, without any other obligation expressed
or implied, with full liberty at any time to remove it,
he would have a building erected specially for the
collection, and thereby lessen the danger to which it
was then exposed of being destroyed by fire, for that
would be a national calamity.

I declined. For, however free I might be to re-
move my collection, there would ever be resting over
me an implied obligation which I was by no means
willing to incur. I had no thought of donating my
collection to any institution. Surely I was spendiiii,'
time and money enough for the good of my country
to be permitted to keep my books.

I felt the risk of fire; felt it every day. But until
I could erect a suitable structure myself, I, and the
commonwealth, and posterity must take the chances
of the devouring flames. I explained to the president,
moreover, that the library was not merely a reference
library, but a working library; that I had imposed
upon myself certain tasks which would occupy the
better part of my life, if not, indeed, the whole of it,
and it was more convenient both for me and for my
assistants where it was. Still, this objection was not

A TIMID REVIEWER.

821

I >ount. I would <1() much to avoid fire risk; but
I iiuist dediiu! luim[>oriniLj my work in any way or
j)l,u'iii<^ myself under obligations to the state or to
luiv corporation or person. Writing history of all
filings demands freedom; I was free, absolutely free.
I souizht neitlier emolument nor office from anv nuar-
tei'. While desiring the friendship and sympathy of
all. I feared none, and for favor would never depart
lioui what I deemed the right. I was free, and must
remain so. The university president expressed him-
self satisfied.

Mr Gilman then lived in Oakland, and one day in
Xovember the young editors proposed to me that we
should visit him. To this I readily assented, and
that night we crossed the bay and called at his house.
Ho received us cordially, entered into the plan with
interest, and even enthusiasm, and at once promised
to undertake the article. To facilitate matters, as the
president's time was valuable, and in order i hat he
ini!:,'ht derive the most assistance from the experience
of others, he requested that Nemos, Harcourt,
Oak, and Goldschmidt should each severally write
whatever occurred to him resj)ecting the library,
the book to be reviewed, and the author, and hand
the material to Gilman, who would thus be obliged
merely to use these statements so far as they went,
instead of making lengthy original research. But it
was distinctly understood that these notes should
serve only as memoranda, and that the author of the
article should verify every statement, make thorough
personal investigation, and speak with dignity and
(locisiou concerninjx the work, commendinij or con-
ucniniug, as his judgment might dictate.

^ et withal there was something in the university
pr< sidi'iit's manner I did not understand. He was a
very ph-asant, very plausible man, and quite positive
snnietiines. He was a good man, an earnest, honest,
iind practical man, and he made a good college presi-
dent, though in some respects he was somewhat too

l.IT. IND. Jl

322

THK I'KRIL.S OF PUBLISHINti.

1:1 <

diploTuatic. lu short, while ho meant overytluii.;
for the best, and would under no eonsidcration do an
uno-c>iitlenianly, not to say dishonorable act, he was
i]ot remarkable tor plain, straigh forward, and thor-
ough sincerity. Such was his nature; he could not
help it.

The hard lineaments of a grave face may aide
much that is sweet and sj^mpatlietic; so the winning
vivacity of a pleasing face may serve as the cjver of
empty diplomacy. In this instance, like Franklin's
Governor Keith, he wished to please; he wished to
contribute the article; and yet, as the sequel tihowed,
he lacked the courage to do it.

The time was limited. The article must be ready
soon in order to gain its insertion in the December
number. The president assured the editors that they
might rely upon him. The memoranda were sent
promptly as agreed. He spent some time in the
library looking over the books, index, and the notes,
and questioning my assistants, all of which augured
well. Perhaps I was mistaken in my impressions.
He might have more stamina than I had given him
credit for.

But no, alaal for when the article was handed in at
the Overland office it proved to have been fearfully
and wonderfully prepared. Fisher immediately rushed
up with it to my room. "Here's a pretty go!" he
exclaimed, almost out of breath from running up five
tlights of stairs. Sure enough; the flabby flesh of it
was fair enough, but it lacked bones, or any substan-
tial framework. Instead of saying * I have looked into
this matter, I have examined this work thoroughly,
and I iind this good and that bad, or perhaps all gooJ
or all bad,' either or any of which would have satisilod
me so far as his good intention and ability were eoi:-
corned, he wrote, *Mr Nemos says this, Mr Gold-
Schmidt that, Mr Harcourt the other thing,* hovering
about the subject and avoiding the question hinit^cir.

I never was thoroughly satisfled whether he lacked

rilESIDENT OILMAN ANU J. liOSS HKOWNK.

323

the disposition to write the article, or tlu; Ktainina of
mind to have an opinion and avow it. Ho was a V(!ry
timid man, particularly as to the estimation in which
college and literary men at the east would hold him.
It must be remembered that no i-eview of the Native
Juices had as yet appeared, and if ]V[r (^^ilnian were to
commit himself to an opinion which should prove not
tlio opinion of his friends at the oast, he never would
forgive himself. Scholastieus swore he would never
oiitor water until he could swim; Gilman would not
venture a criticism until he was sure it would float.
I then felt and feel now very grateful to Mv Gilman
for his distinguished courtesy and kindness to me on
nuuiy occasions both before and after this. But here
was required something else than courtesy or kindness.
The life-issue of my litcary labors was at stake. I
must know where I stood, and I asked the president
of the university of California, as one high in learn-
ing and authority, to tell me, to tell the world. He
was friendly to me, friendly to the work, had been
useful, wanted to be useful now, but he lacked what
I most wanted then, and what I was determined to
have — positiveness.

Tearing the manuscript in pieces and throwing it
into the waste-basket, I turned to my work. "What
shall we do now?" asked Fisher.

"Ross Browne is the best man on the coast, if we
could get him," he said. "He is much better known
at the cast than Gilman."

"I can get him," said Harcourt. Within an hour
lie was across the bay and driving to the pagoda-
looking villa situated in the foothills beyond Oakland.
IK' was accustomed to tell the story by this time, and
soon ]\Ir Browne knew all about it. He promised his
inmiodiate and hearty attention. The consequence
was one of the best articles ever written upon the sub-
j^'tt, in the Ofer/a/ic? of December. The library, the
iiidoK, and the first volume of the Native Races were
all critically examined, explained, and opinions pro-

824

THE PERILS OF PUBLISHING.

i i
Ml

lii!'

nounced. The article was copied in the News Letter,
and in part by the newspaper press generally.

Gilman often said afterward that he would yet
review that book somewhere, but he never did. In
fact I told him not to trouble himself. In relation
with my work his policy seemed somewhat Machiavcl-
ian; and I might say as Doctor Johnson remarked
to Lord Chesterfield: "The notice which you have
been pleased to take of my labors, had it been early,
had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am in-
different and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary and
cannot impart it; till I am known and do not want
it." Those who arc first to recognize the merit of liis
work, the author never forgets. It is at the outset
that he most needs recognition; when it has become
the fashion to praise he does not need or value it so
highly.

Then I went alike to my friends and my enemies
of the San Francisco daily press. I placed in their
hands my book; told them I was now ready to have
it reviewed; that no reviews had as yet appeared
from any quarter, but that they would shortly appear
in the quarterlies, the monthlies, and the dailies of
Europe and America. Of their probable nature +licy
might judge somewhat from letters which I had re-
ceived and which I spread out before them.

As it was an important work, I begged them to
examine it thoroughly and review w'holly upon merit.
This, eastern and European scholars would expect, ;h
the work emanated from California, and thcv would
certamly note what Californian journals said of it.
All were gracious. None cared to run counter to the
profuse expressions of praise already in my possession.
The work demanded investigation, they said, and
should have it. It was an enterprise of wliieli they
felt proud, and they heartily wished it every success.
The differences existing between them and the tirui
should have nothing to do with this undertaking, wli if h
must be regarded from a totally different standpoint.

DOES IT PAY?

323

I need not say that the daily papers of San Francisco
spoke well of the Native Races.

Publishing having been my business, and the Native
Races being my first book, persons have asked me if
it paid pecuniarily; and when I answered No, they
SLLined at a loss what to make of it. Samuel John-
son says, "no man but a blockhead ever wrote except
for money." I will admit myself a blockhead to the
extent that I did not write for money, but not so great
a one as not to know, after a publishing experience of
a quarter of a century, that work like mine never re-
turns a money profit. And with duo deference to the
learned doctor I hold rather with John Stuart Mill,
who says that "the writings by which one can live
are not the writings which themselves live, and are
never those in which the writer does his best. Books
destined to form future thinkers take too much time
tti write, and when written, come, in general, too
slowly into notice and repute to be relied on for sub-
sistence." Or, as Mrs Browning more tersely puts it,
'In England no one lives by books that live." The
Xatirc Races did not pay pecuniarily, though the re-
turns were greater than I had anticipated. The book
was wholly written and put in type on the Market-
street premises.

i!l

CHAPTEK XIV.

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

! M;

! i ;I
i f

■ i "•
' '1'

••il

ill

; ,

Freuden von ausnehraendem Geschmaok wie Anr.nas haben daa Schlinuite,
dass sie wie Ananas das ZalmQcisch bluten macheu.

Jean Pwl likhle,:

I SET out on my pilgrimage the 3d of August, 1874,
taking with me my daughter Kate, to place in school
at Farmington, Connecticut. After a few days' stay
at Buftalo with my two sisters, Mrs Palmer and Mrs
Trcvott, I proceeded to New York.

The one hundred author's copies of volume i. had
been printed at our establishment in San Francisco,
and the plates sent east before my departure. Twenty-
five copies of the work accompanied the plates; be-
sides these I carried in my trunk printed sheets of
the Native Races so far as then in type, namely the
M'holo of volume i., one hundred and fifty pages ut'
voluinn II., four liundred pages of volume iii., and one
hundivd i)a<ifcs of volume iv.

Boiside seeking the countenance and sympathy of
scliolars in my enterprise, it was part of my erraml
to find a publisher. As the })lates had not ariivid
when I reached New York I concluded to leave tin-
matter of publishhig for the present, direct my coiir-i
toward Boston, and dive at once in lurainis oras.

It was Saturday, the 15th of August, and I liad
promised to spend Sunday with some friends al
Bri<lgei)()rt.

At t\\v New Haven railway station I encountend
President (jlilman, to whom I made known the natun
of my mission, and asked if he deemed it tlio proper

(3i«)

AMONG FRIENDS.

827

tiling for me to do. He thought that it was, and
iiained several persons whom I should see. Further
than this, ho spoke of a mooting of the scientiHc as-
sociation to bo hold in PTartford the following Tuesday,
and advised me to attend, saying that he would be
thoro and M'ould take pleasure in introducing me to
tlioso whoso acquaintance might be advantageous. I
thanked him and we parted.

I was very restless in the company of my friends;
I could not remain in Buffalo, I could not remain
([nictly a day or two in Bridgeport. It seemed that
the! kinder they were the less I could endure inaction.
On ]\ronday T went to New Haven. There I saw
^Ir James Walker, who had married my cousin
^tfaitha Johnstone. Walker was a pleasant, genial
t'tllow, had lived long in New Haven, and was wc^ll
acquainted with man}' of the college professors. He
to(jk a lively interest in my worlc, and was ever ready
to serve mo.

We started innnodiately to call on some of those
more proniinont in literature. I then found that the
very worst time in the year liad been .selected to make
these visits, for it was the summer vacation, and most
of the college professors and literary workers were
away.

Tliereforo I concluded to leave New Haven for the
iJivsent and call acjain on mv return. Besidinijf there
V ;k niY aunt ^Mrs Jcthnstone and mv faA'orite cousin,
A'llla, a cheerful, enduring litth' pieee' of independence
and self-sacrifice, whose briglit i'ace ever greeted me
with ladiant smiles, so that to call again at New
Haven was not an unpleasant task. The Joluistones
v,» IV returned missionaries from Snivrna, where the
1)1 si years of their lives had been spent in the service
o'' the Lord, as managed by the protestant board rX
iureinti missions; and havinu' now become aged and
v.orthless in this service tluy were turned loose upon
the common to shift for themselves. Unaided hy
any one this mother in Israel educated her sons and

m '5|

i k' ■"

828

A UTERARY PILGRIM.

daughters, and kept the wolf from the door, but how
she did it God knoweth.

In Hartford, Tuesday, President Gilman intro-
duced me to Professor Brewer of Yale, Doctor Asa
Gray of Harvard, and others. He also spoke of urn
to several, among them Mr Warner of the Courani,
who, when I called upon liini subsequently, treated
me with a scarcely anticipated kindness. I was then
in a humor to be Mon for life by any man who wcnild
take the trouble. It may seem weak, this supci-
•sensitivoness, but I wa.s in a feverish state of miiul,
and my nerves were all unstrung by long labor. J
was callous enough to ignorance and indifference, lor
amongst these I had all along been working, but in-
telligent sympathy touched me, and Mr Warners
manner was so courteous, and his words so encour-
aging, that they sank at once into my heart, whero
they have remained ever since. He entered warmly
into my plans, gave me strong, decided letters t(j
several persons, Vvhich proved of the greatest advan-
tage, and on leaving his office I carried with me the
benediction which I know came from an honest pen.
"God bless such workers!"

While attending the meetings of the association
my attention was called to one Porter C. Bliss, whoso
name was on the programme for several papeis on
Mexico. Mr Gilman said I should know him, and
introduced me. He was a singular character both
without and within. Yankee in inquisitive push and
everlasting memory, he had been lately secretary
of the American legation in Mexico, and somotinu;
famous in Paraguay. I now remembered that his
name had been frequently mentioned to me as ono
interested in Mexican antiquities and literature.

Universal looseness was the air of him, stitfonod
somewhat by self-conceit. Though plain, or even
homely, in appearance, there was nothing servile in
his carriage, and the awkwardness of his address
was partially concealed by his assurance. Of a liglit

t how

pen.

Itbiio'l

oven

Wc iti

light

PORTEJl C. BLISS.

pomplexion, a little above medium height, with chin
w ell up and head thrown back, his large, gray, glassy
eyes looked straight before him, and his walk was as
one just started on a journey round the world. His
lioht clothes were neither neat nor well-fitting. His
s!ii;ill pantaloons, which crooked with his crooked legs,
stopped on reaching the tops of his low shoes, while
u short-skirted coat displayed his gaunt limbs to their
most unfavorable advantage. A tan-colored, broad-
hrimnied slouched hat, set well back upon the head,
roiuplcted his attire, the tout-ensemhlc, including the
timuc, having the appearance of the Wandering Jew
oveitaken by Mexican highwaymen and forced to a
])aitial exchange of apparel with them.

His mind was no less disjointed than his manner.
Genealogy filled every available nook of his brain,
and constituted about nine tenths of his earthly in-
terests; the Bliss family's first, then that of any other
oil earth above the rank of ape, it made no difference
wliose or what, so long as listeners could bo found to
his interminable stringings of sires and sons. His was
a (Hsinterested devotion to other men's madness such
as is seldom seen. The American aborigines had given
him some little trouble, more particularly in the tumuli
tliey left scattered about Mexico, and in their lan-
guages, these being the subjects of his lectures in
Hartford. The Native Races appeared to confuse him
somewhat in this quarter, for after seeing my proof-
slieets he had nothing to remark upon the subject,
thinking probably that if he did know more about
thosu peoples than any one else, I had anticipated
all tliat he would say of them. Self was not least
ill his esteem; although his personality he seemed to
regard in the abstract rather than as concreted body
:m(l soul. He was one thing and Bliss another. Of
himself he thought little, talked little, cared little how
he was fed, lodged, or clothed; but for Bliss ho had
much concern, regarding him as of good family, who
had not been well treated in Paraguay, and who had

S80

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

done much work for little pay in Mexico. He gavo
one the impression of an extract from a vcllum-bouiid
Nahua vocabulary, a half- civilized cross between an
aboriginal American and an Englishman.

Yet all these peculiarities were but the alloy whicli
was to enable the good gold of his nature to endure
the wear of the world. After all, there was more ot"
the serpent's wisdom than cunning in him; and al-
though he entertained a wholesome respect for money
he was not mercenary; neither was his mind accus-
tomed to measure men by their wealth. To different
classes and conditions of men he seemed to apply
different standards of merit. He delivered his lec-
tures in a clear loud voice, without hesitancy or
embarrassment, and with his eyes fixed upon the oj)-
posite wall. The words came from his mouth like tlio
studied composition of a school-boy. His features
wore an expression of happy immobility. He loved
to talk; he loved to hear the sound of his voice;
and whether the benches were empty or full, wheclKr
people came or went, admired or condemned, mr.de no
difference to him. His piece he would speak, and
when spoken that was the end of it. His appotiti;
for readinG: was omnivorous and gluttonous. He de-
voured every newspaper that came under his eye. Jn
the reading-rooms of the hotels lie was like a boa-
constrictor among rabbitd, except that no mattei- how
many were swallowed he never lay dormant. He
was a walking waste-basket. Off-hand he could toll
you anything; but go with him below the surface of
things and he knew little.

I invited Bliss to dine with me. He took to dinner
kindly, fed fast and liberally, and, the meal finished,
seemed satisfied. This augured well: the inner Bliss
knew what it wanted; sought it straightway; knew
when it had enough. A new philosophy might lie
based on Bliss' feeding. I liked his movements under
the clatter of crockery. Mr Bliss informed me that
he had collected while in Mexico some three thousand

AT CAMBRIDGE.

381

(linn or
lislied,
Bli>.s
knew
ht l-e
under
le that
ousanJ

volumes, which he was offering in whole or in part to
libraries. The books were then in New York, and I
might accompany him thither to select at pleasure.
The opportunity was too tempting to let slip; and,
while it was inconvenient for me to return to New
York at that moment, I did not like to lose sight of
my new and apparently erratic-minded friend.

" Where do you reside?" I asked.

" Nowhere," was the reply.

"At what are you engaged?"

" Nothing."

" If you will accompany me to Boston on this mis-
sion of mine, I will pay your expenses, and leave you
in New York with many thanks."

" I will attend you with pleasure."

I do not know that this was a very wise move.
^Myself, sohts, cut a sorrowful figure enough, but my
companion doubled the dolor without adding much
diplomatic ability. True, he could assist me sonie-
wliat in advising whom to see and how to find them.
But this was not my main object in the arrange-
ment. He might have his books sold and be w Nova
Scotia, where indeed ho talked of going on some-
Ii'.kIv's 2:encalo»Tfic business, befc^re I had finished mv
X(;w England errand; and I took him with me so
that I mio'lit continue mv pilgrimage without losing
him.

Friday, the 21st of August, saw^ us at the Belle vue
lionse, the establishment of Dio Lewis, a cross be-
tween a water-cure institution and a hotel. Bliss had
been there before, and recommended the rooms as
Ix'tti'r than those of the hotels. I had a letter from
^iv Warner to Mr Howells of the Atlantic MontJibj,
and next day I went over to Cambridge, where ho
liv(!d, to see him. He was absent from home, and not
expected back for a week. Inquiries as to the where-
abouts of certain persons revealed tlu^t most of them
were away, so that little was done till the following
Tuesday, when we started out in earnest. Proceeding

332

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

to Cambridge, the centre of the class to be visited, at
the suggestion of Mr Bhss we called on J. G. Palfrey.
Mr Gilraan had also mentioned Mr Palfrey as one
whom I should see. We were shown into a long room,
crowded with massive furniture, a bookcase at one
end, and books and pictures scattered about the rootn
in orthodox New England fashion. Grim portraits
adorned the walls; a thick, soft, flabby, faded carpet
covered the floor; and the place and its belongings
struck the visitor with a dismal dimmish sensation
most unprolitable.

This is a long way from my fifth floor, thought
I, with its plain pine tables, its bare floor, its dust
and disorder, its army of hard-headed young workers,
and its direct and practical way of doing things; a cen-
tury away, at least, if not two. For fifty years this
man has handled literature, sacred and profane, while
less than a score tell all the ups and downs of my
wanderings in the field of letters. Student, professor,
preacher, postmaster, reviewer, historian, all within
cannon-shot of these impressive premises, surely here
if anywhere a literary pilgrim from the new unlettered
west should find broad sympathy and catholicity of
sentiment. Here was godliness with great gain,
learning with its reward; where should the humble
aspirant find encouragement, where should the un-
tutored ambition of the wilderness shores of the
Pacific find direction if not beneath the classic shades
of Harvard!

Now by Burritt, Le Brun, and Wild, blacksmith,
painter, and tailor, learned without alma mater labors,
what is this that comes? It is the antiquated genius
of this antiquated place. One glance is enough. In
that weazen face, in those close-fisted features, in that
pinched form and muck-worm manner, I see no excel-
lence for me to study. Such rubrics we of the fifth
floor erase, finding in them no worshipful supersti-
tion worthy our adulation.

My chief concern now was to beat a respectable

THE GODS OF HARVARD.

S33

retreat, which I was procecdinj^ to do forthwith, aftor
a few commonpkice remarks intended to cover any
iil)parent rudeness, and without saying a word of my
work, when Bhss broke in, tokl the whole story, and
asked if the learned historian of New England would
lie pleased to look at the unlearned efforts of one who
aspired to write the record of the last and mightiest
west.

Then shook the attenuated form with its anti-
(|iuited apparel, and loud lamentations broke from the
](>anie(l lips. "O talk not to me of new fields and new
lilbrtsi" he cried. "I am finished; I am laid upon tho
to|>most library shelf; the results of ni}' life fill a
space against a few house-walls hereabout, and that
is all. Forgotten am I among men. Ask me to look
at nothing, to say nothing, to do nothing." This was
exactly what in my heart I was praying he would do —
nothing. So we gat ourselves upon the street.

Plodding feverishly along in a hot sun, with my
bundle of proof-sheets under my arm, we next en-
countered on the street one of those deities of whom
we were in search. In appearance he bore the simili-
tude of a man, but made and regulated with line and
plummet. His gait was angular, his dress exact, and
his glance geometrical; in fact he was in the mathe-
matical line. I forget his name, else I would give it,
lor he struck me as the latest improvement in auto-
matic construction. Nor was I mistaken or disap-
pointed when from his equilateral mouth there came
the words, "No; I have not time for such things,
kni)\v nothing about them, have no interest in them."

I began to think I had mistaken my calling; that
with clerical cant and conventionalisms I might obtain
a 111 aring from these men, though for my life I can-
in n now see what it would have advantaged me if
they had listened till nightfall and praised until morn-

However, we were destined in due time to come
upon men with hearts as well as heads; and first

1 I i

i <i^ I

■■{

334

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

among these was Doctor Asa Gray. Wo found him
in the botanic ijardcn, and he heard us with attentive
interest. I presented him with a copy of my book,
which lie said with my permission lie would place ujion
the shelves of the llarvtird library. I objected. TIk;
book was for him, if he would accept it. This fashion
of giving public libraries presented books I do not
relish. It is a sort of cheat practised upon the
author, who, if he wishes a library presented with a
coj)y of his book, prefers giving it direct instead of
through anotlicr; if ho does not, a!iother has no right
to so dispose of a book which was given him to keep.

It was my intention to ask eastern scholars to ex-
amine my book and give me an expression of their
opinion in writing; but in talking the matter over
with Dr Gray he advised me to delay such request
until the reviewers had pronounced their verdict, or
at all events until such expression of opinion came
naturally and voluntarily. This I concluded to do;
though at the same time I could not understand what
good private opinions would do me after public re-
viewers had spoken. Their praise I should not care
to supplement with feebler praise; their disapproba-
tion could not be averted after it had been printed.

And so it turned out. What influence my seeing
these men and presenting them copies of my book had
on reviewers, if any, I have no means of knowing.
Directly, I should say it had none; indirectly, as for
example, a word dropped upon the subject, or a kiiowl-
edije of the fact that the author had seen and had ex-
plained the character of his work to the chief scholars
of the country, might make the reviewer regard it
a little more attentively than he otherwise would.
On the receipt of the fifth volume of the Native JiaccK
Doctor Gray wrote me: **I am filled more and more
with admiration of what you have done and are doing;
and all I hear around me, and read from the critical
judges, adds to the good opinion I had formed."

Doctor Gray gave me letters to Francis Parknian,

ADAMS AND LOWKLL.

335

diaries Francis Adams, and others. While at Cam-
In idgo we called on Mrs Horace Mann, but she bcinj^
ill, her sister, Miss Pcabody, saw us instead. With
fkxiucnco of tongue and case and freedom she dis-
sected the most knotty problem ^ of tlie day.

James Russell Lowell lived in a pleasant, plain
house, common to the intellectual and retined of that
locality. Longfellow's residence wiis the most pre-
t( iitious I visited, but the plain, home-like dwellings,
\\ itliin which was the atmos})here of genius or cul-
ture, were most attractive to me. How cold and soul-
It .ss are the Stewart's marble palaces of New York
In side these New England abodes of intellect with
their chaste though unaffected adornments 1

Lowell listened without savinij: a word; listened for
three or five minutes, 1 should think, without a nod or
movement signifying that he heard me. I was quite
I'eady to take offence when once the suspicion came
that I was regarded as a bore.

" Perhaps 1 tire .you," at length I suggested.

" Pray go on," said he.

When I had finished he entered warmly into the
' ie,rits of the case, made several suggestions and dis-
cussed points of difference. He bound me to him
lu rover by his many acts of sympathy then and after-
ward, for he never seemed to lose interest in my labors,
and wrote me regarding them. What, for example,
'•ould have been more inspiring at that time than
to receive from him, shortly after my return to San
Fiancisco, such words as tliese: "I have read your
liist volume with so much interest that I am hungry
for those to come. You have handled a complex,
sometimes even tangled and tautological subject, with
so mueh clearness and discrimination as to render it
not merely useful to the man of science, but attractive
to the general reader. The conscientious labor in col-
lecting, and the skill shown in the convenient arrange-
ment (jf such a vast body of material, deserve the
highest praise."

33C

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

h:i

In Cambridge! I called on Arthur Gilman, who went
with me to the Riverside I^ress, the establishment of
H. O. Houghton and Company, where I saw Mr
Scudder, who wrote for Evcnj Saturdaij. Mr Scuddtr
asked permission to announce my forthcoming work
in his journal, but I requested him to say nothing;
about it just then. I was shown over the buildings,
obtained an estimate for the [)rinting and binding nf
my book, and subseipiently gave them the work,
sending the (■U'ctroty[>e plates there. One thousand
copies only were at iirst j»rinted, then another thou-
sand, and a tliird; the; three tliousaml sets, of five
volumes eacli, being fdlowed by other thousands.

Wednesday, the 2Gtli of August, after calling mi
several journalists in JBoston, we took the boat tor
Nahant to find Mr Longfellow, for he was absent
fiom liis home at Cambridu^e. Xeither was ho at
Nahant. And so it was in many instances, until we
began to suspect that most Boston people had two
J louses, a city and a country habitation, and lived in
neither. From Nahant we went to Lynn, and thence
to Salem, wliere we spent the night undisturbed I)y
witches, in a charming little antique hotel.

DuriiiiT the afternoon we visited the rooms of the
scientific association, and in the evening Wenddl
Phillips, who gave me a welcome tliat did my heart
good. A bright genial face, v, !'h a keen, kindly (ye,
and long wliite Jiair, a fine figure, tall but a littkj
stooped, I found him the embodiment of shrewd wis-
dom and practical p!iilanthro})y. There was no cant
or fiction about him. His smile broke upon his fea-
tures from a beaming lieart, and his words were )>ut
the natural expression of healthy tlioughts.

He comprehended my desires and necessities on (he
instant, and seating himself at his table lie daslicd
off some eiglit or ten letters in about as many min-
utes, keeping up all the time a rattling conversation,
neither tongue nor pen hesitating a moment for ;v

PHILLirS, WHITTIEE, LONGFELLOW.

337

wiinl; and it was al)Out me, and my work, and Cali-
fornia, and wliom I should sec, that ho was talking.
Sor was this all. Next morninf^, in Boston, he handed
iiic a package of letters addressed to persons whom he
tlioiight would he interested in the work, and whose
ii;mies had occurred to him after I had left.

Later he writes me: " Your third volume has come.
Tliaiiks for your remembrance of me. I read each
rli;i[)ter with growing interest. What a storehouse
you provide for ever}' form and department of history
ill time to come. I did you no justice when you first
o|Mned your plan to me. I fancied it was something
like the French MeDKjii'c's 2)our Servir. But yours is a
liistoi-y, full and complete; every characteristic amj>ly
illustrated; every picture preserved; all the traits
marshalled with such skill as leaves nothinij further to
lie (K'sired. Then sucliamjile disquisitions on kindred
topics, and so much cross-light thrown on the j»icture,
you give us the races alive again and make our }>ast
ixal. I congratulate you on the emphatic welcome
the j)ress has eveiywhere given you."

How dill'erentiu mind, manner, heart, and head arc
till' men we meet!

John G. Whittier was a warm personal friend of
riiilhps, and to him among others the latter sent mo.
A\ went to Amesbury, where the poet resided, the
• l.iy after meeting PhilHps in Boston. A frank, warm-
iit arted Quaker, living in a plain, old-fashionc.'d village
lioiisc. lie gave me letters to Longfellow, Emerson,
and Doctor Barnard. "I have been so much in-
terested in his vast and splendid plan of a history of
the western slo[)e of our continent," he writes to Mr
I -oiiM follow, ''that I take pleasure in giving him a
iiotc to thee. What material for poems will be
u itln red up in his volumes! It seems to mc one of
till' noblest literary enterprises of our day."

'■ This 1 will deliver," said I, picking up the one ad-
tlirssL'd to Longfellow, "if I am permitted to retain
it ; not otherwise. We in California do not sec a letter

Lit I.nu. 22

83S

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

; i

i i

! '

from Wliitticr to Loiiij^fcllow every day." He laii^licd
and replied: "My letters are getting to be common
tniougli now." I <lid not see Mr Longfellow, but he
wrot(^ nu! very cordially, praising my book and icgret-
ting he should have missed my call.

Informed that Professor Henry Adams, editor of
the North American Review, was staying a few milts
from Salem, I sought him there, but unsuccessfully.
Next day I met accidentally his father, CharU's Fian-
cis Adams, to whom I expressed regrets at not having
seen his son. He said he woidd speak to him for iiic.
and remarked that if I could get Francis I?arkni;m to
review my book in the Xorth Ameriran it would 1k' a
great thing lor it, but that his health and preoccupa-
tion would probably ))revent. He gave me sevi ral
letters, and I left full copies of my printed sliruts
with him.

Now of all things, 'great things' for my book 1
covcti'd. So to l*arkmnn I went. I found him at
tfamaica IMains, where he resided during summn',
deep in his literary work. vVfter all, the worker is the
man to take work to, and not the man of hisuir.
^fr l*arkman was a tall s])ai'e man, with a smiling iaoe
and winning manner. I noticed that all great men in
the vicinitv (jf l^(»ston were tall and thin, and woic
smiling faces, and indications of innate gentleness ot'
character.

"This shows wonderful research, and I think your
arrang(>ment is good, but I should have to review it
upon its merits," sai<l ^[r Parkman.

"As a matter of course," I readied.

"I do not know that I am (;om[)etont to do llio
subject justice," he now remarked.

"I will trust you for that," said I.

And so the matter was left; and in due time sev-
eral spltMidid rmiews appeared in this important
journal as the different volumes were published.

I was told to call on the liev. Janu^s Freeman
Clarke. I did so, but he was not at home.

OLIVKR WENDELL HOLMES.

339

I rocuiJin

Koturning to Boston, wo took tlie train for Concord
;iii(l s()U<4"ht Mr Enicrson. Ho was L(raii..as cnout^li,
;iiiil nave me some letters, one to Doctor i)raj)er, and
(iiic to ^Tr l^ryant; but in fill liis doini,'S the great
jiliiliisoplier was cold and unsympathctif. He was
the ojiposite of Wendell l*hillips, who won the
li(\ii-ts of all that stood before him. l^liss touched
a responsive chord when he broke out upon trcne-
ali>uy. Of course l^liss knew all about the Emerson
faiiiily, n':'l easily estal)lished a distant relationship.
Tliere were few families in New Knglan<l with
wliom the Blisses could net claim kinshij). ^Fy com-
panion seemed to warm with the subject. It was his
practice now, the moment the topic of Native Jfaci'M
was exliausted, to break forth on genealogy. That I
l;i('\v restless, took up my hat, or even rose to leave,
laade no difference with him; when once launched
upon his subject he must go through all the gener-
al iens, root, truidv, and branches. He quite tliawed
jjiierson bef(>rc he left him. In my pi-esent frame of
mind I was (juite nnidy to (juarrel with any j»ei'son
whose hobby came in conflict with my hol)hy, or
wlio did not regard my <'rt'orts with the considera-
tion 1 thought they deserved. I was possessed of an
idea.

Fiom Concord we wont again to Cnmbi-idg(>, to sec
.Mr llowell.s of the Atlantic Mont/i/i/. Ai'ter some
coiivei'sation upon the subject it was iinally arranged
that J Miss was to write an article of some t<'n pages
oil my work for this magazine. There were many
oi!i< IS we called on, some of whom were at home and
>oiiic absciut, among the latter nuich to my regret
( >liver Wendell Holmes, Kdwai'd Everett Hale, and
•lanies T. Fields. Fi'om Doctor JEolnu'S I sid>se-
i|iii ntly receive<l many letters, which brouglit with
thoiii a world of j-efreshiuix encourat^ement. So <>'enial
and hearty were his oxj)ressions of praise that the
manner of bestowal doubled its value to me. Vvw
can appreciate the worth to an author of eneouiaging

340

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

words at such a time and from such a source. "The
more I read in your crowded pages the more I find to
instruct and entertain me," he writes. "I assure you
that Robinson Crusoe never had a more interested
reader among the boys than I have been in following
you through your heroic labor."

And later ho writes: "I have never thanked you
for the third volume of your monumental work. This
volume can hardly bo read like tlie others; it must be
studied. The two first were as captivating as romances,
but this is as absorbing as a philosophical treatise
dealing with tlie great human problems, for the reason
tliat it shows how human instincts repeat themselves
in spiritual experience as in common life. Yourlalior
is, I believe, fully appreciated by the best judges; and
you have done, and are doing a work for wdiicli jios-
terity will thank you when thousands of volumes that
j)aradc themselves as the popular works of the day
are lost to human memory."

I very much regretted not seeing Mr PTale, thonuh
I was gratified to receive a letter toward Christmas
in which he wrote: "At this time the subject has to
nie more interest than any other literary subject. I
liave for many years intended to devote mv leisure to
an historical work to be entitled The Paeijic Ocenu (iikI
ffs S/iores. But I sliall never write it unless I ha\ c
first the opportunity of long and careful study anion^-
your invaluable collection." Tlie library was placrd
at Mr Hale's free disposal, as it was always open t<>
every one, but the leisure hours of one man, though
it should be for several lifetimes, I fear would iiipt
make much showing beside the steady labors of tni
to twenty men for years. One Saturday we went
to Martha's Vine^'ard, where President Grant was
enjoying the intellectual feasts spread before him by
the encamped nicthodists.

I had seen all the chief literary editors of Boston,
ami w^as well enough satisfied with the results. I
knew by this time that my book would receive sonic

THOMAS WEXTWORTH HIGCIIXSON.

341

good reviews in that quarter. So I concluded to
leave Boston.

On our way to New York we stopped at Newport,
and called on T. W. Hi<j;;4inson, who lik*' (Jlilinaii
aspired to the popuhir side of thin<TS. Tlie result of
tlii-i interview was half a dozen letters, in which he
took care to state, tiiat he mijj^ht show, I suspect, liow
guarded lie was in avoiding ini})()siti()U, that President
(Jilinan had introduced nie, and that Clarence King
endorsed nie. Afterward came a review of the Xatice
Races in Sen' briers Monfltlij Mwjadne.

!None were kinder or more cordial tlian Hig-
ginson, who on several occasions went out of his wuy
to serve me. As I was on mv wav to New York, J
>a\\ his letters were directed to Mr Keid, ^Iv Hi[»lev,
Curtis, Holland, Parton, (lodkin, Ward, and others.
The lirst read as foUows: "I wish to introduce a gen-
tkinan whom I count it an lionor to icnow, Mr 11. H.
l)ancroft, of San Francisco, who has hei.'U giving
we;ikli and time lor vears to a work on the wild races
of the Pa(.'iiic States. His first volume sliows a re-
search very rare in America, and is founded on his
own remarkable library of sixteen thousand volumes,
colk'cted for the purpose. The book, if carried t>ut
as it is begun, will be an honor to our literature. ]\Ir
Ixincroft asks nothing from us but sympathy and God-
speed. I have been most favorably im[)ressed by what
1 have seen of him personally, and am assured by !Mr
Claivnco King that he is thoroughly respected and
valued in San Francisco."

And again later in Scrihncrs J\f()nfJiIi/: " It is safe
to say that there has not occurred in the literary his-
tory of the United States a more picjuant surprise than
\\\\v\i Mr Hubert Bancroft made his ap}tcarancc last
autiunn among the literary men of the Atlantic cities,
Ixiiriiig in his hand the first volume of his jxreat work.
That California was to be counted ui)on to yield wit
and poetry was known by all; but the deliberate re-
sult of scholarly labor was just the product not rea-

342

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

Mtiiubly to 1)0 expected from a conmiiinity thirty years
old. That kind of toil seemed to belong ruthcr to a
soeiety a little maturei-, to a region of i)iiblie libraries
and universities. Even the older states had as yet
yielded it l)ut s|)aringly; and was it to be expected
from San Franci.'-co? J lad Mr Bancrol't jHesinited
himself wearing" a specimen of the sequoia r/ifjantcc
ibr a button-hole bouquet it would hardly have seemed
more surprising."

Now in all tliis surely there was nothing very diili-
cult. It was as the Boston correspcjndcnt of tin;
S[)ringrield Ucpuhllcan had said: " Little or nothing
has been heard here of his labors, and the surprise
and pleasure with which so magniticent an under-
taking has been welcomed by eastern scholars nuist
have ••ratihed Mr Uancroft."

It was no great achievement to visit these men and
connnand their attention. In one sense, no. And yet
in the state of mind in which I was then laboring, it
was one of the most disagroeal)le tasks of my lii'e, and
sti-ong as I usually was physically, it sent me to bed
and kept me there a fortnight.

I had been entirely successful; but success here was
won not as in San Fiancisco, by years of tender devo-
tion to an eimobling cause, but by what I could not
l)ut feel to be an humiliating cour-.e. I souglit nioii
whom I did not wish to sec\ and talked with them ol"
things about which of all others it was most distaste-
ful to mo to converse. It was false pride, however,
and my extreme sensitiveness that ke})t alive these
feelings. Good men assui'ed me that I was not over-
ste[>ping the bounds of literary decorum in thus
thrusting my work Ibi-ward upr)n the notice of tin;
world; that my i)Osition was jieculiar, and that injus-
tice to my undertaking in San Francisco I could ii«>t
dti otherwise.

I had met with nuich that was assurinof, but I had
likewise encountered much that was disheartening.
1 found here, as elsewhere in the affairs of mankind,

CLIQUES AND COTEKIES.

Stf

livpocrisies and joalousits. Literature has its coteriea
;iihI coiiveiitioiialisnis as well as all other forms of hu-
uiiui association. Had I been able at this juncture
to adopt for a time boheniian life, — I do not mean in
its lowest as[>eets, but to liave minj^led with the better
class of book-fanciers, to have eaten and hobnobbed
with the dilettanti in literature, such a course would
fir a time have liad an effect on my undertakiui;'; but
ir \V(>iil(! have been of little lastiui; advantaL'^e, for the
work must stand, if at all, t>n its merits alone.

There ai-e various cruiues whose nu-n.bers regard
iiotliiu}^, new or old, exce[»t through the eye-glasses
of the fraternity; religious cliiiues, sonu; of which
uric icady to take exception to anything which may
he said about religion in general, but all ready to par-
dun nmeh that was not orthodox provided some sect
ethir than their own is severely enough criticised.
Then there are sciiMice cli<jues, and science fanatics,
wliich, when they get off on some pet theovy, are as
i)a(l as the religious faiuitics. All the world nmst see
with their eves, and reach conclusions in undemon-
strahle [)ro[)ortions as they have done, or ))♦> anathc-
iiiatized. A bo«»k, therefore, which touches religion
is sure to be rou«'hlv handled by some of reli'j[ion's
many opposhig champions, or if it conflicts with any
of' the ])et o))inions of science, certain nienjbers of that
fiaternlty an; t)bliged to rush to the rescue of some of
its iiimmtable truths.

Besides these arc newspaper parties and ]»rejudlces,
l)usiness and political cli<pus, all of which have their
cedes of ethics, which signify self and party interests,
so that a book or author undergoing judgment nmst
ho regarded from one or more of these points of \iew
liefere the matter of merit can be taken into consider-
iitinii. But in coming from the remote and unletteretl
West I was free from any of these trannnels, which,
theiigli they might have hel[)cd me in one way, would
liav(; hampered mo in another.

From the bejjinning of civilization, I believe, by

JMt

A UTERARY PILGRIM.

) I

1 i
1

1 I I

tlie east the west has been considered barbaric in
Icarnini' and hterature. (^rrooce first tauijht lionic,
Koine western Kuro[)e, Europe America, and eastorii
America the western. Thus the east has alwavs Ik M
tlie west in some sort of ct)ntem[it, so far as rchgimi
and k'arning were concerned. Th(^ east was the ori^:!-
nal scat of civilization, wlience ra(Hated the more rt
fined rehgion, witli art, science, and hterature. Tin
west has always been illiterate, infantile in learniii'',
with crude ideas in relation to all that creates or rej--
ulates the liigher intellectual life.

All through the dark age the east hid learning, leijt
pcradventure it miglit be liarmful to the west. Keli-
gions always arose in the east, and every western
j)r<)phet in all times and places has been without honor.
We are likewise indebted to the east ft>r all of our
dark chWs of tyranny, superstition, priestcraft, ainl
kingcraft, for all the horrors of religious wars and ])ei-
secution for opinion's sake, for the nmrder of millions
of human beings, for con'^eptions as absurd and void of
reason as any which ever flitted through the savagr
mind. The opinions, dogma ,, and practices which tlie
stronger race has from the first endeavored to iiillict
upon the weaker, the superii)r culture on the inferior,
have been for the most part false and ini(|uitous. Tlir
in(|uisito)'*ial rack and thumb-screw have not been em-
ployed for the })ropagation of truth but of errof.
Witches Were burned not because the victims w< iv
witches, but because the superior p(mer pronounced
them such. And all this time the west has been figlit-
ing out its salvation, fighting for deliverance from tlie
tyrannies and superstition of the cast. Mingled with
enforced errors of the east have been somo ;:;rains ct"
truth which the west has in due time come to acce[)t,
winnowing away the rest. The chaff has been moun-
tainous, the truth in scattered grains.

Therefore, lest the east should become too arrogant
and domineering in its su[)eri()r culture, it may prolit.i-
bly bear in mind two things: first, thatas the west rises

JOHN W. DRAPER.

345

into supremacy the oast decays, and tliat tlioro is
iinw IK) further west for restless leaminj^ to reach,
ralcstineaiid E;jjyi)tare dead; the greatness of Atl ions
;iimI liome dates two thousand yi'urs buck; London is
-KiwiiiLr old ; if New York and Boston do not sonic;
tli'ie (lie of old a;j;e, they will prove exceptions to the
lull'; so that if the glory of the world he not some
(|,iv ci'owdcd into San Franeisro, it will be by reason
uf new laws and new (Uvelopraents. In a word,
Ma!?saehusetts and Conneetieut may yet go to school
to ATichigan and California,

In New York 1 met (xeorge l^aneroft — ^with whom,
by tbc way, I am in no way related — who gave me a
1( Iter to Doctor Draper, and was kind enough after-
\v;iitl to writ(^ :

'•To me vou rcMider an iiiestiniabl(> benefit; for vou
liiitig within reach the information which is scattered
ill 1 liousands of vohimes. I am glad to see your work
v.rlcoined in ]Ouro])e as well as in vour own eountrv.
III the universality of your researches you oeeupy a
til 1(1 of the deei)est interest to the world, and with-
out a rival. Press on, my dear sir, in your great
' iitt rpiise, and bring it to a elosc in the meridian
i[' life, so that you may enjoy your well earned
honors during what I hope may be a long series of
later years."

Doctor Draper was a man well worth the seeing;
fynin iirst to last he proved one of my warmest and
luost sympathizing friends. After my return to San
IVaiiiiseo he wrote me: "I have received your long
expreted tirst volume of the Native Jiaces of the Pacific
>'''/'.s', and am full of admiration of the resolute man-
in !• in which j'ou have addressed yourself to that most
1 iIm -lious task. Many a time I have thought if I were
lliii'ty years younger I would dedicate myself to an
« xploiation of the political and psychological ideas of
the aborigines of this continent; but you are doing
Hot uiilv this, but a s^reat deal more. Your work lias
taught me a great many things. It needs no praise

■4'^

3»r.

A LITKRARY PILGRIM.

from inc. It a\ ill be coiitiulted and read centuries after
you are pfone."

On Friday, the 11th of September, I had an intt r-
view with Charles Nordhoff, during which he a;^rrt(l
to re\ie\v my work, and requested me to a|)j)()int some
day to spend with him at Alpine, on the Hudsdn,
when we could talk the matter over. 1 named tin-
followinLj Thursday. The day was rainy, but within
his hospitable doors it juissed delii^htfully. I had lat(l\
seen (George liipley of the Tribime, whom Wciulrll
Philli[)s prouijunced the first crilie in America, Mi'
(jr<;dkin of the Aation, and several others, who hiid
given mc encouraging words, so that 1 felt prepared
to enjoy the day, and did njost heartily enjoy it.

I liad likewise, the Tuesday before, completed ar-
rangements with Messrs i). A]:)pleton and Coni[)aiiy
ctf New York to act as my publisheis, upon terms
satisl'actorv r-nouLrh. I was to furnish them the work
}»rinted and bouml at my own cost, and they were to
account for the same at one half the retail prices.
The contract was ibr live years.

It is ])erhaps one of the severest trials of an authors
life, the lirst coming in contact with a publisher. It
certainly would have been so with me in this instance,
had I i'elt <lependent on any of them. After having
spent all this time, money, and brain-work on my book,
had the printing and publishing of it been at the
mercy of others, I should have felt very unhap[)y over
tlie })rospect. I3ut as 1 proposed printing the work
mvself I had no I'ear i-eLjfardino: a imblisher.

But there was still enou<;h of ne<>'otia1ing to mak-'

o o o

mc feel more keenly than ever before what it is to
bring one's brains to market. There before the august
maujnato lies for dissection the author's work, the
results of years of patient tod, reprcscntuig innumer-
al>le headaches and heartaches, self-sacritice, weari-
ness of soul, and ill-afforded money. Author ainl
])ublisher are in solenm deliberation. One regards
this unborn liook with that fond enthusiasm by whuli

THE PUBLISHERS.

847

ulniic a writer is sustained in his work, the vahie of
ulilch lie measures by the pains and sutlerini^s it has
cdsl him. The other eyes it with suspicion, looks
uiioii the author and iiis work with a eold e(»nnner('ial
ivi , coneerned not a whit for the worth of thu man
i)V lor tlie vahie of the book to mankind. The dol-
lars that are in it, that i.^ all the bniin-dealer cares
about.

Since I should requii-e some co[)ios in San Fran-
ei.>co, and some in L(jndon, J?aris, and Leipsic, I had
(■iiiichidid to do my own pi'intinn', and arran^•e with
(I itain publislujrs to act lor me. ^Ir James C. l)erb\ ,
hint her of (fcorjje 11. Derbv.to whom I was indebted
I'll my initiation into the book business, was then
iiiaiKi'L^'cr of Applcton's subscrii)tion dej)artniunt, and
uiiili'i' his direction my book fell. Very little W(»rk was
jiui upon it, for the subscription de[)artnient was
(iMwdcd with books in which the house had deeper
[iiriuiiary interest than in mine; yet 1 was satishcd
villi the sales and with the general management of
till' business.

One of the first things to bo done on my return to
Xr\v York from Boston was to examine the collection
nf books ^Fr Bhss had made while in Mexico and
>v\vi-i such as 1 wanted. This was the agreement: I
was to take every book which my collection lacked,
ami should I select IVom his collection co[)ies of some
hi'uks which were in mine, such iluplicates were to bo
ivtuiiii'd to him. In a private house near Astor |)lace,
nii^s had taken rooms, and there he had his books
liiought and the cases oi)ened. We h)oked at them
all systematically, and such as I was not sure of pos-
sessing were laid asiile. The result was an addition
totlie libi'ary of some four or five hundred volumes,
>i !it to San Francisco in six ca.ses. To make sure
lit these books, I looked after them myself; I would
ii'it intrust them to the care of any one until thev
\vi ic safely delivered to the railway company, with
the .sliip[tiiig receipt in my pocket.

' T7 1

,1:

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

The 30th of Supteinhcr saw ino aj^ain in New
Haven. President I'oitcr and most ot" the professors
liad ruturnod. By this time tho cnfhnsiasni with
Avliich I was wont to tell my story (hn'in;j^ thcj cai liir
sta-^cs of niy ])il<'iiniai'c had somowliat wan»'d. Xcvci-
thclfss I must make a few calls. .Presidrnt l^ortci' I
found exceptionally warm-liearted and sincere. Ih
gave me letters of strong' connnendation to President
Eliot of Harvard and to Itohert ( '. Winthrop. At
the next eonnnencement he likewise enrolletl my name
amonfj the alumni of Yale as master of arts.

Thence I j)roceedi'd to see professors !^^aI'sh.
l^rewer, and others. While wanderint'' among tliosu
classic halls I encountered ( 'larenci; KiiiL^', who, yoiiiiL,'
as he was, had acquired a rej)Utation and a posit idii
second to no scientist in America. He was a man < \'
much genius and rare cultivation. In him were unit( d
in an eminent degree the knowle<lge acquii-ed Ironi
hooks, and that which comes from contact with nicii.
]lis shri'wd connnon-sense was only sui-passed hy hi>
high literary and st'i(.'ntilic attainments, and his hiD,! I
leai-ning was so seasoned with iinalfectod kindness ^t'
heart and fresh l)Uo3'ant good humor as to conunniid
the profound admiration of all who knew him.

He was my ideal of a scholar. Tlun-e was an oiIl;-
inality and dash ahout him which fascinated me. Ih'
could do so easily what I could not do at all; he w;is
so young, with such an elastic, athletic brain, trained
to do his most ambitious bidding, with such a wt II
om])loYe(l past, a proud present, and a brilliant furuir.
and witiial such a modest bearing and genial kind-
heartedncss, that I could not but envy him. W^-
descriptions of scenery arc as line as Iluskin's and l;ir
more original.

Jle had often been in my libraiy, and meeting ni'
now at Yale he shook my liand warmly as I thankdl
him for speaking so kindly of mc to Mr Higginson at
Newport a few days before. After some further c'lii-
ver.sation I was about to pass on when he spoke again:

CLARENCK KIXO.

" How arc you ^ittiiij^ aloiii^?"

*' Very well," .said I, " Ixttcr than I liad anticipated."

"Can I do anythin;,' for you?" lio asked.

'' Xo, I tliaiik you," I replied. Then suddenly
r''(i'll(;ctinij nivselt' I exclaimed, "Yes, you can: re-
\ir\v my hook in some jouinul."

'■ I will do so with j»leasure, if I am comjietont."

" If you are not," said J, "with all your personal
ohsi rvations upon the ]?acilic slope, I may as well
cease lookitif^ for such men in these part;-}."

"Well, I will <lo my best," Ik; re[)lied.

I then asked him for wiiat journal he would write
a ivview. Ho sui^^ested the Xvrth American or the
Atlxiidic. I told him ]*arkman was enj.,M,i«'e'd for one
and J^liss for the other. Tlu>n he said ho would con-
tribute a scricsof short articles to the Nation. When
I iclurned to New York I saw Godkin. Any jour-
nalist was glad to |)rint an^'thin^^ Clarence Kinuj would
write, so that ^fr (lodkin readily assented to a(hnit in
tlic colunnis of thciVr^^'oy^ ^IrKing's reviewof my work.

1 was greatly disai>|)ointed, now that King luul
ai^rccd to write, that his ai-ticle eould not a[)pear in
till' Atlantic, where were first published his matcldess
(liaiiters on MountalneeruKj In the Sierra \eraiJa.
That, liowcvci", was out of the fpiestion, as Bliss was
iiigaged for that article, and probably had it finished
l»y this time.

Meanwhile Mr Howells wrote me: "I have not
li aid a word from INIr Bliss, and it is quite too late
t'l net anything about your bf)ok into the Xovember
imiiiher." I inmiediately called on Bliss, lla was
htiried deep in some new subject. The money I had
L;i\iii him for his books had made him comparatively
iiii|('[)endent, and when he had revelled in reading and
t'li:icc() smoke for a time, and had concluded his
litriary debauch, there would be time enough left to
'il'|i!y himself to the relief of corporeal necessities.

■ lUiss, how progre'^ses that article for the Atlan-
ta'/'^ I asked him.

'•'.n

800

A LITERARY PILORIM.

" Finely," ho roj)lic'(l. " I liaw it. nearly complof - 1."

" Show nu3 sonu" of it, will you? I want to sec how
it rcjuls."

" 1 cannot sliow it you in its present stale." lit;
stannnercd. "Next time you come in you shall sec
it." ^ ^ /

T was satisfied lie had not touched it, and T w idfi^
IIowiUs as much, at tlie same time mentioninn" mv
iiitcrvimv with Iviiiiu^.

" [ wrott! you some days a,i]fo," ITowclls rc^jthd,
under date oV Octoher 7, 1871, "that ]Mr lUiss had
not sent me a ri'vi(>w of your hook,aftci- |)romi>in"_;- f"
do so within ten days from the time when In- c;i!li I
with you. So if ^Ir Kinijf will review it for me I
sJiiill he delii^hted." At the same time I [owells teli -
j.;'ra|»lied me, "Ask Clarence KiiiLC to writ(> i-e\ iew,'
An'aiii I souL;'ht tlu^ retreat of lUiss. I ioimd liini
still ohlivioiis. ''I'lie fact is. [ think my peiipafelic
friend tremhled somewhat at the responslhility of liis
jtositioii. and he' hiid hetakeii himself to a vigornus
litei-aiy whist linijf ttt keep his couraL;'e up.

When once cornered, he admif ted h(> had net
written a word of tlu^ pro|)(»sed i-eview. I then teld
him of Clarence 1\ in 14's offer and ^^r I lowells' wis'ic-,
and asked him if hi> would he willhi'jj to t^ivc! his n-
view, wiiii-li 1 knew he would never writ<\ to some
other journal. I[i' cheerCidly e\pre><sed his williii'i-
ness to do so. and eoiiLTrat Ilia ted nieeii havin<>' seemvil
so al)le a writ(>r as Mr Kiii;^. Therein he acted thi'
gentleman. The 7th <»!' I )eceir.her Mi- I fowelU wiidN
]\\c: " I've just read the proof of ('larelice Kinjs
ivview of you for i\\c At/aiific — twelve j)aLjj(>s of niiil-
loyed ]»i'aise." Conceniiu'Lr this rcvii'W .\Ir Kiiiy' wieti"
from { 'oloi'ado till' (Jtli of November: " I>eh('Vi' iiic,
1 ]\:i\v found e-reat ])leasure a.nd |)ro!it in twice (mi'c-
fullv readiiiu' tiu^ IIVA/ '/'rihcs. ( )f its i^xi-elleiice a-;
a [lieee of critical literai'y comhinalion I was Itillv
persuaded from the tirst, but only on actual studv <l >
I reach its true value. .\lt hough the driest of (!i'

! n

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Sol

five volumes, It is simply fascitjatiiig to the Ktudcnt
who realizes the vital value of savajjjc data. Ap-
prcciatiuiif and <'iiji)yiiiLC your ixxtk as iimch as T do,
I vet liiid a dillicultA' 1 have never hefore expericiiei'd
in utteii'ptiuii^ to review it. The hook ilselC is a

;i:j^aiitie rt'View, ai

ul so eraiinned and crowded witli

I'lit that the narrow limits of an Atlmitic re\iew are
iii^iitlieicnit to even alludi; to ail the classes of fact.
T'l even intimate the \aried class of material is im-
|iiis>il)le. I rather fall hael. to the plan of following'
Mill from \\\v Arctic coast down to I'ananui, tracinj^
thi' jtrominent chan<x<'s and elements of devi ; pment,
^i\iii;^^ you of course full credit for the good judgment

a 1 1(1

•lecilon v<»U have sliown.

rolesso

r .1. A. ( 'huii'h reviewed the work in

al le and lengthy artich in the (rd/o.ri/; ajid foi- the
.\''fi<>it the hook was intrusted to Mv .Iosej)Ji Au-
di rsoii of Watei'hury, ( 'oiniecticut, a most aMe ei-iiic.
I filled to s(^e Nlr IJryant, hut was gi-atified hy
the receipt of a letter in which he expressed him.ielf
ill the following words: "I am amazed at th(> extent

and the minuteness of your researches into the his-
ti rv and customs of the ahori'iinal Irihes of westi>rn

Nert

nierica.

oui' woi'k will reniam to c:>!nin>_r

a'^vs a treasurediouse of information on that sulijeet.

The (

alilorman |onrnals jirmted majiv

I ted

.f th

e eastern

and I'lui'opi^an lettiTs sent me, and Mi" Uryiiut's com-
manded their special admivit ion. on account ot" its

• liifegiaphy, which was iHauiifully clear and linn I'or
a i»oi't, and he of I'ighty yeai's. When will men of
U'eniu> learn to write, and those who aspire to gi'eat-
iie.> rc.'ise ti» he ashamed of fail' penniaii-diip '

the -Jd of OctolK'r I ran down to Washington
t" ■■<■{' Mr Spolford, liiirai iaii <»r congress, and .lolm
<• Anu's, liltrarian and supt i inteiideiit of |inllic

• I'll iiiiients. I had been |>resented with many of (he
K"^eriunent |»uI»licatioiis for my lihrary for the la-t
till years and had hoiight many more. What I wtuited
iii'w was to have all the con'''ressioMal documents an I

T 1 i

■■■i ' '
'i

^ H

352

A LITERARV riLGRnf.

fi^ovcriimcnt piil>licatioiia sent mc as they were printed.
Mr Ames in^bnned me that he could send cert;iiii
books from his department. Then, if I could <^>'[.
some senator to put my name on his list, I should
receive every other })ul)lic document j)rinte<l, twthc
co[)ies of whicli were jjjivcn each senator for distiihu-
tion. This Mr Sai'ij^cnt kindly consented to do for iiu',
and to him 1 am indebted for constant favors durin.,'
his term in Washington.

(\dlinL;" at the lilM'ary of congress, I was infoi-niiil
by Mr Spoilord that for some time past ho had in
tended to ask my j>ermission to i-eview the Satirr
IiKccs i'or the Xew York llenifd in an article sonic
i'our <'olumns in length. I assun^d him that foi' >o
distinLfuished hoiioi- I should ever hold mvseU" his
debtor. 1 then h)oked thi'ough a room craniiiicd
with duplicates, to ascertain if there were any liool^^
amouLf them touchiuiif mv subiect which I had not in
my liltr.'iry. 1 I'ound nothing. The regulations .1'
the congi-essional libraiy required two copies nf
every book j)ublished in the United States to I'c
deposited for copyright, ;tnd these two copies niu^t
alwnys be ke])t. Any surplus above the two copies
weie called dui»licates, and might be exchanged I'cr
other books.

Earlv in the writing of the Xatice liCiccs I had It It.
the necessity of access to certain important woiks
existin''- onlv in mannsci-ii)t. These were tlie JIisf,>ri'(
Aj>'>/o(/('h'cK and 1 listeria General of Las Casas, in it
tJK'n jirinted, tiie Hlstorin Anfi(/ii<( de Niiera Kspihui of
l'\ithei- Din'an, and others. These manuscripts were
nowliere lor sale; but few cojiies were in existence,
and besides those in the hbrary of congress 1 kii w
of none in the United States. I saw no otlier way
than to have such works as seemed nect>ssarv to nic
C()[)ie(l in whoK; or in part, and this I aeconiphshcd
l)y tlie aid of copyists through tlie courtesy ol dr
S[)oll'ord. The labor was tedious and expensive; hut
1 could not go forward with my writing a'ld led

AARON A. RAROEXT.

3S8

that fresh material exi.sted whicli I had the money
to ])rocure.

S(!Voral months previous to my journey to Wash-
in" ton Mr H. R. Coleman, who had lonsx been in the
I iiililoy of our Hrin, and who in the s[)riii<^ of 1874,
\vliilf' f)n a visit to the east, had kindly consented to
attend to some business for me, liad been there witli
Icttt'i's of introduction to senators and others, and had
siMiuvd nie many advantaj^es.

i"'rnm Philadelphia, under date of the 24th of April,

Mr ( 'olcman miuU) a full report. His mission was to

examine the works in the conirressional library

toii(liin<jf tlie Pacific coast and ascertain what mate-

riiil was there not in my collection. Then he must

set men at work extractini^ certain matter wiiieh was

(IrsciibiMl lo him, and finally secure all the public

documents, eitlu'r by i^ift or purchase, j)ossible l'<»r the

liiiiary. I need only say that all this was aceom-

plislied l)y him to my entire satisfaction. "I found

the ■ V,. re plenty of copyists, meehanieal jj^eniuses, in

Wasl.iiijjton," lie writes, "but few who could d<t this

wiiik. The two manuscripts you spoke of I found

to <i insist of eij^ht bulky quarto vohum-s, written in

a ^iMtd clear hand. One of the persons I enLjau^ed

tliioiiLjh th<^ advice and assistance of y\v Spoflbi-d

was a Frenchman, quite old, a man of exjx'iience,

and t(\ichcr of the French and Si)anish laiiij^uaiivs in

^\;l>hill^•t(»n." Senator Sai'ijent rendered Mr ('<de-

m.iti most valuabh^ assistance, helpinn* him to sevc^ral

hundred volumes of books. 'I'he difhculty in (^)llect-

iiiM- i^overnmeiit documents lies not in obtainintj^ cur-

I'lit |iiiblications but in matheiiiiij^ tlu^ old volumes,

sinre few of the many departments retain in their

njliiv^ back volumes. I and my aLjents have visited

\\ I hi.M'L^ton many times on tlu'se missions.

Ill lore leaviiiijf San l^'rancisco I had jdace.d the
ni.in;iMi'nicut, of the X'ffirc Jiaccs in London in the
Ii.uhIs of ^Fr JCllis Head, ajjfent in San Francisco for
.Si'ot<'h and I'iiij^lish firms. Mr Keatl's London agent

Lit Ind. 'jJ

1-1

S.Vi

A T.ITErvArvY PTLORTM.

lif

■was Mr Jolin TJiown <»(' WootU'ord, Essex, an intclli-
ijCt'iil iuid wcaltliy jj^ciitli'Tiiaii, who iVoin llio fir-.st to-ik
a warm interest in the work. Alter consultation wiih
a literai-y f'rii'ii<l tln' jmltliration of* tlio ))ook was oiKn d
]\Iessrs liOiiLTiuans aii«l ('oin|)any of" l*atciiiost('r l{o\\,
and accejjtiMl on tlicir usual forms: namely, ton |iii'
cent, commissions on tradcjsale ))rice, I to f'ui'nisji tin jn
tlie |»i'inted copies unUound, wit Ii twenty-five cojiits (' ii-
editors. A calile des|);itcli I'rom Mr IJi'ownfoMr l{i;,(l
in Sau J'^rancisco wliicli was foi'warded t(t New N oik,
conveyed to me the welcome infelli'Ljence - welconic
l>ecause ])ul)lishers so unexci'[)tionahle had undertakin
the puhlicalion of my l)ook on t<.'rms so lavoi'.ihle.

lionjjcmaiis advised l*i'own to sp<'nd tliii-ly jioumU
in adxertisiu'j;', and if the f)ook was well )■( eelNcd h/
the jii-ess to ad<l twenty to it, an<l sUf^'iJi'ested <haf tilty
pounds should i>e depoaited with him lor that ])ur|

J-:

'^x])ensos m

Lend

on were; conunLj on apace

)OS('.

that

almost simullaneouslv with the news Ihat the Messiv

•ii;j;inans were my jv

ul.lisl

ii^'i's, ajipeai'ed a, I'ecjUi'st

from Mr l^rown for one hundred pounds. 1 was in
New \'ork a! tile lime, and not in the host ot" spirits,
and since I must hear ;dl the ex[)ense ol' puhlicalion,
and lurnish the puhlishei-s the book ahi'atiy printetl,
the f'uither demand of five hundred dollars for ex-
])enses which one would think th<' hook .should pav if
it wer" woith the puhlication, sti'uek me ]H'( uli.iiiv.
NcM'i-fheless, 1 sent tlie money. I was ros< hcil
that nothing" within my power to i'em<»vo should stnini
in the way of a fu'st and complete success, Aiainaiul
asjjain have 1 ])huiL,'ed recklessly for^\aJ•d in my inidcr-
takinu^s rcLj^anlless of consequences, perlorinin^' w-'ik
which ne\er wotdd he kiioNvi) o) a)i])reciated, and imt
for the hahit of thorouulmess wliieh had hv this lii

lie

hecome a })art of my natiu-e, tnioht as well iievei have
been done, spendini^ time and ])ayin<j^ out money with
a dojrtjred determination to spend as lonjjf as time er
motley lasted, whether I cotdd see the end or not.
After all, the business in Jiondon was well a!id eco-

THK L0XGMAX3. ?^r,:,

iiuiiiically manaGfod. It would liavo cost, iiicfivo tlnu'>;
as inuf'li liad I <i^otio ovd- and attiMidcMl to it iiiysi If,
aiitl tliou it woidd have \)crn no Iti'ltri" d«»ii<'. I \va><
>iic'cially desirous my work should l>t' Itrouujht to tlu^
iithntiou of l^ULj'lisli scholars and rcs icwcrs. I cx-
]i!aiiicd to ^Ir J>i'o\vii what T had done and was doin;^
ill America, and suijfLJfcstcd he should ad'i])t sonnsuch
iniu'sc their-. And I must say he cntci'fd ujion tlio
task with enthusiasm and pcrioiuKd it well.

Ivu^lishman-likf, ^Ir Ih'own thought tiie London
(diiinii should he dedicated to some ]']tiLilishman prom-
iiniit in science or letters. I had no oljjcctions, though
ji w as a ]ioint which never woultl l!a\ c ocfnu-rcd to mo.
lliit it has always been my custom to yield to every
iiitiiligent suiufL^estion, ])rom|)ted hy the (;ntlrusiasm dt"
ail agent oi' assistant, {ii'ovided his way of doinif a
lliiiiL,^ \\as in my o])inion no worse than my way.

Mr ih-own sUL^^i^'ested the name of Sirdohn Luh-
K'lck. and sent me a, ])i'inte(l ]»a;;'e: '■ I di'dii-ati' tliis
wuik to Sir John Jjuhhock, IJai-t.. M. W, F. IJ. S., as
a tiiiiuteof mv hiu'h esteem." J n this I ac(|uit'sced.and
Ml I he dedication was made, in a neat note Sii' .lohn
arKiKtwlediiced t he eom|)liment, writiiiij; Mr I'rown the
|i!iii of j'\hruary, ''J am much ig-ratilied at the honor
ef lia\iiin' so vahiahle a work dediijited to me."'

To Ml- Ih-own 1 had seid; from San I'^raneisco
cnjiiiN of volume 1., with lett(M's en(-losed, to ainait
n (l'i/.< II |)romiiu'nt men in l^mjj'land, amon,ijth(-in Ilei-
;.ei-t SpeiK-er, Sir Ai-thur Helps, E. K Tylor, II. (J.
katiiam, Sir .lohn ljuhl)o<-k, Tyndall, lluxhy, y\n\
Miillif. Iwccky, Carlyle, and Mureliison 'I'hese vol-
uiin ■>. In-inM- 'author's copies,' hore no imprint, and mv
jiiihii-hei's ohje(-ted to llieir hein^' L;i\en oui without
tS I ,oii(loii imprint, So these copies wert> ri-tuined to
ill'' ii\ Messrs jjonu'inans, and olh;rs yiven the 'jeiitle-
iiiiii 1 had named.

The a(-knowled<,,'mcnrs made me hy these nu li. re-
'•'ivi(| ol" e(»urse after my I'eturu to San Francisco,
weic heai-t V aiul free.

%v\

SS6

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

^Fr Herbert Spencer writes me: "In less tlian a
year I hope to send you the first volume of tlic Prin-
ciples of Sociohupj, in whicli you will see that I Iiavr
made t'refjucnt and important uses of your book;" ami
indeed nothinfj could be more flatterin^uj than tlic iv)'-
erences therein made to the Native h'/urs. "DujIii;^
my sununer trip in Kurope," says Mr Oilman in a
letter from Baltimore, "I have frecpiently Jieard yoiir
iLjrcat work spoken of, but nowhere with more roni-
mendaticu than 1 heard fi'om Herbert Si^'iicci'. i
am sure 3'ou must lie more than paid I'or your labor
by the wi(le-s|)read satisfaction it lias given."

Doctor Latham, the eminent ethnologist and lin-
guist, wi'itcs: "Tlie first thing I did after reading it
\sirh pleasui'c and |>j-()fit — for I can't say how liiglily
] \ahn? it — was to indite a revi(»w of it I'or tiui Kx<nii-
I was greatly pleased with Mr W. Vi. II.

niov

]jecky's lettiTs, regarding liim, as I did, as one «'t'
the pni't'st wi'itei's of JMiglish living. "I I'ejoice to
see the l»ook advancing so rajiidly to its eom])letinn. '
he savs, "for 1 Jiad murli feared that, hke Ihickle's
history, it was projected on a scale too gigantic lor any
singlt! individual to a<3com])lish. It will be a noMo
monument of American iMiergy, as well as of Ameri-
can g(Miiu><." And again, " [ was talking of your Imdk
the other day to itcrbert Spencer, and was gi'atilird
ti> hear him speak warmly of the helj) he had found
in it in writing his priisent work on sociology. I
always think that to take a con.s[)icuous position in
a yo' \v;[^ litcM'ature is one of the very highest intellect-
ual aims which an ambitious man could as[iire to;
and wliiMiever the history of .Vmerican literatui"
comes to l>e written, vour book will take a very high
j)lace among the earliest works of great learning
Amevic.'i has j)roduced." I was ulad also to have so
graceful a writer as the author of J'J/iropcttn .l/o/v^/v
speak encor.-agingly of n>y styK', which mon^ than any
one thinuf connected with my work 1 had lameiitcl.
'* I must add, too," he concludes his first letter to mo,

LATHAM. LECKY, HELPS.

'tli.'it your style is so /cry vivid and flowinuf tliiit
tin hook becomes most readahle even to those who
Xnko no special interest in the subject."

Sir Arthur l[elj)s, wiiting just before his deatli, rc-
lu.irks: "I thiniv that the introductory chapter is
( \. 1 llent; and what strikes me most in it is the ox-
(•( 1 (hni^ fairness with which he treats the r(>searches
iiiiil the theories of other inquirers into subjects akin
t(i his own."

I well remember witli what trepidation I lind
th.iii^lit of adfh-es.sing these gi'eat men before T
h('_;;ni to pubhsh. I wondered if tliey would even
;ni^\\ \r my letters, or takt; the troubhj to tell me to ly^o
1o till' devil. Then I thought upon it, and said to
iiiy.-rir, Thouij;'!! smalU'i" tlian many you are bi^^'ofr
than Noim;, and the lowest [)<»ly[)us of a sciiijbler ulm
>ii<iiil(| addi'uss you, you would not liesitate to aiiswci'
kiiiilly. Then I took Jienrt and said M^aiii, Is not a
p'Miud of i;old as Lfood to me brou^'iit bv a doidvev as
i'\ a sa^'e ; 1 know these facts of mine are v.-duablt!
to iiKii of science. Tliey are the ]»ase <jf all their
I'ahrirs; they nuist liave them. And in the form 1
M i\r (hi-m no g-reat amount of discernment is neces-
sary to assure me that this material, wlien well win-
in iw id, is in a sha[»e more accessible than it was

hclnrc.

or the newspnpers and magazines containing the
lit >t r(!\iews and descrijttions of the library, Mr
II; 'Uii j)un-hased from fifty to five hundred co]>ies,
ami (hstributed tlu^ni among tiie lil)raries, journalists,
ami literary men of the world. Not having a pro|ier
ii>! ot' .selected iu>wspa[)ers and of the libraries in
Eini.pe and America, I em[iloyed the mercantile and
statistical agency association of Xew York to pre-
l»;uv lue such a list, writing them in two blaidv-books.
Thriv" Were eight hundred and twenty ]MU'o|ieaii,
A>Miic. and colonial libraries written in one book,
iiii'l the Kiu'opeaii and American news[)apers and
l liili d States libraries in the other book.

\ r

^1^

i 1 ■;

\ :

358

A LITKRARY riLORIM.

Tt WMs tliroUL^li ^Fi- lvl\vai'<l Jticksoii, rf»r!-os])r)ii(l(iit
ill Sail l''|-;Uicisc() ot' tlic London Tiiin'.-i,i\\i\i t]\r \iif/n'
J'tiics was first ln'oiin^lit to tlio notice of that jouina!.
!^^l• .laci<son couM not assuro nic |>ositiv(Iy that tlio
ivvicw would a|i]M>ai'. Mr Walter, the editor, would
not eiili^^liten Mr .lackson on the suhjeet. I Mislnd
to purchase four huii(h'ed copies ot the issue « nn-
taininin' the notice of the Natirc /fares, |)i'ovided thciv
sliouM i)e >Mch an issu<\ And in this way I \\a>
ol)li'4'ed to ,i;ivt; my order to Mr lirown.

I'' roll) liOiidoii th(! .".d of Aju'il I ST.") ^Fr Ih'owii
writes: "At last tlu; 'rimes lias spoken, and I ha\e
f>ueeee(l(d ill securillL? four lliuuired copies of tin-

pa]

iitei' i»v (hilt ol clos(> warchiii"'.

lell

aw 1

])ulilisliers some tiiiK! ivj^o, with thi; usual iiide|)rii-

delici' of the y

niies

ley wo

iild not take an order for

the paj)er, or e\en the moiK'V for four huiKh'ed eopicsti
lie struck olf fi'i- me when a revii-w di<l a|ipear, and ;ill
1 (-(mid n'et was this, — that on the day a, re\ie\v a[i-
pe.ired, should a i'e\iew aji|ieai- at all, if I sent down
to the (itlice hefoi'c I | A.M. t hev Would stl'ik<f oil' w li.lt

wan

ted. So I kel.t

pt a person watchmi;' — as I wa

soinetiiiK's late ill Li('iii?.j" to town — with money for tin'
i('\ iew, and he luckily .saw it in the morning', ru-lh d
down to the olliee, aiid, he tells me, in less than .i
(piarter of an lioiir tin' I'xtra four hundred copies weiv
struck otf and made (»ver to him. The co[iies art; now
heiii;^" posted according to the addresses you scut inc. '

Tn Octoher IM74 one of the editors of tlu^ h'of-
nisclir Zeituiiij was in San I'^rancisco and visited tin."
lihrary fre(|Ueiitly. llewroie I'or his |)aper adesciip-

ti(»n of the lihrarv and tln^ \(((li'e I'd

ces.

Ite^idi

o-ivini;- me a list of the (}eriiian magazim.'S and iv-
\iews to which the hook should he sent, and iiiucli
other \-aluahle information. J )r Kai' Andree of tin)
d'/dhns, Dresden, e\|>ressed ^reat admiration \ <v (lie

woiK, and insti

•ted

sexcral articles coiu!er-nniu' il lu

that most vahiahle and inllueiitial jouinal.

DAWKIXS AXD TYLOR.

3.-0

Tn Sopt(Miil)cr IHr.") tlie oiiiiiient Eii^disli scliolar
A\'. IJoyil Dawkins called at tlio lil»iarv, .i^iviiiL;- mo
j^'icut jilcasun," in liis visit. Wlit-ii I ])artc(l w itli him,
alui' sliowiii^* him \\\v atteuti(»n witliin my jiowci", F
s!i['|Misr(l, as was usually tlio case, that 1 should never
sec him ai^^aiii. It was with <;reat |>leasure, thereture,
that I i'(!eei\ed a letter the fulluwinn' sjnini^^ " ^'<^ul•
wniidcrful book on the native races ot" the Pacilic;

States," he writes IVom Owens Coll

(...•,.

Manchcsfti-

tlh' I Ith ot" February IISTO, "has bem handed to nu!
I'wr review in the J'Miiihniy/t, and bel'ore I review it
J shoulil 1)0 very much oblij^'ed it' you could give mo
iiifiirmation as to the t'oUowiiig details: Vou will [xr-
liiips have rorL!(»tten the wandciiu''' iiUulishman who
cillcd on you at the end ot" last 8e[)tembor, and wh(»
li;id just a hurrii'd glance at your libi'aiy. Then I
]i;i(l u<» time t<i carry away anything but a luer'e gen-
rr;il imjtression, which has haunted me over since.
And sli;nig('ly (inoiigh your books awaited my return
liouic. 1 want details as to youi' mode ot' indexing.
How many clerks do you em[>loy on tlu,^ work, and
v.li.'it soi-t ol" index cards ^ ^'ou shewed all this to me,
bill I did not take down any figures. \ our system
i<eenis to me wholly ni;w."

'• Pray accept uiy heartiest thanks," writes lOdwanl
l!. Tvl.«r the 'Jjth of Febiiiarv bS7.'), "' for yoin- ijift,
<>\' the iirst volume of your great work. I. need not
tnuibleyou with com[iliments, t"or thei-e is no dou'-t
i!mI you w ill find in a few uiouths' time that the book
li,i< received more substantial testimony to its value
ill I lie high appreciation of all I'^urojtean ethnologists.
I .1111 writing a slight notice for the AvcKh'mij, par-
ti' uLnly to express a hope that your sueeeeding vol-
iiiiies may throw light on the half-forgotten problem
"t Ab'xieau ei\ili/.ation, \\iiieh has made baldly any
|i:nMi-,.ss since JLumboldt's time. Surely tlu; Old and
Ni w Worlds ought to join in working out the «pie>
li"ii whether they had bi;en in contact, in \\\\> dis-
liiet, i)ef(ire ( 'olumbu.s' time; and I really believe that

:!lu

300

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

E 1 1"

you may, at this momoiit, luivc tho materials in yom-
IuuuIh to briiiuf IIk' jiroMciu on to a new stai^e. i\Iay
I oouc'ludo by asking you, as an ethnologist, not t«>
adlier'e too closely to your intisntion of not thcori/iiig,
wliilo tliere are suhjccts on whicii you evidentl}' hii\i'
llic means of forming a theory more exactly and plcnti-
I'ully in your hands than any other antliroj»ologi.st."

Jiefore making arianj^enunts with ^Tessrs Loii''-
mans I had sai<l notliiiig about a puldislier for tin;
Aaft'ce J*iircs in France and in (Germany. 1 now n-
(|ueHfed ^Mr Ih'own to ask those gtintleinen if tlicv
had any objections to my adopting sudi a course, and
oil receiving inlbrmation that they hail not, I madi;
j)i'oposals to Miiisonneuve et C'°, Paris, and F. A.
]>i-ockhaus, to act ibr me, whicli were accej)ted, and
copies of the volumes wei'e sent them as piiuted by
]\lessrs Houghton and Company. All the European
]iul)]i.shers were anxious to Jiave their copies in ad-
Aance, so as to pul)lish sinndtaneously; j)articulaily
wei-(i they desii'ous of bringing out the bo(»k at lea>t
on Ibe very day it was issued in New York.

On acci'[)ting tlie })ublication of the Xaft'rc R(io-<
for France, Messrs Maisouneuve et C'° pi'omistid to
aimounce tlie work with great care in the biblio-
gra])hical journals of France and elsewhere, deli\i r
copi(>s to the principal reviews, and use every exerliou
in Ibeir j)o\ver to extend its inlluence. Lucieii Adam
of tiu," CoiKjrc's Jiiteniational ih's jlnieriauiistcs re-
viewed tlu; volumes in the Recne Llttcraire ct Po/i-
t/(juc, and kindly caused to be inse!'te<.l in the Umn:
.liritan)iii]i(f of ^E. l*icot a translation of Mr Park-
man's review in the Xorth American. An able artidt;
oi' twenty-iive pages from the pen of H. Bler/y ap-
j)eared in the Re one des Deux Mondes of the loth of
May 187G. Extended reviews likewise appeai'ed in
Ja' 'Temps, L(( Iie/)iil>fi(/ue FraiK^'aise, and other Fremli
jouinals. Mr Jh-ockhaus, the Oerman publishei', took
an unusual interest in the book, pronouncing it from
the lirst a work of no ordinary importance.

MY SCRAP-ROOKS.

T cannot ontor more fully into the detail «»f ic-
vi( wers and reviews; sufliee it to say that two lar<,'o
quarto yerap-ljookH Were lilleil to oveHlowiui,' witli
such notices of the Xdlirc Ji(«'cs us were sent nie.
Nt'ver probably was a book so "generally and so fuvor-
iihly reviewed by the best journals in Kurope and
AiiHiica. Never was an author more suddiidy or
1111. ii' thoroughly brought to the attention of learned
and literary men everywhere.

Among the reviews of which I was most ju'oud
wcic two cohunns in the London Tlmrs, sonn.' thirty (»r
I'urtv i)au;'es in WivAVvsdninMvt' I*i'rli'ti\i\\i\ cdlunms in
the London Slandard, lengthy articles in the X<>rfh
Aiiicricdx Jicviciv, the New York lJKo> d' Itnlin, ] lart-
I'l-nl Cnui'diit, ]>oston J'osf, Adn-i'tlsi'r, and Joiinnd;
S|iiingli(ld liCjmhliciin, Xe\v Yoi'k Trih'inc, (liristimi
I niOii, Xittioii, and l\)st; Jti'itish Qnt(ii<'rfi/,J-Jdiiihi(iyh
J!'ri<'ir, London Xatiire, Sutta'diiij Itcvlcii', S2>('cti(for,
Aiiiili'iit)/, I'hiladelphia Xcrt/t, .iinvrlmn, .it/didlo
M'nif/di/; Scrihncr.s M<if/<r.tii<', 2'/ic ijahixij, I*icue
J'n/ii!(itic, licrui' dcs Ih-iix }f(nnlc!i, Hongkong J'rcss;
/lulschnj't fiii' Lander, Mittln Uuuycn dcr A'(7/.v., etc.,
Kuropa niid dds Aits/<ntd, (jrermany; and hi ]\c del
}i iirm Miitido. I might mention a liundi'ed others,
hut if [ did, all would not be una(lulterate<l jiraiso.
A I'lW so-called hon<»rs fell upon me after }»ublication,
such as being made lionoi-ary member i>{' the Massa-
chusetts historical society, the American Anti(iua-
ri.ui sdcioty, the Philadelphia Numismatic soci(>ty,
and the Bufl'alo Historical society, for which duo
thanks were L-iven. Flatterinjjf reco'jfuitions canic also
m fiirm of diplomas and comj)limentary cerl ilicates,
I'rnhahly there was no subject connected with this
wr^t( rn coast Avhich would havi' attracted the atten-
t'liii (if so many of the first scholars of America and
Kuiope, Vtdiich would have bi'ought the autluir into
su(h pi-ominence throughout the learned world, which
wniild have secured him such unlimited and uncjualilied
pi'ui.se from every source.

•Hi

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302

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

!«.

t.,

It was a subject in wliieli all were interested. Tlu}
study of society was the new and most attractive
study of the age. Everything relating to man, liis
habitation and his habits, his idiotiyncrasies and
his })eculiarities, national, social, and individual, all
taught a lesson. The sago sat at the feet of the
savage, and there studied man as he is i i a state of
nature, before he is disguised by the crusts uixl
coverings of society. "I could wish that the wholu
live volumes were already available," writes Herbert
Spencer to me in February 1875, "and had been so
for some time past; for the tabular statements and
extracts made for the Descriptive Sociolocjy by Pio-
fessor Duncan would have been more complete than
at present."

Among my warmest friends was Charles C. Jmios
Jr. of Now York, who reviewed the Native Races in
the Inch'jfcndent, devoting several articles to cacli
volume. IMiese articles, besides beino; critical rcvit^ws,
were analytical and descriptive essays, dividing and
taking up the sulyect-matter of each volume, willi a,
view <.»f popularizing the theme. IMr Jones was fnlly
indjued with the subject, and his articles were veiy
interesting. To me he writes: "Your fifth volume,
ex Joiio auctoris, reached me to-day. Fresh from tlio
perusal of its charming pages, I offer you my sincere
congiatulations upon the completion of your imdjn khi
opus. Great have been the pleasure and profit whicli
I have experienced in the perusal of the volumes as
they have been given to the public." The attentidii
of the American EthnoloLjical society was lil^ewise
drawn to the W(jrk by ^Ir Jones, and the author was
promptly made an honorary member of that l)ody, \\\\ li
the resolution " that the volumes which have already
appeared indicate patient stud}^ careful discrinnna-
tion, and exhaustive research, and constitute a nieim-
ment of industry and merit alike honorable to their
author and creditable to the literary effort of our
country."

QUOD DEUS BEXE VERTAT.

363

Thus each great man found in it that which was
new and interesting to him in his special investiga-
tions, whatever those might have been, while the
attention of lesser scholars and the general reader
\\ as attracted by a variety of topics. The statesman
found there the incipient stages of government; the
(•ki'gyman the early mythologies; the merchant, tiio
agriculturist, the physician, each might there learn
something of his occupation or profession and insti-
tute comparison between then and now. It did not fail
to touch even one of those several chords which in
the breast of the greatest of American humorists
\ iljrate for the (jaiete de canir of mankind. Of Mark
Twain and the Native Races says Charles Dudley
Warner, writing me the 11th of October 187G: "Mr
Ck-niens was just in and was in an unusual state of
I'litliuslasm over the first volume, especially its iinc
st\ Ic. You may have a picture of his getting up at
two o'clock this morning and, encased in a fur over-
coat, reading it till davhght."

In another respect tlie subject was a most happy
choice for me. While it attracted nuich more atten-
tion than pure history would have done, its imperfec-
tions of substance, style, and arrangement were nuich
more readily overlooked. In ])recise history critics
hiight have looked for more philosophy, more sliow of
Iraiuiiig, or more dignity of style. All I claimed in
the premises was faithfully to have gathered my facts,
to have arranged them in the most natural maimer,
and to lia\e expressed them in the clearest language.
Tiicse were its greatest charms with scholars, and
where so few pretensions were made reviewers found
little room for censure.

1 1 i'l.

Taus it was that I began to .-see in my ''vork a suc-
cess exceeding my wildest anticipations. And a tirst
Mifcess in litei'ature under ordinary circumstances is
a most fortunate occui'rence. To me it was every-
thing, I hardly think that i'ailure woukl have driven

3C4

A LITERARY PILGRIM.

: « 1

■ 'I

■ : J

^l-fl

^li

I '^

needed more than dofjofcd

iindcr-

nie from my purpose; but I
persistency to carry me tlirougli herculean
takings. I needed confidence in my abilities, as-
surance, sympathy, and above all a fiirn and lofty
enthusiasm. I felt with Lowell, that "solid success
must be based on solid qualities and the honest cul-
ture of them."

Then again to accomplish my purpose, which was
to do important historical work, it seemed necessary
for me to know wherein I had erred and wherein I
had done well. From the first success fell upon lue
like refreshing showers, cleansing my mind and my
experiences, and watering all my subsequent efforts.
To the stream of knowledi^e which I had set flowiiiof
through divers retorts and condensers from my ac-
cumulations to the clearly printed page, I might now
confidently apply all my powers. As the king of
the Golden lliver told Gluck, in Ruskin's beautil'ul
story, whoever should cast into the stream thico
drops of holy water, for him the waters of the river
should turn into gold; but any one failing in the first
attempt should not succeed in a second ; and whoso
cast in unholy water should become a black stone.
Thus sparkled my work in the sunshine of its success,
and the author, so far as he was told, was not yet a
black stone.

CIIAPTEK XV.

THE TWO GEXERALS.

Ever since there haa been so great a demand for tj-pti, there lias been
much less lead to spare for cannou-balls.

Bulwer.

Came to the library the 21st of October 1873
Enrique Cerruti, introduced by Phihp A. Roach,
editor and senator, in the terms following: "He speaks
Italian, French, Spanish, and English. He can trans-
late Latin. Ho has been a consul-general and secretary
of legation. He is well acquainted with Spanish-
American affairs and the leading men in those states."

The bearer of the letter stood before me, a man
three or four years under forty, slightly built, of
medium height, with a long thin face, prominent
s(|nare forehead, dark protruding eyes, and full mouth
diawn down at the corners, long neatly brushed black
liair and long thin mustache. His complexion was
a dark sallow; and there was a general flatness of
I'catures and a drooping Quixotic melancholy pei'-
vading his entire physique. In his hand ho held a
glossy new beaver, matching his glossy black hair,
lait further than these there was nothing new or
hright about him, except his boots, which were well
polished. His clothes were cheap rather than shabby,
and the crevices of his coarse linen shirt-bosom were
\\ ill iilled with clean white starch. Eyes, mouth, and
mulancholy mustache, features and form, were now
all on the qui vive to know what destiny would next
do with him. He was a unique copy, as Dibdin re-
marked of the Dieppe postilion.

(369)

SGG

THE TWO GENER^VLS.

In answer to my queries concerning liis nationalitv,
education, and late occupation, lie inlbrnied niu tiiat
he was a native of Turin, of an old and liigldy ic-
.sj)ecte(l Italian family, that at the age of fourteen lie
had deserted college and fled to Genoa, where lie-
embarked on a vessel bound for Gibraltar. In tiuio
he found himself in South America, where for fivo
3'ears he was consul-general in the United States of
Colombia, which j)Osition he resigned to rescue liis
friend General Mariano ]\telgarejo, then president of
Bolivia, from his falling fortunes. Appearing in arms,
his attempts in that direction failed. Besieged in the
seaport of Cobija he was forced to capitulate, and
finally to depart the country. After a tour of obsi r-
Aation through the eastern United States ho pro-
ceeded to IMoxico, and after crossing every one of the
isthmuses of America, he came to California.

Although the applicant, either in his person or in
his history, did not impress me as one specially adapted
to litc>rary labors, yet I had long since learned that
.superficial judgments as to character and ability,
particulai'ly wlien applied to wanderers of the I^atiii
ra(;e, were apt to prove erroneous. Further than
this, while not specially attractive, there was sonic-
thinof winning about the fellow, tliourjli I scarerlv
could tell what it was. At all events he secured the
place he sought.

Turning him over to Mr Oak, for the next three or
four months I scarcely gave him a thought. He at-
tempted at first to extract notes for the Native Jiuccs,
devoting his evenings to filing Pacific coast journals,
recording the numbers received, and placing them
in their proper places on the shelves. Ho was not
specially successful in abstracting material, or in any
kind of purely literary work; the newspapers he k('pt
in good order, and he could write rapidly from dicta-
tion cither in Spanish or English.

Quickly catching the drill of things, he saw that
first of all I desired historical material; and what next

ENRIQUE CERRUTI.

3G7

specially drew ni}'- attention to him was his comin<jf
to nie occasionally with sometliin;^ ho had secured
from an unexpected source. When the time came for
my hook to be noticed by the [)ress ho used to write
frequent and long articles for the Spanish, French,
and Italian journals in San Francisco, New York,
^Lexico, France, Sjtain, and Italy. I know of no in-
stance where one (»f his many artieles of that kind
was declined. He had a way of liis own of niakin<jj
ciHtors do about as he desired in this respect.

Gradually I became interested in tliis man, and I
saw him interest himself more and more in my l)ehalf;
and witli time this interest dee])ened into regai'd, until
iinally I became strongly attached to him. This at-
tiu'hment was based on his inherent honesty, devotion,
and kindness of heart, though on the suri'ace he was
l)iil)ble and bondjast. Within was the strictest integ-
lity, and that loyalty which makes one litei-ally die
foi' one's friend; without was fiction, hyperbole, and
enijiiricism.

Ho was a natural adept in certain subtleties which,
liad liis eye been evil, would have made him a iirst-class
villain; but with all his innocent artifices, and the
rare skill and delicate touch employed in playing upon
human weaknesses, he was on the whole a pure-minded
man. I used to fancy I despised flattery, but I con-
fess I enjoyed not more Xemos' caustic criticisms than
Corruti's oily uni tions, which were laid on so grace-
fully, so tenderly, and withal so liberally, and witli the
air of one to whom it made little difForence whether
you believed him in earnest or not; for he well knew
that I understood him thorougldy, and accepted his
ciiinpliments at their value. He was the oidy man
whose tlunimery, even in homa}opathic doses, did not
sicken me. There was something so princely in his
hlandiloquencc that I could not l)ut forgive him as
fast as it was uttered. He was not in the least a
ilunky; there was no fawning about him ; ho was a man
and a gentleman, a high and honorable personage,

l"f

363

THE TWO GENERALS.

with possibly an equal in America, but not a superior,
tiiat is to say, taken at his own estimation.

Erect in his carriage, with chin up and glossy hat
thrown well back on the head, his demeanor was oitoii
in stranufo contradiction to his somewhat withered
appearance. In his movements he was as lithe and
active as a cat, and of as tireless endurance. He was
a very early riser, and often had a half doy's worlc
done before others were up. I do not know that I
ever heard him complain of being fatigued.

Montaigne's mistake is great when he exclaims,
*'IIow much less sociable is false speaking than
silence!" To Cerruti, lying was the greatest luxury.
Neither wealth, station, nor learning could hiwo.
yielded him half the enjoyment. With Socrates, lie
seemed to hold that the mendacious man of all others
is capable and wise, and if a man cannot tell a lie upon
occasion he displays glaring weakness.

He did not recpiire, like Marryatt, duty to country
to warrant the practice. A half truth was worse
than the whole truth. Falsehood spun itself of its
own volition in his whirling brain, and he amused
himself by flinging off the fabric from his tongue.
It was habit and amusement; to have been forced
always to speak the truth would have been to stop the
play of the healthful vital organism. With Maxinins
Tyrius he seemed to hold that "a lie is often profitable
and advantageous to men, and truth hurtful."

Lying with him was a fine art. He used often to
talk to me as long as I would listen, while knowini,^
that I regarded every word he uttered as false. Ihit
he took care to make it palatable. If one liked one's
praise thickly spread, he enjoyed nothing so much
as giving a friend his fill of it. And no one was
quicker than he to detect the instant his sweetness
nauseated. Praise is always acceptable if ministered
w'ith skill; but as Horace says of Cajsar, "Stroke him
with an awkward hand and he kicks."

LYINC \S A FINE ART.

3C9

Every man's face was to Ccrruti a barometer, iudi-
catiii;^ the weather of the mind, and as with swiftly
.selected words lu; played his variations upon the ex-
pectations, the passions, or aspirations of his listener,
lie read it with ease, and by the weight or pressure of
the soul-inspired atmosphere there indicated he regu-
lated each succeeding sentence of his speech. Herein
lay a strange power which he possessed over many
men. His mind was no less elastic than it was active.
Acute observation was a habit with him.

And yet in liis lying, as in everything else about
liini, ho was harndess. Ho did not intend to deceive.
He did not expect his lies to be believed. Exagger-
ation came to him so naturally that he was i'or the
most part unconscious of it, and nothing surprised or
shocked him more than for a friend to construe his
speech literally and so act upon it.

He did not lie for gain; indeed, should so unpala-
table a thing as truth ever force his lips you might
siis|)ect something of personal benefit at the bottom
of it. In his economy of deceit he would not waste
ii good falsehood upon himself. Reversing Byron's
statement, the truth with him was a lie in masquerade.
He was one of those of whom Pascal says: "Quoique
les personnes n'aient point d'interet li, ce qu'elles disent,
il nc f'lut pas conclure de lit absolumont qu'elles no
meiitent point, car il y a des gens qui mentent siniple-
ment pour mcntir."

ISlieridan admitted that he never hesitated to lie to
fiorvc a friend; and that his conscience was troubled
iibout it oidy when he was discovered. Cerruti was far
liefore Sheridan in this respect, that he was troubled
in mind about his lies only when they were taken for
liutli. And yet blood must flow if ever the words
'you lie' w^ere spoken.

Some tongues are so long that the lightest breeze
of hrain will wag them; some brains so light, and so
full of light conceits, yet so heavily resting on the
consciousness, that, like the ancient mariner, a woful

Lit. Ind. 21

. . ■ i> ■

Hi
m

'fi

370

THE TWO GENERALS.

.igony wrenches tlio possessor until his tale is told.
Ccrruti finally came to be regarded a privileged char-
acter among thohe that know him, liberty being givtn
him to talk as he ])leascd, his aberrations of spcrdi
being charged to his genius and not to deliberate in-
tention. Solon counterfeited madness that he miglit
recite verses on Salamis in the market-j)lace, to sjuak
which otherwise by law was death; Cerruti's mad-
ness was constitutional.

He ate, drank, smoked, and slept: yet as to tlio
manner ho was quite indifferent. He cared much
more for his personal appearance, and would wear as
good clothes as lie could get; that is, they must look
])assably well, though as to quality he was not par-
ticular. To sleep amongst old lumber in a garret, and
coolly assert he was stopping at the Grand Hotel;
to dine on three bits, and then talk of seven thousand
dollar bills of exchange which he carried in his })Ocktt;
to parade his illustrious connections, his daring deeds
in battle or on the ocean, the offices he had held, the
influence he had wielded, and the crushing effect at all
times of his enkindled wrath — these were amom,' his
constant themes.

He would drink or not, as it happened; but I never
saAv him drunk. Cigars, five for a quarter, seemed to
satisfy him as well as the purest Habana at twenty-
five cents each. A little sleep was acceptable, if C(ni-
venient; if not, it was no matter.

He liked to be called general, even though he had
been but consul-general, even though he had been but
consul, even though he had slept but a fortnight in a
consulate. To ears so attuned there is something
pleasing in high-sounding titles, it making little dif-
ference whether the mark of distinction be rightfully
employed or not.

General Cerruti's ears were so attuned. He know
that everybody knew there was no ground for apply-
ing such a title to him, and yet it pleased him. At

FURTHER ANALYSIS OF CHARACTER.

371

times he used greatly to enjoy boasting his present
jioverty, flaunting it in most eons[)i('nous colors, coni-
|iaiiiig what lie was with what lie had been, well
knowing that everybody knew he never had l>een
anything in particular. He used to carry a galvan-
ized watch, a largo double-cased yellow steni-windei',
which ho would sport ostentatiously and then boast
that it was bogus.

Jle well knew that he was not a great man, and
never by any possibility could be regarded as such,
though like Parrhasius he dubbed himself king of his
ciaft, and assumed the golden crown and purple robe
of royalty; and yet above all things earthly he adored
the semblance of greatness, and arrayed himself so far
as he was able in its tattered paraphernalia. Of his
hrave deeds while acting the part of revolutionist in
southern America he was as proud as if ho had fought
at Marathon or Waterloo. He was an air-plant, rooted
to no spot on earth, without fixedness of pur})ose suf-
ficient to become even parasitic. He would not admit
himself over to have been in the wrong, but the re-
sults of his follies and mistakes he charged to a cruel
and relentless fate. Forever the world turned to him
its shady side.

Notwithstanding his aggressive disposition he was
extremely sensitive. His pride was supreme, exposing
him to tortures from every defamatory wind. Touch
him in certain quarters, call in question his antece-
dents, criticise his past life, his family connections, his
jiresent conduct, and you aroused him almost to frenzy.
Yet he was as quickly brought from the storm into
calm waters. Often w'ith one kind word I have cooled
ill him a tempest which had been raging perhaps for
(lays. Indeed, here as everywhere in life, clouds were
not dispelled by lightning and the thunderbolt, nor by
hurling at them other clouds, but by permeating them
with soft sunshine.

Under a brusque demeanor, and a gasconade ob-
noxious to some, he veiled an humble, kind, and loving

879

TTIE TWO OENRRALS.

heart. In liis afFcctions ho disi)layc'(l a womanly tcn-
(lernosa, and was exc'co(Unj^ly careful and considerate
witli the feelinii^a of lii.s friends. As Loij^li Hunt said
of Charles Lanil), he was a coinpouiid of the Jew, tlie
gentleman, and the angc).

At first the yoimg men in the library used to
laugh at him; but 1 pointed to the signal result-^
which he was achieving, and even should he prove in
the end knave or fool, success was always a convinc-
ing argument. A liabit of talking loud and i;t"i"dilo-
quently, especially among strangers, made Oak feaii'ul
that Cerruti, while making an ass of himself, would
bring us all into ridicule among sensible men. Ihit.
said I, no sensible man brings us the material that
he bi'ings. Indeed, to this quality of nervous ecstasy
or semi-madness the world owes much, onvcs its
Platos, its Newtons, and its Shakespeares ; to the
madness of eccentric times civilization owes its lonu'est
strides.

Though keen-scented and bold in his search after
historical knowledge, he was neither impertinent nor
vulgar. Curiosity is the mainspring of all our intel-
lectualities, of all our civilities; bi there is a curiosity
which tends to ignorance, which finds its highest
qualification in gossip and coarse personalities. Tliero
is a vulgar and debasing curiosity, and there is an
elevating and improving curiosity. To pry into the
commonplace affairs of commonplace men and women
is a mean and morbid curiosity; to study for pur])osos
of emulation and improvement the exalted charac-
ters of the great and good is a noble curiosity.

Of all studies, the analysis of human nature is to
me the most deeply interesting. And of all such in-
vestigations I find none more prolific than the anato-
mizing of the characters connected with these historic
cal efforts. Every man of them represents one of a
hundred; one success to ninety-nine failures. It would

CHIEF OF HISTORY- HUNTERS.

373

soc'in, then, that iti this inAd certain (jualltiL's arc
iv(|iiisitc to success; yet to attciii[)t in every instance
111 (Icscrihe those essential (^uaHties would involve the
w lit in^" of a volume.

Take, t'or exani))le, this same warm-hearted <,'enial
liiciid Cerruti. To see him in his <juick, nervous
(•(linings and going.s; to hear him rattling away in his
nil'-liand, free, and tearless manner, on one suhject and
aiintlier, appari^ntly at random, ap[»arently careless
ai'd indillerent as to the correctness of his statements,
;ij)|)arently as etterveseent in mental ([ualities as a
liottle of cliani[)agne, one not knowing him migliL
taktj liim as the last pei'son to j)r(^ve a valuahle as-
sistant in precise historic investigation. Vet there
woi'e few men truer, more conscientious, or ui'i i
cllicient in their way.

He did what ii" wue else connected with the work
could do, what but I'or him never would have l)e«>)i
ddiie. Jle liad not the sco[)e and comprehensiveness,
or the literai-y culture, or the gi'aceful style, or steady
apphcation, or erudition to achieve for himself, liut
lie had what all of them together could not commaml,
]iii\\ir over the minds of men, consununate skill in
touching the springs of human action and in winning
the w-dvy to his pur})ose.

I do not mean to sav that he could not write, and
ni Ihe Ijatin languagea write eloquently; the many
iiiaimscript volumes of history and narrative which
ha\e emanated from his pen under the dictation of
I'luinent Californians and others pi'ove the conti-ary.
His chief talent, however, lay in awakening an inter-
est in my hdjurs.

l)Ut how was this necessary? What need of spec-ial
('Units to make proselytes to a cause so ])alpahly im-
jxrtant; a cause neither asking nor acce])ting subsidy
iini' pecuniai-y aid from state, society, or inilividual; a
cause absolutely jirivate and inde})endent, and having
Hi I (itlier object in view than pure investigation and
an uiii)iassed recording of the truth? Surely, oi'o

374

THE TWO GENERALS.

I :1|

would think, such aii enterprise would not require an
effort to make n»cu bi'lieve in it.

Nevertheless it did. There were those, mcrcenarv
minds, who could see nothing but money in it, who
havinjjf documents or knowledjjfe of historical events
would not part with their information but fur a ])rice.
'Ahl' said they, 'this man knows what he is about.
He is not fool enough to spend time and money with-
out prospective return. He is a book man, and all
this is but a dodge to make at once money and re])u-
tation. No man in this country does something tor
n thing. No man pours out his money and worlds
like a slave except in the expectation that it will
come back to him with interest. He may say he is
not working for monc}', but we do not believe it.'
Others, altliouii'h their iudoinent told them that l»v
no possibility could the outlay be renmnerative, and
that my experience in book-publishing was such that
1 could not l)ut know it, yet, in view of the interest I
took in the svd)ject, and the money I was spending, in
every direction, in the accumulation of material, they
thought I might [)erha[)s be induced to pay them tor
their information rather than do without it.

No man of conunon-scnse or of common patriotism
thought or talked thus; but I had to do with hidivid-
uals })ossessed of neitlier sense nor patriotism, conunoii
(»r uncommon. I had to do with men in whose cvls
a dollar was so large that they could not see beyond
it; in whose eyes money was not alone the chief gooil,
but the only good; whose dim intelligence ran ni
channels so muddy that no sunlight could ])en(^traii!
them. Thank God such men were few in Caliibnii.i.
And let their names die; let them bespatter no pag<'
of mine, nor Uiay my [)en ever damn such a one to
innnortality.

Another class, a largo and highly respectable one.
was composed of men wlio for a quarter of a ceiitni\
had been impiortuned time and again by multitudes ol
[)etty scribblers, newspaper interviewers, and q'KU-^i

HOLDERS OF MATERIAL.

373

historians, for items of their early experience, until
tlicy tired of it. So tliat when a new applicant for
iiilonnation appeoxed they were naturally and justly
Mispicious; but when they came to know the character
and quality of the work proposed, and were satisfied
that it would be fairly and thoroughly done, they were
icady A\ith all their powers and possessions to assist
the undertaking.

In some instances, however, it required diplomacy
of a no mean order to convince men that there was
ii(» liidden or ulterior object in thus gathering and re-
cording their own deeds and the deeds of their ances-
toi's. The Hispano-Californians particularly, many
of them, had been so abused, so swindled, so I'obbed
hy their pretended friends, by unprincipled Yankee
lawyers and scheming adventurers, that they did not
know whom to trust, and were suspicious of everybody.
Often liad letters and other papers been taken from
their j)ossession and used against them in court t<>
jiioxc the title to their lands dei'cctive, or for otlun-
(Ltrimental purpose. Then there were individual and
local jealousies to be condjated. One feared undue
(insure of himself and undue praise of his enemy ; ono
faniilj' feared that too much prominence would be
^ivou another family. Then theie were lival authors,
who had collected little batches of material with a
x'u'W of Avriting the history of California themselves.
I ^^uppose there were no less than ufty brains which
liad heen tenanted by the dim intention of some day
Wilting the history of California. All these had to
i»r woa over and be made to see the great advantagt;
In the present and to future generations of having all
these scattered chapters of liistory brought into one
grand whole.

To accomplish somovdiat of this was the wor-k of
Ociii lal Cerruti. Chameleon-like he would shift his
"I ill I ions according to the company, and ada[)t his
'"iii[ilex nature to the colors vi' time and place; with
the serious he could be grave, with the young merry.

IJ '■ s

376

THE TWO GENERALS.

and Avith the profligate free. With equal grace he
could simulate virtue or wink at vice. Hence, like
Catiline planning his conspiracy, he made hiinselt' a
favorite equally with men the best and the basest.

Another general: though likewise of the Latin
race, with all its stately misdirection, yet broadoi' in
intellect, of deeper endowment, and gentler sagacity.
Among the Hispano-Californians Mariano do (Ina-
dalupe Vallcjo deservedly stands first. Born at Mow-
tercy the 7th of July 1808, of prominent Castiliiiu
parentage, twenty-one years were spent in religious,
civil, and military training; after which he took his
position at San Francisco as comandante of the pi-c-
sidio, collector, and alcalde. In 1835 he establislicd
the first ayuntamiento, or town council, at Yoiba
Buena cove, where was begun the metropolis of San
Francisco; the same year he colonized Sonoma, situ-
ated at the northern extremity of San Francisco bay.
which ever after was his home.

While Vallcjo was general, his nophcw Alvarado
was governor. In their early education and subso-
qucnt studios, for citizens of so isolated a countiy as
California then was, these two hijoi^ del ]xi)'s ciijoNcd
unusual advantarjes. To boffin with, their minds were
far above the average of those of any country. Alva-
rado might have taken his place beside eminent states-
men in a world's congress; and as for literary ability,
one has but to peruse their histories respectively, to l)o
impressed with their mental scope and charm of .style.

As a mark of his intellectual tastes and practical
wisdom, while yet quite young, Vallejo gatheri'd l
library of no mean pretensions, consisting not alone
of reli<2fious books, which were the oidy kind at that
time regfarded with any de<]free of favor by the elei^v
of California, but liberally sprinkled with w^oj'ks ^^w
general knowledge, history, science, jurlsprudenee.
and state-craft. These he kept under lock, admitting
none to his rich feast save his ne[)hcw Alvarado.

MARIAXO DE GUADALUPE VALLEJO.

377

Thus were tlieso two young men, destined to exercise
so marked an iniluenee upon the impressible society
of California, blest beyond parallel by this admis-
sion into the great school of free and interchangeable

thought.

General Vallejo was a man of fine physique, rather
above medium height, portly and straight as an airow,
with a large round head, high forehead, half-closed
(■\ (?s, thin black hair, and side-whiskers. Every mo-
tion betrayed the military man and the gentleman.
His face wore usually a contented and often jovial
expression, but the frequent short quick sigh told of
unsatisfied longings, of vain regrets and lacerated am-
bitions.

And no wonder. For within the period of his
nihilhood he had seen California emerge from a quiet
wilderness and become the haunt of embroiling civili-
zation. He had seen arise from the bleak and shifting
sand-dunes of Yerba Buona cove a mighty metrop-
olis, the half of which he might have owned as easily
as to write his name, but of which there was not a
single foot he could now call his own, and where he
wandered well nigh a stranger; he had seen the grace-
I'ul Iiills and sweet valleys of his native lanj. pass from
the gentle rule of brothers and friends into the hands of
foreigners, under whose harsh domination the sound
of liis native tongue had died away liice angels' nmsic.

Look in upon him at Sonoma, at any time from
iivo to ten years after his settling there, and for a
native Californian you find a prince, one who occupies,
connnands, and lives in rustic splendor. His house, a
long two-story adobe, with wing and out-houses, was
l>iol)al)ly the finest in California. Besides his dusky
retainers, who were swept away by diseases brought
upon them by the white man, he had always on tlu;
]ir('niises at his command a company of soldiei-s, and
s<i'\ants without number. There he liad his library,
and there he WTote a history of California, covering

378

TUE TWO GENERALS.

some seven or eight liundicd manuscript pages; hui,
alas 1 liouse, history, books, and a large portion of the
original documents whicli he and his lather and lii.s
grandfather had accumulated and preserved, wcie
almost in a moment swept away by fire. This was a
groat loss; but few then or subsequently knew any-
thing of the papers or the history.

He was stately and stiff in those days, for he wns
the first power in northern California; to meet an
equal he nmst travel many leagues; afterward ho
became less pretentious. The United States treatc'd
him badly, and the state treated him badly, or rather
sharpers, citizens of the commonwealth, and in the
name oi' the state and of the United States, first
taking from him his lands, and then failing to kct'p
faith with him in placing the state capital at Valkjo,
as they had agreed.

Often have I regarded thee in nmte and awe-
inspired astonishment, oli thou man of lost oppor-
tunities, that with all thy crushed ambitions, thy
subverted patrimony, and thy metamorphosed Hie,
thou shouldst still be so serenely happy! Lord of all
this inunonscly wealthy peninsula of San Francisco;
loi'd of all the vast domain toward the illimitable north,
thou gavest to thy servants leagues of unencumbei'cil
land and kept scarcely enough in which to bury tin -
self!

Prodigal to a fault were almost all this race of
Hispano-Californians; charging the results of thn'r
improvidence meanwhiL' upon those who had winked
at their ruin. Yet this Timon of Sonoma was never
Llisanthropos, hating mankind.

When gold was discovered , three thousand tamed
natives answered to his call; in the hall of his dwell-
ing at Sonoma, soon after, were stacked jars of the
] precious metal, as though it had been flour or beans.
When one had leagues of land and tons of gold; wlieii
lands were given away, not sold and bought, and gold

LOST OPPORTUXITIES.

379

came pomiiig in for cattle and products wliicli liad
liithcrto been regarded of scarcely value enough to
lay for the computation; when, for aught any one
<iicw, the Sierra was half gold, and gold bought
liKasLire and adulation, and men liked adulation and
pleasure, what was to stay the lavish hand? For
Imlding the general's horse the boy was flung a
(liuljloon; for shaving the general the barber was
i;ivun an ounce and no change required; at places of
nitortainraent and amusement, at the festive board,
lli(> club, the gathering, ounces were as coppers to
the New Euglander, or as quarters to the later Cali-
ii'i'iiian.

Thus these most magnificent of opportunities were
lust; for native retainers could not breathe the blasted
ail' of civili'^ation, nor was the Sierra ])uilt of sohd

gold.

A cloud would sometimes pass across his sunny
llatures in speaking of these things, and in moments
<M* special relaxation I have seen a tear in the bright
I'lack eye; but like a child with its toy the merry-
ma king of the hour was never for more tlum a
iiKiiiient marred by melancholy regrets.

Singular, indeed, and well nigh supernatural must
]ia\o been the sensations which crept over the yet
active and vi<»'orous old G;entleman as he wandered
amidst the scenes of his younger days. Never saw
"lie generation such change; never saw one man such
tiansformation. Among them he walked like one
ivtunied from centuries of journeying.

" I love to go to Monterey," the old general used
t(i sa}' to me. "for there I may yet find a little of
till' dear and aliviost obliterated past. There is yet the
'Kt an that smiles to me as I approach, and venerable
1h aided oaks, to which I raise my hat as I pass under
tiicin; and there are streets still familiar, and houses
Hill yet torn down, and streams and landscapes which
I may yet recognize as part of my former belongings.
lliil after all these are only the unfabricated grave-

380

THE TWO GENERALS.

^car that tell mc I am not yet dead." However, if
his was the loss somebody's must have been the gain.
As one pertinently remarJcs: " Nations grow in gi\Mt-
ncss only tlirough the sacrilice, the immolation of the
individual."

In his family and among his friends he was an ex-
ceeding! v hind -hearted man. Before the straii-nr,
particularl}' before the importunate if not impudent
Yankee stranger, he drew close round him tlie rolns
of his dignitv. In all the common courtesies of lii''
he was punctilious, even for a Spaniard; neither wns
his politeness affected, but it sprang from true gt-n-
tility of heart. It was his nature when in the society
of tlioso he loved and respected to prefer them t'
himself; it was when he came in contact with tlie
world that all the lofty pride of his Castilian ancestry
came to the surface.

Indeed, the whole current of his nature ran deeji;
his life was not the dashing torrent, but the still
silent flow of the mighty river.

In his younger days he was a model of chivalry, ;i
true Amadis of Gaul; and when age had stiffened liis
joints s(^mewhat, and had thickened the llesli upon
his graceful limbs, he lost none of his gallantry, and
\vas as ready with his poetry as with his philosophy.
Indeed, he wrote verses with no common degree it'
talent, and there are many parts of his history which
might better be called poetry than prose. And n >w
he comes upon us like a courtier of Philip II.,
awakened from a century-sleep upon a desert island.

His philosophy was of the Pythagorean type; h^'
was not alwaj^s to tell all that he knew, and in deter-
mining whom to trust he was to be governed fjreatlv
by his physiognomical discernment. Ho liked or dis-
liked a person usually upon sight or instinct. He was
a close and shrewd observer, and was usually coirect
in his estimates of human character. His wisdoni,
though simple and ftmtastic, was deep. He respeeted
the forms of relia'ion from ancient association and

CHARACTER OF VALLEJO.

381

liabit ratlior than from stronij internal convictions
as to their efficacy. There was not the sli,;2;]itest
asceticism in his piety; his was far too intelHf^ent
a inind to he under the curse of bigotry. AVithout
l)eing what might be termed a dreamer in philosophic
matters, he possessed in a happy degree the faculty
111' ])ractical abstraction; there was to him liere in the
ll(•f^h a sphere of thought other than that answering
to the demands of the body for food and covering, a
sphere which to him wdio might enter it was heaven's
liarmony hall. Thither one might sometimes escape
and find rest from every-day solicitudes.

In imperial Rome, had ho not been born Octavius,
he would have been ^Nlfcccnas, C?esar's chief adviser,
the friend of Virgil and Horace, politician, and j)atron
of art and literature, dilettante and voluptuary. In
Ills later life General Vallejo enjo3'ed that state of
calm and cheerful resis^nation which briuL^s the
strongest endurance.

Altogether brave and bluff as a soldier, stern and
uncompromising as a man of the world, I have seen
liiui in his softer moods as sensitive and as sentimental
as a ]\Iadame de Stael. He was in every respect a
sincere man. To his honesty, but not to his discretion,
a friend mii^ht trust his fortune and his life. lie
never would betray, but he might easily be betrayed.
E\ er ready to help a friend, he expected his friend to
hcl[) him.

In common with most of his countrymen, his pro-
ji'cts and his enthusiasms swayed violently betwct-n
extremes. He was too apt to be cari'ied away b}'
whatever was uppermost in his mind. Not that his
character lacked ballast, or that he was incapable of
close calculation or clear discrimination; but never
having been accustomed to the rigid self-restriction
which comes from a life of plodding ap[)licati()n, lie
v.as perhaps too much under the influence of that
i'lii/u'esscment which lies nearest the affections.

Yet for this same lack of selfish cunning, p.osterity

l|i

S82

THE TWO GENERALS.

Avill praise lim; for an heroic and discriminating zoa]
■which, tliough impetuous, always liurried liim forwaid
ill the riglit direction, his children's children will rise
up and call hira blessed. He was the noblest Culif'or-
niari of them all! Among all the wealthy, the pa-
triotic, and the learned of this land he alone camo
forward and flung himself, his time, his energies, Jiiid
all that was his, into the general fund of experiences
accumulating for the benefit of those who should conic
after him. His loyalty was pure; and happy the god
in whose conquered city are still found worshippeis.

Pacheco might promise; Vallejo performed. Alva-
rado might be entertained into giving; Vallejo went
forth like a man, and mrk^ing the battle his own,
fought it at his own cost, fought it not alone for self-
aggrandizement, but from motives of patriotism as
well. While demagogues were ranting of their <li'-
votion to country, offering for a liberal compensation
to sacrifice themselves at Sacramento or at Wasli-
ington, Gen<'ral Vallejo was spending his time and
money scouring California for the rescuing of valu-
able knowledge from obliteration, and in arran<'iniif
it, when found, in form available to the world. Let
Spanish -speaking Californians honor him, for he was
their chief in chivalrous devotion to a noble cause!
Let English-speaking Californians honor him, I'or
without the means of some he did more than any
other for the lasting benefit of the country I Let all
the world honor him, for he is thrice worthy the
praise of all 1

CHAPTER XVI.

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

A few drops of oil will sot the political machine at work, when a ton
of vinegar would only corrode tiie wheels and canker the movements.

Cohon.

Okxeral Vallejo was M'ary ; General Cerruti was
wily. Rumor had tilled all the drawers and chests at
Lachryina jNIoutis, the residence of General A'^allcjo
at Sonoma, with priceless documents relating to the
liistory of California, some saved from the fire which
(Icstroved his dwellinfj, some gathered since, and
had endowed the owner with singular knowledge in
d('{'i[)hering them and in explaining early alfaiis.
Hence, wlien some petty scribbler wished to talk
largely about things of which ho knew nothing, ho
would visit Sonoma, would bow and scrape himself
into the parlor at Lachryina Montis, or besiege the
general in his study, and beg for some particular pur-
])ose a little information concerning the untold past.
The general declared that rumor was a fool, and
directed applicants to the many historical and bio-
giapliieal sketches already in print.

I had addressed to Sonoma communications of this
character several times myself, and while I always
received a polite reply there was no tangible result.
As Cerruti displayed more and more ability in gath-
eiing material, and as I was satisfied that General
Vallejo could disclose more then he professed himself
al)le to, I directed the Italian to open correspondence
with him, with instructions to use his own judgment
ill storming the walls of indifference and prejudice at
Lacliryma Montis.

(383)

ii'i

■Hi

':|i

;■ I

384

ITAfJAX STRATKGY.

Li('enso bciiirr tluis allowed him, Corrutl oponrd tlu;
campain-n by addressing a lettor to Goneral A^allcjo
oouflu.'<l in terms of true Spaiiish-Amori(.'au courtesy,
which consists of boasting and llatteiy in equal paits.
He did not fail to state the fact that he also was a
geniTal, and thouirh but consul-ijeneral he had s( i u
service — that is, ho would have fought had he iiut
felt constrained to run away. He did not fail lo
state that he was a professional brewer of revolutions,
that he loved revolution better than life, that tin;
normal state of his Bolivia was revolutionary, and that
if the people of Sonoma wished their commonwealth
placed in an attitude hostile to the United States, it'
they desired to see the streets of any opposition or
neiii-hborinQr town deluwd in the blood of its citizens,
he was theirs to command. He had heard of General
Vallejo, as indeed all Bolivia, and Italy, and every
other country had heard of him. Wherever Califor-
nia was known, there children lisped the name Vallujo;
indeetl, the terms Vallejo and California were synony-
mous.

This letter as a matter of course was written in
Spanish. General Vallejo's letters to me were always
in Spanish, and mine to him were in Eng'lish. Bui It'
you wish to be one with a person, you will address liiia
in his own language. The date of Cerruti's letter was
March 24, 1874. The big fish of Lachryma ^Nloutis
apj^roached the bait in good style and took a bite, but
did not fail to discover the hook; accustomed to hooks
and baits it was in no wise afraid of them.

To the searcher after Californian truth ValKji)
was California, to the student of California's historv
Vallejo was California; so Cerruti had affirmed in his
letter, and the recipient seemed not disposed to resnit
the assertion. The writer loved truth and history;
he loved California, and longed to know more of hii;
most of all he loved Vallejo, who M'as California on
legs. Not a word said Cerruti about Bancroft, his
library, or his work, preferring to appear before him

SPAXIARD AND ITALIAN.

385

whom he must conquer as a late consul-general and
an exiled soldier, rather than one holding a subordi-
nate position.

The result was as he had desired. Courteously Gen-
eral Vallejo replied, at the same time intimating that
if Cerruti desired historical data he had better call
and get it. "Sin embargo," he says, "por casualidad
(') |)or accidcnte, ese nombre estil relacionado 6 identi-
t'uado de tal manera con la historia do la Alta Cali-
fornia desde su fundacion hasta hoy, que aunque
insignificantc, de veras, Sr Consul, la omision de 6\
en t'ila sent como la omision de un punto 6 una coma
en un discurso escrito 6 la acentuacion ortogrdfica de
una carta epistolar."

So Cerruti went to Sonoma, went to Lachryma
Montis almost a stranger, but carrying with him, in
tongue and temper at least, nmch that was held in
eonimon by the man he visited. It was a most diffi-
cult undertaking, and I did not know another person
in California whom I would have despatched on this
mission with any degree of contidence.

Introducing himself, he told his talc. In his pocket
were letters of introduction, but he did not deign to
use them; he determined to make his way after his
own fashion. Cerruti's was not the story to which the
Sfcnoral was accustomed to turn a deaf ear. Further
than this, the Italian had studied well the character
of him he sought to win, and knew when to flatter,
and liow. Spaniards will swallow much if of Span-
ish flavor and administered in Spanish doses. This
Cerruti well understood. He had every advantage.
In his role of stransrer visitinjj the first of Califor-
mans, he could play upon the general's pride of
person, of family; he could arouse his wrath or stir
up soft sympathy almost at pleasure.

And yet the Spaniard was not duped by the Italian :
he was only pleased. All the while General Vallejo
knew that Cerruti had a defined purpose there, some

Lit. Ind. 2S

f m

386

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

axe to grind, some favor to ask, wliich had not yet
been spoken; and when finally the latter veered closer
to his errand and spoke of doeumenta, "I preaently
saw," said the general to me afterward, "the ghost of
Bancroft behind him." Nevertheless, Yallejo listeiud
and was [)lcascd. "After making deep soundings,"
writes Cerruti in the journal I directed him to kicp,
and which under the title Raiiihllngs in Califoniln
contains much reading, "I came to the conclusion that
General Vallejo was anxious for some person endowed
with literary talents to engage in the arduous task
of giving to the world a true history of California.
Having come to this conclusion, I frankly admitted lo
him that I had neither the intelligence nor the means
required for so colossal an enterprise, but assured liim
that Hubert IT. Bancroft," etc. After a brief inter
view Cerruti retreated with an invitation to dine at
Lachryma Montis the next day.

It was a grand opportunity, that dinner party,
for a few others had been invited, and we may
rest assured our general did not fail to improve it.
Early during the courses his inventive faculties weie
l)rought into play, and wlienever anything specially
strong arose in his mind he threw up his chin, and
lifted his voice so that all present might hear it. On
whatever subject such remai'k might be it was sure to
be received with laugliter and applau.se; for some-
where interwoven in it was a compliment for sonu;
one present, who if not specially pleased at the broad
flattery could but be amused at the ma*^ner in wliieli
it was presented. ] "^ow well the envoy improved his
time is summed in c o line of his account, where with
charming nau'cte hi says: "In such pleasant com-
pany hunger disappea :>d as if by enchantment, and the
food placed on my pla 3 was left almost untouched " —
in plain English, he ' dked so much he could not cat.

Next day our expci t little general was everywhere,
talking to everybody, in barber-shops, beer-saloons,
and wine-cellars, in public and private houses, offices

MAJOR SALVADOR VALT.EJO.

S87

and stores, making friends iuul pickin<^ up infonnation
Illative to his mission. V'wy.t lie wrote the reminis-
cences of some lialf (lo/en pioneiTs In- had nu.'t and con-
\ iiscd with on the boat, at the liotel, and on the street,
w 1 it inj^s whicli lie (hd not fail to spread l)efore (ieucral
A'alli'jo, with loud and ludicrous declamation on tho
cliaracter of each. Thus he ma<le the maijrnato of
Sonoma feel that tho visitor was at once to become a
man of mark in that locality, whom to have as a friend
Avas l)ettcr for Vallejo than that he shcjuld l)e regarded
as ()p[K)scd to his mission. liut this was not the cause
<<\' tilt! friendship that now began to spring up in tho
lnvasts of these two men.

This display of ability on the part of the new-comer
could not fail to cany with it tho res[»ect of those
who otherwise were sensible enough to see that Cer-
ruti M'as a most windy and erratic talker. But his
Vein of exaggeration, united as it was with energy,
ahility, enthusiasm, and honesty, amust-d rather than
ollrnded, particularly when peo[)le rt'eognized tiiat de-
ivption and harm were not intended, but were the
ivsiilt of habit. Here indeed was one of the secret
rhanns of Cerruti,this and his flattery. All Spaniards
diTight in hy[>erbole.

Among Cerruti's earliest accrual ntances made at
Sonoma was ]\[ajor Salvador \ allejo, a younger
ln'other of the general, and from whom he took a
viiy interesting dictation. ^lajor Salvador was born
in Moriterey in 1814. He had been a great Indian-
Hj^litor, and had many mteresting events to relate of
by-gone times.

(-)l'ten Cerruti would give great names to the shadows
of nu-n, and find himself pressed to the wall by the
^iieatness he had invoked; often he was obliged to
allay by falsehood anger aroused by indiscretion.
Wilting on the 29tli of November 1874, he says:
"Major Salvador Vallejo has perused the Overland,
and is very much enraged that the writer of the
artiele on material for California history should have

388

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

given credit to Castro and Alvarado, who as yet have
not written a single line, and that nothing was said in
reference to his dictation. I told him that the writer
in the Overland was not connected with the Bancroft
library, but he refused to believe what I said."

Thus the Italian continued, until a week, ten days,
a fortnight, passed without very much apparent head-
way so far as the main object of his mission was
concerned. The minor dictations were all valuable;
but anything short of success in the one chief direc-
tion which had called him there was not success.
Every day Cerruti danced attendance at Lachryiiia
Montis, spending several hours there, sometimes
dining, sometime ohatting through the evening. He
created a favorable impression in the mind of ]Mis
Vallejo, made love to the young women, and flattered
the general to his heart's content.

This was all very pleasant to the occupants of a
country residence. It was not every day there came
to Lacliryma IMontis such a fascinating fellow as
Cerruti, one who paid his board at the Sonoma hotel
and his bill at the livery stable; and no wonder the
Vallcjos enjoyed it. Uppermost in the faithful Ital-
ian's mind, however, throughout the whole of it was
his great and primary purpose. But whenever lie
spoke of documents, of the Sonoma treasury of origi-
nal historical material, General Vallejo retired witliiii
himself, and remnined oblivious to the most wily ;irts
of the tempter. The old general would talk; ho liked
to talk, for when he could employ his native tongue
he was a brilliant conversationalist and after-dinuer
speaker. And on retiring to his quarters in the town
the younger general, Boswell-like, would record ^^llat-
ever he could remember of the words that fell i'i<'Ui
his lips. Sometimes, indeed, when they were aluue
Cerruti would take out his note -book and write as
his companion spoke.

But all this was most unsatisfying to Cerruti ; and

SOMETHING FROM NOTHING.

389

he now began more clearly to intimate that the spend-
ing of so much time and money in that way would
be unsatisfactory to Mr Bancroft. Then he plainly
said that he must make a better showing or retire
from the field. If it was true, as General Vallcjo had
assured him, that he had nothing, and could not be
prevailed upon to dictate his recollections, that was
the end of it; ho must return to San Francisco and
so report.

This threat was not made, however, until the crafty
Italian had well considered the effect. He saw that
Yallcjo was gradually becoming more and more inter-
ested in him and his mission. He saw that, although
the general was extremely reticent regarding what
he possessed, and what ho would do, he was seri-
ously revolving the subject in his mmd, and that he
thou<xht much of it.

But the old general could be as cunning and crafty
as the younger one, and it was now the Spaniard's
turn to play upon the Italian. And this he did most
skilfully, and in such a manner as thorouglily to de-
ceive him and throw us all from the scent.

While reiterating his assurances (hat he had noth-
ing, and that he could disclose nothing ; that when he
wrote his recollections the first time he had before
hiui the vouchers in the form of original letters, proc-
lamations, and other papers, which were all swept
away by the fire that burned the manuscript he had
prepared with such care and labor ; and that since then
ho had dismissed the subject from his mind; that,
indeed, it had become distasteful to him, and should
never be revived — while these facts were kept con-
stantly before Cerruti, as if firmly to impress them
upon liis mind, General Vallejo would uncover, little
by little, to his watchful attendant the vast fund of
information at his command. Some anecdote, appar-
ently insignificant in itself, would be artfully inter-
woven with perhaps a dozen historical incidents, and
in tjiis exasperating manner the searcher after histori-

III

890

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

cal facts would be shown a fertile field which it was
forbidden him to enter.

To keep the Italian within call, and that he might
not be so reduced to despair as to abandon further
attempts and return to San Francisco, Vallejo now
began also to feed his appetite with a few papers whic^h
he professed to have found scattered about the prem-
ises, grrnting him permission to take copies of them,
and intimating that perhaps he might find a few luoic
when those were returned. There was his office, or
the parlor, at the scribe's disposal, where he might
write unmolested.

With a will Cerruti began his task. When it Avas
finished a few more papers were given him. At first
General Vallejo would on no account permit a single
paper to be taken from the premises. But work-
ing hours at Lachryma Montis must necessarily lie
short, and interruptions frequent. Would not General
Vallejo kindly repose confidence enough to permit Jiiin
to take the documents to his hotel to copy, upon his
sacred assurance that not one of them should pass
out of his hands, but should be returned immediately
the copy was made? With apparent reluctance the
request was finally granted.

This madt' Cerruti hilarious in his letters to Oak.
General Vallejo was a great and good man, and was
rapidly taking him into his friendship, which was in-
deed Cv'ery word of it true. And now in some un-
accountable way the papers to be copied rnjiidly
increased; more of them were brought to light than
had been thought to exist. The hotel was noisy and
unpleasant, and the copyist finally determined to rent
a room on the street fronting the plaza, where he
might write and receive his friends. There he could
keep his own wine and cigars with which to regale
those who told him their story, and the sums which
were now spent at bar-rooms treating these always
thirsty persons would pay room rent. Cerruti was
a close financier, but a liberal spender of other men's

COMING CONFIDENCE.

391

money. It is needless to say that as the result of
this deeply laid economic scheme the copyist had in
his office usually two or three worthless idlers drinking
and smoking in the name of literature and at the
expense of history, persons whom he found it impos-
sible to get rid of, and whom it was not policy to
offend.

Thicker and broader was each succeeding package
now given the brave consul-general to copy, until he
began to tire of it. Ho must have help. What harm
would there be, after all, if he sent part of each
package carefully by express to the library to be
copied there? There was no risk. He could represent
to me that General Vallejo had given permission,
with the understanding that they must be returned
at once. Besides, it was absolutely necessary that
.something should be done. Sonoma was an extremely
dull, uninteresting place, and he did not propose to
.spend the remainder of his days there copying dt)c-
uments.

The method he employed, which would at once
enable him to accomplish his object and keep his faith,
was somewhat unique. Major Salvador Vallejo once
wishing Cerruti to spend the day with him, the latter
replied: "I cannot; I must copy these papers; but if
you will assume the responsibility and send them to
San Francisco to be copied I am at your service."
Salvador at once assented, and ever after all breaches
of trust were laid upon his shoulders.

Thus matters continued for two months and more,
during which time Oak, Fisher, and myself severally
made visits to Sonoma and were kindly entertained
at Lachryma Montis. All thir, time General Vallejo
was gaining confidence in my messenger and my work,
lie could but be assured that this literary under-
taking was no speculation, or superficial clap-trap, but
genuine, solid, searching work. Once thoroughly sat-
isfied of this, and the battle was won; for General
Vallejo was not the man to leave himself, his family,

392

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

his many prominent and unrecorded deeds, out of a
work such as this purported to be.

One day while in a somewhat more than usually
confidential mood he said to Cerruti: "I cannot but
believe Mr Bancroft to be in earnest, and that he
means to give the world a true history of Califor-
nia. I was born in this country; I once undertook to
write its history, but my poor manuscript and my
house were burned together. I was absent from home
at the time. By mere chance my servants succeeded
in saving several bundles of documents referring to
the early days of California, but the number was in-
significant compared with those destroyed. However,
I will write to San Josd for a trunk filled with papers
that I have there, and of which you may copy for
Mr Bancroft what you please."

" But, General, " exclaimed Cerruti, overwhelmed
by the revelation, "I cannot copy them here. Since
you have been so kind as to repose this confidence in
me, permit me to take the papers to the library and
employ men to copy them; otherwise I might work
over them for years. "

"Well, be it so," replied the general; "and while
you are about it, there are two other chests of docu-
ments here which I have never disturbed since the
fire. Take them also : copy them as quickly as you
can and return them to me. I shall be more than
repaid if Mr Bancroft's history proves such as my
country deserves."

Now it was a fundamental maxim with Cerruti
never to be satisfied. In collecting material, where
I and most men would be gratefully content, acquisi-
tion only made him the more avaricious. As long
as there was anything left, so long did he not cease
to importune.

" Why not multiply this munificence fourfold," he
said, " by giving Mr Bancroft these documents out
and out, and so save him the heavy expense of copying
them? Thai, would be a deed worthy General Vallejo.

THE EVOLUTION OF A HISTORY.

S8S

Surely Mr Bancroft's path is beset with difficulties
enough at best. In his library your documents will
bo safely kept; they will be collated, bound, and
bbelled with your name, and this good act shall not
only be heralded now, but the record of it shall stand
forever."

"No, sirl" exclaimed the general, emphatically,
"x^t all events not now. And I charge you to make no
further allusion to such a possibility if you value my
favor. Think you I regard these papers so lightly as
to be wheedled out of them in little more than two
short months, and by one almost a stranger? You
have asked many times for my recollections ; those I
am now prepared to give you."

"■ Good !" cried Cerruti, who was always ready to
take what he could get, provided he could not get
what he wanted. "All ready, general; you may begin
your narrative."

"My friend," returned the general, mildly, "you
seem to be in haste. I should take you for a Yankee
rather than for an Italian. Do you expect me to write
liistory on horseback? I do not approve of this
method. I am willing and ready to relate all I can
rcuiember, but I wish it clearly understood that it
must be in my own way, and at my own time. I will
not be hurried or dictated to. It is my history, and not
yours, I propose to tell. Pardon me, my friend, for
speaking thus plainly, but I am particular on this
point. If I give my story it must be worthy of the
cause and worthy of me."

To Cerruti it was easier to write a dozen pages
than to think about writing one. In the opinion of
Vallejo, such a writer deserved to be burned upon a
pile of his own works, like Cassius Etruscus, who
boasted he could write four hundred pa^es in one day.

But this rebuke was not unpalatable, for it lifted
the matter at once from the category of personal nar-
rative to the higher plane of exact history. It was
history, and nothing beneath it, to be written no less

S94

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

from documentary than from personal evidence, and
from the documents and experien es of others, as well
as from his papers and personal observations.

With June came the two generals to San Francisco.
The Vallejo documents were all in the library, and
round one of the long tables were seated eight Mexi-
cans copying them. One morning the Spaniard and
the Italian entered the library. I think this was
General Vallejo's first visit to the fifth floor.

It was to him an impressive sight. Passing the
copyists, who, with one accord signified their respect
by rising and bowing low, he was conducted to my
room. Savage, Nemos, Oak, Harcourt, Fisher, and
one or two Spaniards who happened to be acquainted
with the general, then came in; cigars were passed
and the conversation became general. The history of
California, with the Vallejo family as a central figUxj,
was the theme, and it was earnestly and honestly dis-
cussed. Two hours were then spent by the distin-
guished visitor examining the library. He was
attended by Mr Savage, who explained everything,
giving in detail what wo had done, what we were
doing, and what we proposed to do.

It was very evident that General Vallejo was im-
pressed and pleased. Here was the promise of a work
which of all others lay nearest his heart, conducted
on a plan which if carried out would, he was con-
vinced, secure the grandest results. It was a work in
which he was probably more nearly concerned than
the author of it. If I was the writer of history, lie
was the embodiment of history. This he seemed fully
to realize.

Cerruti saw his opportunity ; let my faithful Italian
alone for that! He saw Vallejo drinking it all in like
an inspiration; he saw it in his enkindled eye, in his
flushed face and firm tread. Before the examination
of the library was fairly finished, placing him If by
the side of his now sincere and devoted friend he
whispered, "Now is your time, general. If you arc

THE VALLEJO ARCHIVES.

395

ever going to give those papers — and what better can
you do with them? — this is the proper moment. Mr
Bancroft suspects nothing. Tiicre are the copyists,
seated to at least a twelvemonth's labor. A word
from you will save him this large and unnecessary ex-
penditure, secure his gratitude, and the admiration of
all present."

"He deserves them I" was the reply. "Tell him
they are his."

I was literally speechless with astonishment and
joy when Cerruti said to me, "General Vallcjo gives
you all his papers." Besides the priceless intrinsic
\alue of these documents, which would forever place
my library beyond the power of man to equal in
original material for California history, the example
would double the benefits of the gift.

I knew General Vallejo would not stop there. He
was slow to be won, but once enlisted, his native en-
thusiasm would carry him to the utmost limit of his
al)ility; and I was right. From that moment I had
not only a friend and supporter, but a diligent worker.
Side by side wath Savage and Cerruti, for the next
two years he alternately wrote history and scoured
the country for ^resh personal and documentary infor-
mation.

"When I visited San Francisco last Avcek," writes
General Vallcjo to the Sonoma Democrat, \\\ reply
to a complaint that the Vallejo archives should have
been permitted to become the property of a private
individual, "I had not the sliglitcst intention of part-
ing with my documents; but my friends having in-
duced me to visit Mr Bancroft's library, where I was
shown the greatest attention, and moreover allowed
to look at thousands of marmscripts, some of them
hearing the signatures of Columbus, Isabel the catli-
oHc, Philip II., and various others preeminent among
those who figured during the fifteenth century, I was
exceedingly pleased; and when Mr Bancroft had the
goodness to submit to my inspection seven or eight

i I-

396

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

thousand pages written by himself, and all relating to
California, the history of which until now has re-
mained unwritten, I could not but admire the writer
who has taken upon himself the arduous task of giving
to the world a complete history of the country in
which I was born; and therefore I believed it my duty
to offer to him the documents in my possession, with
the certainty that their perusal would in some wise
contribute to the stupendous enterprise of a young
writer who is employing his means and intelligence for
the purpose of carrying to a favorable termination the
noble task of bequeathing to the land of his adoption
a history worthy of his renown."

I thanked the general as best I could; but words
poorly expressed my gratitude. The copyists were
dismissed, all but two or three, who were put to work
arranging and indexing the documents preparatory to
binding. A title-page was printed, and when the
work was done twenty- seven large thick volumes of
original material, each approaching the dimensions
of a quarto dictionary, were added to the library;
nor did General Vallejo oease his good work until the
twenty-seven were made fifty.

That night I entertained the general at my house;
and shortly afterward he brought his family from
Lachryma Montis and stayed a month with me, a por-
tion of which time the general himself, attended by
Cerruti, spent at Monterey writing and collecting.

It was in April 1874 that Cerruti began writing in
Spanish the Historia de California, dictated by M. G.
Vallejo. It was understood from the first that this
history was for my sole use, not to be printed unless
I should so elect, and this was not at all probable.
It was to be used by me in writing my history as
other chief authorities were used; the facts and inci-
dents therein contained were to be given their proper
place and importance side by side with other facts
and incidents.

The two years of labor upon the Vallejo history

HISTORIA DE CALIFORNIA.

397

was cheerfully borne by the auth ^r for the benefit it
would confer upon his country, and that without
even the hope of some time seeing it in print. Un-
doubtedly there was personal and family pride con-
nected with it ; yet it was a piece of as pure patriotism
as it has ever been my lot to encounter. General
Vallejo never would accept from me compensation
for his part of the work. I was to furnish an amanu-
ensis in the person of Cerruti, and the fruits of their
combined labor were to be mine unreservedly. As it
was, the cost to me amounted to a large sum; but
liad the author cliargcd me for his time and expenses,
it would have been twice us umch.

This and other obligations of which I shall have
occasion to speak hereafter, I can never forget. Pos-
terity cannot estimate them too highly. General
Vallejo was the only man on the coast who could have
done this if he would; and besides being the most
competent, he was by far the most willing person with
whom I had much to do.-

Yet this obligation did not in the slightest degree
bind me to his views upon any question. I trust I
need not say at this late date that I was swayed by no
palpable power to one side or another in my writings.
Knowing how lavish Spaniards are of their praises,
how absurdly extravagant their inflated panegyrics
sound to Anglo-Saxon ears, and how coldly calculating
English laudations appear to them, I never hoped to
l)lease Californians ; I never thought it possible to
satisfy them, never wrote to satisfy them, or, indeed,
any other class or person. And I used to say to Gen-
eral Vallejo : "You being a reasonable man will under-
stand, and will, I hope, believe that I have aimed to
do your people justice. But they will not as a class
think so. I claim to have no prejudices as regards the
Ilispano-Californians, or if I have they are all in their
favor. Yet you will agree with me that they have
their faults, in common with Englishmen, Americans,
and all men. None of us are perfect, as none of us

ir:

I -J r

1 1.1

398 ITALIAN STRATEGY.

aro wholly bad. Now nothing less than superlative
and perpetual encomiums would satisfy your country-
men; and, indeed, should I swell their praises to the
skies on every page, the most lying trickster of them all
would think I had not given him half his due in com-
mendation. I cannot write to please catholic or prot-
estant, to win the special applause of race, sect, or jjarty;
otherwise my writings would be worthless. Truth
alone is all I seek; that I will stand or fall by. And I
believe that you, general, will uphold me therein."

Thus I endeavored to prepare his mind for any un-
wholesome truths which he might see; for most as-
suredly I should utter them as they came, no matter
who might be the sufferer or what the cost. Indeed,
I felt sure that before long, in some way, I should
unintentionally tread upon the general's toes, for on
many points he was extremely sensitive. Cerruti felt
it his duty to be con.stantly urging me to write to and
wait upon the general; to be constantly reminding
me that this would please him, that lie would expect
such a thing, or if I failed in this attention he would
think me offended; and thus my time was severely
taxed to keep this man in good humor. True, ho was
not the fool that Cerruti would have me believe; and
yet, in common with all hidalgos, he thought highly
of himself and loved attention. It was tins untiring
devotion which Cerruti could give, but I could not,
that first won Vallejo to our cause.

For several years, while busiest in the collection of
material, a good share of my time was taken up in
conciliating thpse whom I had never offended; that
is to say, those ancient children, my Hispano-Cah-
fornian allies, who were constantly coming to grief.
Some of them were jealous of me, some jealous of
each other; all by nature seemed ready to raise their
voices in notes of disputatious woe upon the slightest
provocation.

For example : Greneral Vallejo had no sooner given
his papers to the libraiy than one of the copyists,

LUBIENSKY AND ZALDO.

390

Lubiensky, a Polish count he called himself, and may-
have been so for aught I know, wrote the notary
Ramon de Zaldo, a friend of Vallcjo, a letter, in
which he, the count, called in question the general's
motives in thus parting with his papers.

"It was to gam the good-will of Mr Bancroft that
these documents were tlius given him," said the count,
"and consequently we may expect to sec the history
written in the Vallejo interest, to the detriment of
other Californians."

When General Vallejo stepped into the notary's
office next morning, Zaldo showed him the letter.
Vallejo was very angry, and justly so. It was a most
malicious blow, aimed at the general's most sensitive
spot.

"It is an infamous lie!" the general raved, walking
up and down the office. "If ever an act of mine was
disinterested, and done from pure and praiseworthy
motives, this was such a one. What need have I to
court Mr Bancroft's favors? He was as much my
friend before I gave the papers as he could be. There
was not the slightest intimation of a compact. ]\tr
Bancroft is not to bo influenced; nor would I iniiiicnce
him if I could. I felt that he deserved this much at
my hands; and I only regret that my limited income
prevents me from supplementing the gift with a hun-
dred thousand dollars to help carry forward the good
work, so that the biuden of it should not fall wliolly
on one man."

While the general was thus fuming, Corruti entered
the notary's office, and on learning the cause of his
anger endeavored to quiet him. As a matter of
course, on being informed of the circumstance I im-
mediately discharged the count, who was among those
retained to collate the documents, and who seemed to
have been actuated only by a love of mischief in
stirring up strife between the general and those of
his countrymen who had been thrown out of employ-
ment by his gift, which did away with the necessity

400

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

of copying. This, to many a slight thing, was more
than enough to upset the equanimity of my Spanish
friends. With half a dozen of them effervescmg at
once, as was sometimes the case, it was no easy matter
to prevent revolution.

Of Cerruti's Ramhlings there are two hundred and
thirteen pages. Portions of the manuscript are ex-
ceedingly amusing, particularly to one acquainted witli
the writer. I will let him speak of a trip to San Josd,
made by him in June, I think, 1874. Just before
Cerruti sot out on this journey General Vallcjo came
again to San Francisco, notifying mo of his approach
in the following words: "El mdrtes ird d San Fran-
cisco d visitar el Parthenon del quo listed es el
Pericles." When we remember how little Cerruti had
lived in English-speaking countries, and how little
practice he had had in writing and speaking English,
his knowledge of the language is remarkable :

"A few days after my arrival in San Francisco I
visited San Josd, well supplied with letters of in-
troduction from General Vallejo. My first stops on
i-eaching that city were directed toward the Bornal
farm, where dwelt an aged gentleman who went by
the name of Francisco Peralta, but whose real name
I could not ascertain. I gave him a letter of intro-
duction from General Vallejo. He read it three or
four times ; then he went to a drawer and from among
some rags pulled out a splendid English translation
of the voyages of Father Font, He took off tho
dust from the manuscript, then handed it to me. I
looked at it for a few moments l<->r the purpose of
making sure that I hold the riic'it document. Then
I unbuttoned my overcoat and placed it in my
bosom.

" 'What are you doing, my friend?' shouted Peralta.

"I replied: 'Estoy poniendo el documento en lugar
de seguridad, tengo que caminar esta noche y recclo
que el sereno lo moje,'

"He looked astonished, and then said: *I will not

LEAVES FROM CERRU'. I ' RAMBLINGS.

401

allow you to take it away. General Vallejo requested
that I should permit you to copy it. That I am
willing to do ; but as to giving you my Font, that is
out of the question.'

"As I had brought along with me a buttle of the
host brandy, I called for a corkscrew and a couple of
1,'liisses, and having liglitod a scgar I presented my
companion with a real llabana. Having accepted it,
we were soon engaged in conversation."

The writer tlicn gives a sketch of the settlement
and early history of San Jose as narrated by his aged
companion. After wliich he continues:

" I then tried to induce ]\Ir Peralta to give me a
tow details about himself, but to no purpose. I kej)t
on filling his glass till the bottle was emptied, but I
gained nothing by the trick, because every time he
tasted he drank the health of General Vallejo, and of
course 1 could not conveniently refuse to keep him
company. Tlic chjck of the farm-house having struck
two, I bid adieu to Mr Peralta, unfastened my horse
that had remained tied to a post during five hours,
aufl then returned to San Jose. Of course I brought
along with mc the venerable Father Font! I have
heard that Peralta a few days later wrote to General
A'^allqjo a letter in which he said that I had stolen the
niimuscript from him. He wrote a falsehood, well
knowing it to be such at the time he wrote. To speak
plainly, I will observe that the person who like Mr
i'cralta goes under an assumed name is not much to
be trusted. His secret, however, is known to General
^^allojo; and should I be allowed to live long enough
I will surely discover it, because I have a peculiar way
of acquiring knowledge of things and persons, things
wliieh I ought to know; and surely no person will
gainsay my right to know everything that is to be
known about my defamer."

When I learned how far the Italian had been
carried by his zeal in my behalf, I returned Peralta
the book with ample apologies.

' Is!;

'f:

Lit. Ins. 26

402

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

I I

\ <'■'

s t ;

Ccrruti now proceeded to the college at Santa
Clara, and thus describes the visit:

" With reverential awt, cast-down eyes, and studied
demeanor of meekness, I entered the edifice of learn-
ing. As soon as the gate closed behind me I took oil'
my hat and addressed the porter, whom I requests
to send my card to the reverend father director.
Having said that much I entei-ed the parlor, opened
a prayer-book that happened to be at hand, and be^an
to road the Miserere meiDeus secundum magnam mis-
ericordiam tuam, which lines recalled to my mind many
gloomy thoughts; for the last time I had sung these
solenm sentences was at the funeral of President Mv\-
garejo, the man who had been to me a second i'atlin.
But I was not allowed much time for rellection, lie-
cause j)resently a tall priest of pleasing countenaneL;
liiitered the parlor, beckoned me to a chair, and in a
voice tliat rotiocted kindness and good-will begged nt'
inc to explain the object which had procured for him
the [)leasure of my visit. I then announced myself
as the representative of the groat historian, II. J)an-
eroft" — I may as well here state that whenever f Jei-
]'iiti mentioned my name in the jircscnce of strange is
there were no adjectives in any language too lofty to
em[)loy — "uotitied him that my object in visiting the
eoUege was tor the purpose of having a fair view of
the library and of examining the manuscripts it con-
tained. I likewise assured liim that though the history
was not written by a member of the church of lunnr,
yet in it nothing derogatory to the catholic faith would
be found. I added, however, that the bigoted [)rie>is
who had destroyed the Aztec paintings, monuments,
and hierogly])hies, wliicli ought to have been preserved
lor the beneiit of posterity, would be censureil in dur
foi-m, and their ij^rave sin ajjfainst science connnented
uj-fon with the severity required. He reflected a mo-
ment and then said: 'I see no reason why I should
object to have the truth made known. History is tlio
light of truth; and when an impartial writer undri-

i; 1

MOVEMENTS OF CERRUTI.

403

takes to write the history of a country we must not
conceal a single fact of public interest.'

"After saying this he left the room. In about two
minutes he returned with the priest who had charge
of the college library. He introduced his subordinate
to me and then added : * Father Jacobo will be happy
to place at your disposal every book and r;«i".ii script,
we possess.' The father superior having retired, I en-
gaged in conversation with the librarian, who forth-
^\ ith proceeded to the library, where I perceived many
thousand books arranged upon shelves, but found only
a lew manuscripts. Among the manuscripts I dis-
covered one of about eight hundred pages, whicl. con-
tained a detailed account of the founding of every
church built in Mexico and Guatemala. The manu-
script was not complete; the first eighty pages were
missing. There were also a few pages of a diary kept
by one of the first settlers of San Diego, but the rest
of the diary was missing. T copied a few pages from
this manuscript; then I tied together every document
I judged would be of interest to ^Mr Bancroft, de-
H\ ored the package to the father librarian, and bogged
ol' liim to see the father superior and request his por-
niission to forward the bundle to San Francisco. lie
started to fulfil my request, and assured me that
thotigh he had no hope of success, because it was
against the rules of the college, he would make known
my wishes to his chief He was absent half an hour,
whou he returned bearinjx a neirativo answer. Amonix
othoi- thmgs he said that the nianus^Mipts I wanted to
.send away did not belong to the coll(>go, but wore the
prnporty of some pious person who liad placed them
under their charge, with instructions not to let the
papers go out of their possession. I f-lt convinced
that my reverend countryman was telling me the
tiuih, so I abstained from urging my petition; btit I
hitiited myself -^i make a single request, namely, tliat
he would be so kind as to keep in a separate [)la('e
tin i)a('kage I had prepared. He agreetl to it, I

< J

404

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

embraced him Italian style, and then directed
steps toward the residence of Mr Arguello.

" I rang the bell of the stately dwelling in whicli
the descendant of governors dwelt, and having been
ushered into the presence of Mr ArgUello, I stated
to him the object of my visit. He listened with the
air of one anxious to impress upon my mind the idea
that I stood in the presence of a very great man.

" When I concluded my introductory remarks, he
said : * Well, well, in all this large house, by far the
best one in Santa Clara, there does not exist a single
scrap of paper that could be useful to an historian. I
once found a great many documents that had been
the property of my grandfather, also some belonging
to my father, but I have set fire to them; I did net
like the idea of encumbering my fine dwelling with
boxes containing trash, so I got rid of the rubbish by
burning the whole lot.'

" Before Mr Arguello had uttered four words I felt
convinced that I stood in the presence of a self-con-
ceited fool. With people of that class it is useless to
waste sound arguments and good reasoning. I knew
it to be the case by experience. Therefore without
uttering another word except the commonplace com-
pliments, I left the 'best house in Santa Clara' and
took the road that led to the telegraph office, and
there addressed a telegram to General Mariano G.
Vallejo, requesting his presence in Santa Clara. I
took that step because I believed that Mr Argiiell(»
had told me lies. I thought it so strange that u ^;on
who had reached the age of fifty years should be so
stupid as to burn the family archives. I also begun
to fear that my plain talk had given offence; thcreloic
I ventured to send for the good friend of Mr Bun
croft, for the admirer of his perseverance, hoping that
the high respect in which Mr Argiiello held General
Vallejo would induce him to place at his dispo'^al any
documents he might have in the house.

"After sending the telegram I visited an aged In-

THE ARGUELLOS.

405

dlan, by name Jose Maria Flores, so called because in
1837 he was a servant of a gentleman of that name
who presented a petition to the general government
for the purpose of retaining for the town of San Josd
certain tracts of land, which persons belonging to
other parts of the state were trying to get possession
of. Indian Flores, as soon as I addressed him, cx-
j)ressed his willingness to give me all the information
ho could. Before proceeding he observed : 'You will
liavc to send for a bottle of strong whiskey; nothing
like good liquor to refresh the memory of an Indian 1'
I took the hint and gave a boy two dollars, with in-
structions to fetch immediately a bottle of whiskey for
T'nc'o .['"lores."

Thii: he Italian's narrative rattles along from one
t]ii;inr to another, just like the author, with scarcely
Ijaube or period. The aged aboriginal Flores gives
him some interesting gossip respecting early times;
then Vallejo Pix'ives, and the two generals visit the
'host house in Santa Claia,' whose proprietor had
in some way evidently ruffled the consul-general's
plumes.

The widow of Luis Antonio Arguello, and mother
of the burner of the family archives against whom
Cerruti had taken a violent dislike, received General
Vallejo vith opt;n arms, and invited the two generals
to dine with h< r. The invitation was accepted. The
paper- burnci v/i»> there, watching the visitors very
• loscly. "V^, hrn dmner was nearly over, Cerruti, who
was so fillod w (til wrath toward the four-eyed Ar-
guello, as he ccl; d ^im, that he found little place for
food, exclaimed:

"Madame ArgUello, yesterday I asked your eldest
sou to allow me to copy the family archives; but he
assured me that the archives and every other docu-
nieut of early days had been burned by his orders.
Cai) it be » ossible?"

"Indei^i . ir, I am sorry to say that it is true," she
replied. '■ } A as she called to witness the blessed

'. i

'Hi

!:;!!

-Hi

406

ITALIAN STRATEGY.

virgin," continued Cerruti, "I felt convinced that sucli
was the case."

The two generals called on several of the old resi-
dents in that vicinity, among them Captain Fer-
nandez, who freely gave all the documents in his
possession, and furnished a valuable dictation. Cap-
tain West, on Avhom they next called, at their request
sent out to Lick's mills and brought in the aboriijinal
Marcelo, who laid claim to one hundred and twenty
years of this life.

Gradually working south, the two generals did not
stop until they Li reached Monterey. To the elder
there was no spob lie country so pregnant with

historical events as Is early capital of California.
There was no important town so little changed liy
time and the inroads of a dominant race as Monterey.
There General Vallejo was at once thrown back into
his past. Every man and woman was a volume of
unstrained facts; hedges and thickets bristled with in-
telligence; houses, fences, streets, and even the stones
in them, each had its tale to tell. The crows cawid
history ; the cattle bellowed it, and the sweet sea saDg
it. An interesting chapter could easily be written on
Cerruti's report of what he and General Vallejo saw
and did during this visit to Monterey; but ouier affairs
equally pressing claim our attention.

CHAPTER XVII.

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

God made man to go by motives, and he will not go without them,
any more than a boat without steam or a balloon without gas.

Beecher,

Next among the Hispano-Californians in historical
importance to Mariano G. Vallejo stood his nephew
Juan B. Alvarado, governor of Cahfornia from 1836
to 1842. At the time of which I speak he lived in a
plain and quiet way at San Pablo, a small retired
town on the eastern side of San Francisco bav. In
l)uild and bearing he reminded one of the first
Napoleon. He was a strong man, mentally and physi-
cally. Of medium stature, his frame was compact,
and well forward on broad shoulders was set a head
with massive jawbones, high forehead, and, up to the
age of sixty, bright intellectual eyes.

In some respects he was the ablest officer Cah-
fornia could boast under Mexican regime. He was
born in 1809 ,which made him a year younger than his
uncle General Vallejo. Before he made himself gov-
ernor he held an appointment in the custom-house,
and had always been a prominent and popular man.
His recollections were regarded by every one as very
important, but exceedingly difficult to obtain.

First of all, he must be brought to favor my under-
taking; and as he was poor and proud, in ill health,
and bitter against the Americans, this was no easy
matter.

Alvarado had been much less Americanized than
Vallejo; he had mixed little with the new-comers, and

(407)

Y I'

408

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

could speak their language scarcely at all. In com-
mon with all his countrymen he fancied he had been
badly abused, had been tricked and robbed of millions
of dollars which he had never possessed, and of hun-
dreds of leagues of land which he had neglected to
secure to himself To the accursed Yankees were to
be attributed all his follies and failures, all his defects
of character, all the mistakes of his life.

Like Vallcjo, Alvarado had often been importuned
for information relative to early affairs, but he liad
given to the world less than his uncle, being less in and
of the world as it existed in California under Anglo-
American domination. Surely one would think so
able a statesman, so astute a govcinor as Alvarado,
would have been a match for stragglers into his terri-
tory, or even for the blatant lawyers that followed in
their wake. The same golden opportunities that
Vallejo and the rest had let slip, Alvarado had failed
to improve, and the fault was the ever-to-be-anath-
ematizcd Yankee.

Alvarado was a rare prize; but he was shrewd, and
there could be but little hope of success in an appeal
to the patriotism of one whose country had fallen
into the hands of hated strangers. We had thouglit
Vallcjo suspicious enough, but Alvarado was more so.
Then, too, the former governor of California, unlike
the general, was not above accepting money; not,
indeed, as a reward for his services, but as a gift.

Almost as soon as General Vallejo had fairly en-
listed in the work he began to talk of Alvarado, of
his vast knowledge of things Californian, and of his
ability in placing upon paper character and events.
And at that time, in regard to this work, action was
not far behind impulse. Vallejo began to importune
Alvarado, first by letter, then in person, giving him
meanwhile liberal doses of Cerruti.

On one occasion the governor remarked to the
general, "It seems you insist that Mr Bancroft is
to be our Messiah, who will stop the mouth of bab-

A GOVERNOR TO WIN.

409

l)lers that insult us. I am of the contrary opinion in
1 ogarcl to this, and will tell you why : I do not believe
that any American, a well educated literary man, will
contradict what the ignorant populace say of the Cali-
fornians, from the fact that the Cholada Gringa, or
Yankee scum, are very numerous, and take advantage
of it to insult us, as they are many against few. This
is a peculiarity of the American people. To these
must be added a great number of Irish and German
hoors, who unite with them in these assaults. Were
wc as numerous as the Chinese, it is clear that they
would not dare to be wanting in respect to us ; but we
are merely a few doves in the claws of thousands of
hawks, which lay mines charged with legal witcheries
in order to entrap us."

The 24th of August 1874 General Vallejo writes
Governor Alvarado: "From the death of Arrillaga
in 1814 to the year 1846 there is much material for
liistory. I have in relation to those times much
authentic and original matter, documents which no
ituc can refute. To the eminent writer Hubert H.
Bancroft I have given a ton of valuable manuscripts,
which have been placed in .aronological order, under
their proper headings, in order to facilitate the labors
in which a dozen literary men of great knowledge are
actually occupied. That part of the history which
<annot be corroborated by documentary evidence I
iiiysolf can vouch for by referring to my memory; and
that without fear of straying from the truth or falling
into anachronisms. Besides, my having been identi-
ii'd with upper California since my earliest youth is
another assistance, as in no less degree is the record

• if my public life. What a vast amount of material!
Xo one has spoken, nor can any one know certain
iacts as thou and I. All the Americans who have

• tared to write on this subject have lied, either mali-
ciously or through ignorance." This letter was ac-
<<»nipanied by certain questions concerning points
which the writer had forgotten.

410

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

1'^
'i'

Governor Alvarado replied to the queries, corrobo-
rating the general's views. At length promises were
extracted from the governor that he would write a
history, but it should be for his family, and not for
Mr Bancroft. There must be something of importance
to him in the telling of his story. If there was money
in it, none could spend it better than he; if reputa-
tion, his family should have it.

So he went to work ; for in truth, old and ill as lie
was, he had more working power and pluck than any
of them. All through the autumn of 1874 he wrote
history as his health permitted, being all the while in
correspondence with Cerruti and Vallejo, who werr
similarly engaged, sometimes at Sonoma, and some-
times at Monterey. " Up to date," he writes Vallejo
the 4th of December, " I have arranged two hundred
and forty-one pages, in twenty-one chapters, forming,'
only three of the five parts into which I have divided
this historical compendium."

Indeed, for a long time past Alvarado had been
taking: historical notes, with a view to writinoj a his-
tory of California. These notes, however, rcquire(l
arranging and verifying, and in his feeble health it
was with great difficulty he could be induced to un-
dertake the work. In writing his history he displayed
no little enthusiasm, and seemed specially desirous of
producing as valuable a record as that of any one.

" General Cerruti asked of me a narration of the
events of my own administration," again he says,
"and also of Sola's and ArgUello's. These matters
are of great importance, and taken from my worlc
would leave little of value remaining. However, I still
go on with my labors, and we shall see what may be
done for the petitioners. In my said notes I am form-
ing a chain which begins at Cape San Liicas and
extends to latitude forty-two north, all of which was
denominated Peninsula, Territorio, Provincia, or De-
2mrtamento, de las Californias, under the different
governments and constitutions, as well as Nuevu ij

ALVARADO'S HISTORY.

411

Vieja California and Alta y Baja California. . I begin
with Cortes, who made the first settlement in Baja
Cahfornia, where my father was born. Afterward I
come to the Jesuits, and these expelled, to the Domin-
icans; and on the settlement of Alta California in
17G9 I take hold of the Fernandinos, accepting as
true what was written by Father Francisco Palou con-
cerning events up to 1784 in his work entitled Au^/c/as
de las Misioncs. Thence I follow my chain till 1848,
when Mexico, through cowardice, fear, or fraud, sold
our native land to the United States. In order to jro
on with this work, I must verifv certain dates and
references. Finallv, as regards the frontier of Sonoma,
that remains at your disposition, as I have indicated
in my notes, for I am not well acquainted with the
events which occurred there after 18;J4, when Fiijucroa
sent you to direct the colonization of that section
t)f country. There you had for near neighbors the
Kussians, and the Hudson's Bay Company, and were
a sentinel placed to watch that they did not cross the
lino."

Every effort was now made to beat down Governor
Alvarado's scruples and induce him to dictate a com-
plete history of the country for my use. Considering
liis age, the state of his health, and the condition of
his eyes, which troubled him much of the time, he was
making no small progress. In this way he worked
until his manuscript reached three hundred and sixty- -
foiir pages, but all the time swearing that Bancroft
sliould have nothing from him.

General Vallejo then employed every argument in
his power to induce Alvarado to take his place in this
history. " Come forward and refute your slanderers,"
ho said, "not hang back and waste your breath in
harmless growls at them." And again, "If things arc
wrong, not only go to work and endeavor to make
them right, but do it in the best and most effectual
way." The governor was several times brought to the
library, where Oak, Savage, and myself might sup-

412

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

plcment Vallejo's and Cerruti's efforts. Finally the
general so far prevailed as to extract the promise
desired. Alvarado also lent Vallejo his manuscript,
and the latter sent it, unknown to Alvarado, for in-
spection to the library, where it remained for some
time.

Cerruti did not fancy the task of writing a second
large history of California. " I wish you would get
some person in your confidence," he writes me from
Sonoma the 27th of November 1874, "to take down
the dictation of Governor Alvarado, because I cannot
do it. My private affairs will not allow me to spend
one or two years at San Pablo, a dull place, as bad as
Sonoma." Nevertheless, Alvarado insisting upon his
attendance, Cerruti was finally induced to undertake
the work on my permitting him to rent a room, bring
Alvarado to the city, and take his dictation in San
Francisco, I paying hotel bills and all other expenses,
besides keeping the governor's historical head-quar-
ters plentifully supplied with liquors and cigars.

But this was not all. I had told Alvarado plainly
that I would not pay him for his information; indeed,
he never asked me to do so. He would accept noth-
ing in direct payment, but he was determined to make
the most of it indirectly. Twenty thousand dollars ho
would have regarded as a small sum for his literary
service to me, measured by money; hence all I could
do for him must be insignificant as compared with my
oblijjation.

Again on the Uth of December 1874 Cerruti
writes from Sonoma: "With reference to Goveinor
Alvarado I beg to observe that I did not think it
worth while to cajole him. In my letter of October
20th I expressed myself to the effect that I did not
think it worth while to spend five or six tliousand
dollars to get his dictation; because, with the excep-
tion of the notes referring to Lower California, written
by his father, and a few mcidents which transpired at
Monterey while General Vallejo was absent from that

THE BEGINNING OF REQUESTS.

413

place, the whole of California's history will be fully
(Anibodicd in the Recuerdos Ilistdricos of General
Yallejo, and I did not see why you should wish for
Governor Alvarado's dictation. Such were my views
on the 24th of October; but owing to a letter re-
ceived afterward, and the wish often expressed by
General Vallejo that I should maintain friendly re-
lations with Governor Alvarado, I corresponded with
liim till the receipt of the letter whicli I forwarded
to you last Wednesday. Since then I have abstained
from writing, for I did not know wliat to write. You
will not miss Alvarado's notes on Lower California,
because General Vallejo has already written to Lower
California to Mr Gilbert, and I have no doubt that
he will get many documents from him."

The fact was, as I have said, Ccrruti did not covet
the task of writing to Alvarado's dictation, and Gen-
eral Vallejo could be easily reconciled to the omission
of a record which might tend in his opinion to lessen
the importance of his own. In regard to Alvarado's
history Mr Oak thought differently, as the following
reference in Cerruti's letter will show :

"I do not look at the matter of Governor Alvarado
as you do," he writes Cerruti the 24th of October.
"I think we ought to have his dictation at some time,
even if it is a repetition of what General Vallejo
writes. But perhaps it is as well that you have de-
clined the invitation to San Pablo for the present, for
General Vallejo's dictation is certainly more important
than all else. Besides, Mr Bancroft will be here
during the coming week, and can then himself decide
the matter."

At this juncture came a request from Alvarado.
He had a boy for whom he wished to find employment
in the store. Anxious to obtain his history, I was ready
to do anything which he might reasonably or even
unreasonably ask. Alvarado wrote Vallejo requesting
his influence with me on behalf of his son. As soon
as their wishes were made known to me by Cerruti

414

ALVAKADO AND CASTUO.

I sent for the youn<^ man, and he waa assigned a place
in the pubhshing house.

The boy was nineteen years of age, and had about
as much of an idea of business, and of applying him-
self to it, as a gray scjuirrel. The manager endeavored
to explain to him somewhat the nature of the life now
before him. Success would depend entirely upon him-
self. The house could not make a man of him ; all it
could do was to give him an opportunity of makiiig u
man of himself At first, of course, knowing nothiiio-
of liusiness, his services would be worth but little tn
the business. As at school, a year or two would Ix-
occupied in learning the rudiments, and much time
would bo occupied in teaching. For such business
tuition no charge was made; in fact the firm would
pay him a small salary from the beginning. The lad
was bright and intelligent, and seemed to comprehend
the situation, expressing himself as satisfied with what
I had done for him.

A few days afterward I learned that the boy was
back at San Pablo, and that a general howl had been
raised among his countrymen on account of alleg(3d
hard trcatinciit of the boy by the house: in fact iiis
iKj.sition luul been wor^e than that of a Chinaman, lie
was made to work, to wait on people like a servant,
to pack boxes, fold papers, and carry bundles. As a
matter of course the old governor was very angry.

I was greatly chagrined, for I feared all was now-
lost with Alvarado. Instituting inquiries into the
boy's case, I learned that in view of the governors
attitude toward the librar}', and the little need for
the boy's services, he had been assigned a very easy
place, and treated with every courtesy. Unluckily
some ragamuffin from the printing-office, meeting him
on the stairs soon after he began work, called out to
liim:

" I say, gallinipper, how much d'ye git ?"

" Twenty dollars a month."

" You don't say; a Chinaman gits more'n that."

MANUEL CASTHO.

415

That was enough. The boy immediately wrote \m
fatlier that the manayfer of the Bancroft establishment

1 • • •

had assigned him a position beneath that of a Mon-
j^folian. It was the old story of race persecution. All
t he people of the United States had conspired to crush
the native Californians, and this was but another in-
stance of it. Young Alvarado was immediately ordered
liome; he should not remain another moment where
lie was so treated.

It required the utmost efforts of Vallejo and Cer-
ruti to smooth the ruffled pride of the governor. A
happier illustration of the irrational puerility of these
isolated ancients could not be invented.

Among the copyists upon the Vallejo documents,
before that collection was given to the library, ^vas
one Soberanes, a relative of Vallejo. At the request
of the general his services were retained afti :■ the
donation of the documents, though all of us had
cause to regret such further engagement, as he was
constantly getting himself and others into hot water.

Of all the early Californians we had to encounter,
^Manuel Castro was among the worst to deal with in
regard to his material. He had both documents and
iiil'ormation which he wished to sell for money. He
was an important personage, but instead of manfully
asserting his position, he professed patriotism, love of
literature, and everything that any one else professed.
Finding that he could not extort money from me, and
being really desirous of appearing properly in history,
he promised me faithfully and repeatedly all that he
had.

But diplomacy was so natural to him that I doubt
if it were possible for him to act in a simple, straight-
forward manner. He began by borrowing money
with which to go to Monterey and bring me his docu-
ments. He neither redeemed his promise nor returned
the money. Some time afterward he went for them.

416

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

; ').::

but said that he could not deliver them, for they were
required in the dictation which he now professed to
be desirous of making.

" Manuel Castro came last nigrht to Monterey, "
Cerruti writes the 16th of February 1875, "got tlio
box of documents which his family has been collect-
ing during the last six months, and early this morning
returned to San Francisco. If you want his docu-
ments don't lose sight of him; Savage knows when-
he lives. Of course lie is *on the spec. 'I Should you
have to pay any money for Castro's documents, you
will have to thank Soberanes, Eldridgc, and the rest
of the boys, who always exerted themselves to under-
mine the plans of General Vallcjo and myself "

Manuel Castro now sent us word: " Let Soberanes
arrange my papers and write for me, and you shall
have loth my recollections and my documents."

Accordingly Soberanes lor some six weeks waited
on hill, drawing his pa}^ from me. The agreement hud
been that he should deliver what was written every
week as he drew the money for it; but on one pretext
or another he succeeded in putting us off until wo wti e
satisfied that this was but another trick, and so dis-
continued tlie arrangement. Not a page of manuscript,
not a single document was secured by the expeiidituie.

lu souie way this SobiTanes Ijccame mixi'd up in Al-
varado's att'airs. I believe he was related to the gov-
ernor as well as to the general; and he seemed to
make it his business just now to bleed me to the fullest
possible extent for the benefit of his countrymen and
himself A'allejo quickly cast him off when he -^aw
how things were going; Manuel Castro, the general
openly reprobated; and even of Alvarado's venality
he felt ashamed.

While in New York I received a letter from G<!nc>ral
Valkgo, dated the 2Gth of September 1874, in which
he says: "Cerruti writes me from San Francisco that
he is very much annoyed and chagrined that after lie
and niywelf had so labored to induce Governor Alva-

MISCHIEF ABROAD.

417

rado to take an interest in your work, Soberanes,
]\[anuel Castro, and other insignificant persons, went
to San Pablo and sadly annoyed him. Undoubtedly
Ccrruti is right; for it is very well known that
(Icmasiado fiiego quema la olla. Already on other
occasions those same intriguers have thwarted his
]>laiis; and he, Cerruti, is fearful that they may also
tlirnst themselves into the affairs of Central America,
and cause him to lose his prestige in those countries.
Day after to-morrow, when Cerruti returns, I will
icsume my labors on the history of California."

Tu May 1875 Cerruti writes me from Sonoma:
"(n)vcrnor Alvarado is acting very strangely. I at-
irilmto his conduct to Soberanes, who has made the old
L!,vntleman believe that there is a mountain of gold to
Itc made by squeezing your purse. I would suggest
that you send orders which will compel Soberanes
to deliver to the library the pages of history for
which he received several weekly payments for writing
under Castro's dictation. Thus far Soberanes has not
(Ichvcred into the hands of your agent a single line;
aiid, not satisfied with what he has already obtained,
lie is trying to cause others to deviate from the path
of decency, common-sense, and gratitude. I would
also suggest that Alvarado be 'sent to grass' for the
piosoiit. If at a future day you should need him or
his dictation, either General Vallejo or myself will
^^ct it for you without cost. The conduct of Alva-
rtido and Soberanes has greatly displeased General
Vallejo, who as you know thinks it the duty of every
nati\o Californian to assist you in your noble and
.solt'-imposed task."

]\ Tatters seemed to grow worse instead of better
(luring this same May, when some of these mischief-
niakers told Alvarado that his history was at the
lihiary. Then came another convulsion. Conspiracy
was abroad ; the foul fiend seemed to have entered the
I listory -gatherers in order to hurl destruction upon
the poor potentate of San Pablo. Although not a

Lit. Imd. ST

418

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

word had been taken from his manuscript while it
was in the library, nor any use of it made in any
way, Judas was a pure angel beside me. Alvarado
had telegraphed General Vallejo, and sent messengers
hither and thither. Something must be done, or
Diablo and Tamalpais would turn somersets into
the bay, and the peninsula of San Francisco would
be set adrift upon the ocean. The absurdity of all
this is still more apparent when I state that the
manuscript notes were of no value to any one in their
present shape, except indeed as a basis of the pro-
l)08cd narrative of events.

Yet another agony, following hard upon the heels
of its predecessors. I will let Cerruti begin the story.
1 was at Oakville at the time, and under the headiuL;-
"Something serious and confidential," he writes uk
from San Francisco the 7tli of April: "Yesterday
Governor Alvarado's dauohtcr died in San Rafaol.
The governor desired the body brought to Oakland.
Having no money wherewith to pay expenses, ho
sent Soberanes to the Bancroft library, with a re-
quest that he should sec you and if possible iuduev
you to contribute something toward the funeral ex-
penses, three hundred dollars. You were absent. I
ilid not think it proper to refer him to your jnaiiauvr,
fearing he would feel annoyed; so making a virtue^ of
necessity I gave Soberanes twenty dollars. I act' d
as T have just related owing to the fact that Gov-
ernor Alvarado's narrative is not even commenced.
It is true we have cm hand four hundred pages of !iis
notes, but said notes only come down to the )oar
1 830, and he has signified his williuiiness to dictate
what he knows to the year 1848. Besides, the small
Incidents which he remembers are not included in his
notes. In one word, I consider Governor Alvaiado
as one of the persons you need the most in the writinuj
of the history of California, and hence my reason lor
giving him the twenty dollars. Of course I don t
claim the amount back from you. I know full v dl

pes, ho

AGONY UPON AGONY.

419

T had no authority to invest in funerals." The reader
will observe that Cerruti's opinions were not always
the same.

Closely following this letter came Soberanes to
Oakville, begging of me one hundred dollars for
Alvarado. Now I was not under the slightest obli-
gations to Alvarado; on the contrary it was he who
should be paying me money if any was to pass be-
tween us. He had done nothiii<x for me, and iudixinsr
from the past there was little enrouragement that he
ever would do anything. Nevertheless, since he was
a poor old man in distress, I would cheerfully give
him the money he asked, for charity's sake. At the
same time I thought it nothing loss than my due to
have in a somewhat more tangible form the governor's
oft-rupeated promise to dictate a history of California
for mo. So I said to Soberanes: "Alvarado is croinix
to dictate for me and give me all his material. Would
ho be willing to put that in writing?" "Most cer-
tainly," replied Soberanes. "Go, then, and see it done,
ami Mr Oak will give you the money."

Xow let us hear what is said about it in a lotter to
me under date of the 19th of May from the library:
"llio Alvarado matter is in bad shajio, like everything
ill whicli Soberanes has anything to do. Governor
A Karachi simply, as he says, sends Soberanes to a>k
ti»r ono hundred dollars, on the ground that ho intends
tho liistory he is writing for your collection, and is
in liard circumstances. He did not know that any of
his maiuiscript was in our hands, and is oflbndod that
< ji'iuM'al Valh'jo and Corruti dolivorcd it to us(Y)ntr:ny
to llioir a/jfrcenient. Soberanrs tolls vou tluit Gov-
eriior Alvarado will give you the four iiundrod ]iages
in our jtossossion : [there are only two hunch-cd and
^^ixTy-four pages;] tour luuidriMl pages more that lit>
Itas written : [t]u!re are only ono Iiundrod pagos uunv : |
iuid tliat ho will sign an agi-ooniiMit to coin|th't(^ tho
lii^i.orv down to 1848, Soberanes returns to Cr'n-
eniur Alvarado, tells him that you consent, says

420

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

nothing of any conditions, tells him aU he has to do
is to come up and take his money, and brings him for
that purpose. Governor Alvarado comes to-day with
Scberanes; is first very much offended to find that
we have any part of his manuscripts, and considers it
almost an insult +o be asked to sign any agreement or
to give us any part of his manuscripts, which he says
are yet only in a very incomplete condition. He says
he will do nothing further in the matter. SobcraiiLs
declares that nothing was said betAv'een him and you
about any agreement whatever, but that you simply
consented to give the money. We did our best to
make the matter right with Governor Alvarado, but,
of course, in vain. He went away, not in an angry
mood, but evidently thinking himself ill-used. Sobor-
anes will make the matter worse by talking to him,
and making him and others believe that you wisli to
take advantage of Alvarado's poverty to get ten thou-
sand dollars' worth of history for a hundred dolkus.'

Although what Soberancs had reported was dclil)-
crate falsehood — it was about the hundredth tinio Ikj
had lied to and of mo — and although Alvarado had
acted like a demented old woman, and I had really no
further hope of getting anything out of hiui, I
ordered the hundred dollars paid, for I fully inteiidctl
from tlie first that he should have the money, aiul I
hoped that would be the end of the affair.

But alas! not so. For no sooner is the money
paid than up comes a letter from Lachryma Montis,
written by Cerruti the 23d of May, in which lie says:
"I regret very much that you should have given nn
order to pay one hundred dollars to Governor .\lva-
rado. I am willing that the ex-governor should receive
assistance at the present time, but not under the cir-
cumstances in which a gang of unscrupuh)us persons
have control of his actions and are using him tor the
purpose of putting a few coppers into thi'ir empty
pockets. I fear that your generosity toward Governor
Alvarado will interfere with the plans of Gtuieial

THE GREAT PURPOSE ACCOMPLISHED.

431

Yallejo, who a few days ago went to San Francisco
for the purpose of obtaining the documents in the
possession of Castro. That person made the general
a half promise to give to him his papers. But if he
happens to hear, as he surely will, that you have given
Governor Alvarado a hundred dollars, in all certainty
he will hold back his documents until he obtains a
sum of money for them. There are many people yet
wlio are in the possession of valuable documents.
Tliese persons in due time will be induced by General
Vallojo to come to the front and help you without
loiuuneration; but should they hear that you pay
money for documents they will hold back until they
;,'ot cash. No later than two days ago, when General
Vallojo was in the city, some Californians approached
him, and tried to convince him that he had better give
his manuscript to some publisher who would agree
ti) print the work immediately; furthermore they said
that it would be better to have his history come out
as a whole and not in driblets as quotations. The
general, who has a good share of sound sense, told
those persons that he would be highly pleased to be
quoted in your great work, as your history would
bo in future ages the great authority on Californian
mailers, while the history written by him would not
oariy an equal weight of conviction."

T should regard these details too trifling to give
them a place here, except as a specimen of every-day
occiiirences during my efforts to obtain from the
Hispano-Californians what they know of themselves.
])V allowinj; Alvarado's affairs to rest awliih^ the
testy old governor was happily brought to see the true
^vay, and to walk therein. He came up nobly in the
•■ml and gave a full history of California, written
hy Cerruti in Spanish, in five largo volumes, wliich
IS second only in importance as original material to
Aailejo's history. Part of the transcribing was jier-
forniod by Cerruti at San Pablo, but as I before
remarked Alvarado dictated the most of his history

422

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

I ;
1 '

in San Francisco. It was written anew from the
beginning. The governor's manuscript notes formed
the basis of the complete history, the notes being de-
stroyed as fast as the history was written, lest they
should some time fall into wrong hands. This was tlie
Italian's precaution. Taking it altogether, Alvarado's
history cost me much time, patience, and money; but
I never regretted the expenditure.

Frequently about this time I invited Alvarade,
Vallcjo, and Cerruti to dine with me at the Maisoii
Doree, and general good feeling prevailed. Amoni,^
other things with which the Hispano-Californians were
pleased was an article entitled The Manifest Destunj
of California, which I contributed to the Sacramento
Reccnxl- Union, and which was translated and published
in a Spanish journal. " We have fallen into good hands, '
at last said Governor Alvarado ; and Castro promiseil
unqualitiedly everything he had. But this was while
their hearts were warm with my champagne; the next
day, perhaps, they felt differently. In writing tliu
article I had not the remotest idea of pleasing any
one, and had never even thought of the Californians:
but it happened that they were kind enough to like
it, and this was fortunate, for it greatly assisted me in
obtaining material.

It seemed impossible all at once to sever my con-
nection with Soberanes, the follow had so woven
himself into the relations of the library with native
Caliibrnians, but in due time I managed to get rid of
him. xVfter General Vallejo had presented his doeu-
ments to the library, Soberanes asserted that tlieit
were many papers in other hands which he could efet
to copy. He was encouraged to do so, though Cer
ruti was jealous of him from the first. Soberanes
did, indeed, obtain many documents, some of wliicli
he copied, and others were given outright to the
library.

Before he spent the six weeks with Manuel Castro
he had obtained papers from him to copy. Castro at

CASTRO'S LOFTY TUMBLING.

423

firht required Oak to give him a receipt for tliese
papers, but seeing that our enthusiasm in his affairs
Ix^j^an to decline, he followed the example of General
A^allcjo, and gave them outright to the library. This
fii'st instalment of Castro's papers was bound in
two volumes. The copies of some of them, which
Sobcranes had made, Castro borrowed to use in court.

Soberancs then obtained more documents from
Castro, and some from other sources, portions of which
were loaned for copying and part given outright. It
seemed the object of both Castro and Soberanes to
make the information and material of the former cost
me as much as possible. It was when Soberanes
(iiuld get no more papers from Castro that he induced
liini to dictate. While this dictation was in progress,
• very few days Soberanes would bring to tlie library
portions of what he had written, but would carry it
iiway with him again, on the pretext that it way iv-
(|uired for reference. Some time after I had dosed
my relations with Soberanes, Castro sent to me one
IV'ua, who had done copying for me, saying tliat he
was now ready to continue his dictation. I told Pena
that I had had enough of such dictating; that if he
chose to run the risk he might write down whatever
( astro gave him and bring it to the Hbrary every
Saturday and receive in money its value, whatever
tliat niiii'lit be.

Meanwhile Cerruti, though heartily hating both
Sobisranes and Castro, did not lose sight of them, for
Manuel Castro and his documents were most important
to Iiistory. Always on the alert, Cerruti ascertained
one day that a box of papers was held by Castro's
liiKllord for room rent.

Ju September 1876 Castro, who was vice-presider^t
oi" the Junta Patridtica, was appointed one of a com-
mittee to collect money for the purpose of defraying
i\\o. expenses of the Jiesta on the glorious Sixteenth.
l>y some ill-luck the money so collected dropped out
of (Jastro's possession before it reached the object for

424

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

which it had been given. Indeed, Castro's pocket, as
a depository for current coin, was not as safe as the
bank of England.

This left Castro in a bad position. Had the money
been donated to defray the expenses of a funeral, and
failed in its object, the cry would not have been so
great; but for a festival, it was indeed calamitous.
As a matter of course Cerruti soon knew all about it,
knew that Castro had become bankrupt while carry-
ing the money he had collected for celebration pur-
poses, and that he must immediately restore it or
be forever disgraced among his countrymen.

Rushing round to the library, Cerruti saw Oak,
and expressed the belief that Castro would pledge his
documents for a little ready money, not alone those in
the hands of his landlord, which could be obtained bv
paying the rent arrears, but also others which wero
not in durance.

No matter how simple the transaction, Cerruti
could do little without bringing into requisition his
diplomatic powers, which were ever ovorflowiiij^.
Thinking that possibly Castro might be prejudiced
against the library, and might object to his papois
being where they would do so much good, Coriuti
told Castro that a friend of his on Market strott
would lend him the money he required, on the docu-
ments. This friend was not Bancroft; indeed, the
person was one opposed to the Bancrofts, that being
the chief reason of his willingness to lend the money,
so that the documents might not fall to the Ubrary.

The lie did good service. Castro's papers were «l< -
livered to Cerruti, who straightway took them to tlio
library and obtained the money. Under the circuni-
stancp« Mr Oak did not feel at liberty to examine tht!
documents or to take notes from them, tiiough Ik-
might easily have done so liad he been inclined. 11';
was satisfied for the present, and willing to await
further developments.

Nor had he long to wait. Castro soon required an

CASTRO CAPTURED.

425

additional sum, and this Oak would advance only on
condition that if the papers were redeemed he should
have the right to open the box and take such notes as
history required, without, however, retaining the orig-
inal papers or in any way injuring them. This per-
mission was granted. Wliether Cerruti now told
Castro in whose hands the papers were deposited is
not certain.

Mr Oak's way was now clear enough. First lie
took out all the information I required for California
history. Then, long after the time within which the
papers were to have been redeemed, he consulted an
attorney, that he might act within legal bounds, and
addressing a letter to Castro, informed him that the
papers were in his possession, subject to a claim for
the money advanced, and that altliough by law his
right in them was forfeited, yet, not wishing to take
any unfair advantage, he would allow him until tlie
following Saturday to redeem them.

Castro was furious, and talked loudly of having been
swindled; but no one was frightened. The fact in, we
liad lony since determined to leave no honorable means
untried to obtain those papers, and we were not now
(lisj)osed to stand upon ceremony with Castro, or to
go far out of our way to pacify him. The documents
and information in his possession, by every right of
lienor and decency belonged to the library. Not once
but twenty times he had promised them; not once but
several times I had given him money, and paid out
still more to others on his account. All he was hold-
ing back for was more money. I think he always
fully intended I should have his material; but if ther«
Mas money in it, he wanted it. Besides all this, Castro
had given much trouble in exciting other Californians
against me, telling them to hold back, and the money
would come in due time. As often as lie had money
to buy wine he would entice Alvarado from his work;
but at such times Cerruti was after him like a Scotch
terrier, and soon talked him into a state of penitence.

h )

ii-

426

ALVARADO AND CASTRO.

Furthermore, many of these documents Castro liad
obtained from different persons with the understand-
ing that they were to be given to the library.

In view of all this, when the Castro papers wcro
once fairly mine I cared little as to their form( r
owner's measure of love for me. I had them col-
lated and bound in five volumes, making seven in i\\[
from this source.

One thing more remained, for it was apparently
impossible for Manuel Castro to do good except upon
compulsion. The dictation for which I had paid, and
which was in truth my property wherever I could
find it, was still closely held by him. One day it
came to the knowledge of Mr Savage that Castro had
gone into the country, leaving all his papers in tlu!
hands of Felipe Fierro, editor of La Vox del Niievo
Mundo. Now Fierro was a stanch friend of the
library; and when Savage explained to him tlio
nature of our relations with Castro, and the trouble
we had had with him, and asked the editor the loan
of what was already our own, he could not refuse.
The dictation was copied, with many original docu-
ments, and returned to Fierro, that he might not
suffer through his kindness. Thus d droit ou a tori,
the gods being with us, the whole of this Philistine's
material fell into my hands. Several years later lie
endeavored to obtain money from me on the remnants,
and was surprised to learn tha,t his papeles had no
longer a market value.

Jose Ramon Pico furnished quite a little collection
of papers, some of which belonged originally to him ;
others he had collected from various sources. There
was no little difficulty in our dealings with many of
these men, who seemed most of the time to be in a
strait between their desire to figure in history and
a fear lest they should part too easily with what by
some possibility might bring them money.

With Alvarado, Cerruti labored in fear and trem-
bling. Writing me the 9th of February 1876, in

THE ESTUDILLO FAMILY.

427

answer to a request to attend to certain work, lie
wiicl: "Considering that I have promised to com-
plete the third volume of Alvarado's history within
eight days, I cannot possibly spare one moment i'or
other work, because Alvarado, who at present is in a
working mood, might change his mind at some future
time and leave his history incomplete."

Visiting San Leandro, he obtained the archives of
tlie Estudillo family, accompanied by a very cordial
letter from Mr J. M. Estudillo, who, in presenting
them, promised to search for more.

I cannot mention a hundredth part of the dictations
taken and the excursions made by Cerruti for docu-
ments. He was very active, as I have said, and very
successful. He loved to dart off in one direction and
thence telegraph me, then quickly transfer himself to
another spot and telegraph from there; in fact both
generals had a great fancy for telogray)hing. Often
(y'erruti wrote me a letter and then telegraphed me
that he had done so — that and nothing more.

. !

Il t

CHAPTER XVIII.

CLOSE OF THE CERRUTI-VALLEJO CAMPAIGN.

To gather in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy work.
His notes already nmilo a formidable range of volumes, but the croMTiing
task would be to condunso these voluminous still-accumulating results, and
bring them like the earlier vintage of Hippouratio books to fit a little shelf.

Oeorge Eliot.

For about two and a half years generals Cerruti
and Vallejo applied themselves to my work with a
devotion scarcely inferior to my own : the latter longer,
the former meanwhile with some assistance carrying
forward to completion the history by Alvarado.
Under the benign influence of the elder general, the
quick impatient temper of the Italian was so subdued
that he was at length kept almost continuously at
confining, plodding work, which secretly he abhorred.
He preferred revolutionizing Costa Rica to writing a
hundred-page dictation. Yet I am sure for my work
he entertained the highest respect, and for me true
personal regard.

But after all it was his affection for General Vallejo
which cemented him so long to this work. His es-
teem for the sage of Sonoma was unbounded; his
devotion was more than Boswellian; it approached
the saintly order. He would follow him to the ends
of the earth, cheerfully undertaking anything for
him; and almost before Vallejo's wish was expressed
Cerruti had it accomplished. Yet withal the Italian
never sank into the position of servant. He was iis
quick as ever to resent a fancied slight, and Vallejo
himself, in order to maintain his influence over him,
must needs humor many vagaries.

(438)

WRITING HISTORY.

429

It was not a little strange to see these two men,
so widely separated, both in their past actions and in
their present ambitions, fired by the home enthusiasm,
and that by reason of a conception which was not
theirs, and from which neither of them could hope
for any great or tangible personal benefit: and that it
should last so long was most remarkable of all. In
reality they continued until their work was finished ;
and although neither of them had been accustomed
to continuous application in any direction, they labored
as long and as diligently each day as natives of more
northern climes are wont to apply themselves. During
th;: years 1874-G the time of the two generals was
tlivided between Sonoma, San Francisco, and Monte-
rey, and in making divers excursions from these places.

No sooner was it known that General Vallejo was
writing history for me than he was besieged by an
army of applicants suddenly grown history- hungry.
[\\ a letter dated Sonoma, 8th of December 1874,
r'(>rrii^i says: "General Vallejo and I will go to the
<it> next week. Historical men, newspaper scribblers,
and all sorts of curious persons are daily addressing
Itittors to the general asking for information. He is
roally bothered to death. I enclose one of the peti-
tions so you may judge of the style of persecution he
is subject to. On hand one hundred pages of manu-
script which I consider very interesting. Mr Thomp-
son, of the Democrat, is in possession of a large amount
of useful information with reference to the Russian
settlements of Bodejja and Ross. He has been col-
looting material for ten years, during which time he
lias interviewed nearly sixty ancient settlers." Mr
Thompson very kindly placed at my disposal his entire
material. His sketches he had taken in short-hand/
and at my request he had the more important written
out and sent to me.

From Monterey the 6th of January 1875 General
Vallejo wrote as follows: "General (jerruti and I go

|5 5

480

CLOSE OF THE CERRUTI-VALLEJO CAMPAIGN.

on \\Titing and collecting documents for the history,
and since our arrival have written over one hundred
pages. We have many venerable documents, which I
have not yet looked over, for this dictating and nar-
rating rcniiniscences stupefies the memory. Moreover,
I have to give attention to visitors, who sometimes
occupy my time, but who are necessary when the
history of their days and mine is written, and whom
I need in order to keep my promise of aiding you. I
think you would do well to come down here; for
althoucfh there are no such living accommodations as
in San Francisco, lodgings are not wanting, and thus
you would change your routine of study life. Here
exist two barrels of old paj)ers belonging to Manuel
Castro, which I have not been able to obtain, because
it is intended to profit by them. However, if you
show yourself indiflcrent, it is probable that you
may obtain them at small expense — that is, provided
Hittell, or others who take an interest in old papers,
do not cross you. INIake use of a very Yankee policy,
and within two months you will be the possessor of
the richest collection in existence with reference t<>
upper California. In the archives of Salinas City,
of whieli my nephew has charge, many documents
exist. He Ims promised to do all in his power to aid
your uncK'rtaking."

An<l again the 10th of January he writes: "I hav<^
spent the day in inspecting a lot of very important
documents. These 1 can obtain for the purpose of
copying tlicni; but it would be well that you slionld
take a turn this way, in order to sec them and resolve
the matter, (jleneral Cerruti sfiys that they are very
important, but dc^es not desire to assume the responsi-
bility of copying them. In every way it seems to me
in acconlance with your interests that you exaniiii''
the matter in person."

The Hartnell j)npers were regarded as of great im-
portance, an<l General Vallejo could not rest until they
were secured for the librarN'. Hartnell was an Eng-

THE HARTNELL PAPERS.

431

lisliman, who had coino to Cahfornia at an early date,
had married an liija del j)ai>^, Teresa de la Guerra, by
whom he had been made twenty-five times a father.
l'\iiling as a merchant at Monterey, in company witli
the reverend Patrick Short he opened a boys' acad-
emy at El Alisal, his residence near tliat place. Ho
was appointed visitador genevcd de mmones by Gov-
ernor Alvarado, and after the arrival of the Americans
'vas for a time state interjjretcr. He was regarded b}'
many as the mo.st intelligent foreigner who up to that
lime had arrived on this shore. Applying to tlu^
w idow of Mr Hartnell, General Vallejo received tlu^
inllowing very welcome reply, under date of the r»th
of February: "Although most of the papers left by
J)on Guillermo have been lost, it may be that among
the few which I still preserve some niay be of use to
thee. But as to this thou canst know better than I;
|)i;i']iaps it were well that thou comest to see them.
The [)apers which I have are at thy disposal." The
collection of documents thus so modestly valued and
so cheerfully given proved to bo of great value, and
were duly bound and accredited to the former owner.
Hearing of a deposit of important pa))ers some
sixty miles from Monterey, the Gth of March Cicn-
"lal Vallejo sent Cerruti to secure them. Nine days
later Vallejo writes as follows: "To-day I send you
a trunk full of documents of very great historic value.
Do me the favor to eliarge your assistants not to o[.en
it before my return to San Francisco, for it is neces-
saiy ibr me to give certain explanations l)efor(j making
you a present of its contents. Howevei-, fi-om this
moment count on the documents as belon''in<'' to your-
self; and if I die upon the journey, make sucli dispo-
sition of the trunk and the papers which it cont;iins
as may soem good to you. The young man IJivi'ii,
whom in days past I reconmi ended to you, is, 1 heai",
given to drinking; but I also know that ho has many
ancient documents, a trunkful, which belonged to his
deceased grandfather, Ainza. It seems to me that

iiii

i
I'

I „

43:2

CLOSE OF THE CERRUTI-VALLEJO CAMPAIGN.

some diplomacy is necessary in order to secure them,
though he promised at San Francisco to give me
them."

Wherever he might be, Cerruti was unremitting in
his labors. The 29th of July he writes from Monterey :
"I enclose an article written in the Spanish language,
which I believe ought to be translated into Eiijrlisli.
I am certain it would do a groat deal of good. To-day
General Yallcyo has received a lot of documents from
Soledad."

And again the 3d of August: "Yesterday we heard
of the existence of a large collection of historical
documents." Being cntjaijjed in another direction, it
was resolved to send a third person in quest of thcsi-
papers immediately; and a few days later I received
intelligence : "The envoy of General Vallejo left to-tlay
for San Luis Obispo."

While the warmest friendship existed between the
two generals during the whole of their intercourse,
they were not without their little differences. Often
General Vallejo used to say to me: "Cerruti wishes
to hurry me, and I will not be hurried. Often he
solemnly assures me that INIr Bancroft will nf)t l>e
satisfied unless a certain number of pages are written
every week; and I ask him who is writing this history,
myself or Mr Bancrofts" On the other hand, Cerruti
in his more petulant moods frecjuently dropped words
of dissatisfaction. "You cannot conceive," he v. iit<s
me the 18th of August from Monterey, "how pleased
I shall be when the work is complete. It has caused
me many unhappy moments and many sacrifices nt'
pride." On a former occasion ho had complained:
"The parish priest of Monterey has brought to oui'
office the books of his parish. I could make a gond
many extracts from them, but I will not undertake
the task because I am in a very great hurry to leavi;
Monterey. I am heartily sick of the whole woik.
and I wish it was already finished. This town is like

FROM MISSION SAX JOSfi.

488

a convent of friars, and the sooner I leave it the
hotter. If I remain in it a month longer I will be-
come an old man. I see only okl i)e(>i)lo, converse as
to ilnys gone by. At my meals I eat history; my bed
is made of old documents, and I dream of the past.
Vet I would cheerfully for your sake stand the brunt
(if hard times were it not that your agents have
wounded me in my pride, the only vulnerable point in
my whole '^?ture." Thus cunning spends itself on
I'nlly! Thus follows that teed lam vitw which, like a
idcscope reversed, makes this world and its affairs
look insignificant enough!

The Italian was very ambitious to show results, and
fivqucntly complained that Vallejo insisted too much
on tearing up each day a portion of the manuscript
which had been written the day before. This ]>resent
iH'ort at Monterey lasted one month and two days,
during which time three hundred pag'S were com-
pleted. On the other hand, three months would
sometimes slip by with scarcely one hundred pages
wiitten.

In bringing from Santa Cruz two large carpet-bags
filled with documents collected in that vicinity, by
some means they were lost in landing at San Fran-
cisco. Vallejo was chagrined; Cerruti raved. The
stciunship company was informed that uidess the
papers were recovered the wheels of Californian
atlhirs would cease to revolve. The police were
iiotijied; searchers were sent out in every direction;
the otfer of a liberal reward was inserted in the
daily i)apers. Finally, after two days of agony, the
Inst documents were found and safely lodged in the
liliiary,

Notwithstanding he was at the time suffering fiom
serious illness, Jose de Jesus Vallejo, brother ol' (Gen-
eral N'allejo, gave me a very valual)le dictation of one
hundred and seventy-seven pages, taken at his resi-
dence at Mission San Jose, beguming the 1 3th of
Ainil and finishing on the 22d of June 1875. The

Lit. Inc. 28

III;

434

CLOSE OF TIIE CERRUTI-V.\LLEJO CAMP/IGN.

i :

author of tills contribution was born at San Josd in
1 71)8, and in his hitcr years was administrator of the
mission of that name.

"The priest of tliis mission," writes Cerruti tlio
1 Ith of April 1875, "the very reverend Fatlicr
Cassidy, has kindly loaned me the mission books.
They are seven in number. From six of them I will
make extracts. Number seven is very interestinn,
and according to my opinion ought to be copied in
full."

The next day Mr Oak wrote me from San Fran-
cisco — I was at Oakville at the time — "General Vall( jo
came to town the last of this week, summoned by a
teleijram stating that his brother was dying. J[c
and Cerruti imme<liately left for Mission San Jose.
Cerruti has been back once and reports great success
in LTcttiniif documents. The chief difficulty seems to
be to keep the general from killing his brother with
historical questionings. lie fears his brother may
die witliout tellinjj hun all he knows. Cerruti briii'>s
a book from the ]Mission which can be kept for coj)y-
ii\g. It seems of considerable importance. It will
nkdie some two weeks' work, and I have taken the
liberty to emjiloy Piiia, the best of the old hands, to
do the work."

Again, on the 1 8th of April from Mission San Jose
Cerruti writes: "Besides the dictation, I have on
hand n)any tlocuments and old books. 1 am told ihat
in the vicinity of the Mission are to be found nuiiiy
old residents who have documents, but I al)staiu Iroiii
going after them because the ti'avelling expenses arc
very high, and not having seen the documents I laii-
not judge whether they are worth the expense. Aiii< mi;'
others, tliey say that at the ]\Iilpitas rancho lives a
native Call fornian, called Crisostomo Galindo, who is
one hundred and three years old, and is supposed lo
bo the possessor of documents. Shall I go to sec
him?" A week later he says: "The dictation of i ) ni
Jos<5 do Jesus Vallejo is progressing a great 'Iral

lii f

THE LARKTX POrUMRNTS.

4r>j

faster than T liad anticipated. I liav^e been with liini
seven days and liave already on hand seventy pages ot'
nearly three hundred words each."

Thomas O. Larkin was United States consul at
]\iiinterey when (California ft>ll into the hands of
llie United States; he was then made naval agent.
]}oi h at Charlestown, Massachusetts, in 1802, he (^ame
liithei- in 18;V2 as supercargo of a Boston trading
\essel, and was sul)se(piently quite successful as gen-
eral merchant and exporter of luml)er. ][e made the
iiindels for the first double-geared wheat-mill at ]\[oii-
leioy at a time when only ship-cai-penters could be
i'liuiid there. Wishing to take a wife, and as a prot-
estant being outside the pale of catholic matrimony,
lie went with the lady on board a vessel on tlu)
( 'alit'ornian coast, and was married under the United
States flag by ,T. C Jones, then United States consul
at the Hawaiian Islands.

In IStf) President Polk commissioned hiin to sound
t!ie Califoi-nians as to changi^ of ilag, and during the
y 'aj- following he was active in his exertions to seeure
('alil'ornia to the United States; and for his fidehty
and zeal in these and other matters he received the
thanks of the president.

Into the hands of such a man as ]\tr Larkin during
the eoiirse of these vears naturally would fall manv
important ]xjpei's, and Ave should expect him to l»e
|Hissessed of sutticient intelligence to a])preciate their
\ ahie and to preserve them. Nor are we disa[)|)(tinte(l.
At his (k'ath Mr Larkin left a lai'ge and veiy valii-
aiile mass of <locuments, besides a complete I'eeord of
Ims otheial corj'espondenc(> from IS44 to IS-l!>. I'his
It I .trd comprised two very large folio volumes, after-
ward hound in one.

( 'hai'les n. Sawyer, attornev for certain of the
heirs of Thomas (). J^arkin, and always a warm IVi( nd
<it' the librarv, Hrst called mv attention to the ex-
isteiice of these most important archives. He had

' !«

;!j^l

436

CLOSE OF THE CERRUTI-VALLE.JO CAMPAIGN".

1,1

^^1

inado copies of a few of them selected for tliut pur-
pose, and the blank-book in which such selections Ii.id
been transcribed Mr Sa\vye-r kindly presented. Mr
Jjarkin's papers, he assured me, would be most (llili-
(;ult to obtain, even should the heirs be inclined to
part with them, since one was at the east and another
too ill to be seen.

Accom])anied by Cerruti, I called on !Mr Alfred
Larkin, one of the sons, whose office was tlien on
^[ei'chant street. I was received by !Mr Larkin in
the jnost cordial manner. The papers, he said, wen;
be3'on(l his control. He would use his best endeavors
to have them ])laced in my hands. As tlu' i-esult nt"
this interview I secured the record books, than whidi
nothing could be more important in the history of
that epoch.

Some time passed before anything further -was ac-
complished, but in the mean time I never lost sight
of the matter. These papej-s should be plactMl on my
shelves as a check on the Alvarado and A^allejo tes-
timony. At length I learned that Mr Sampson Tanis,
a verv intelligent and accomplished o'lmtleman who
had marrit>d a daughter of Mr Larkiji, had full jios-
scssion and control of all the Larkin archives. .( It)^t
no time in presenting my re(juest, and was st'('ond( d
in my efforts by several friends. The result was that
with rare and most commendable liberality ^Ir Tutus
presented mo with the entire collection, which now
stands upon the shelves of my library in the form of
nine large volumes.

While engaged in my behalf at Monterey, G'li-
oral Vallejo's enthusiasm often waxed so warm as
almost to carry him away. Shortly l)ef<)re the sus-
pension of the bank of California he had thought
seriously of going south on a literary mission. "• I
have hopes of getting together many ancient dotii
ments from persons at Los Angeles who have promisiil
to aid me," he writes the i;}th of July; and again,
the 27th of August: *' I assure you that two or tlnvo

VALLEJOS KXTHUSIASM.

437

w oeks sinco I resolved upon tlie journey to San Dieijo,
stopping at all the missions. This I had rosolvrd io
(1m at my own pr()[)er cost, uitliout your beiii^' oMinod
In spend more money; for to me it would be a great
jilcasure to give this additional ]>roof of the interest
1 tid^e in your iinat work. Until vi,'sfi'i'da\' sudi
■\\;is my intention; l)ut this morning I find mysrif
nhligt'd t> abandon it, on account of the I'aihne (»f the
hiiiik of Cardbi-nia, wliieh renders it necessar}' Ibr
iiif to return to San Francisco in order to aj-range
my iill'aiis. 1 liave endeavored to j)ei-suade Ceriiiti
til undeitakc the journey, I furnishing him with
1. (it is of introduction to all my friends, l^ut he lias
ivfiisi'd to venture into deep water, until tlie condu-
>-\n]i of the I/isforlo. do diliforn'm which I am dictating.
1 know that Cerruti always desires to avoid expense
without some corrcsponchng benefit to yiturstlf."

Thr oiiginal ])roposal was for (;}eneral Valhjo to
I'iiiig ]iis history down to tlie year 184(5, the en<l
I r ^b'\i(•an domination in California. Writing from
Moiiterrv tlie 'J"tli of Auuust he savs: "]>\tlu' ;>d of
Si]it('mbi.'r I shall have iinished the fourth Aolunm
nl the llistorid de California ; that is to say, tlu' whoh.'
lii>toiy down to 184(1, the date which I proposod as
ii-^ termination, at the time when, yielding to your
t iilnaties, I undertook to write mv i'e(iollections of
1 lit' country. Uut in these latter days 1 have manau'ed
1" interest (jreneral Frisbie and other im])ortant per-
s'WKigts actjuainted with events in Calilbrniu from
1^1'! to 1850, so that they agree to contribute! their
• ■"iitingent of light; and 1 havi- i-esolved to bring my
liistoiy down to this later date, in case y(»u should
<l''iii it necessary. It is my intention to go to
^ :!lijo, where in the course of (hire or four W(-eks
1 tiiist to be able to give the iinishing str<»ke to my
\V' lis, which I trust will merit the ajiiirubation of
Ni'Ursclf and other distinguished writers."

"1 have caused C'aj)tain ( 'avetano Juarez to come
to Luchiyma Montis, ' says General Vallejo in a letter

43S

CLOSE OF TTIE CERUUTI-VALLEJO CAMPAIGX.

■ I-

from Soiioiiui dated tho 4tli of Octobui-, "in order tlinf
lie uiiiy aid im; to wi-ite all which a|)|>ci"tains to the
tvil tloirigs of the 'Boars' in 184G-7. Ca[)taiii .Juan •'.,
who was a witness present at the time, and a Irulhlul
and uj)riglit m;in, and myself are eniL^a_L;*<'d in recallin ;•
all those deeds just as they occurred. What I ri Int.'
is very distinct from what has been hitherto puhlisJK il
l»y wj'iters who have di'sired to rej)resent as hei-oes
the men who rol>l)ed me and my countrymen of our
property. American autlujrs desire to excuse tlios!'
robbers with the [)retext that in some cases tlie '])e;ir'
captains o-ive receipts for the articles of which thry
took forcible jKissession; but as those receii)ts were
worthless, the Californians liaNc the rij^ht to say that
the ']>ears,' <»r a majoiity of them, were robbers."

War's alarum alwaj's threw the mei'curial a!i 1
niettlesome CeiTuti into a state of excitement, which
lose to the verge of frenzy when his old held of \r\-
olutionary failures was i\>y scene of action, llvw
rumors of war between Mexico and the United States,
which Averc of frequent occurrence, were usually Ion
much for his eijuanimity. I remember one iustaiici'
in [)articular, while he was writing at General X'all. jo's
dictation, in November 1875, news came of serious
tioubles in the south, and he gave nu: notice that lie
should be obliged to abandon his work and lly to lli''
lescue of something or to death. I re([uested \\illi j'*
to jtacify him, since he might not receive my opinion
in tlic matter as wholly disinterested. Shortly at'tci-
ward Ceri'uti ix-turned for a time to San Francisco, aii'I
(leneral Vallejo wr«)te him there. After a lengiliv
and llowery review of their labors as associates duiiii^'
the last year and a half, General Valkjo goc^s on to
say: "I have heard that tho noise made by the press
in relation to tho annexation of Mexico to tho United
States has made a deep impression upon you, and
that you contemplate going to soo tho world in thoso
legions. Believe mo, general, el ruidu cs mas que /">'
■naeccs. If, as is said, it were certain that war be-

A MIGHTY MANUSCRIPT.

twccn tlio two republics is about to break out, tlieii
you mii^ht ^o forth in search ol' adventures, but not
otherwise. Under such circunistanees Jlexico would
play the rule ot" the smaller tish, and the eonso(|Uen('e
would be that manifest destiny would absoib Chi-
huahua and Sonora. It is necessary to wait until
what is ])assing in the lofty regions of diplomacy be
thsclosed. ^ly oj)ini()n is that you should wait."
A'alleio's arLjuments were convincin*'': Cerruti aban-
(loned his projttct. The j^^jueral concludes his letter
as follows: "To-morrow J. shall k-ave for 8an Fran-
cisco to SCO you, and if possible we will <j;o to
llealdsbui'LT. I believe that there we shall harvest
the ])apers of ]Mrs Fitch, and obtain from her a very
i^'ood narration concerning San Diego uiattei's, its
siege by the Californians, the imprisiMunent of ('a[>-
taiii Fitch, ]}andini, and others." General N'alli'jo
came down as he ]>roposed; the breast of the hero
of i)olivian revolutions was rpiict; the two generals
proceeded to Ilealdsburg, and a thick volume of doi'U-
niciits lettered as the archives of the Fitch family was
thereby secured to the library.

Tlie history by (ji-eneial Vallejo being an accom-
plished fact, the next thing in order was its ])resenta-
iion to the library. This was done, of necessity,
with a great ilourish of trumpets. First came to mo
a letter which I translate as follows:

"LACiinYiMA Montis, NovemWr Hi, ls7.'».
"UnnF.RT II. B N'CROFT, Esq.:

^' Etilvciiicd Fritiid: Years ago, at the nrj,'cnt rcfiucHt of many Calit'oniiaiis
who (U'siri'il to sec the deeds of tlieir ancestors convctly f raiLsmittt'd i.i
jHistirity, I iindiTtook tlie pleasant thon^li aidiioiis task of recording my
native country's history from the date of its .settlement liy ]*:ui'oi)eans to the
}i:u- jS.'iO, when our tjalifornia became a state in tiie American union.

"Fortune, however, did not smile ui)on my umlertakiTi;,', since my maim-
Kiii|>t, the result of Ion;,' and careful lalior, was destroyed liy the llames that
on the l.'Uh day of April 1807 consumed my residence at Sonoma.

"Two years ago, impelled liy the same motives, with undiminished en-
thusiasm for the work, and with a higher idi^a than ever of its importance, I
decided to recommence my task. I was aware that a soldier narrating events
ill which he has ligured oa a proniiucut actor, does so ut the risk of having

liirll

440

CLOSE OF THE CERRUTIVALLEJO CAMPAIGN.

Ilia impartiality questioned by sniric ; and what made mc Htill more diffident
was tlie conviction tiiut tiic work ttliould have lieen dtine liy others among th»!
uativd Californianu more competent to disciiargo it in a Hutitifactory manner;
but noticing no dispottition on the part of any of them to tuiio tlio duty otl" my
liands, I clicerfuUy, though with aomu miiigivingM tm to my uucces.s, UHsumed it.

"Tlic memoranda of my resixicted father, Don Iguacio Vall»'jo, who canu:
to California in 177-, for early historical events, together witli my own recol-
lections and notes, as well as documents and data kindly furnished by wortiiy
cooperators, have enabled me to do justice, as I hope, to so important a subject,

"Friends have atbichcd, perhaps, an exaggerated vilue to the result of my
eflbrts, the manuscript not liaving as yet fallen under tiie eyes of critics wiio
would pronounce upon its merits uninfluenced by friendship for the authoi'.
T am convinced, however, that I have avoided the prejudices so apt to bins
the soldier wlio gives a narrative of his own career, and fairly represented tiie
actions and motives of my countrymen.

"Though I held, during many years, a prominent position in California, I
deemed it proper to )nuntion my acts only when I could not possibly avoid it.

"Personal disputes and petty differences among my countrymen in tlic
early times, and with Anglo-Americans in later years, I have touched upon
as lightly as is consistent with historical accuracy. I have no wisli to con-
tribute to the revival of any national, religious, or personal prejudice; and it
is no part of my I'ylan either to flatter friends or abuse enemies.

"I had at first, my friend, intended to give my labors to the world in my
own name, but liaving noticed with mucli satisfaction the ability and exact-
ness displayed in your work, T/ic Natiue. liucc/i of the I'ucijic Slutis, I conclude J
to place my live volumes of manuscrii)ts at your disposal, to use as you may
deem best, eoiilident that you will present to us a complete and impartial
history (jf California, having at your command the data and documents fur-
nished you by the best informed native Californiana, in addition to all tliat
printed works and public and private archives can supply.

"Your work will bo accepted by the world, which already knows you fur
a trustworthy writer, as a reliable and complete history of my native liiul.
Mine, however favorably received, would perhaps be looked upon as gi\ iiig,
on many points, only M. (!. Vallejo's version.

"I think I may safely aasert that the most enlightened and patriotic por-
tion of tiie native Californians will cheerfully place their country's fair fame
ill your hands, confident that you will do it justice.

"In this trust they are joined by their humblo foUow-countrymau and
your sincere friend,

"M. G. Vallejo."

To this I made reply in the following words :

"S.AN Francisco, November 26, 187.").
"My Dear General:

"I have carefully examined the five large manuscript volumes upon whieli
you have been occupied for the past two years, and which you have so gener-
ously placed at my disposal.

LEITER OF ACCEPT AXCE.

441

"In the name of the people of California, those now living anil those who
bIi.'iII come after tis, ]M'niiit niu tu thauk you for your uoble cuntributiuii to
till' history of tiiis westuru laud.

"You have done for this uorth-weateni Bcction of the ancient Sixiuisho
AiiiiTic.'iii posscHsioiiM what Ovijdo, Las Canas, Toniuemuda, and other chrdii-
irlir-i i)f tiic /nr//c^ did for tlio New W^rld as known to them. You hiivo
8.i\'i'd from oblivion an iinnien»3 muss of material deeply iiitereHting to the
II inlcr anil of vital iniiwrtanct; to all lovers of exact knouludgo.

"Till' liiistory of your country logins, naturally, witii the expeditions
directed north-westward by Nuflo do liuzman in I3',i0, and the gradual occu-
|i.iti"ii, (luring two centuries and a quarter, of Nuova Qalicia, Nueva Vizcaya,
ur.il till' (.'alil'ornias.

"'I'iie deeds of (Ju/man, his companions, and hi", successors, the dissistrous
att(iM])ts of the great llcrnan Corttis to explore the I'acitic slioi'i.', and tlio
spiritual conquestrt of tlie new lands by the Company of .Je.-iu.s, are recuriled
ill .surviving fragments of secular and ecclesiastical archives, in the numerous
origin.-il i)aper.s of tlio .Jesuit missionaries, and in the standard works of sucli
aiitliiiis iis Moti Padilla, liibas, Alegre, Frejes, Arricivita, and Ite.-iumuiit,
or — oil IJaja California esi)e(;iaily — Venegas, Clavigero, Baegcrt, and one or
two anuiiymous autiiorities.

■'When the Franciscans so shrewdly gave up Baja California to the rival
oi'ilcr of .St iJominio, the prize which had fallen into their hands at the
ex|iiil.sion of the Jesuits in 17(>7, and took upon themselves, two years later,
the conversion of the northern bariiariaus, tlie records still received due
iittiiitiiiii from I'ailre .lunipero's zealous missionary band; and, thanks to the
ell'urts of I'adre Francisco I'alou, the most importiint of the dotiinients iiuiy
he consulted in print, together with a connected narrative in the same
aiitJiur'.s life of .Junipero Serra.

'•From the period embraced in Palou's writings down to the incorjiora-
tinii (if our state into the northern union, the world knows almost notliing of
<,'alif(iiiiiaii history, from Califoniiau sources. Hundreds of travellers frmn
ilillciciit lauds came to our shores, each of whom gave to the world tlie result
of lii.s observations during a visit or brief residence, the whole constituting a
iiKi.st valuable source of information. Most of these writers gave also an his-
t(jii( Nil sketch; a few read Palou's life of Serra, consulted some of the more
aot'i'ssible documents, in state or mission archives, and obtained fragment^ary
(liitu tVoiu native residents; the rest copied, with mutilations and omissions,
the Mdik of the few.

"All those sketches were superficial and incomplete; many were grossly
in.aicui'ate ; not a few were written with the intent, or at least willingness, to
tk'(.'(ive, in the interest of party, clique, or section. The olfici.al records of the
Aii^'li-American invasion and conquest were more complete and accurate, but
it iii('s( nted only one side where it were best to have both.

"1 desired to treat the subject in all its phases, impartially and exhaust-
ively ; of one tiling I felt the need above all others — of a history of >«pjinish
and Mexican (,'alifornia, including the Anglo-American invasion, written from
11 Hi paiio- American standpoint, by a native Californian of culture, pnjiiii-
iiiiit ;iiiioiig and respected by his countrymen, possessed of sound judgment,

442

CLOSE OF TIIK CERRUTIVALLFJO CAMPAIGJf.

II lilicral spirit, an cnthus<iiistic lovo for liis Buhject, and appieciation of iti
iiiiportaiR'c. 'I'luHij (puilitii'atioiiH, (Jencral, you liavn loii^ hfoii known to
posMt'.i.s in a iii;^h iK-;,'ri'o, an<l inuru fully tlian any otlier living man coultl
liuvc ilont! have you HUppliuil the pivs.sinj,' nwd to whicii I luivo alludod.

"In the contiucst of Altu California the inLsHionary and the Holdierniaii'lud
Bide liy side; hut the padres for the most jiart had the telling of tlic xtoiy,
and not unlikely claimed more than helontjeil to them of credit for HueccHS.

"Your respected father, Don Ignaeio Vallejo, educated for the cliinrli,
aliandoned a, diatastefid ecclesiastieal lifo when on its very threshold, insiiitn
of prospei;tive priestly honors, and came here to light the liattle of life wiili
the sword instead of the rosary. From tiio first he was identified with tlii)
interests of (.'alifornin, us M'ere his children after him; the two generatioin
einliraee all there is, save only three years, of our country's (innuls. Ymii-
father's memoranda, with the work of (iovernor Pedro Pages — the latter, l^r
the most part, descriptive rather than historical — ai'o nljout all wo have finin
a secular jioint of view on the earliest times; and they supply, besides, lun-^t
useful materials bearing on the later years of Spanish nilo down to tlio
time from whicli your own recollections date, in tho rule of the most worthy
Governor I'ablo Vicente de Sola.

"Foi-a period of thirty yoirs, from 1815 to 184o, yonrwork stands without
a rival among your predecessors in its completeness and interest; and I imili-
dently e.\[)ect to fiiul it as accurate as it is fascinating. Recording huiidn ils
of minor occurrences wholly unknown to previous writers, yo\i also devuto
cha|iterH to each leading event hitherto disposed of in a paragraph or a iki_'c.
To sjH'cify the points thus carefully recorded would bo to give kii n'yiuiii tho
aniuils of our atiiti;; snllice it to say that in your pages I find brought lait,
in comparatively brighter light than ever before, tho long continued stiiiL'^h)
a,'ainst aboriginal barbarism ; the operations of the unwelcome Russian cuiic
uists; Captain liouchard and his insurgent band at Monterey in 181S; news
of the Mexican independence in 18'J'J, and its efl'eet in California; the chiinuo
from impei'ial to constitutional government in 18'24; opposition of the pinlni
to republicanism ; end of the pastoral and inauguration of the revolutioii^ny
period; California as a Mexican penal colony; tho revolts of Herreia :iim1
Solis in ]8'J8-0; tho varying policy in Mexico and California on .'sciulai--
i/ation; overthrow of Governor Victoria, and tho exile of unmauagcihlo
padres; the colonization 'grab' of Hijar and I'udriKi, defeated by (luviinnr
Figueroa in IS.'io, and saving of the missions for other hands to i)luniU'r; ion-
•juests on the northern frontier by Alfi'rez Vallejo and Prince .Sohiiio; ili's
uprising of Californian federalists against Mexican centralism, and the th w ii-
fall of governors Cliico and Gutierrez ; the rule of Governor Juan B. Alvaiiiilo
and General M. G. Vallejo from 1830 to 1842; rebellion of the south, :ii]'l
long continued strife between the Arribenos and Aliajeflos; the gradual in-
crease of overland immigration; aiul, linally, the varied events of a still later
period. From 184G to 18o0 your work is brought more into comparison " ish
others — a comparison which, I doubt not, will serve only more full to cuiihnu
tho value of the whole as an authentic source of knowledge.

"The above is but a nmtilnted skeleton of the living historic body en atd
by your pen. It la not, however, as a record of dry facts, of tho successiuu

I
I

SOIMARY OF CONTENTS.

443

uf niliTs, of victoricH over iwolting malcontents or gr ntilc Tndinna, of tlio
nets of j)iil)li<' otliciiils, that joiir writings iniprcsH ini' iik liaviii;,' their liijiliest
valuu; but rather us iiicturts of early Calit'ornian life uiitl eliuracter. 'I'ho
fiiiu;ti()ns of tho skeleton's larger hones are not more iinportant hut rather
|f«s intcristing than those of the eijniiilioateil net-work of veins, nerves, aiiil
inori' ilelicato oryaiis which give .symmetry and life to the hoily. 1 notewitli
jjlcasuro your cviili-iit appreciation of tho truo historical spirit, which no
lipii;.;«'r ignores tlu! masses to ilescril)c thu coniinonplace acts of rulers. Tliis
ii|i|prcciation i.i clearly shown in tho vivid pictures you present of life amon;^
ill! classes. Rich and poor, oflicial and private, secular ai-.d religious, jiudrc,
nei>iiiiyte, ancl gentile; soldier, sailor, merchant, and timug;;lcr; tho wealt'iy
hwi mlailo and humble rmifhero; aristocrat and plebeian — all appear to tlu!
\ ii'u- as tiicy lived and acted in tho primitive prc-gringo times. Besides your
ilclineacions of tho mission, presidio, and pucMo systems; of secularixiitiou
schemes; of agricultural, cuinmercial, and in<lustriul resources; of political,
judicial, and educational institutions, wu have in a lighter vein charming
rei'olkctions of school-boy days ; popular diversions of young and old ; the in-
door music, dancing, and feasting, and tho out-door picnic, race, and bull-linht ;
icremonial displays under church auspices, and oHicial rccei»tions of high dig-
nitaries or welcome visitors from abroad; care of tho church for the weltaro
and morality of tho people, homo customs, interesting incidents of social life.
Weddings, elupinnents, and ludicrous practical jokes— tho whole constituting
a most masterly picture, which no foreigner has ever equalled or ever could
(■inal; a view from tiie interior which none could paint save an artist-actor
ill tlie scenes i>ortriiyed.

" I have to thank you not only for this most valuable and timely gift, but
fur .'-1)1110 fifty large f'jliij voNtmcs of original papers to voucii for or corrcrt
wliat you have written, as well ns for your generous interest in tho task [
have undertaken, and your inllucnce among your countrymen in my behalf. I
have l«'en able to procure many other original narratives, written by native
Califurnians and old residents — less exhaustive than your own contribution,
but still very important — together with thousands of documents from family
Jiiciiives; and my store of material is daily augmenting. I am grateful for
the conlidinc(! with which you and other distinguished CalifornLms iiiti list
to 111'! the task of transmitting to coming geuirations tho deeds of your-
selves and your fathers, and I accept the task with a full realization of tlio
resiHiiisiliilities incurred. Mj' purpose is to write a complete, accurate, and
iiii|i.irtiiil history of California. With access practically to all that has beiii
M ritten on tho subject by natives or by foreigners, and to nil the papei's of
]iiililie and private archives, I expect to sncceed. In case of such success, to
iiciiie of tlic many who have aided or may aiil in my work shall I bo placeil
uuiier greater obligations, General, and to none shall I ever more cheerfully
ui-kiiowlcdge my indebtedness, than to yourself.

"Very sincerely, Hubert II. Bancroit:."

This corrcsponclcuco was published at tlio time in all
< 1 H ■ kadinn; iouriials, of various laniruat>es: after wliicli
lliu sun moved ou iu its accustomed course.

CLOSE OF THE CERRUTI VALLEJO CAMPAIGN.

On the 9tli of October, 1870, at Sonoma, Eniiquo
CeiTuti killed himself. I was east at the time, and the
jjiiinful inti'llij^xiiee was sent me hy CJeneral Vallejd.
The cause of this deplorable act was losses in niininL,'
stocks. For a year ])ast he had been gamblinn' in
these in-seeurities, and during the latter part of this
time he was much demoralized. The disgrace atteiiil
ing failures \vas beyond his endurance, lie could be
brave anywhei'e but thej'e; 1)ut heroes make wry laces
over the toothache, and philosophers gi'oan as loudK
as others when ti'oubled with }>ains in the liver, lie
%vlio is tivuKpiilli/ed by a tempest or a war-truiiiint
quails before the invocation of his own thoughts.

When J left S;m Francisco in June he atteudi'd ine
to the jerry, and was outwardly in his usual health
and spii'its. lie continued his work at the liliiui y
only a i'rw weeks al'ter my de[)arture, so that win ii
he died Ik; ha<l not been in my sei'vice for three
months; indi-ed, so nervous and eccentric had becinue
his bi'ain by his speculations that for some tinu' past
he had been totally unlit for literary labor.

Ho wrote me for two th(»usand dollars; but his
li'tt(>r lay in Xew York while ] was a,l>sent in the
AVhite mountains, and I did not re"ei\(' it till too
late. The amount he asked foi'. howevc'r, evrii if I
had been in time with it, would not lia\-e saved hiin.
for \io owed, as was afterwar<l estimated, from lift' rii
to twent}' thousand dollars, lie had bori'owed this
money iVom his friends, and had lost it ; and his i;ia-
bilitv to pav well niiih maddened him. lie talked of
►suicide for six months previous, but no attention was
paid to his threats. Just l»efore leaving for Sonoma he
l)ade all I'arewell for the last time; some laughed at
liim, otluMs olfered to bet with him that he would not
do it; no one believed him. He had (piarrelled and
made j)eace alternati'ly with I'very |ierson in the H-
brary ; he had denounced every tViend he had, one aft. r
the othei', as the cause of his ruin. Then again it was
his fate; he had been so cursed from childhood, llow-

F.VREWELL CERRUTI 1

44S

ever, death slioukl balanro all aroonnts, and swallow
;ill dishonor; thonnjh his friends taiU'd to peroeivc how
;i rliiwn ac^ainst a dead Cerruti was better than a claim
iij,.iiiist n live one. () man! J*assin>j; the ('//(/ jiro vita,
i> till' I'est nothiiiij^ hut j)i-otojilasni {

\\'liy he selected Sonoma as the point of his final
(1( parture no one knows, unless it was for dramatic
otl'cet. He was a lover of notorietv; and a tragic
net would comiiiaiid more attention there than in a
1,1 r^e city. Then there were the Vallejos, his dearest
IViends — he mi;4ht have chost^n to he hnri. d near
tliiiii. (iun)>owder, too, on(> would hav«! tlioun'ht
111 ;iier akin to his taste than drui^s. He was fully
('irierniiiHMl to die, lor, laudajunn failing', he resorted
tn strychnine. Awakened hy his jj^roans, th(> hotel
|ii'ii|tle sent for Mrs N'allejo, who tried to adniinisti'i'
ail .intidote, hut he refused to ivceive it. The coroner
tcle^raphed the firm, and Mr. Savage represented the
lihraiy at the burial.

Poor, dear Cerruti! If I had him back with mo
alive, r would not give him up for all Nevada's mines.
II i> i\-er wel<'ome pi-esence; his ever pleasing speech,
i:h\ ill its harndess bluster; his eve)' charming ways,
t'axiiiatiiig in tlnjir guileful simplicity, the far-reach-
wvj: round earth does not contain liis like. Alas,
Oiii-uttil with another I miLrht sav, I c(»uld hav«i
nt'tter lost a better man !

I'i

' H

*^ t,

111 ''

I !

CHAPTER XIX.

HOME.

There is no happiness in life^ there is no misery, like that growing out nf
the dispositions wliich consecrate or desecrate a lioint.

Chapiii.

I ALMOST despaired of ever liavin;:^ a home a^aiii.
I was ii^i-o willing souiewliat old for a young wife, and i
had no fancy for taking an old (tne. The risk on Ixitli
sides I I'clt to bo great. A Butfalo lady onct; wiotr
me: "All this time you niiglit ho making some one
person happy." I replied: "All this time 1 might In-
making two ])ersons miserable." And yet no our
realized more i'ully than myself that a happy marriagr
doubles the resources, and completes the being which
otlierwise fails in tlic i'ullest develo])ment of its intui-
tions and yearnings. Tlie twain are, in the natuiv
human, onu; each without loss gives what the other
lacks.

There were certain qualities I felt to be essential
not oidy to my lia]»|)in(>ss, hut to my continued littiai y
success. I was so constituted by nature that I cdulil
not endun; domestic iid'elicity. Little cared J ibr the
woi'ld, with its loves and hates. wheth(>r it rogardcd
me kindly, or not at all. I had a world within im'
whose good-^\ill I could connnand so long as 1 was at
peace with myself Jjiltle cared I ibr a scowl hiT* .
or an attack there; out among men I fV'lt myself ('(|iial
to cope witli any of them. J hit my home rmist hr 1h
me heaviMi or hell. There was no room in my in ad
for discord, nor in my heart for Ijitterness.

To write well, to do anything well, a light-intcu-

HUSBAXI) AND WIFE.

447

tinned liumnno man must be at peace with the one
iii'Mit'st liini. AFjinv a time in mv v<)un<>'(jr mai-ricd
lil'e lias a cross word, (hojiped upon lur I loved on
IcavinLj my liome in the moininuf, so haunted me whik;
iit my husiness, so huzzed ahout my ears, so lilmcd my
eves, and thumped up<»n the incrustment witliin which
1 had wrapped my heart, that I liavc iUuvj; down my
work, nrone hack and dispelled tlie oflenci^, after which
1 iiii'dit return unti'oui)led to mv husiness. I >rop into
the lieart a sweet woi-d, and it will perch itself and
ii\\\\X all the night long, and all tiie day; drop into tlui
lieart a sliarj) word, and, I'at-like, it will .scratch all
iniind, and gnaw, and gnaw, and gnaw!

Nothing so (piickly dissij)ated my ideas, and spoiled
;i <liiy for \\'.i\ as domestic disturhances. 1 IkkI h)ng
since accustomed myself to throw otf the ever |)i-e8ent
.'iiinoyances of husiness, even ]>lacing my literary peace
(if mind ahove the reach of the money-wranglers,
llul :!i niy home, where my whole heing was so di-
rectly <'oncerned, where all my synn)atliit's W(To
eiihsted and all my allections centi'ed, deiangenient
Were fatal.

Hence it was. as the years went, hv and I found
nuself <lav after dav alon(>, after exhaust ion liad driven
iiic from my wi'iting, that I )'egar(led less hopefully
my ehanci's of again having a home.

"1 will keep house for you," my daughter used to
say.

' But you will marry," was my reply.
"Tlien wo will live with you."
" I would not liave you."
'• Then you shall live with us."
" ' I's' I shall n(!vcr live with."
• fheii I shall not marry!"' was the conclusion com-
ineiily arrived at.

I liad sold my dwi'lling on California street for sev-
<r,il reasons. it was largi' and hurdensomc to ono
sitn.ited as I was ]Mueh of my time I wished to
^|i' ml out of the city, where 1 would he removed

§m

HOME.

t J

from constant interruption. As lonuf as T had a lioiise
I must futi-rtain c'oni])any. This I enjoyed wht-n tinio
was at my disposal; hut ih'ives, and dinners, iind late
liours (hssijtated hterary effort, and with so niudi
h( lori' nic to he done, an<l a score of men at mv h.iil;
whom I nnist keep (•mph)yed, I could take little
pleasuie in pastime which called me lon^ from the
lilti-ary.

My sr(\it fear of marrying was h'st I should fasten
to my side a jierson who would hurry me i>lf the
stai*'e hefore my task was done, or otherwise so con-
found nie that I never should he ahle to eom))lete iny
lahors. 'I'his an inconsiderate woman could accom-
plish in a variety of ways — as, for instance, l)y lack
of svmiiathv in mv labors; by inoj'dinate love of
]>leastn'e, which tinds in socii.'ty gossip its hiL;hest
oratilication; hy love of display, which leads to ex-
pensive li\inii-, !uid the like.

Xaturnlly shriidvin^' fi'om general society, and pre-
fei'i'ing hooks and solitud.> to noisy asseiuhlies, like
Eu)'ij>ides I was undoubtedly regarded by some as
sulky and morost;: yet I believe few ever I'cld hu-
manity in higher esteem or carried a kinder lieait f'^r
all men than \. "When a niari has great studies,'
says (Jeorge Eliot, "and is Vvriting a great work. hi>
must, of coui'se, give up seeing much of the world.
How can he go about makirig aci|naintances?"

Often had I been counselled to niarrv: but whom
should T marry? I must have one comjtetent, iimh
tally, to be a conipanion — one in whom my \\)'\\\A mi.Jit
rest while out oi' harness. Then th(.' aflV'ct on iiiii4
hnvo something to feed on, if one would not see ili-'
book-writer l>ecome a monstrosity and turn ail li;' ■
head. To keep a healthy mind in a healihy body lu •
intellectual toiler of all other men needs sympathy,
which shall be to him as tin- morning sun to the iVo^i-
stitfened ])lant. It i.^ not well to wholly uproot feelmg
oi' thrust atfection back upon tlie heart.

As the healthy body seeks food, so the heal'. Iiy

I ;

MIND AND MATRIMONY.

449

mind faints for friendship, and the healtliy heart for
|(»\f. Nor will love of Iriends and relatives aloni'
MilHcc. The solitary ))eii\!L,' sit(hs for its mate, its other
]^lindly, then, if we shut from our hreast the
scd li^lit of heaven, the tendrils of aifcction
stret<-h f(»rth oven though they encounter only the
«K;»d wall of buried ho})es.

Whom sliould I marry, then? Tlie question oft
Vi'iuated itself Do not all women delight in the
f.ipperies of fasliionable life more tliaii in wliat might
M<iii to them dry, fruitless toil? Whei'e should love
III' tumid of sueli transforming strength as t" meta-
raori<hose into ^Ee a female mind of fair intelligenei.-,
,iiiil endow its possessor with the same extravagant
uni]nisi;isni of which 1 was possessed?

NO; better a thousand times no wife at all tlian
one who should j)rovo unwilling to mid her sacrilice to
hiine for the aceomplishment of a high [>urpos<j; who
sliotild I'ail to see things as I saw tliem. or to mid<e
my iiiterest hers; wlio should not believe in nu- ;ind
iii my work witli her wiioie soul; who should not be
• oiitcnt to make my heart her home, and go with me
whi !('\('r duty seemed to call, or who could not ^ind
111 intellectual progress the highest ploasur(;.

l''or years my heart liiid lain a-rusting; now I
thought 1 might bring it out, clean and jjolish it, and
see if it miu'ht not bu as good as new. It had Im.mmi
i;itimatod by certain critics that I had allowed love ol'
lilAiMtur(.' to rival love of woman, jhit this was not
till'. I was ready at any tinu.' to many the woman
w ho sliould a[»j)ear to me in. the form of a dispensation.

A|.j)etite underlies all activity, in the absiMice of
■■i|'i>elne one juay rest. lfap{)y he whose intellert is
iie\er liungry. wliose soul is ever satisfied with its fail'
I'Mind fatness, and the sum of whos(> activities is con-
iiiied to I he body, to feed, grow, and re[)rodiice. iict
iiiiii (leli'jiit in the domestic sanctuaiy. Le't him go
toiili happily in tlu.' morning, and let him s<3nil to his

Lir. iNlV. 2»

4S0

HOME.

'{■

loved ones tlu'ir lioof and tuniijis, as tf)l\ons of affrc-
tioii. I^iito such it is j^ivcii <'\(i- to 1k' joyous, and to
disouisi; soir(»\v; but \vt not tlic uum of* loltiti- as|»ii;i-
tioiis seek rest ujiou this jilaiiet, lor lie shall not iiiid it.

In mirth nun are sincere; in sohriety hypoei-itic-il.
It is luhind the mask of j^i-avity that the fantasiir
tricks M'hich turn and <»vei'turn society ai'e ju'rlornp d.
J<»y is moi-e dillicult to counterfeit than sorroiv. We
may cloud the sun with smoked j^lass, hut we cannot,
dissij)ato the clouds with any telescope of human in^
vent ion.

"^I'he higher oi-der of literary character al)ov(> all

III)',

loN'es

^inij)lieity and a (juiet life; loves tr;

quillity oi' mind and a body IVee from })ain: liat*
interru]>tions. controversial wranujlings, and ])erMiiial
])uhlicity. '^rhiis it was with Scott, lJun-ald Stewart,
au'l a host of others. Not the least straiii^'e amoiin' tlie
contrarieties of human nature are ih(.' ichosyncrasjcs i,\'
authors. Why sliould men of *^eiiius so conunoiily lie
dissipatiKl, fjuarrelsonio, and void of connnon sense f
^Linds the wisest, the most <.'xalted, the most liiidv
struiiLX, si'em inse|»araii](' from some s|)ecies of madni ss.

Men ot';j,eiHUs usually m some duvctions are visionaiy
dreamers; ii» many directions they are ol'ten as iii-
jj^enuous as children, li'cewise as wayward and as petu-
lant. Xowonder women cannot emlurethem. Meanly
selfish, the wayward follies of childhood are intcn>i-
fied l>v the ituhhorn w ill of the man. ljik(^ the ever
chan^'inijj waters, now their (lis]tosition is as tlif <li'n*

ith exnu.site daintiness on e\< rv

ot moi'mnu' s

itti

}\>y w

(]U

ii'ii

Wtl) and ])etal, refreshinijj every leaf and llower, t!
hursthijj: forth in mercih^ ^i storm, heatin«i; on all it
loves and layini^ low its own. And yet tli<' moistm-f
is the same and eternally reviving': so that, wlirtlicr
the mood of these men is as the silent vajior or t!it|
ra!L,nni.;' sea, whethei' their speech is as the (h'oppiiiu "t
pearly dew or as the heating of the rain-storm, tlicir
min<ls arc an exhaustless ocean of life sustain in,;,'

iou<r

ht.

DOMESTIC INFELICITY.

451

The wIlV of u litDi'ury nuiii lias her own jjooullur
tmiildos, wliii'li tlic^ world knows not of. Much of
till' tinu' s]i(i is left alonu while lu-r hushand is huiidd
ill his studies. She craves more of his society, \)vv-
li;i|)s, than he feels ahle to give her; the theatre, the
"]Mia,and eveniuijf parties in a measure .she is ohliged
til loi'ego. When talking to her, his fipccch is not
iihAays pleasing. From seeming njoroseness he sonie-
ti)iK's darts oti" at the angle of an ahsurd idea, or
iiuhil<''es in a deluijfe of dialectics ui)on societv, l)oli-
tics, religioji, or any suhject which hap[)ens to fall
viiider his ohservation. Besides this he niav b(! at
times ncivous, fretful, whimsical, full of fault-fin<liiigs
ami unjust com)>laints ahout the very things to \\hich
slic has devoted her most cai'eful attention. ^^ hen
we considc!)- all this we cannot nuich wondi-r at tht.>
pinverbial domestic infelicities of authoi's. Lecky
iitliiMis that "no painter or novelist, who ^\■islu'd to
iji |ii(t an ideal of perh^ct haj)[)iness, would seek it in
a |iiiif(>und student."

What a I'atalogue tliey make, to ])e sure, taken
iihiiost at random. The n;ime ol" Xanthipj)e, w'i'j
I't' Socrates, has become a hywoi'd in history for a
^hivw. Jhit not e\'erv one is, like the jj'reat Athenian
>a_;('. possesscid of the jiliilosophy to ch(»ose a wife as
In would make choice of a I'estive horse, so that in
l-lii' nianagement of hei- he might learn the better to
iiiaiiMge mankind.

( 'i<<'ro, after thirty yeai's of niiinied lile, di\(>rced
T( r.iitia, his <larling, the delight of his eyes, and tin.'
hist of mothers, as he repeatedly called her. J)ante,
AllHit Diirer, ^[oliere, Scaligei', Steele, and Shake-
s|" are were unhap]»y in thfir wi\es. At the age of
• i'jlit years JJyron made love and rhymes to Maiy
I hill", at eleven to Miirgai'et l*arkei', and at filUt.n
t" Maiy Chawt)rtli. The last nanied ^lary refusing
li!)ii he Hnally married Anne Isabella Milbanke. A
}' ar (rf married life had hardly passed bc.'fore Lady

452

HOME.

''\

Byron was Iku'Ic in lior fatlK'r's liouso. TL' wIim
awoke ouv. M\()V\ui\<j; and f'onnd liiinsc^ll' fanious — sudi
is tlic; irony of faino — was nioKKcd by liis late adorns,
and soon qnittud ICni^dand forever. At V^cnico i\\\<
most licentious of poets met Tei'esa (Jaml)a, wife i>\'
Count (luiocioli, who kindly winked at a liaison Ix -
tween liis countess and tin; Kni^Tish lord.

Bni'iis made sad work of it; iirst falllncf in lii\,
with his harvestimjf companion, a hoimie swi'et lass (.f
fourteen, then faHinj^ out with .lean Arnioui", a rustic
heauty, leavini^ her twins to su]>]tort, next enL^a'^iii;!'
to marry Colonel ^ront<jfomei'y's d;iiry-mai<l, Miiiy
Cam[>ltell, her whom lie made imniortid as lliL,^h!;iinl
]\rarv, siMLriu''' of her as ^larv in llea\'en hefon' t!ie
nuptials wei-e consununated on earth, and linally vr-
tuiniiijj^ to his old love, Jean Armour, and marryiii.;
her — meanwhile so intem[)erato that, last of all. In
died of overmuch drink.

In tlu! J)owa!L^<'r Countess of Warwick, Addis'ii
fouii!! an unconu'enial wife, and spent the remaim!' i
of his life, as Whipple says, in taverns, duhs. .I'l I
re|tentance. The liady l^iizaheth 1 loward, dai!';ii' i'
of the earl of ]>e'rkshire, added nothinLj to tin- lia|'-
piiiess of Dryden, whom she married. IMoiitaiuin-
found mairied life trouhh>some; La l"\)ntaine desiitui
his wii'e; and Itousst'au went after strani^e t^'-odd ■ - r-^.

The refined Shelley separated from Harriet Wcst-
hroolc, th(> innkeepei-'s daUL^hter, two years after tliiir
mari'ia^e. It seems lu^ preferred to his Avife aip'tliu
woman, ]\fary (Jodwin, and al'ter li\in!jf witli lni I i
two years, his wife meanwhile kindly di-owninLi h''-
sclf, ho married his mistress; nt>t tiiat he regarded dir
mari'ia'jcc contract as hindiinj. or in anv wisi' necessai\ ,
hut because it would ^ive [)ieasuro to ^Fary. Alt i'
hreakint^ half a score of hearts, (Joetlie, Ix'forc li''
maiTJed luM", lived twenty-eii,dit years with tlie hii.lit-
eyed ufirl whom he had met in the pai'k at Weini.n'.

xVt the end of the honeymoon, Mary Powell l« It
John Milton, went back to her father's house, an*'

A rniCIIITFUL CATALOOUE.

4.-3

n ruscil t(» rutiini; tliouj^^li t\V(» yiars later a rcconcili-
ilinii Wits ctruetucl. Tliu \v\i'v of 'rJuu-kfi'iiy was om.!-
lakcM Ity Ji Ic'vcr jukI ])ul out to bo mii'se'd, while tho
lni'l)aii(l uiid two (laughters lixi-d with his iiiothi r.

Ila/litt, one of tho most luilliaiit of criti.s and
( !iii|iioiit of essayists, had a most inlelieitoiis matiiiiio-
iii.il experience. Jii l.SOS he marrii'd ^liss Stoddait.
.\ti<i' living with her some ten years, ho I'ell ci-azily
ill lovo with a tailor's daughter. So liei-eely l>ui'iii'd
lhi> llame that he; divoi'ced his wile, she nothing;- loath,
;iii(l threw himsilf at the loot ol" the maid, only (
lie icjectod. I'hen ho espoused a widow, Mrs Jirid^l
w.itci', who lot't him within a year al'ter marriage.

von uen

tie Charles Laml» hrt)l

vo a marna^o en-

l^'n^cinent, boeauso (<!" a. tendency to insanity in his
faiiiily, and on account ol' his sister, Maiy Lamb, w ho
killid her mother, and was obliued to bo coulined in a

liiiiat

l(t asylum peiiodlca

llv.

l'o]ie, who di\es dei'[) into the human heart and
lu.'ikes its inmost i-ecesses his lanuliar haunt, is so Ibol-
idi in his pr<ilessions ol" lo\(; I'oi' Lady Mary W'oi'tley
Mniitai4U that she laughs in his lace, thereby incurring
liis deadly ennut y Ibrever al'ter.

«' »■'

How nmch better it would bo for liteiriry men
l(j iiian-y as all nature marries, under direction of
till ir harmonies, and then I'est in their new relation>.
Tlici'e is no (piostion that an evi'iily balanced mind
• ;iii laltor more steadily, can do inoii! and better work,
uihld- the calm and well regidated freedom of the mar-
li.'i'^c state than when unsettled by I'eslless ci'avings.
I)Ut these men of genius seem to have married tluir
W(Hs instead of their pleasuriis.

he women in many instances seem to he no

bett

lliaii

10 men.
th

.t.n(

leed, tiu' wife lni.'f hlcu. (»ne badly

Hi. rtfd with cacoc

■jth

ic.s SCI I

luiiJ

^ IS a

bout

as mdo\

ill'!"' a woman as a female dot-tor. I'Y'licitous I'Vlicia

iiians, alter making her sicU captani veiy unhappy,

I'l liim go to Italy while slu; wont home; after whli'Ii
till \ n^-'Ner took the trouble to moot. Gooroo Sand,

494

HOME.

;■ I'i

fiiuliiig ]\fv with a hiisbjuid uiiendurablu, bco^nn ;i
SL'itanitioii hy takiii'jf licr (.'liiMroii to Paris ami tluiv
.s[H'ii(lin^ hall' the yaiv, the othor halt' being <)('cu|ii(il
ill the (iiiectioii <>t' diverce.

Divorce; alone did not satisfy Rosina Wheeler, witi

of Edward liulwer Lytton, but siie must publish books
iij^ainst her former liusband, and haran;j:ue jinuinst
him at the hustings when he stood for parliament
At i-aillng and ear))ing she outdid sleepy M<»niu>.
^fadame dc; Stael, if she hated not mai'riage, hated
tile iVuits of it. Said she of her ehildri'n: "Jls n^
me ressi'inbleiit l)as;" and of lier daughter, whom sin
all'tieted to despise: " ( "est une luiie bien |t;ile." 'riii>
talented lad V should Ikim.' lived anionu" tlu; ( 'liiiiesc,
who maintain that " the haj)[)iest motliei'of dangl.tei>
is she who has only sons;" just as Saint Paul thought
those best married who had no wives. Talents eease
t(t be beroming when they rentier a mother indilleieiit
or axeise to her otlspring.

Ihit there is this of .Nladame de Stael which may
be said in her favoi-: Her life, so I'ar as conjugal hap
piness was concerned, was a wreck, just as the life of
many another woman of intellect and culture ha-
ll-. U.nv

jeeii one long-drawn sigli tor companionship,
as is a life for society, and hard as is a life of alone
ness, either is j)i'eferable to the soul-slavery ot' a
woman tii'd to a coiiH)aiii()nless husl)and. (jreorgc
Eliot, the matcliless, the magnilicent — but we will
dro[) the curtain!

In this practical scientific age the subtlest scivix >■
is the science of self ^lan is possessed of many
vagaries; and of all occupations the writing of l>ook.s
is attended bv the most pains and whimsicalities.
Extraordinar}' strength in one direction is balaiicea
b}' extraordinary weakness in another; as a rule ynu
may tlebit a man with folly in proportion as ynii
credit him with wisdom.

Higher and better trained than any we are apt to

MORi; AnOUT WIVKS.

4:>r,

iiicct must l>o tlic intellect that finds in utility alone
ii siiilioiunt incentivu to well-doinijr. Evurv «l.iv uo
see men of educaticni wiltully trans;^n'essinj4', ivLfardless
nf consefinenees, while the i;L,'norant and superstitious,
under reli^-'ious fear, shun the evil that ( mis in disastei-.

.loaciuin .Milli;r admij'i'd l>vi'on. IJvron tre.'iled his
wile hadly; .roa((uin tn;atod his wile hadly. d(ia(|uiu
was satisfied that in no other way could he he JJyroii —
and Joafjuin was i-i^ht. In this res[)ect, as in every
other, alas I I may not lay claim to n'enius.

ThiiUL^h not unif'oi-mly t!ven-tenii)ered and amiahlo,
I <;inn<it say that I <l(;light in tornientin!^ my family.
M.iiiy times I have attemi)tcd it and failed. I lack tho
lurtitudi' to face tho conse<iucnces; 1 find defeat less
h.iiid'ul than victory. Twelve times uroaned J'^U'jcno
Aram ; his nnu'dert'd victim yiioaned hut twice. Man's
ihliumanitv, not Satan, is man's ereatest eneniv.

l)Ut while we Jointly ahlior those ahnormitios of
n- imis which tend to injustice and cruelty, let us not
r I'^et that uj'enlus is t-ccentric, an<l nowhere m<>re so
tli.iii in its I'l'lations with women. ( u!nius,to he j^'eiiius,
]i\\\4 he ii'i'e;^nilar. 1 [e who is cliarged witli the [

n )S-

sc-'^lon ot 'Jenuis, I

f h

m every respect iiUe vwry

tlik

eiiier man, uhvicnisly either lu; is noijjenius or else all
iiieii are men of genius. Therefore the Uien of sense
imist exercise their patience while the men of genius

iiiid;e idiots of themselv

es.

N'i>twithstandin<'- all that has boon said and written
iiiiicciiiinu- tlic domestic infelicities of authoi's, and
I'l iiie add of others, the one; thousandth part has not
li'i'ii toM. Only a few of th<! insani'r sort have conu;
t" tlie light. Of smothered wrongs and uidieralded

llMt

es;

.f tl

lornv marria<'\'

l)ed>

uid itoisoned comni

li\es wliicli have- nevi'r

oeen

re wiitten, the lihrari

es o

1
1.1;

f tl

l/.one(

I al

>;•( >a(i

le woi

Won

II' ds he douhletl. ^[iHions have thus lived and die<l,
ii'".('rth(less there have heen those so seemingly swept

"iiwaid hv the saturnine infl

that

escu[)e ap[iearec

see
uence ot mar
impossil

ital iufelici-

ind so wuiun

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

*- IIIIIM
«« IIIIM

2.2

2.0

1.8

1.25 1.4

1.6

M 6" -

►

r>7

'^.*;"
-%

-«^

Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

L1>^

^ 4

•is Ms>

^.%

<^ ^<° . "^P

4o6

HOME.

the month wo see tlic heart-broken Mrs Bluebeard
marrying the fascinating Captnin Blaekbeard.

In the eyes of Demosthenes two (jualilications only
were essential in a wife; she must be a faithful house-
guardian and a fruitful mother. But times ha\o
greatly changed since the days of Demosthenes: Irisli
servants are the house-guardians, and the best wiws
often those that are not mothers at all.

No one possessed of maidincss will marry a woman
for money. For uidess she voluntarily dispossesses
herself of her property, which no woman in h(;r senses
will do, and becomes a puppet in her husband's liands,
she is apt sooner or later to unloose the reins oi'
womanly decorum and to arrogate to herself not only
the management of her own alfairs but also hei' lius-
band's. As Juvenal wrote with the women of Ilonio
before him:

"Sure of all ills with wliicli mankind are curst
A ■\vifo who brmga you money is tlic worst."

To me the long catalogue of matrimonial infernal-
isms has no signiiicaace other than that of congi-atu-
lation at my escape from such loving woes. The
younger Pliny I will take for my text, and out-sweai-
him double upon his domestic ]ieacc. Hear him talk
of his Calpurnia: "Her intelligence is very great,
very great her frugality; in loving me she shows hnw
good a heart she has. And she has now a tundiiess
for letters, whicli springs from her affection for me.
Sh(^ keeps my books by her, loves to read them, cmh
learns them by heart. These things make me I'eel a
most certain hope that there will be a porpetual ami
ever growing harmony between us. For it is ii'it
youth or personal beauty that she loves in me — things
that by degrees decline with old age — but my fame. '

Her life was one continuous sparkle, like that ef
good wine whose s]Mrlt is innnortal. Her face \va<
as a lovely landscape, brightly serene, warmed by all-

FOUm) AT LAST.

467

molting sympathy, and lighted by the glow of intel-
lect. Her voice was like the laughing water; hei
lauijfh was rinLi'lng silver: and througli the st)ft azure
()[' her eye the eye of love might see an ocean of
alfection. Joyous was her approach, lighting with her
sunbeam smile the dismal recesses of rellection; and
hcaming beautiful as she was without, I found her,
as Aristotle says of Pythias, as lair and good witliin.
Beneath sweet and simple speech in wluch was
no sting, behind a childlike manner in wliich was no
childishness, there was revealed to me, day by day
as we walked and talked together, a full developed
womanly character, strong, deep, compreliensive. llal-
lying to my su})port with ever increasing mental
powers, by her ready aid and fond encouragement
she doubled my capabilities from tlie lirst. For no
loss in these, than in the good wife's tender trust, lies
the strong man's strength.

New Haven had been her home, and of the families
of that old vmiversity town jiers was among the most
rospected. It was there I lirst met her, and afterward
at Jjethlehem, the highest of New England villages.
Walking down the dustv road, we turned aside into
a, rockv field, crossing into a lane which led us to a
tangled wood, where, seated on a fallen tree, cacli spoke
the words to speak which we were there. It was the
12th of October, 1876, that I married ]Matilda Coley
♦ Jiitling; and from the day that she was mine, wher-
oviT h(!r sweet ])resence, there was my home.

There was no little risk on her ]iart, in thus com-
mitting the new wine of her love to an old bottle;
hut that risk she took, retained her fresh maidenly
mood unhackneyed, and never burst the coniine of
wifely courtesy.

it has been elsewhere intimated that no one is
<'oiii|)('tont to write a book who has not already
written several books. Tiie same observation might
he not inaitproj)riately api>lit'd to marriag(\ No man
— I will not say woman — is really in the fittest condi-

i68

HOME.

tion to marry who has not been married before. For
obvious reasons, a midclle-a<xed man oui^ht to make a
better husband than a very youn^" man. Ho lias had
more experience; he sliould know more, have better
coi.trol of himself, and bo better prepared to have
consideration for those dependent upon him for hap-
piness or support. The young man, particulaily one
who has not all his life enjoyed the noblest and best
of female society, does not always entertain the high-
est o})inion of woman, never having reached the finer
qualities of her mind and heart, and having no con-
ception of the superiority of her refined and gentle
nature over his own. Hence the inexperienced youth,
launched upon the untried ocean of matrimony, often
finds himself in the midst of storms which might have
been with ease avoided, had he been possessed of
greater tact or experience.

And the children which come later in the lives of
their parents — we might say, happy are they as coiii-
})ared with those who a])|)earcd before them. It is
safe to say that one half the children born into tJie
world die in infuncy through the ignorance or neghc t
of their })arents; and of the otlier half, their lives f^r
the most part are made miserable from the same
cause. The young husband and father chafes under
the new cares and anxieties incident to untried res[)()ii-
sibilitios which interfere with his comfort and pleasure,
and the child nmst suffer therefrom. Often a nuwly
married pair are not ready at once to welcome children ;
they are perhaps too much taken up with themselves
and the pleasures and pastimes of society. J^ater in
life parents are better prepared, more in the humor it
may be, more ready to find their chief pleasure in
welcoming to the world successive reproductions of
themselves, and watching the physical and mental
unfolding, and ministering to the comfort and joy of
the new and stranue little beincrs committed to tluiii.

There was little lack of sympathy between us, my
wife and me, little lack of heart, and head, and hand

THE NEW LIFE.

450

help. After the journeying incident to this new re-
lationship was over, and I once more s(;ttled at work,
all along down the days and years of future ploddings
[Kitiently by my side she sat, her face the picture of
lia[)[)3' contentment, assisting me with her quick appli-
cation and sound discrimination, making notes, sti.dv-
ing my ujanuscript, and erasing or altering such
repetitions and solecisms as crept into my work.

At White Sulphur s})rings, and Santa Cruz, where
we spent the following spring and summer, on the
hotel porches used to sit the feathery- brained womeu
of fashion from the cit}' — used there to sit and cackle,
cackle, cackle, all the morning, and all the evening,
while we were at our work; and I never before so
realized the advantage to woman of ennoblinu' occu-
|)ation. Why should she be the vain and trifling
tiling, intellectually^ that she generally is? How long
w ill those who call themselves ladies exercise their
iiiiluence to make work degi-ading, and only folly
fashional)le? At the Springs during this time there
was a talented woman of San Francisco, well known
in select circles, who had written a volume of really
beautiful poems, but who assured me she was ashamed
to })ublish it, on account of the damage it would be
to her socially; that is to say, her frivolous sisters
would tolerate no sense in her.

Ihii little cared we for any of them. We were
content; nay, more, we were very happy. liising
carl}' and breakfasting at eight o'clock, we devoted
the forenoon to work. After luncheon we walked, or
indo, or drove, usually until dinner, after which my
V, ite and daughter mingled with the com[)any, while
1 wrote often until ten or eleven o'clock. In this
wav I could averau'e ten hours a day; which, but for
llic extraordinary strength of my constitution, must
lie regarded twice as much as I should have done.

It was a great saving to me of time and strength,
this takinir niy work into the country. In constant
cuiinnunicatiou wuth the library, I could draw thence

4G0

HO!»IE.

daily such fi'csli material as I rc(]uirc(l, and as often
as necessary visit the library in })ers()n, and have
supervision of things there. Thus Avas my time
divided between the still solitude of the country and
the noisy solitude of the city.

Never in my life did I woik harder or accomplish
more than durin^,^ the years immediately succeed iii;^'
my marria^'e, while at the same time hotly and mind
grew stronger under the fortifying inlluences of hcjme.

For a year and more before my marriage I had
been under promise to my daughter to go east at tlie
close of her summer school term and accoinpanv her
to the centennial exhibition at Philadelphia. This
I did, leaving San Francisco the loth of June 187(!,
and taking her, with her two cousins and a young
lady friend, to the great world's show, thei'e to s])end
the first two weeks in July. Thence we all re-
turned to Xew Haven, During a previous visit east
I had met Miss Griffing, and I now determined tn
meet heroftener. After a few weeks in New IIa\(ii
I proceeded to Butialo; and thence, after a time, tn
the White mountains, whither Miss Griffing had
migrated for the summer.

Immediately after our mnrriage we went to New
York, Philadel[)hia, and Washington. ]\Iy newly
wedded pleasure did not, however, render me obh\-
ious to my historical aims. In New York 1 callctl
on General and Mrs Fremont. They were excird-
ingly gracious, realizing fully the importance of llu;
Morli. v>hicli I was doing, wished particularly to ho
placed right in history, whei'e they had always beni
under a cloud, they said, and promised their imnu-
diate and hearty cooperation; all of which was i<ll'^
Avind. Why cannot the soi-dlmnt great and good
always shame the devil?

I found Mrs Fremont a large, fine appearing, grn\ -
haired woman of sixty, perhaps, very animated and
shrewdly talkative, thoroughly engrossed in her hus-

SUXDRY VISITS.

461

band's scliomos, assisting liini now, as she has done for
twenty years, by planning and wi'iting for him. The
general appeared about sixty-five, slightly built, with
closely trimmed gray hair and beard.

From New York we went to Washington, and
saw ^lajor and !Mrs Powell, George Bancroi't, Judge
Field, ]\Ir Spolford, and many others. After a day at
^[ount Vernon we returned to Baltimore, there to
meet President Gilman, Brantz ]\Iayer, and other
friends. Thougli both of us had seen the exhibition,
as we supposed, we could not pass it by up(-)n the
present occasion, and accorcUngly spent a week in
Philadelphia.

With new interest j\Irs Bancroft now regarded
everything pertaining to the Paciiic coast. " The
Indian trappings in the government building," she
writes in her journal begun at this time, "the })hoto-
graplis of the IMound-builders and the Cave-dwellers,
the stone utensils and curiously decorated pottery of
the Pueblos, the glass photographs of views in Col-
orado and Ar-izona, so vividly displaying, with its
wild fascinations, the scenery of the west, all seemed
suddenly clothed in new charms."

I had Iou'j: desired a dictation from John A. Sutter.
Indeed, I regarded the information which he alono
could give as absolutely essential to my liistoiy, the
first, as he was, to settle in the valley of the Sacra-
mento, so near the spot where gold was first discov-
ered, and so prominent in those parts during the
wliole period of the Californian Inferno. I knew that
ho was somewhere in that vicinity, but I did not
know where. I telegraphed to San Francisco for
his address, and received in repl}^ ' Sitig, Lancaster
v'ouiity, Pennsylvania.' After some search I found the
'SitIg' to mean Litiz, and immediately telegraphed
both the operator and the postmaster. In due time
answer came that General Sutter resided there, and
A\'as at home.

Leaving Philadelphia in the morning, and passing

462

noMi

up tlio beautiful valley of the Schuylkill, wo readied
our (Icstinatiou about noon. Why this bold Swiss,
who for a dozen years or more was little less than
hini^ aiuonj^ the natives of the Sierra foothills, where
had been enacted the mad doinjjs of the i;okl-seekers,
why ho should leave this land of sunsliinc, evL-n
though he had been unfortunate, and hid»! himself in
a dismal Dutch town, was a mystery to me. Accident
seemed to have ruled him in it; accident directed
him thither to a Moravian school, as suitable in which
to i)lacc a granddaughter. This step led to the build-
ing of a house, and there ho at this time intended to
end his days. Well, no doubt heaven is as near l.,itiz
as California; but sure I am, the departure thence
is not so pleasant.

At the Litiz Springs hotel, directly opposite to
whicli stood General Sutter's two-story brick house,
we were told that the old gentleman was ill, unaljje
to receive visitors, and that it Avould be useless to
attempt to see him. There was one man, the barber,
who went every day to shave the general, who could
gain mo audience, if such a thing were possible. I
declined with thanks his distinguished services, ami
ordered dinner.

" I will go over and see his wife, at all events," I
said to the clerk.

" That will avail you nothing," was the reply; " she
is as deaf as an adder."

" Who else is there in the family?"

"A granddaughter."

That was sufficient. I did not propose to lose my
journey to Litiz, and what was more, this probably
my last opportunity for securing this important dicta-
tion. I was determined to see the general, if indeed ho
3'et breathed, and ascertain for myself how ill he was.

After knocking loudly at the portal three several
times, the door was slowly, silently opened a little
way, and the head of an old woman appeared at the
aperture.

STORMING SUTTER FORT.

4C3

"Is this Mm Sutter?" 1 asked.

No response,

"May 1 speak ^ith you a moment in the hall?"

Still no response, and no encouragement for me to
enter. There she stood, the guardian of, apparently,
as impregnable a fortress as ever was Fort Sutter in
its palmiest days. I must gain admission; retreat
now might be fatal. Stepping toward the small
()})ening as if there was no obstacle whatever' to
my entering, and as the door swung back a little at
my approach, I slipped into the hall.

Once within, no ogress was there. ]\Irs Sutter was
a tall, thin, intelligent Swiss, jilainly dressed, and
having a shawl thrown over her shoulders. Her
English was scarcely intelligible, but she easily un-
(li'istood me, and her deafness was not at all trouble-

some.

Handing her mv card, I asked to see General
Sutter. "I know he is ill," said I, "but I must see
him." Taking the card, she showed me into a back
])arlor and then withdrew. From Mrs Sutter's man-
ner, no less than from M-hat had been told me at tlie
liotel, I was extremely fearful that I had come too
late, and that all of history that house contained was
ill the fevered brain of a dying man.

But presently, to my great astonishment and delight,
tlie door opened, and the general himself entered at
a brisk pace. He appeared neither very old nor very
feo1)le. The chance for a history of Sutter Fort was
improving. He was rather below medium height,
and stout. His step was still firm, liis bearing sol-
dierly, and in his younger days he must have been a
nau of much endurance, with a remarkably fine phy-
s'']ue. His features were of the German cast, broad,
lull face, fairly intellectual forehead, with white hair,
Itald on the top of the head, white side whiskers,
mustache, and imperial; a deep, clear, earnest eye
niot yours truthfully. Seventy-five years, apparently,
sat upon him not heavily. He was suffering severely

:» m

4G4

HOME.

from rhenmatisin, and lie used a cane to assist liini in
M'alkini,^ about the liouse. lie complained of lailiig
niemni y, but I saw no indication of it in the live day.s'
dictating' wliicli f(jllowcd.

No one could bo in (leneral Sutter's presence long
without feeling satisfied that if not of the slirewd">;t
ho was an ini)orn gontleman. lie had njoro tho m;!;i-
ners of a courtier than those of a backwoodsmnn,
with this diflbrcnce: his sjieecli and bearing were the
promptings of a kind heart, unaffected and sincere
lie roeeived me courteously, and listened with dec])
attention to my plan for a history of the Pacilic
States as I laid it before him, perceiving at once the
difference between ni}^ work and that of local Iiisto-
rians and newspaper r-eporters, hj whom all tho latter
part of his life Jie had been besieged.

" I have been robbed and ruined," he exclaimed,
"by lawyers and politicians. When gold was discoN-
ered I had my fortress, my mills, my farUiS, leagncs of
land, thousands of cattle and horses, and a thousand
tamed natives at my bidding. Where are they now (
Stolen I ]\Iy men were crushed by the iron heel ni'
civilization; my cattle were driven off by hungry
gold-seekers; my fort and mills were deserted and
left to decay; my lands were squatted on by overland
en^igrants; and finally I was cheated out of all my
property. All Sacramento was once mine."

" General," said I, "this appears to have been tlio
common fate of those who owned vast estates at tli(3
coming of tho Americans. It was partly owing to
the business inexperience of the holders of land grants,
though this surely cannot apply to yourself, and })ai't]y
to the unprincipled tricksters who came hither to
practise in courts of law. The past is past. One
thing yet remains for you to do, which is to sec
your wonderful experiences properly placed on rccoi'd
for the benefit of posterity. You fill an important
niche in the history of the western coast. Of certain
events you are the embodiment — the living, walking

SAX FRANCISCO AGAIN.

465

history of a certain time and locality. Often in my
labors I have encountered your name, your deeds; and
let mo say that I have never yet heard the former
iiRiitioncd but in kindness, nor the latter except in
praise."

I'ears came to the old man's eyes, and his utterance
was choked, as he signified his willingness to relate
ti) 1110 all he knew.

" You arrived," said he, " at a most opportune mo-
ment; I am but just out of l>ed, and I feel I shall be
down again in a few days, when it will be impossible
lor mo to sec or converse with any one."

I said I had come to Litiz on this special business,
aiul asked how much time he could devote to it each

"All the time," ho replied, "if you will conform to
my liours. Come as early as you like in the morning,
but we nuist rest at six o'clock. I retire early."

Ton hours a day for the next five days resulted in
tw(j liundrcd pages of manuscript, which was subse-
(juontly bound and placed in the library. Forty
pages a day kept me very busy, and at night I
was tired enough. IMeanwhile my devoted bride sat
patiently by, sometimes sewing, always lending an
attentive car, with occasional questions addressed to
the general.

Tlience we proceeded to New Haven, and shortly
al'toi'ward to San Francisco, stopping at Stockbridge,
Ijiiilalo, Granville, Chicago, and Omaha, at all of
whicli places we had friends to visit, before settling
finally to work again.

With kind and womanly philosophy Mrs Bancroft
on reaching San Francisco did not look about her
with that captious criticism so common among nevvly
made Californian wives, to see if she did not dislike
the country. There were some things about the city
uiiif|ue and interesting; others struck her strangely,
and some disagreeably. But it seemed never to occur
to her to be dissatisfied or homesick. When sho

Ln. Ind. 30

HOME.

iiiarriod a man — so the ghost of the idea must have
(hinccd round her lieart and brain, for I am sure the
thought never assumed tanjjible form — when she ni.ir-
lied a man, she married him, and there was the end
(»r it, so far as shipping her happiness upon the uc-
cickints of his surroundinofs was concerned. Sweet
subtilties 1 Happier would be the world if there were
moi'e of them.

The Palace hotel for a short time was as curious
as a menagerie; then it became as distasteful as a
prison. We had many pleasant little dinner i)aiti(s
the winter we were there, made up of widely <lilferent
eharacters. First there were our nearest and dearest
friends, tliose who had always bet^n to me niwrc
than relatives. Then there were the intelKetu-
ally social; and a third class were Spanish- speaking
Californians and Mexicans, among whom were I'io
Pico, General Vallejo, Governor Alvarado, Governor
Pachcco,and the Mexican refugees, President Iglesiiis,
and Senores Prieto and Palacio of his cabinet. ]\lis
Bancroft began the study of Spanish, and made ra[ii<l
progress; Kate was already quite at home in tliat

language.

It was no part of our plan immedia >ly to domicile
ourselves in any fixed residence. Change seenu'd
nc(*essary to my brain, strained as it was to its utmost
tension perpetually. It was about the only rest it
would take. What is commonly called pleasure was
not pleasure so long as there was so mucli work piled
up behind it. It must shift position occasionally, and
feed upon new surroundings, or it became restless
and unhealthy. Then we had before us much trav-
elling. The vast territory whose history I was writing
must be visited in its several parts, some of tlioni
many times. There was the great Northwest Coast
to be seen, Oregon, Washington, and British Co-
lumbia; there was Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona;
likewise the sunny south, southern California, Mex-
ico, and Central America. Besides, there was much

REST AT LAST.

467

searching of archives in Europe yet to be done. So
wc niUHt content ourselves for the present in making
the world our home, any part of it in which night
lia]>pcncd to overtake us. Nevertheless, after a year
ill Oakland, and a winter spent by Mrs Bancroft at
Xt;\v Haven, I purchased a rcsid«mec on Van Ness
ii\ onue, where for many long and busy years echoed
llic voices of little ones, watched over by a contented
mother, whose happy heart was that heavenly sun-
.sliine v/hich best pleaseth God. This was indeed
Home.

CHAPTER XX.

SAN FRANCISCO ARCHIVES.

There n-i some who think that the brooding patience which a great
work calls lor belonged exclusively to an earlier period than ours.

Lowell.

During the first ten years of these Ingatherings and
Industries a dark cloud of discouragement hung over
my efforts, in the form of four or live hundred Vdl-
umes, with from seven hundred to nineteen hunchvd
pages each, of original documents, lodged in the ofliee
of the United States surveyor-general in San Fran-
cisco. Though containing much on mission atlairs,
they constituted the regular archives of the secular
government from the earliest period of Californian
history. They were nearly all in Spanish, many of
them in very bad Spanish, poorly written, and dilK-
cult of deciphering.

On the secularization of the missions, that is to
say the removal of national property from missionaiv
control, in many instances the ruin and consequent
breaking up of mission establishments in California,
some few loose papers found their way to the colk'H'o
of San Fernando, in Mexico, which was the parent
institution. The clergy still held the mission church
buildings, and in some instances the out-houses and
orchards; and the mission books, proper, remained
naturally in their control. There were likewise loi't
at some of the missions bundles of papers, notably at
Santa Biirbara; but these, though of the greatest im-
portance, were not very bulky in comparison to the
secular archives.

(468)

THE SURVEYOR-GEXERAL'S OFFICE.

469

IMorc to be considered by the historian were the
it'cords and documents of the several municipalities
iilon^^ the soutliern seaboard, which with the [>apers
Iccpt l)y retired officials, and those treasured by the
(lit I and prominent families, formed a ver}^ impoj-tant
ck'inent in the marshalled testimony. Thus matters
stood M'hen California was made a state of the great
American confederation; and when counties wei'c
firmed by act of legislature of 1850, tlie correspond-
ence, papers, and I'ecoi'ds of local officials under ^lexi-
can rule, alcaldes, jueccs tie priincra iustuncia, and
others, were ordered deposited with the clerk of each
county.

The United States government took possession in
1 SI 0-7 of all the tcrritoi'ial records that could be
I'liiuid — an immense mass, though by no means all that
existed — and in 1851 the public archives in all parts
of C'alifoi-nia were called in and placed in charge of
the United States surveyor-general in San Fi'an-
ciseo, and of them ]Mr 11. C. Hopkins was made
custodian. Such of the pueblo and ])residial archives
as were deemed of importance to the general govern-
iiifiit were held in San Francisco. Many, however,
ol' great historic value were never removed from their
original lodgments, and many others were returned
to them, for of such material much was i'ound by my
searchers in various places at different times. ^Vs
these archives linally stood they consisted of the official
<(>i respondence of the superior and other authorities,
< ivil and financial, military and ecclesiastic, of IMexico
iiiiil tlie Californias, from the formation of the first
mission in 17G9,and even a little further ba<-'k, to the
time California was admitted into the union; not
colli] )l(^te, but full during parts of the time and meagre
ill cthei" parts. As will be seen 1 was so fortunate as
to (il)tain the missing records from other soui'ces.

When E. M. Stanton came with j)ower from Wash-
itigion to attend to land and other affairs of the g<>v-
ofiiiaent, he ordered these archives bound. Although

470

SAX FRANCISCO ARCHIVES.

some divisions of the papers were made, little atten-
tion was paid to chronological or other arrangement.
Said ]\Ir Savage to me after a preliminary examina-
tion: "The whole th'ng is a jmnble; so far as their
value to your work is concerned, or your being able
to find, by searching, any particular incident of any
particular period, the papers might as well be in hay-
stack form."

What was to be done? The thought of attacking
this great dragon of these investigations had been for
many years in my mind as a nightmare, and while
doggedly pursuing more puny efforts I tried to shako
it from me, and not think of it. There was muck
material aside from that, more than enough for my
purpose, perhaps ; besides, some one could go throuLjli
the mass and take from it what I lacked in the usual
form of historical notes.

But such reasoning would not do. The monster
would not thus be frightened away. All the time, to
bo honest with myself, I well knew that I must liav(.>
])ofore me all existing material that could be obtained,
and I well knew what 'ijoinfj throutjli' such a stack
of papers signified. No; one of the chief differences
between my way and that of others in gathering and
arranging facts for history, one of the chief differences
l)otween the old method and the new, was, in so lar
as possible, to have all my material together, within
instant and constant reach, so that I could place l)eroro
me on my table the information lodged in the British
Museum beside that contained in the archives of
Mexico, and compare both with what Spain and Cali-
fornia could yield, and not be obliged in the midst <»f
my investigations to go from one library to another
note-taking.

And under this method, so far as my daily and
hourly necessities were concerned, this immense mass
of information might almost as well be in N«>\a
Scotia as on Pine street. To be of use to me it must
be in my library. This was the basis on which my

ABSTRACT OF THE ARCHIVES.

471

work was laid out, and only by adhering to this plan
could it be accomplished.

But how get it there? The government would not
lend it me, though our benign uncle has committed
more foolish acts. There was but one way, tlie way
pursued in smaller operations — copy it. But what did
that mean, to * copy it ' ? The day in government offices
is short; a copyist might return from twenty to forty
foHos per diem ; this, averaged, would amount to per-
haps three volumes a year, which would be a hundred
years' work for one person; and this merely to trans-
fer the material to my library, where another centui'y
of work would be required before it attained the
proper form as condensed and classified material for
history.

Well, then, if the task would occupy one person so
long, put on it ten or twenty — this is the way my
demon talked to me. But the surveyor's office would
not accommodate so many. Not to dwell upon the
sul)ject, however, the matter was thus acconiplislied:
A room was rented near the surveyor-general's (office,
to which Mr H. G. BoUins, then in charge, had kindly
gi'anted permission to have the bound volumes taken
as required by the copyists. Tables and chairs were
then purchased, and the needed writing-materials sent
round. Then by a system of condensation and epito-
nuzing, now so thoroughly understood that no time
or labor need be lost, under the efficient direction of
j\fr Savage fifteen Spaniards were able in one year to
transfer from these archives to the library all that
^Yas necessary for my purpose. This transfer was not
made in the form of notes; the work was an abridu-
iiK'ut of the archives, which would be of immense
public value in case of loss by fire of the original doc-
uments. The title of every paper was given; the
more important documents were copied in full, while
the others were given in substance only. The work
was begun the 15th of May 187G. The expense was
about eighteen thousand dollars; and when in the

'1.^1

472

SAN FRANCISCO ARCHIVES.

I' !

if !f

form of bound volumes these archives stood on the
shelves of the library, we were just ready to begin
extracting historical notes from them in the usual
way.

This transcribing of the archives in the United
States surveyor -general's office was the greatest
single effort of the kind ever made by mo. But there
Vv'cre nmny lesser labors in the same direction, botli
before and afterward; prominent among these was
the epitomizing of the archiepiscopal arcliives.

Learning from Doctor Taylor of Santa Barbara
that he had presented the most reverend Josepli S.
xVlcmany, archbishop of San Francisco, for the cath-
olic church, with a quantit}'' of valuable })apcrs, I
applied to the archbishop for permission to copy thcni.
He did not feel at liberty to let the volumes out of
his possession. " I shall be most happy, however," lie
writes me, " to afford every facility to any gentleman
you may choose to send to my humble house to co[)y
from any volume any pieces which may suit year
work, taking it for granted that in your kindness
you will let me see before publication what is written
on religious matters, lest unintentionally sometliiiig
might be stated inaccurately, which no doubt you
would rectify." It is needless to say that neither
to the archbishop, nor to any person, living or dead,
did I ever grant permission to revise or change my
writings. It was my great consolation and chief
support throughout my long and arduous career, that
I was absolutely free, that I belonged to no sect vr
party to which I must render account for any exjires-
sion, or to whose traditions my opinions must b(j\v.
Sooner than so hamper myself, 1 would have consigned
my library and my labors to perdition.

It appeared to me a kind of compact, this insinua-
tion of the archbishop, that if he granted me pt r-
mission to copy documents which were the property
of the church, they should not be used in evidence

THE ARCHIEPISCOPAL ARCHIVES.

473

actainst the cliuich. Now with the church I have not
at any time had controversy. Theology was not my
llu'mc. I never could treat of theology as it is done
ordiriarily in pulpits, walled about by dogmas, and be
coinpellcd to utter other men's beliefs whether they
wove my own or not. I should have no pleasure in
speaking or writing thus; nor is there any power on
earth which would compel me to it.

With the doctrines of the church, catholic or prot-
ostant, I had nothing to do. With the doctrines of
])()litical parties as such, I had nothing to do. It was
ill men, rather than in abstract opinion, that I dealt.
])Ocause a man was priest or partisan, he was not
necessarily from that fact good or bad. In so far
as the missionaries did well, no churclmian was
more ready to praise; wherein they did evil, my
mouth should speak it, myself being judge. But all
this did not lessen my obligation to the good arcli-
))isliop, who was ever most kind and liberal toward
me, and whose kindness and liberality I trust I have
not abused.

'Die documents in question formed five books, bound
into several more volumes. They consisted mostly
of correspondence by the missionaries of upper and
lower California among themselves, or with the author-
ities, both civil and miiitar}', in Mexico or the Cali-
f)niias, or from tlieir college of San Fernando; and
also of statistical data on tlie missions, a large portion
of the letters and statistics beim»' of jjfreat historical
iin]i(>vtance.

Mr Savage w'+h three copyists performed this
labor in about a month.

Whilst the work of abstracting was going on, the
iiu'u received occasional visits irom attaches of tlie
Kvlosiastical offices in the mansion, which at first gave
li-e to a suspicion in the mind of Mr Savage that
hi' was watched. But nothing occurred to make
Ills stay disagreeable. Some inconvenience was i'elt
hy the copyists from the prohibition by Mr Savage

'ml

474

SAN FRANCISCO ARCHIVES.

against smoking in the premises. Tlicre had been no
objection raised in the house against the practice;
but he deemed such abstention a mark of respect to
the archbishop even though he was absent a fort-
night. On the archbishop's return he occasionally
entered the room for some document from his desk,
and ever had a kind word for those who occupied it.
The result of this work, which was concluded early
in May 187G, just before beginning on the United
States surveyor-general's archives, may be seen in
the Bancroft Library, in three books, entitled A rchi lo
del Arzohispado — Cartas de los Misionc.ros de Cali-
fornia, i. ii. iii.^ iii.^ iv.^ iv.'^ v.

Writing of California material for history in the
public journals of August 1877, Mr Oak observes:
" First in importance among the sources of iuforiiiii-
tion are the public archives, preserved in the different
offices, of nation, state, county, and city, at San Fran-
cisco, Sacramento, San Jose, Salinas, Los Angek's,
San Diego, and to a slight extent in other towns.
These constitute something over 500 buUcy tonics,
besides loose papers, in the aggregate not less tliaii
300,000 documents. Of the nature of these manu-
scripts it is impossible witiiin present limits to say
more than that they are the original orders, corre-
spondence, and act-records of the authorities — secular
and ecclesiastical, national, provincial, departmental,
territorial, and municipal — during the successive rule,
imperial and republican, of Spain, Mexico, and tlio
United States, from 17G8 to 1850. After the lattri-
date there is little in the archives of historic valu(.'
wliicli has not found its way into print. A small part
of these papers are arranged by systems which vary
from tolerable to very bad; the greater part boiuL;'
thrown together with a sublime disregard to both
subject and chronology. Of their value there is no
need to speak, since it is apparent that Californiau
history cannot be written without their aid. They
are, however, practically inaccessible to writers. In

THE LAWYERS AXD THE FRIARS.

470

land-commission times the lawyers sought diligently
for information of a certain class, and left many guid-
ing references, which the student may find, if patient
and long-hved, in countless legal briefs and judicial
decisions. The keepers of the archives, besides aiding
the legal fraternitv, have from time to time unearthed
for the benefit of the public certain documentary curi-
osities; yet the archives as a whole remain an unex-
]>lored and, by ordinary methods, unexplorablo waste.
Mr Bancroft has not attempted, by needle-in-the-
liay-niow methods, to search the archives for data on
])articular points; but by employing a large auxiliary
force he has substantially transferred their contents to
the library. Every single paper of all the 300,000,
whatever its nature or value, has been read — de-
ciphered would in many cases be a better term;
important papers have been copied; loss important
documents have been stripped of their Spanish vor-
biasje, the substance beino; retained, while routine
connnunications of no apparent value have been dis-
missed with a mere mention of their nature and date.
" Hardly less important, though much less bulky
than the secular records above referred to, are the
records of the friars in the mission archives. At most
of these establishments — wrecks of former Fran-
ciscan prosperity — there remain in care of the parish
n'iests only the quaint old leather-bound records of
>irths, marriages, deaths, etc. At some of the ox-
iiiissions even these records have disappeared, having
been destroyed or passed into private hands. It was
common opinion that the papers of the missionary
])adres had been destroyed, or sent to Mexico and
Spain. Another theory was that of men who myste-
riously'- hinted at immense deposits of documentos at
the old missions, jealously guarded from secular eyes
and hands.

" Both views are absurdly exaggerated. The mis-
sion archives were never very bulky, and are still
comparatively complete. The largest collections are

476

SAN FRANCISCO ARCHIVES.

in the possession of the Franciscan order, and of
the archl)ishop of California. Other small collections
exist at different places, and not a few papers have
passed into private liee})in'Lj. The archives of Spain
and Mexico must be ransacked, but the documents
thus brought to light can neither bo so many nor so
important as has popularly been imagined.

'' Xot all the records of early California, by any
nieons, are to be found in the public offices. Even
official documents were widely scattered during the
American conquest or before; the new officials col-
lected and preserved all they could gain possession of,
but many were left in private hands, and have re-
mained there. The private orrespondence of |)romi-
nent men on public events is, moreover, quite as
valuable a source of information as their official com-
jaunications. Mr Bancroft has made an earnest cffijit
to gather, preserve, and utilize these private and family
arcliives. There Avere many obstacles to be overcome;
Californians, not always without reason, were distrust-
ful of Gringo schemes; old ^9rtjf>e/(.vs' that had so long
furnished material for cujaritos, suddenly acquired
a great pecuniary value; interested persons, in some
cases by misrepresentation, induced well disposed na-
tives to act against their inclinations and interests.
Yet efforts in this direction have not been wasted,
si .ce they have already produced about seventy-five
vuiames, containing at least twenty thousand docu-
ments, a very large proportion of which are impor-
tant and unique.

" I have not included in the preceding class some
fifty volumes of old military and commercial records,
which are by no means devoid of interest and value,
though of such a nature that it would be hardly fair
to add them by the page, without explanation, to the
above mentioned documents. It must not be under-
stood that these contributed collections of original
papers are exclusively Spanish; on the contrary, many
of the volumes relate to the conquest, or to the jieriod

MEMOIRS OF PEOXEERS.

477

iinmcfliatcly preceding or following, and bear tho
names of pioneers in wliose veins llows no drop of
Latin blood — for instance, tbe official and private
correspondence of Thomas 0. Larkin, in twelve thick
volumes.

"California is a new country; lier annals date l)ack
hut little more than a century; most of her sister
states are still younger; therefore personal i-eminis-
conces of men and women yet living form an element
1>V no means to be disregarded by the historian.
While I am writing there are to be found — thoiiijli
y('ar by year death is reducing their number^ — men
of good intelligence and memory who have seen Cali-
fornia pass from Spain to Mexico, and from ^Texico
to the United States. Manv of this class will leave
manuscript histories which will be found only in tho
Bancroft Library.

"Tho personal memoirs of pioneers not native to
the soil are not regarded as in any respect less de-
sirable than those of hijos del pais, although their
acts and the events of their time arc much more fully
recorded in print. Hundreds of pioneer sketches are
to be found in book and pampldot, and especially in
the newspaper; yet great efforts are made to obtain
original statements. Some hold back because it is
ditlicult to convince them that the history of Cali-
fornia is bein<x written on a scale which will make
their personal knowledge and experience available
and valuable. Others exhibit an indolence and indif-
ference in the matter impossible to overcome."

CHAPTER XXL

HISTORIC EESEAIICHES IN THE SOUTH.

Every man must work according to hia own method.

Agasaiz.

Southern California was rightly regarded as the
depository of the richest historic material north of
Mexico. And the reason was obvious: In settlement
and civilization that region had the start of Oreofon
by a half century and more; there were old nxn
there, and family and public archives. The chief
historic adventure in that quarter was when, with Mr
Oak and my daughter Kate, early in 1874 I took
the steamer for San Diego and returned to San Fran-
cisco by land.

Indeed, as I became older in the work I felt more
and more satisfied that it required of me, both in
person and by proxy, much travel. True, mine was
neither a small Held, nor a narrow epoch highly elab-
orated, upon the many several scenes of which, like
Froude at Simancas, Freeman on his battle-fields, or
Macaulay in Devonshire, Londonderry, or Scotland,
I might spend months or seasons studying the ground
and elucidating the finer points of prospect antl })osi-
tion; yet where so much was to be described much
observation was necessary.

It was during this journey south that Benjamin
Hayes, formerly district judge at Los Angeles, later a
resident of San Diego, and for twenty-five years an en-
thusiastic collector and preserver of historic data, not
only placed me in possession of all his collection, but

(478)

THE ILVYES COLLECTION.

470

pavo mo Ilia licart with it, and continued to interest
liinisclf in my work as if it were his own, and to add
to liis eollcctio!! wliile in my possession as if it was
still in his. This was fortmiate, for I saw much work
1() he done at Los Angeles, Santa Biirhara, and else-
where, and I hardly knew how to perform it.

Of course to mo it seemed as if Judge Hayes
during his life performed for his country, for the
world, for posterity, a work beside which sitting upon
a ju<hcial bench and deciding cases was no more tlian
catching flies. For the first quarter-century of this
country's history under American rule, beginning with
a journal kept while crossing the continent in 1849,
ho had been a diligent collector of documents touch-
ing the history of southern California; and his collec-
tion of manuscripts, and especially of scraps from books
and early newspapers, systematically arranged, and ac-
companied frequently by manuscript notes of his own
making, was very extensive. It embraced among the
manuscript portion a copy of the mission book of San
])iego; a copy of an autogr-^ph manuscript of Father
Junipero Serra, giving a history of the missions up to
1775; a similar manuscript history by Father Lasuen
of the mission up to 1784; copies of all the more im-
portant documents of the pueblo archives from 1829;
a complete index made by liimself in 18oG of all the
cai-ly archives; manuscript accounts of Judge Hayes'
own travels in various parts of the southern country;
reports of evidence in important law cases, illustrating
history, and many other like papers. There were some
fifty or sixty scrap-books, besides bundles of assorted
and unassorted scraps, all stowed in trunks, cupboards,
and standing on book-shelves. The collection was
formed with a view of writing a history of southern
California, but by this time the purpose on the part of
Judge Hayes was well nigh impracticable by reason
of ago and ill-health.

The pueblo archives which have been preserved do
not extend back further than 1829. They consist

4S0

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IX THE SOUM.

I I

i,H

of more or less coinpleto records of the [)rocee(]ings of
militiiry comandanffs, alcaldes, ai/itntamiciifos, pre-
fi'cfos, ami jucccs do paz, toj^ether with corres[)()n(lt!iico
between the several town officials, between the oflicials
of this and other towns, and correspondence with ilio
homo |:]fovernment of Spain or Mexico, hc'iw^ the orli;!-
nals of letters received ai;tl copies of those sent. Tlicy
include some ilaminjT proclamations by Califoiiiiaii
govin'nors, and interesting correspondence relative to
the times when American encroachments had begun.
D(vniments referring to the mission are few and biief,
and consist of correspondence between the secular and
ecclesiastical authorities respecting the capture of es-
caped native converts. There are yet preserved, how-
ever, documents relating to the missions while in tlio
hands of administrators subsequent to their seculai-
ization. There arc several interesting reports of civil
and criminal trials, illustrating the system of juris-
prudence during the early times.

These papers were preserved in the county archives,
in the clerk's office, in bundles, as classified by Judgo
Hayes. Copies of all these documents in any wiso
important for historical purposes formed part of Judge
Hayes' collection.

livery mission, besides its books of accounts, it:^
papers tiled in packages, and any historical or statis-
tical records which the priests might choose to wiiti>,
kept what were called the mission books, consisting-
of records of conversions, marriages, baptisms, con-
firmations, and bi rials. By a revolt of the natives
in 1775 San Dieg mission, with all its records, wns
destroyed. In op ling new mission books, with liis
own hands Fathci Tunipero Serra wrote on the iirst
pages of one of the ? an historical sketch of the mis-
sion from 17G9, the ate of its establishment, to 177.3,
the date of its dest action. He also restored, so far
as possible from memory, the list of marriages and
deaths. The mission book thus prefaced by the presi-
dent is preserved by the curate at San Diego.

BKNJAMIX llAYHS.

4S1

Tlic <|U»'Sii()n now was liow to trunsfor this ricli
mass of liistorical iiiatciial to my lil>rary, wlicire, iiot-
witlistandiiii^ the aH'octioii with which he wiio had
lahoi'cd over thu work so loii;^ must rt'^ai'd it, 1 could
easily pcrsuado myself was the proucr ])lacc for it.
( 'iillini,' at tho house, we fortunately found Judij^o
Hayes at home, and were warndy welcomi'd. I had
itl'ten met him in San Francisco, and he was familiar
with my literary doings. This call we made a short
(iHc, arran<nn<^ for a Ioniser meetin<_r in the afternoon.

J Jack i'njni our luncheon, we were again heartily
wi Icomed, and taking our note-hooks we were soon
vigorously at work endeavoring to transfix some small
]itirtion of the vast fund of information that fell
gHlily from tho lips of the ancient. Fortunately for
Us. old men love to talk ab(jut themselves; so tiiat
while we were noting valuable facts he kindly filled
the interludes with irrelevant matter, thus keeping us
pretty well together.

In this way we gathered some important incidents
relative to earl}' establishments and their records, but
soon became dissatisfied with tho slowness of tho
method, for at that rate we could easily spend months
there, and years upon our journey back to San Fran-
cisco. Finally I approached the subject nearest my
lieart.

" Judge," said I, "your collection should be in my
liltrary. There it would be of some value, of very
great value; but isolated, even should you write your
pioposed history, the results, I fear, would be unsatis-
i'actory to you. I should not know where to begin or
to end such a work."

"I am satisfied I shall never write a history,"
lie replied somewhat sadly. "The thne has slipped
away, and I am now too feeble for steady laborious
apiilieation; besides, I have to furnish bread for cer-
tain mouths," pointing to a bright black-eyed little
gill who kept up an incessant clatter with her com-
[)anions at the door.

Lit. Ind. 31

£''■'»

482

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

"Not only slioiilfl I liave the results of your labor
up to this time," I now remarked, "but your active
aid and cooperation for the future. It is just such
knowledge as yours that I am attempting to save and
utilize. Second my efforts, and let me be your his-
torian and biographer."

" I know that my material should be added to youi's,"
he replied. "It is the only proper place for it — tlie
only place I should be content to see it out of my
own possession. I would gladly give it you, did not
I n(!ed money so badly. It 'is not pleasing to me to
make merchandise of such labors."

" I do not ask you to give me your collection," T
returned; " I will gladly pay you for it, and still hold
myself your debtor ' > the same extent as if you gave
it. I appreciate your feelings fully, and will cndoavor
to do in every respect now and in the future as I
should wish you to do were our positions changed."

" It may seem a trifle to give up my accumulations
for money, but it is not. It is the delivering, still-
born, of my last and largest hope. Yet it will be some
satisfaction to feel that they are in good hands, wIkmv
their value will be reckoned in other measureineiit
than that of dollars. I cannot die and leave them to
be scattered liere. You may have them; and with
them take all that T can do for your laborious undei-
taking as long as I live."

And he was as good as his word. We did not stdp
long to consider tbi price I should pay him; and
immediately the bargain was consummated we went
to work, and took a careful account of every volume,
and every package of documents, noting their (Con-
tents. Those that were complete w^e packed in boxes
and shipped to San Francisco; such as Judge Hayes
had intended to make additions to were left with liini.
The volumes to be completed and sent in due timo
made their appearance. "Judge Hayes' books, sent
up yesterday," writes Mr Oak the 15th of ^lay 1 STT),
"are in some respects more valuable than anything

SAN DIEGO ARCHIVES.

4S3

lie has done before. One volume contains about two
liinuh'ed photographs of places and men in southoi-n
California." All unfinislicd work was well and thor-
oiiglily completed, he doing more in every instance
than he had promised to do; and when in 1877 ho died,
lie was still engaged in making historical abstracts
I'or me from the county records of Los Angeles.
When there shall appear upon Californian soil a race
capable of appreciating such devotion, then will the
name of Benjamin Hayes be honored.

It was the 23d of Februarj^ that this important
])urchase was consunmiated. San Diego possessed
ibw further attractions for me in the line of literary
acquisitions; that is to say, this collection, \\'ith so
important a man as Judge Haves enlisted in mv
hchalf, was a sweeping accomplishment, whi(!h would
amply reward me for the time and money expended in
the entire excursion should nothing more come of it.
For tills collection was by far the most important in
tlie state outside of my own; and this, added to mine,
would forever place my library, so far as com})etiti()n
ill original California material was concerned, beyond
the possibilities. The books, packages, list of copies
(if the county archives, and manuscripts, as we paclvcd
them for shipment, numbered three hundred and
sevonty-seven; though from number little idea can he
lonned of value, as, for example, a volume la1)ello(l
Prlrate Hours, consisting chiofiy of manuscripts con-
taining Judge Hayes' not^ s of travel over the state
at (lilfei-ent times, written by one thoroughly familiar
with public and private affairs, by one Avho saw far
into things, and who at the time himself contemplated
history- writing, might bo worth a hundred other
voknnes.

Of all the mission archives none were of more
importance than those of San Diego, this being the
initial point of early Alta California observation.
1)1 sides historical proclivities, Judge Hayes loved
.science. He had taken meieoroloarical observations

484

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IX THE SOUTH.

Hii;
'■*l!|:

since 1850, and took an interest in the botany of the
country. In all these thinjLJfs he not only collected
and arranged, but he disxcsted and Avrotc.

Several days were occupied in this negotiation, in
studying the contents and character of the purchase,
and in sending over boxes from New Town, and pudc-
ing and shipping thera. It was a hard day's work,
beginning at seven o'clock, and during which we did
not stop to cat, to catalogue and pack the collec-
tion. Taking up one after another of his companion-
creations, fondly the little old man handled thoni;
affectionately he told their history. Every paper,
every page, was to him a hundred memories of a
hundred breathing realities. These were not to him
dead facts; they were, indeed, his life.

When we beu^an we thoujjht to finish in a few hour>,
but the obsequies of this collection were not to be so
hurriedly performed; surely a volume which had cost
a year's labor was worthy a priestly or paternal bene-
diction on taking its final departure.

Dui'ing these days at San Diego I visited and ex-
amined everything of possible historic interest. I
wandered about tlie hills overlooking the numerous
town sites, crossed to False bay, entered the ceiii'-
tery, and copied the inscriptions on the stones that
marked the resting-place of the more honored dead.
In company with Mr Oak I called at the counly
clerk's oihce to see what documents were tliero.
No one seemed to know anything about them. Such
as were there were scattered loosely in boxi'S and
drawers, some at New Town, and some at (Ml
Town. When we learned in what sad conlusiiiii
they were, we were all the more thaidvful we had
co[)ies of them. Judge Hayes began copying tlu'.so
archives in 185G.

At night we entered in our journals, of which ^li"
Oak, Kate, and myself each kept one, the events (•!
the day. Oak and I each wrote about one hundred
and fifty pages during the tiip, and Kate forty [lages.

DEPARTURE FROM SAN DIEGO.

485

On our return to San Francisco these journals were
tloposited in the library.

Early Wednesday morning wc walked over to
Old Town to visit Father Ubach, the parish priest,
Avith whom wc had an appointment. I was shown
tlie mission books, consisting of the Book of Bap-
tisms, in four volumes, the first volume having three
liuiidred and ninety-six folios and extending down to
18i!2. The other three volumes were not paged;
tluy continued the record to date. The Book of
]\larriages was in one volume and complete to date.
Three volumes comprised the Book of Deaths, and
Olio volume the Book of Confii'mations. Aside from
the sketcli by Junipero Serra, a copy of which was in
tlic H^ayes collection, the volumes were of no historic
value, Ijeino' merely lists of names with dates.

Eaeli year the bishop of the diocese had visited tlio
missions and certified to the correctness of the records;
consequently the bishop's signature occurred in all
tlic Ijooks at rei^ular intervals, and from which en-
tries many bisho[)S might be named. It is worthy of
n mark that in the mission books California is always
divided into Superior and Inferior, instead of Baja
and Alta as by later Spaniards. Father Ubach in-
formed us of a manuscript Indian vocabulary pre-
s(M'ved at the mission of San Juan Bautista; also a
manuscript of his own on the natives of his parish,
• it" wliicli there were then twelve hundred. This latter
manuscript was in the Hayes collection, and hence a
part of my purchase. Fatlier Ubach kindly gave us
ktteis to the padres at San Juan Capistrano and San
.hum Bautista.

Dijiarting from San Diego, we called at the mis-
sions and saw all the early residents possible, notably
Cave J. Coutts and John Foster, at their respective
laiichos near San Luis Key, from wlunn we received
cucoiiragemcnt and valuable information.

When the Reverend Thomas Fro<»;nall Dibdin was
at Havre on his bibliographical tour, he was told by

Pf«

486

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IX THE SOUTH.

the booksellers among whose shops he hunted that
lie should have been there when the allies hrst pos-
sessed themselves of Paris if he wished to find rai-ities.
Had he been there at the time named, another date
still further back would have been mentioned; and so
on until he had been sent back to the beijfinninij:.

"Who shall restore us the years of the past?" cried
Horace, and Virgil, and Livy; cried the first of men,
and that before there was scarcely any past at all.
Tlie Reverend Thomas Fromiall Dibdin was not tliere,
and all the booksellers of France could not restore
the occasion, could not arrest the present or call up
the past. And I am of opinion that to the collector
of rarities there would have been little difference
whether he had lived or had been in any particular
place iift}^ or five hundred years ago. These Havre
booksellers seemed to have forgotten that at the time
what now are rarities wei-e easily obtained ; they were'
not rarities; that all which is rare with us was once
common, and that whatever is preserved of that
which to us is common will some day be rare and
expensive.

Thus it was with me at Los Angeles. Had I been
there at the cominsT of the Americans I miirlit liave
obtained documents by the bale, so I was told, and
have freighted a vessel with them. Had I even been
tliere ten vears aj^o I mi<j[ht have secured no incoii-
siderable quantity; but during this time many heads
of old families had died, and their papers, with the
long accunuilations of rubbish, had been burned.

Most of this was fiction, or ignorant exaggeration.
At the time of the secularization there had accinnu-
lated at the several missions the materials from wliiili
might have been sifted not only their complete historv.
but thousands of interesting incidents illustrative nt'
that peculiar phase of society. These once scatteit d
and destroyed, there never was any considerable
quantity elsewhere. Old Californian families were
not as a lule sufficiently intelligent to write or recei\e

AT LOS ANGELES.

48^

many important historical documents, or to discrimi-
nate and preserve writings valuable as historical
(jvidence.

Undoubtedly at the death of a paterfamilias, in some
instances, the survivors used the papers he had ])re-
scrved in the kindling of fires, in the wrapping of
articles sent away, or in the making of cigarettes; but
that during the century of Spanish occupation in Cali-
iurnia much historical material had accunmlated any-
where except in government otHces and at the missions
I do not believe. And furthermore, wherever it had
so happened that a few family papers had been pre-
served, upon any manifestation of interest in or etlbrt
to obtain possession of them, their quantity and im-
])()rtance were greatly magnilied. In such cases threti
documents filled a trunk, and a package a foot square
was enlarged by rumor to the size of a bedroom.

Charming Los Angeles! California's celestial city!
She of the angels! and, indeed, that very day wq
found one, a dark-eyed, bedianionded angel, in the
shape of a sweet sehora with a million of dollars and
a manuscriijt. Chubbv as a cherub she was, and OTace-
lul tor one so short; and though her eyes were as
luight as her diamonds when first they encountered
yours, lingeringly they rested there until they faded
somewhat in dreamy languor. She w^as a poem of
pastoral Califoruia, and her life was a song of nature,
lireathing of aromatic orange groves, of vine-clad hills,
and olive orchards, all under soft skies and amid
ocean-tempered airs. There was no indication in the
warm un wrinkled features of a mind strained bj ovcr-
s(,udy, such as is frequently seen in a Boston beauty.
As it was, suitors were thick enough; there were
[ilentj- of men who would take lier for a million of dol-
lars, to say iiothin:^ of the manuscript.

Aside from laclv of intellect, for angels are not
spi.'ciall}^ intellectual, in all candor I must confess
that, apart from of her beautiful robes, lor she was
tilegantly dressed, her diamonds, her million of dol-

ili|

; 1

f'-l

ill

iii

li^iHH

-H

IMJ

488

HISTORIC RESE^VRCIIES IN THE SOUTH.

i||

111!

'1 ' l

I , 1

i ''■

:i '\ i

lars, and lier manuscript, somewhat of the angelic
cliarm would have been lost, for she was close upon
fortv, and a widow. He who ha^' been Abel Stearns
had called her wife, and Juan Bandini, daut^hter.

Not far from the Pico house, in a long low adobe
whose front door opened from a back piazza, dwelt
this lady, to whom Colonel Coutts had given me a
letter, with her mother Mrs Bandini, Innnediately
after dinner we inquired our way to the house, and
presenting ourselves asked for Mrs Stearns. She
was not in: that is to say, the seraph was sleeping
for a pair of bright evening eyes. "J'o the relict of
Juan Bandini we did not deign to make known our
errand. At seven our eyes should feast upon her of
the million and manuscript.

At seven; we were punctual. Radiant as Venus
she sat Ijetween her mother and a withen.xl lovci-.
The ladies were both of them far too elegant to spoaic
English. We presented our letter, which was to make
our patu to the papers easy. Ah! the manuscript df
her father ? It was her mother, Mrs Bandini, to whom
we sliould speak: all the documents of Don Jnaii
belonged to her.

This was a sad mistake; and wonderfully quick
with the intelligence shifted the seraphic lido from
the sparkling daughter-widow to the now exceedingly
interestini];' and attractive mother-widow. It was a
great waste, all the precious ointment of our cl;!-
quence poured upon the younger woman, while wf
were almost ignoring the presence of the elder, until
she was made fascinating as the owner of an un[)ul'-
lished history of California.

Yes, there was a trunkful of papers left by tin'
late lamented which had never been disturbed, so
sighed the Senora ]3andini. People said among tliei:i
was a partially written history; but further than this
she knew nothing of the contents of the trunk. The
k-^<-er of Colonel Coutts to Mrs Stearns, the leader
must I'now, strongly urged the placing of these doc-

THE BANTIXI DOCtTMENTS.

4S0

iimonts in my hands, as the most proper place for
them.

]Mrs Bandini asked if I needed them soon. Yes; I
always needed such things immediately. She could
not possibly touch the trunk until the return of her
son-in-law, Charles R. Johnson, who was tlion at
San Diego. He would not return for a fortnight,
and I could not wait. The old lady would not move
M itliout him, and there I was obliged to leave it.

It was necessary I should have that material.
Bandini was a prominent and nuportant citizen of
southern California, one of the few who united ability
and patriotism sufficient to write history. I saw by
this time that I should have more material on north-
ern than on southern California; that is to say, my
northern authorities M'ould preponderate. I should
liavo at my command, as things were then going,
more narratives and individual histories written from
a northern than from a southern standpoint. And
this was worthy of serious consideration. For a long
time the north and the south were in a state of semi-
antagonisni, and their respective statements would
read very differently. It was only by having several
accounts, written by persons belonging to either side,
that anything like the truth could bo ascertained.

Obviously it would be very much as the son-in-law
sliould say. I was not acquainted with Johnson per-
sonally, but by inquiry I ascertained the names of
those who had influence with him, and these next day
I did not fail to see. There was then in Los Angeles
Allied liobinson, a resident of San Francisco, and an
author. He was intimate at the Stcarns-Bandini
mansion, and might assist me. I spoke with him
upon the subject. I likewise saw Judge Sepulv^eda,
(Jovornor Downey, IMajor Truman, and others, who
coi'dially promised their inllucnce in my behalf Thus
I'oi' the present I was obliged to leave it. On my re-
luin to San Francisco I continued my efforts. I was
iletermined never to let the matter die. I appealed

400

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

a<4niii to Colonel Coutts, and to several Californians
of influence in various parts of the state. The result
■was that about six months after my first attempt I
succeeded in j)lacing the valuable documents of Gen-
eral ]]andini, together with his manuscript history of
Calllornia, upon the shelves of my library, there to
remain. At the suggestion of Mr llobinson, who
brought the papers up from Los Angeles, I sent Mrs
Bandiui a check; but to her credit be it said she re-
turned it to me, saying that she did not want money
for the material.

Andres Pico was our next essay; this was another
of tlie an'jfcls, but of a diiferent sort. There were
several of these brotliers .Pico, all, for native Cali-
forjiians, rcimarkably knowing. Whether they cauglit
their shrewtlness from the Yankees I know not;
but during this visit experience told me certain
things of Don Andres which I was scarcely prepared
to learn, things which laid open in him the bad qual-
ities of all nationalities, but displayed the got)d ones
of none.

Shakespeare's conception of human nature was
probably correct, probably the purest inspiration of
any on record. With him there was no such thing as
absolute and complete wickedness in man. As Cole-
ridge says of him, "All his villains were bad u])ou
good principles; even Caliban had something good in
him."

What Shakespeare would have done with Don
Andres I greatly wonder. We of this latter-day
cidio-htenment cannot aiford to be less charitable tliau
Shakespeare; therefore we must conclude that Don
Andres was bad upon good principles. But whetlior
upon good or bad principles, or whether it was a daily
custom with him, we know that on this occasion lu'
practised on us peculiarly.

That it was neatly done I cannot deny: for an
ancient Californian ver}^ neatly; probably better than
one Yankee in ten thousand could have accomplished

CUXXIXG DON AXDRfiS 1

401

it. bettor than hollow-heai'ted F cnch politeness, Ger-
man stolidity, or Chinese Ic^erdomain could have
achieved it. And this was the manner of it: His
liwiiiowas the mission of San Fernando, some twenty
miles north-west of Los Anj^oles; but luckily, as we
tliouiufht, we found him in Los Angeles. Seeking him
out, 1 presented Colonel Coutts' letter. He retjeived
it with most com[)lacent reverence; and as he read it
I noted his appearance. His age I should say was
sixty-five, or perhaps more; he was well built, though
sliglitly bent, and over the loose russet skin of his
t-iee the frost of age was whitening the coarse black
hiiir. His head was large and shaped for intellectual
strength; his eyes were as sly and crafty in a})pea)'-
aiice as those of a Turkish porter, and about his mouth
[)layed a smile no less insidious.

The letter read, it was devoutly folded and buttoned
in the pocket nearest the spot where should have been
the heart. All that was L)on Andres' — his prt)j)erty,
his lil'e, his soul — was his friend's and his friend's
I'l'icnds'. All Los Angeles was ours to connnand.
Would we to San Fernando? he would accompany
us on the instant; and once there the secrets of the
ceatury should be spread out before us!

Well, thought I, this surely is ca^^y sailing. Hayes
au',1 ]Jandini were tempestuous seas beside this placid
I'ico ocean. When I hinted that such generosity was
1)1 yond the limit of ordinary patriotism, and that the
modest merits of our cause hardly reconciled me to
tin; taxing of his time and patience so heavily, he
piouilly straightened his large and well developed
I'liin, and striking his breast upon the letter there de-
jiositcd exclaimed, "Talk not to me of trouble; this
makes service sacred I"

^Vgain thought I, how nol>lel One must come
south to see the Latin r.tce of California in its true
light. But for the high and universal import of
my cause I should have hesitated before ac(iepting
so serious obligation from a strans^er: and I almost

402

nisTomc RESEAKCiiEs IX THE souxn.

loolced for a tear to drop from tlio a[)pan'ntly moist-
ening eye upon the griz/lud <,'lieek, so full of leoliiiL,'
M'as this luiiu. It was arranged that J3on An(h'('s
should call for us at an early day and assist us in
searehing the citv for historic material, and that on
t!io morning of our departure he would accompany us
to San J^'ernando. Ai'ter introducing me, at my ii -
(pu'st, to Seiior Agustin Olvera, a learned ancient
whom I desired to see, Don Anilres dej^arted, heariii';-
with him the deepest thanks of a heart ovtirflowiu;^'
with gratitude, and expressed in terms bordering on
Spanish extravagance.

At this time I will admit I was too imiooent and
unso])histicated to cope with the sweet suhtleties of
S[»anish politeness. l)ealing only in Lard facts, with
only honest intent, I was not at all sus[)icious of \iv\-
sons or protestations, and hence fell an easy victim.
}[ad I met ]^on Andres after my two visits to ^[exicn,
instead of bet'ore, he would not have misled me. As
it was, we had to thank him for anight of happy hojKs.
ev(.Mi if they were all destined to be dissipated in tlir
morning. I never saw Don Andres again. Thougli I
sought him diligently the day l)efore our deparlii!>'
from Ivos Angeles, and learned at his lodgings that Xv
liad not left the city, and though I deposited there a
letter saying that I should hope to see him on the stage,
or at San Fernando the following day, he wms nowlu re
to be found. Cunning Don Antlres 1 It war the best
bit of California comedy wc encountered on our
travels.

Pio Pico, Ci-devant governor of California and a
resident of Los Angeles, was not in the citv at the
time. Subsequently I obtained from him a history
of such affairs as came witliin his knowledge, of which
I shall speak again hereafter. Olvera pi'ofessed to
have some documents; professed to be writing ii-
history of Calilbrnia; had long and earnestly sought
to obtain possession of Bandini's papers, and lauglu d
at our efforts in a direction where he had so oilcii

LOS ANOELKS ARCTIIVES.

493

fallcfl. Duriiij^ tho short convc'i'sation we liad with
.\iidres Pico, ho inlbnnud us, as Father Ul)aeh luul
s;ii(l, that he was the coininissioner iippointed in <;arly
(lavs to take eharjjfe of the mission records, and eon-
f>c'(juently at one time had many of them in liis
j)!)ssessiou, inchuhn^ those of San Luis Key; hut
most of them had been scattered and stoh-n. and now
lie liad only those at San Fernandtt, whicii were a
siiKill portion of those once in his |)ossession.

The archives in the county clerk's office we found,
as rc'[)orted by Judge Hayes, bound in twelve large
Milumes, without system or index; nevertheless tlu>re
was nuich in theui of historic value, and the only
tiling to be done was to have an abstract made of
llicm for the library. One Stephen C Foster was
rcconniiendcd to mo by several gentlemen as the
person most competent in Los Angeles to make the
required copies. ]Ie was one of the earliest settlers
in tli(^se parts, and besides being well versed in
Sisanish, and familiar with these documents, he could
.supplement many unexplained matters from his own
cxpei'ience.

I found Foster after some search, for he was not a
man of very regular habits, and had no difficulty in
liigaging him to do this work. I agreed to pay him
a liberal price, twenty cents a folio I think it was,
ami lie promised to begin the work immediately, and
send it to San Francisco and draw his pay as it pro-
ure^sed; but he failed wholly to ])erf;)rm the work,
and after spurring him uyt i'or more than a year, re-
reiving a fresh promise with every effort, 1 iinally
aliaiidoned all hope of inducing him even to attempt
the task.

In Los Angeles at this time were many old friends
and newly-made genial acquaintances, who rendered
me every attention. Tuesday, the 3d of ^larch, ae-
euiiipanied by a pleasant party, I was driven oui: to
San (labriel mission, some seven miles east of Los

!
I

les. Awaking the resident priests, Philip Farrcl

404

niSTORIC Rr:SE.VRCIIES IX THE SOUTH.

and .Tofiquiii T>(it by name, \vv obtaiiujd a sij^lit of the
mission hooks. ()riL,^inalIy I)oui»<l in llcxlldu oow-
l(;atlier, oiio covor with a flap liko a pockcit-hook and
tlio otlior without, they were now in a torn c()n(Htioii.
I copied the titlc-pajjfo of th(! Lihro tie Ci»iJlnnacion<''i,
in two vohunos, 1771-1874, wldch was .siL,aied, iis
most of tlio mission Ixioks were, Fr Jimipero Sena,
l*resid". In this hook wc^re several notes, emlxxlyiii;;'
the church regulations of tlie sacrament of couiiruiii-
tion, the notes being usually in Spanish, with church
rules in Latin. The otlu'r hooks preserved at Saii
Gabriel mission were Mfifriinonios, two volume.-;,
1774-I8r)r), and 1858-74, the iirst entry being April
19, 1774, and signed by Jum'pcsro Serra. Tliei-i' \<
but one entry in this hook signed by the president.
The J'^iiticrrofi and Bdiitlsmos wei-e also there, iln'
latter in five vohnncs, tlie first entry bt-ing the I7lh
of ]\Iarch 179G, an<l sisj^ned Mi<jfnel Sanehes.

A ]Mr Twitf.'hell, an old resident, told me f-:oine
things and promised to write more, but I'ailed, likj
most others, to keep his word. We were introduced to
a Californian woman whose aijc was iriviiii us as one
hundred and thirty-eight years, though I stronglv
suspect that at each of lier latest birthdays five or six
years were added to her aije, for several informed nic
that five years ago she was not as old as now by thnJy
years; and I'urthermore, a granddaughter of sixty wli')
was with her said that her grandmother was boiii t!u'
year the padres first came to California, which was i:i
17G1), so that she could liave been but one hunchcl
and five years of ago. But slio was old enough; as old,
and as leathery, discolorod. and useless as the missi.m
books themselves, and vi her withered brain was
scarcely more intelligence.

Returning to town by Avay of the celebrated Tloso
and Johnson places, we spent the remainder of the day
in visits. An important man was J. J. "Warner, wlio
agreed to write. To make the promise more real, I
purchased a blank-book, and writing on the first pa.;o

LOS i-' WELES FUIKXDS.

4n.'i

nnnwhrmrrft of J. J. Wnrrirr, 1 took it witli a \u)\
lit' cinurs to liis ofHoc, and rcccivocl his solcimi
jissiij-aiic'cs. My closo attention to tlic inatttT, 1
manaijfod to }^ot tho hc'^]<. lialf filled Avitli ori,L,niial
material M'itliin tiiree years, wlii'li. ooiisi'k.iiiij^- tiiu
iilinost universal i'ailure of my efl'orts of that eliar-
acter, I rej^arded as soniethiii'Lj wonderful. .Tiid;^e
St'pulvechi and 11. M. Widney promised to write, and
1 am glad to say both these j^entlemen were as
Ljdod as their word; and further than this, to both of
ihi'ui I am under many other oblii^alions for kind
assistance in procurinj^ historical material in tho
vicinity of Los Anf^oles. Colonel Howard, not the
illustrious Volnoy E. of Vigilance Committee fame,
manifested the kindest interest in our ctForts, thought
ill' mi'dit brinix some iniluence to bear on j\Irs Ilan-
(liui, and intro(lu"'.d us at the bishops' residence,
hut unfortunately the bishops, Amat and IMora,
were both absent. I do not know that they would
have been of any assistance to us; on the contrary,
they might have prevented my getting the Bandini
])aj)ers. Assuredly tho church was not disposed to
^••ither mission or other documents for my library;
\\liatever uiay have been its course formerly, or at
various stages of its history, of that kind of substance
to-day it keeps all and gets all it can.

Tln! mission books of San Fernando prosciTod in
the ])()Ssession of the Pico family wore found to be
as follows: Matrimonios, one volume, 1797-1847, first
entry October 8, 1797, signed Francisco Dumet;
Jjifufismos, one volume, 1798-1852, first entry April
-S, 1798, signed Francisco Dumet; Libra de Pafcjitc.^t
y (hi Ynventario pcrtcnecienfe a la M'mon de S>*
Fci'iiando licij en la Nucva California ana de 1800.
In my hasty examination of this book it seemed to
1110 to contain information of suflRcient value to war-
rant my sondip.g thither Mr Foster to copy it. In
lilc(^ manner another importar»t woric, said by Don
liumulo to be among his father's papers, but which

;«s

406

iii5;Torac researches ix the south.

he could not at the moment lay his hands on, should
be looked after. Its title hu thought to be sonietiiiii!^'
as iollows: La FinnJacioii dc la Minion dc San Fvr-
nando /A'//, j)or cl Padre Francisco Diunet. It was
said to contain a full description of the state of the
couiiti'V at the time wlien the mission was ilrst es-
tablislii'd. Foster failing, notliing was acc()mj)]i>he(l
toward tiansferring this information to the hl)rarv
until \\\r \ isit of ]\lr Savage to Los Angeles, neaily
lour years later. We were likewise shown a collec-
tion of Spanisli jirinted books left by the missionaries.
They were mostly theological works })rinted in Sj)aiii,
none of them i-efei'ring at all to the Pacilic States,
and none of them of the slightest value to any })ersou
for any pur])osc.

At San Ihienavcntura we encountered Bislioj)
Amat and Father C()ma])ala, the latter a good
fellow enough, but with head lighter than heels.
Just now lie was in an exceeding flutter, ovei'awcd
by gathered greatness, so much so as pal[)al)l3- to con-
fuse his loggy brain. lie would do anything, but the
mission books contained nothing, absolutidy nothing;
he and his Avere at my disposal, but all was nothing.
When pressed by us for a sight of this nothing, theie
was the same nervous res[)onse, until Oak wrote Iiini
down a knave or a fool. Nevertheless we tortured
him until the books wore produced, fat and Jolly black-
eyed ]>ishop Amat meanwhile smiling appro\ingly.

Conia[)ala })romiscd to write his ex[)ei'iences for \\\^\
having come to the country in 18a0, but he did not.
He said we sliould by all means see Ramon \'al(k's,
an ancient of San 33uenaventura. Likewise he gave
me a letter to Jose do Arnaz, another old resident,
and straisihtway we hasttjned to iind these walking
historii's and to wring them out upon our ])ages. Diit
before leaving, Bishoj) Amat had assured us that his
library, which we had not been able to see at !.<>s
Angeles on account of his absence, containi'd nothing;'
relating to our subject save Palou's life of Juni[>ero

AT SiVXTA BARBARA.

497

Serra. He had made some r(>scarches himself ainon;^
the missions for historical matter, but without suc-
cess. Ho expressed the opinion that most of the
mission archives were sent to the college of San Fer-
iiiiiulo in Mexico, but says he has seen documents on
tlic subject in the royal archives of SevHlo, in S'pain.
The biishop also kindly gave me a letter to the padre
at San Antonio, the oldest of the Californian padres.
The missions Dirtlier north, according to Bishop Amat,
v.ore in a miserable state, the building at Santa Incs
luiving been userl for the storage of hay, which hal
hctu several times fired by malicious persons. At
San Cih'los mission the padre who had attempted to
reside there was driven away several years previous
hy threats of shooting.

After taking excellent dictations from Valdes and
Arnaz, we drove five miles up a canon whicli makes
through the hills at tliis point, and along which were
the kinds most cultivated by the padres, on account of
the superior advantages of this locality for irrigation.
]\[ountin'jf the stauje at four o'clock r. Jt. the day
after our arrival, we leached Santa Barbara at hall-
iiast eiufht. The hotels were crowded, but the stage
agent, unknown to me, had kindly engaged rooms for
us, so that we were soon made quite comfortable.
Tlie next day being Sunday, we attended chureli,
rested, and wTote up our journals. Early next morn-
ing we directed our course first to La l^artera, the
rosidencG of Doctor Alexander S. Taylor, a literary
and historical dabster of no small renown in these
parts. For twenty years and more he had been talk-
iiiLf and writinix. He knew much; but credit was
ii,ivin him for knowing much more than he did know.
His was a character hicn prononce. In several de-
partments of letters ho was a pioneer.

Turning in^ • narrow lane six miles north-west of
th(! town, we approached a small tenement something
between a hut and a cottage. It was cheaply briifc
of boards, and consisted of one story with thi cc or

tilT. IND. 32

'V.

408

HTSTORTC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH,

four rooms. The doctor had married a California n
woman for her money, and had not obtained as much
as lie had expected; hence half a dozen dark-com-
plexioned cliildren, and a house not as comfortable as
lie could have enjoyed. Nevertheless he found in
his Avife a most excellent, hard-working, and virtuous
woman; and her face was such as rests one to look
at, so contentedly serene it was.

Enterinijf, we encountered the mistress of tlie man-
sion, a tall, thin lady, apparently as liappy amidst \wy
many cares as if her husband was now and ever liad
been lapped in luxury. Inquiring for Doctor Tavloi-,
wc were shown into a back room, containing a stand,
some boxes whicli served instead of chairs, and a \)vd
on wJiich lay stretched a man of about lifty-five yoai-s.
lie was of a sandy complexion, the hair heavily
touclied with gray, and his face and form were thin
but not emaciated.

In a loud lioart}' voice, with no foreign pronunciation,
but witli the faintest possible Scotch accent, not at
all unpleasant, lie bade us enter. A carbuncle on tlie
arm was the malady, and our presence was a diver-
sion rather tlian an intrusion into a sick-room; so wo
seated ourselves on the boxes and entered freelv imo
conversation. I stated brielly the [)urport of my
visit to tliose parts, and expressed my inability to
pass him by without calling, and my regrets at finding
him ill.

"Oh I it is nothing," he answered, cheerfully. "I
shall be up in a few days." lie was indeed up again
in due time; but within two or three years then-artcr
lie was laid low forever. Then I was glad 1 hail
seen him. Alas' how rapidly are passing away those
who alone can tell us of the past. Within six years
after this journey it seemed to me that half tlie nioic
important men 1 then mot were dead.

Amonij the earlier literary labors of Doctoi Taylor
was a bibliography of tlie Pacific coast, consistuig oi
some twelve hundred titles published in the Sacia-

ALEXANDER S. TAYLOR.

499

mcnto Union. Subsequently this list was cut up and
|);ustcJ in a scrap-book, with changes, additions, and
inteilincations. As a bibliography it was altogether
useless, from the fact that th.e author was ol)liged to
v/iitc his titles from catalogues, and newspaper and
.illier mention, thus making of it a rambling talk
alntut books with a conglomeration (jf names and par-
tial titles. Then there were vagrant discussions about
tlie Indians and the missions of California, together
^vith snatches of history, biogi-aphy, and general
gossip, with innumerable repetitions and inaccuracies
ruuning through thirty or forty numbers of the
funner newspaper, under the title of Indianology.

'^•)' doctor had a horrible fashion of affixing to an
Vv.)^:. . word a Spanish or Latin ending, or giving a
S;ianisli termination to a Latin stem, lie delighted
ill ohxjics, otp'iifas, and the like abortions, thinking by
tlirowing them in I'reely to give his work the air of
Irai'iiing. An article on tlu? natives of Caliibrnia,
imblished in Baucy<fc'>iIlaii(l-Bouk Almanac, 18G4, ho
liuads Precis India CaCifornicus.

These were his chief works, and these I had in the
liliiary; yet so nuich greater than the man is f)ften-
tiuies his fame, that from tlie many accounts I had of
J)<H'tor Taylor and his works, I had been led to pic-
ture; h'.a in m r mind as sitting in the nuMst of literary
alliuence. J iwA been tauirht to I'CLjard him, thouiih
the hc'ppy posi^cssor of nuuiy valuable books and
manusci'i[ ts, ;•.•• lu irascible old man whom misfor-
tune and ^Ust '^c had soured, and who valued his
tieasures exorbi./x iiiy, and guarded tliem with })otu-
lant watchfulness; so that if I should find him ])os-
sessed of valuable material I could not hope to be able
to purchase it.

1 had also boon told that he had several volume's
read}' I'or pid>lication, but was unable to find a j)uh-
hsher. T -e conversation turiiinu!: almost innn(>diatelv
"II liter- r 'uatters, I asked to see the residt of his
lahors. Caiiiag his wife, who was at work in the

■'rtW

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IX THE SOUTH.

Mi:

adjoininjj^ room, ho requested her to bring from under
his bod a rounjli iinpainted box, about two feet square,
havinGf a lid like a chest, and lodged.

" There," said the invalid, turning over in bed so
that his e_yes could rest upon his treasures, " in that
box is twcnty-iivo years of my life."

Poor man I The box and all its contents were worth
intrinsically nothing, and would not bring in ojicii
market the equivalent of a month's wages of a
common laborer. Nevertheless it was ti'uc that a
quarter-century of eifort was there, a quartcr-centuiv
of tliought and enthusiasm, of love-labor, of hope and
confident expect, ( 'he results of a noble life. Yes,
a noble life; for a ■. I's life consists in what he at-
tempts to do no less tiian in what ho does.

The wife lifted the cover, and the sick man I'o-
quested me to examine the contents. First I bronglit
out a pamphlet on the voyages to California of
Cabrillo and Ferrelo, of which there were sevci;:!
copies in my library. Then one after another books
of scraps were produced: first The Animated Natiiir,
of California, in two volumes; next The Diseocnvr^,
Founders, ami Pioneers of California, l)cing printed
scraps interspersed with manuscript ])iogra])hical no-
tices of about one page to each person; the a Bihlioij-
rafa Californica, the first of which words bel(Migs to
no language, 1542-1872. This was the bibliography
before mentioned. Then there was the Odds and
Ends of California History, consisting of scraps and
manusciipt sketches.

In all these there was little whicli we already had
not in some shape; hence the value to the libiaiy
would bo but small. The last named book probably
would have been worth most to my collection, but I did
not regard any of them as of sufficient importance even
to ask him his price. The contents of this box he
subsequently presented to the society of California
j)ioneers, in whose hands it M'as almost as acces-
sible to me as if it had been on my shelves. Some

MIXED MATERIAL.

501

(imc before tliis lie had sold to tlio ujiivtisity of
(Vilifornia his collection of books for six hundred
dollars, but after making some inquiries about my
colluction he expressed the opinion that the lot so
i^nld contained nothing I required.

Of the scrap-books contained in the box, that is to
say, of his own works Avhich lie desired to publish, ho
li.id the utmost faith as to their great value; and wlien
fiskod as to the best materials to be consulted in the
v» riling of a history of California, he referred to his
own prepared volumes as the only reliable source of
iiil'urmation.

Some years aijo Doctoi Tavlor obtained from the
ji;i(lro at San Carlos mission a collection of origmal
iiiaiiuscripts, composed chiefly of coi-respontlence of
the early padres I'rom 1780 to 184(5. Tliis collection,
lioiind in seven volumes, was given to ^Vrchbishop
Alpn>:iii\' and of it I have had (X'casion to si)i'ak

icmanv

1i>t()re. The volumes wi'rti [»laced in St ]M.ary's
li'rary at the cathedral. Of these letters Doctor
Tay]>)r made two synojises, one of wliicli Nvent
with the documents to the arclibisliop and the other
vas sold with his books to the universitv of Cali-
lor ma.

A\'hi]c engaged in the interestinij survev of this
literary life's work the invalid kept up a ]'a])id con-
ver:;;tion. He told his tale of misfortunes: how at
iii'.-.t lie Vv'as successful; how he made money, and then
irarortunately lost it, and made and lost again — the
old, old story in California. Then he married, and
liad ti'oul)l'-> with his wife's family; a-nd now he I'ound
l.iiiiself stretched helpless upon a siek-bed, with a
liiDod of young children to grow uj) as best tliey
iiiLilit. His woes, however, never took him far from
his beloved topic, books.

" 1 will tell you a work you should have," ho cx-
elalmed; "it is the voyage of the Sutil and Mexivana,

L'oin

imng

i'M-

" Yes, We have that," said Oak.

502

ITISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTn.

"O you liavo!" he replied, suddenly. Then after
a time he l^rokc out at]jaiii, "There is Cabrillo's
voyage, in Buekingham Smith's collection; now, if
yon coukl come across that "

" Wu secured a copy some time since," replied Oak.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed the doctor; "if you
have that, you have the only copy in this country, [
take it."

And so on, until the conversation hecame painful to
me. Every book he mentioned, as it ha})pened, was
in the library. That these sacred treasures wore iu
tlieir real presence in my library, ajiptuired as strange
as if I had claimed to have iu my possession Aaron's
rod, St Dominick's rosary, or Hector's shield. Hi;
did not appear jeolous, but rather astound(.'<l. Every
response of Oak brouglit a groan of wonderment;
every response was like plunging a dagger into bc-
munl/ed ll(>sh. The pain, though not acute, was
palpabl(>, and partook more of the nature of rogict
than envy. I had not the heart to tell him that 1 liad
a work in preparation on the aborigines, lilling, al'iv r
the utmost condensation, live octavo volumes, and i( -
i'erring to hundreds of authorities which he had mvcr
beard of, notwithstanding the ponderous presence' of
the JJIhliof/raJa Odifornica.

Notwithstanding lie had been so long living among
the missions and the mission people of California, liis
mind meanwhile dwa^lling almost constantly on thf
matter of historical data, I was assured by this sag(^
that absolutely nothing could be found in the Santa
Bilrbara mission, or in an}' of the other missions, ami
that to obtain any historical matter whatever IVom
the Spanish side would be impossible. Of a truth lln'
souls of the dead nuist be ignorant of doings of tlic
living, else this Gjood man's t>host cannot be far from
the large case of orinrinal material for the histor\- "f

• • • • ' 1 1

California which stands in the library, nearly all
of which is i'rom the Spanish side, and gathered all».r
his so positive asscu'tion that none existed.

COUNTY ARCHIVES.

603

Althougli Doctor Taylor's literary efforts arc not to
be compared with those oi' Judge J [ayes in })oint of
])Oi'manent benefit to society, yet they are by no means
to be despised. The wonder is, isolated as he was, not
that the somewhat blind and illiterate Uttenitcur did
not accomplish more, but that he accomplished so
much. He was in a wilderness alone, to him a dark
wilderness, and ho did what he could. The effort was
a no])le one, and though the result was small, there
was that little something left by him, the first atom
])(>rhaps in the building of the mountain, which but
for such effort never would have been so left, and
which stamps the man in his currents of thought and
aspirations as above the common herd.

Keturning from La Partera to town wc c;dled at
the city hall to look after the county archives, but
neither the clerk nor recorder knew of the existenc'
ef anything of the kind save tlie co[)ics ol" a i"e\\
pueblo land-titles. Frc^m Mr Hughes, howc!ver, au
ationiey long friendly to our business, I learned that
some vears aijo the archives were taken to San Fran-
cisco, Avhere those of a general nature were i-etained
by the United States surveyor- general, and the rest
rctui'iied and placed in a tea-chest for safe-keeping.
At the next cliango of county officers the chest with
its contents disap])earcd, no one knew whither.

Our next interview wa« with the parish priest Padre
Jaime Vila, probably the politest man in California.
All tlie padres were polite, but Father Jaime over-
flowed with politeness. TJie attitude of obeisance was
Ills natural position. Side by side with his worship of
(Jod was his reverence for man, which of a truth is
not a bad religion, provided men can be found wortliy
of ])riost.ly adoration.

At all events. Father Jaime was a pleasant gentle-
man. He seemed more free Irom that mountain of
awful fear under which most of his brother priests
labored than any one we had met. As he showed us
the mission books there was a refreshing absence of

:i ;i

:\^\

r 'I

604

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

that f^rcat trcpitlation common in former cases, wliicli
maiiiibsted itst.'lf as soon as the books wore produced
and continued until they were hidden ai^ain, mean-
while persistently assuring us that their contents
were of no importance, and being evidently much
averse to our taking notes from tliem. Father Jaime,
like a sensible man, seemed pleased to show his books,
and took pains to explain the contents of each, evi-
dently fearing in the operation neither the thunder-
bolts of the almi'j:htv nor the machinations of Satan.

We found here four volumes o? liautismos, 1782-
1874, the fn^st entry being signed Pedro Benito Cam-
bon. So far as could be ascertained by a hasty exam-
ination the second volume contained the baptisms of
aboriginals only. Father Jaime stated that separate
lists were kept up to a cei'tain date, and afterward all
wore entered in one book. The total number of en-
tries in tlie regular book was 3591, and in tlie Indian
book 4771. The Eiitierros was in three volumes, the
title of volume i. being by Junipero Sen-a. The
ijrst entry, ])ecember 22, 1782, was signed Vicente
de Santa JNIaria. Besides which were two volumes
of Matrimonio.s; two volumes of Coiijirmacwncs; one
volume of lists, or invoices of articles furnished the
mission of San Buenaventura from 1791 to 1810,
with prices; two volumes of alphabetical lists of ])e!-
^.ons in the mission of Santa Bdrbara, with dates rX
marriage, conlirmation, etc., with some miscellaneous
tables, including lists of persons transferred to ami
I'rom the mission; and one volume entitled Libra cii
que se apunta la liopa que se dldvihuije d las Indios
de esta Mision de San Buenarentum, 180G-1G.

These books were kept at Father Jaime's residence,
which was attached to the parish church in town.
'Thence we proceeded to the mission, about one milo
north-east of the town, on the side hill overlooking
the Santa Barbara plain. TJiis mission, unlike any wo
had hitherto seen, was kept in })erl"ect repair. It was
occupied as a Fi-anciscan (College and monastery, and

FATHERS GOXZALEZ AXD ROilO.

505

ihe monks iii gray robes and sliavcn crowns cveiy-
■wlicru seen called to mind tlio south of Eurojio in the
olden time. Of the college, Father O'Kecfe, a deter-
mined, man-of-the-Avorld-loohing Irish priest, was
]iie.;ident. One of the few remaining of the early
jiadres was Father Gonzalez, now almost in his
(!()ta'>e. Some time since he rcsiijned his ])()sition as
guardian, and was now partially i)ai'alyzed. lie
]u'\-ertheless rcco<mized ns and our mission; as we
N.cre presented to him he insisted upon rising and
niu'ovcring his head, and directed that every facility
lie alTorded us. Therefore it is not strange that I
was nuich taken with Father Gonzalez.

But in the present guardian of the Franciscan
college, Friar Jose Maria Homo, more than, in any
of tlie clero'v connected with the mission, I found mv
ileal of a monk. He was arrayed in a Ioul!" OTav
g >\vn, tied with a cord round the waist, and beavls and
cross peiukuit. His hair was neatly cut, and the
crown of the head shaven. His eve was keen and
l.liidly, his features broadly intelligent, and in his air
and l)earing was a manlinei^s rarely found associated
v.illi relisfious learnin'jf. Ho was one who could at
once be true to himself and to his faith, neither
ckiiioralizing his humanity to his piety nor sacrilicing
oac j'ot *)!' piety to any earthly passion. At this time
I'allier Eomo had not been lono;; from Rome. Italian,
French, and Spanish he spoke Huently, but not Fng-
ll^li. 1 le was a man of W(Mghty and learned presence,
yi< modest withal ami affable. As successor to Father
(Jon/.alez he was a happy choice.

< )ii askiii'jf to see (ho books and such archives as
llie mission contained, Father Homo showed us first
a large box of miscellaneous contcMits whicli had been
U'.xei; to the coheixo by Doctor Tavlor in i)avnieiit for
tuition for Ids son — one hundred and filty <!ol]ars I be-
lli ve the box rei^resented. Like evervthinix connected
with this lal^or-lovinu enthusiast, the box contained a
iiet \ory dethied or valuable mass of newspapers and

! I

J ■

rKK}

niSTORIC RESEiVRCHES IN THE SOUTH.

booked newspaper scraps, such as copies of the
Taylorolofji/, ])i-iuted in the ubiquitous Farmer and
Union, paniplilets, broken files of newspapers, all well
enough in their way, but of no practical value, beiiiLj
only Kuatches of subjects, throwing but an ignorant
light on any of them.

Wo found the archives of Santa Barbara mis-
sion both bulky and important. They consisted of
corres})()ndence of the padres, statistics of the sev-
eral missions, reports, accounts, inventories, and tlio
like, including some documents of the pueblo and
presidi(J, as well as of the mission. All these wore in
the form of folded papers, neatly fdcd in packages,
and labelled with more or less distinctness. Tiny
were kept in a cupboard consisting of an apertuiu
about tw(j feet square sunk into a partition wall lo
the dc'[)th of about one foot, and covered with plain
folding doors. As we had never before heard of this
deposit, as Doctor Taylor even had not mentioned it,
and as it was apparently not known b}'^ any one hr-
yond the mission precincts, we regarded it a rare
discovery, the first real literary bonanza we had un-
earthed din-imjj our excursion.

The archives of this mission scorned to have es-
ca[)ed the fate of all the rest. The mission was never
wliolly abandoned at any time; it was never rilled of
its books and papers, either by priests returning to
Mexico or by the United States government. Fatlai'
Gonzalez assured me that this cupboard had uvvvv
been disturbed, that it was then just as it had bnii
left by the early fathers; and such to every appeai'ance
was the fact. That Doctor Taylor with his indel'at-
igable industry should have allowed to escape liini
this rich treasure can only be accounted for upon tlio
supposition that its existence was kept secret.

JJcsides the folded papers mentioned, there wire
the following in the form of manuscript books, i)aiii-
phlcts, and printed government regulations ^\ith
official signatures: Diarlo de la caminata que liizo d

(hcioi

lie /yY'.s
of 801

A; y.V,

Jorniri'
■^•"A« (/(
drrno
"Iras
Santa

thuQ v.-
tile CO
<'opy, b
that Ik

MISSION ARCHIVES.

507

padre prcfccto Paijcmfi eyi union rlel padre Sanchez
pnr la sierra di'iide San Diego hasta San Gabriel JSJl.
IJhro que eontiene los Apuntes dc sienihras, cosee/ias, y
demas asuntos propion de una Mision. Cateeismo Po-
litico arreijlado d la, constitucion de la monarquia
I'iritaaola — for the Califoriiian aborigines. Quadcrno
dc estados e Ynformcs de esta.s niitiiones de la Alta Cal-
ifiirnia del aho de 1822. Descripcion de la Operaeiini
(Jcmrea — apparently an extract copied from some
medical work. Libra de las Siembras y Coseehas de la
Mision de Santa Barbara que comienza desde el ailo de
jsns — mostly blank. A book of sermons written and
preached by the padres in California, with an index.
J.ibro de Qucntas que csta Mision de Santa Barbara
ticne con la habilitaeion de este 2>residio del mismo
homJtre y eon otros varios particulares jyara este aTio de
17!'>2. A proclamation by Governor Alvarado. Throe
ciiminal trials of persons for polygamy. Grammaivs
mid vocabularies of the aboriiji'ines of diflbrent mis-
si;)ns, in two volumes, extensive and important, but
very diflicult to read. Accounts of the difterent mis-
sions, in throe volumes, 181 G and subsequently. Ju-
I'iinue de la Mision de Santa Barbara sita, etc., asi de
/■> cspiritual coma de la temporal y eompreliende desde
cl .'/ de DicieMbre del aho de 17S0, quefud el de lafun-
daeion, hasta el dia 31 de Diciembre de 17S7. Facta ra.
lie firs tercios de rjeneros, etc., Ordenes — of the bishops
of Sonora and California; im])ortant. T'estinionio de
hi Beal Junta sobre el nuevo reijlamento e instruceion
j'crniada por Don Josef de Eeheceste para la penin-
si'la de California, y Dept. de San Bias, 1773. Qua-
dirno en (pie se lleva la cuenta de la cera, candcleros, y
I'iras cosas que se han comp>rado j)ara la Ljlesia de
Santa Barbara desde el ano de 1850 — to IS-^G.

To examine these documents at any length at this
time was itnpracticable. I asked permission to take
tli(.' contents of the cui)board to San Francisco to
<i)py^but Father Homo assured me it was impossible,
that he could not assume the responsibility of letting

COS

mSTOrjC PvESEARCIIE? IX THE SOUTH.

tliom go beyond the nii.ssion ^vall.s. I oderod bonds
i'nv tlie satb return of evcty ] wiper. "Your money
eould not restore tlieni," said Father Ixonio, " lu case
tlioj were Ljst by Tire or water; tlieii I slujuld bo
eensur-ed." Permission was iVeely j^iven mo, how-
ever, to copy a.s much as I pleased within the mis-
sion buihhnn's, where every i'acihty would be given
me; of whieli kind offer I sul)sequ('nlly made avail, as
will be mentioned hereafter, transferriug the contents
of the cu[>board, tliat is to say, all the valuable partui'
it, to my library by means of copyists.

At five o'clock a.m. the 10th of Alareh we left Santa
])aibara by stage and were set d(»wn at Uallanl's
uhont two o'clock, l^aily next morning iu a i'anu
wagon we drove out to the college of Guadalupe,
some five miles south-eastward, an<l thence to Santa
]nes mission. The books of l*urisima mission being
at Santa Iiies, we concluded not to visit the ibrnier,
as tliei'o was nothing there specially to be seen.

The mission library at Santa Ines was the lari-c
Wc! had yet seen, but was composed almost exclusi\
of theological works }»rintcd in Spain. Besides u.^
I'egular Purisima mission bo(^ks I saw at Santa
Ines a curious old book from ]*urisima, ])artly printed
and jnu'tly in manuscript. It was an olla 2^odri<I<i of
.••;cra])s, notes, accounts, etc., with a treatise on music.
^Marking such parts of it as I desired, I engaged the
ju'iestto make and send me a copy.

A most uncomlbrtable night ride in the rain
brought us to San Luis Obispo. There, as beibie,
we drew plans of the mission buildings, examined
ihe books, took several dictations, and proceeded on
our way. As we approached the northern end of
tlie line of early ecclesiastical settlement, the missions
lay some distance away from the stage route, and .1
concluded to leave those nearest homo for another
occasion. Hence from San Luis Obispo we all re-
turned, reaching San Francisco the 15th of March,
well pleased with our excursion.

JUDr.E HAYES AOAIN".

500

In transmitting,^ to nio liis nuitx.-rial, Jiidt^o TTavcfl
socniod anxious tluit it should jl;"o forth, liko a l)(jh)V('(l
(laughtor to licr nmrria'^c, in its best apparel. And
therein ho proved hinisi'U' a liigh-ininded and disin-
terested lover of history, ready to give himself, his
time, and best remaining thoughts to the cause, "I
wish to finish up my collection," he writes n\t«, "so
that you may have all the facts in my possession
that may in any way be useful to you."

]''irst h<^ completed and forwarded to me the largo
qu;u'to volume of ^llta Gilifornia Mission.s M-Jiieh f
]iad left with him. In a letter dated the 14th of
October 1874 he say.s: "I send by express the two
volumes o^ Indian Tirdfff. j\[r Luttrell did !iot come
down with the connnission sent by the secretary of
the intei'ioi-. I have therefore no such use for this
collection now as I supposed I miglit have. I have
l)ei 11 able to add but a few matters to it. Wliatevcr
furtlier iufoi'uiation I nwiy collect nnist '•<) into another
volume. J'^ mi fji'anl Not e.'i now only waits for photo-
grnjihs to be completed. The board of supervisors of
San Bernardino directed a photographer to furnish
me with twelve views which I had designated. Day
h^'foro yesterday our photographer took for mo twenty
views around the Old Town, which ho will get ready
immediately."

Several visits were made by Judge Hayes to Los
Angeles during the following year, at which times ho
used his utmost influence to obtain from Olvera and
others historical information, but v»'ithout nuich suc-
cess. Finally, about the beginning of 187(5, 1 engagcnl
Judge Hayes to drop his professional duties Ibr a
time, take up his residence at Los Angeles, and de-
vote his entire thoufjhts and enerjjfies to securing' for
mo the historical inlbrmation which was so rapidly
fading in that vicinity.

Beincj himself executor and legal adviser for several
estates, he was enabled to secure some material from
them. In regard to the county archives, he examined

510

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

. f

the entire collection of twelve volumes of orisfinal
documents which I had seen at Los Ani^eles, and
made abstracts, as he had done with the San Diego
ai'cliives, except that, these being more voluminous,
he employed two copyists to write out in full such
documents as he designated. Besides an abstract, ho
made for me a complete index of those papers, whicli I
i'ound ver}^ useful. Thus all that could be valuable to
history was taken from these archives and transfcired
to my library, where it was preserved in large and
strongly bound volumes. It was a long and expensive
piece of work, but there was no other feasible plan
wliich could place me in possession of the material;
and, indeed, I considered myself fortunate in securinLj
the services of one so abh.', experienced, and enthusias-
tic as Judge Hayes. But for him, the expense might
easily haAc been doubled, and the work not half so
well performed.

I cannot better illustrate the nature of this work
than by ])lacing before the reader a few extracts from
Judge Ha3x\s' letters:

"I send another package of copies," he writes Mr Oak the 22il of Fcbrimry
IST'i. "The liill of ^Ir Murray is for 28,708 -wonls. amounting to S'lT.-tO.
Tliis is at twenty cents a folio. Young Mr liancroft spoke to ino ;)s to reihicing
the eharge for copying to fifteen cents per folio. I had some convoi'sation witli
!Mr Muiray on this subject, and liave thought a good deal about it. Mr
^Murray is an expert in this matter, and is extremely useful to me in many
otliiT waj's besides merely copying. I know other persons hero who can copy
Spanish, but I would have many ditlicultics in getting along with any of
t!iem. In the recorder's oilice it is almost impossible to obtain room for mnio
than one copyist. I h.ave now examined the largo bound volumes, prtj:o
after page. !Much of it is hard to decipher. Yesterday afternoon, in one of
our studies of three words combined in one, we had the aid of I,nacio St pul-
veda, district jmlge, and .lunn de Toro, both educated nativt's, and iit last
^Ir Murray and I solved the problem, he part and I the balance. This occurs
very often with these Los Angeles jiapcrs. To-morrow we will begin the city
records, which, I am informed, have nmch valuable historical matter. 'I'lio
prefect iccords I will di'op for a while, although I have references to uhk li
interesting matter yet to be copied, liesides the city lecords, there arc !-c\ui
large volumes in the clerk's olliec, entitled ' Civil,' that 'will have to be lo( >ivi d
into, every page, in order to be sure I lose not a single fact of interest. Many
Aii'jdiiwn manifest considerable interest in this work, if 1 can get access

ARDUOUS LABORS.

nil

to materiiil in the liands of Coronel and others, I doubt not I will find docu-
iiu'iits often of greater value tlian these archives I am now examining. If so,
sKcli papers I will have to copy myself, for their holders will bo cautious in
htting any go out of their possession."

The 1 3tli of April lie writes :

"FoUoM'ing your liint that every day is important in your investigations,
I fioiid the index, so that my old friend R. ( '. Hopkins can proceed at once
til ^:ive you his valuable aid. I will try to extract some valuable le.'iding notes
fioni our old citizens as leisure may permit. Think I vill succeed. 1 scud
index to vol. iii. Ainjilct Cilij Archives. 1 sent index to vol. iv. witli my last.
My idea is to make a complete index, in about the same style, to encli vohime
of the archives. If you observe anything not copied in full that ought to be
ci'[ii('d, please advise me. ^Ir JIurray is at work now on the iiyinitniiiii iiiua
(f ISoS, IS.'JO, and 1844, cojiying portions in full ; tli(.' lest I will ai)ridge. We
arc approaching the end of our full copies. The ai/iiiilamiciitoii, M-ritten by
Mr ll.incroft, 1 believe would be eminently useful to hn\'j-crs of a future day.
I iloulit if i\w ayuntam'iemo records are as full anywhere as at Los Aul;! 1< s.
At Santa Barbara Mr Packard told me nearly all are lost. Los Angeles appears
to have no records back of 18l2S."

And again, the 2 2d of April:

' ' 1 sent you in<liccs of the first four volumes of the city archives. The aynn-
tomlciitosoi IS.*}!!, KS37, 1S.38, 18;i!», and IS44 are still to be abridged. 'J'he nine
^||ll!mcs of civil, and seven volumes of crimin.'d records I'emain to be ana-
ly/cil. They present very little, I think, for full copies. I met ( 'olonel Warner
il.iy before yesterday, and mcntioneil tlie matter of his book and Mr Jljincroft's
wishes. I remembered the book, part of M'hicli I read long since in liLs oliice.
1 told him that you relied on him for his Recollections. He said he showed
Villi the book at San Francisco; but that you had made no particular request
<if liiiu for what he had already written, or for its continuance, but added he
Wduhl send you his Recollections if so recpu'sted by you. It appears to be just
its 1 had imagined, he is waiting to be further coaxed. I semi to-day an inci-
dent in his life from the city archives; he no doubt can add many of greater
interest. I mentioned to Mr Murray your suggestion as to Santa Uiirbarii.
llr s;ad he could allbrd to attend to it at the old price, twenty cents a folio.
Tniliably this would not bo too much, iov those archives are written by the
priests, who always write worse than lawyers."

yi'dy 3d lie says;

" 1 hud a more kindly spirit, or greater confidence in me, growing up among
t'li' old native Calil'ornians. Two very valuable aids were otl'ered me day before
yistciday by Leonardo t.'ota and Agustin t)lvera. Antonio Coronel made a
tiiiiihiroll'er a couple of weeks since. 1 think I will get from them nuich useful
iu.urniatiou."

tMM

512

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

'■■•

About this time a 3'oung follovr named Kelly came
to me and represented that ho had great influeneo
with the old families, asking a connnission from me to
obtain narratives and papers. He brought a letter
from It. C. Tlopkiiis, of the United States surveyoi--
general's office, who strongly recommended him.
Unfortunately for me, I employd him. In this part
of my work one bad man would undo tlie worJc of
six good men.

This Kell}^ assured me that all southern California
would receive him with open arms. Among others,
he mentioned the name of Judge Hayes, and I v/roto
to the iudixe about him. But before the following

I/O w

reply came, I had seen enough of Mr Kelly never to
wish again to see him. lie made a little trip south
for me, but I soon recalled and discharged him.

" III respect to Mr Kolly," writes Judge Hayes the 27th of Octohcr, " I
hardly know what to say. lie told me he hiid special access to a diary kejit
through his whole life by Ignacio del Vjillc. By others who liad seen Dun
Andres' papers, I was led to l)olievc he had lift nothing worthy of notice'.
Mr Kelly also told me he had the privilege of examining the San Fernando
^[i3sion records. What these are I know not ; I douht if there are any of v;i''.;.\
Mr Kelly seemed to think that Sun Gabriel, San Lnis Key, and linn Jiiiui
(.'apistrano had valuable records. I have never heard of any, aii.l do not In.-
licvc tluMc arc any. I have received two diaries, one from V. I\'cllus and oi.o
from Captain Robbins, besides some papers of I'edro C. Cirrillo. I nly
nnich on the Coroncl papers. Agustin Olvera died the Otii of this nmntli.
His son, Ciirlos Olvera, took all his papers to his home at Chular, !Moiit( icy
county, ill order to arrange thoin. Ho is executor, and I am attorney tVir
hiin."

The next most important work to bo done in tlio
way of obtaining material was to secure co[)ies of tli*^
archives of Santa Barbara mission. Of the men em-
ployed by Judge Hayes in my behalf at Los Angeles,
as we have .seen, Edward F. Alurray proved to be tlio
best. I endeavored to iiuluce Judg*; ITa3'es to go to
Santa Barbai'a and make an abstract of the arcliixcs
there, as he had done at San Diego and at Los An-
geles. But prolessional duties would not longer l'<)
thrust aside; and, besides, his failing health wariud

INSTRUCTIONS.

513

liim to put his house in order for that most unwel-
come of visitors, death.

Mr IMurray was recommended very highly by
Judge Hayes for the Santa Barbara mission, and as
lie expressed his willingness to go, an engagement was
ellected, beginning about the middle of June 1870,
and which continued with a few interruptions to 1878.

He was a faithful and competent man, and his
abstracts on the whole gave satisfaction. It was no
easy matter for a writer in San Francisco to send a
stranger to work on a distant mass of papers, con-
terniu": which neither had much knowlediije, and have
the requisite material properly taken out; but Mr
^lurray, besides being a man of quick perception,
thorough education, and wide experience, had served
so long and so well under the able directorship of
Judge Hayes that there was really less difficulty than
I liad anticipated.

This was in no small measure due to the careful
instructions of Mr Oak, under whose watchful super-
vision the entire work of Mr Murray, and of all other
searchers emjdoyed by me, was conducted. Being
somewhat unique, and necessarily so, for the work
was individual, I give in substance these instructions,
which possibly in some measure may prove suggestive
to others acting under like circumstances:

The paper on which the copies were to bo made waa ruled with pcrpcn-
•liiular red lines, so as to form a margin on either side, with the viov of
liinding the sheets in volumes. Mr Murray was directed to write only on
I'll!' side of the paper, between the red lines, and to leave at least one blank
line ;it the bottom of each age. As a rule but one document was to be put
'ipijii a page, except in cases of mere titles or short abridgments, when plenty
<jt' spiioo was to be left between the documents.

"Arrange the documents for copying," ho continues, "as nearly in
ilirmiological order as possible; but do not waste much time in this atrange-
iiii'iit, as exact regularity is not of much importance. Write tlu; title of eacii
il (uiiiout, whether it be of any importance or not, with enough of cxpUinu-
ti"ii to make it perfectly clear what the document is. In some cases this
titli' will be enough; in others the title should be followed by an abridgment
ot ronti'uts; but in most cases it should be followed by a literal copy.

' ' 1' ini.sii one document before beginning another ; and let one follow another
Lit. Ind. 3J

^vh.;ii

hi «

514

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

; i^

M-ithont tryin;^ to keep titles, iilH-idgmcnta, ami copies separate, as li.is lioen
clone at Los Angeles. But a book of any length, -wliich will make a siiijiU
Volume of itself, may be copied scpanitely, and tlie Mork done by u.ssiatiiiiLs
may of course be kept separate if more convenient. Tlio old missioi\ bu.pks
of baptisms, marriages, etc., are in charge of the jiarish cui'ate; please ni:ik<!
fi'om them a list of jiadres, with the date of the first and last entries maiin
))y each patlre. There are also a few books of San Buenaventura mission
from which yon cnn derive some information. Get all you can from tin'
county archives, but thi;re is very littlo there. Send up your work willi
your bill at the end of each week."

WItli those general rules may bo placed several ex-
tracts iVoiu letters Avritten at various times, all rormiii;^-
part of the instructions:

"I think, after your experience with Judge Hayes," he writes, "you will
find no dilliculty in doing the work satisfactorily, especially as nearly all lli",
Santa IJ.ii-bara papers should be copied literally. The only classes of diMii-
monts which will have to be very nmeh abridged M'ill be mission account^,
in which of course long lists of items shouhl not bo copied. In such cases a
clear statement of the nature of the account, the parties represented, tlio
general nature of the items — cattle, grain, tools, etc. — and the totals shoi^M
be given.

" From the San Buenaventura piuJron you will take totals year by ye.ir;
but of course we care notliing for mere names of Indian neophytes. ]''rom the
book of invoices you will take totals and some extracts showing t!u; chi.-s ui
merchandi.se furnished, and prices. I cannot well specify what infurmatiuii to
take from old rcsidi'nts, because we need almost -verything relating lo a
period preceding 1849: Personal reminiscences, amusing anecdotes, biogriipli-
ical not<>s of prominent men and women, historical events, mannei's mil
customs of the Califoniians, amusements, politics, family history, etc.-- iu
f.ict all that anyboily can remember. Of course you wiLl make this work, iit,
present, secondary to that of the archives. You may, if you like, keep i: ii
fill up spare time. Go first to the eldest and most intel'igent persons; ::\A
meantime do all you can to interest the old families in the work.

" Tlio town maps need not bo copieil; neither is it necessary to trace ;iiiy
bignatures. Ohl plans of the mission and presidio should be traced. Always
iise figures, even iu copying, to express numbers. Be careful not to eojiy in
full when all the infonnation can l)etter be conveyed in a i-vf words. Maki'
all work secondary to that at the mission. It wcmld be well always to I'-ok
forward among the papers and send me a note before copying limg and im-
portant documents. Mission documents of all kinds between l7M4and l^-'t
are of greater importance than those before 17S4. I will send you a iist uf
the archbishops documents."

I will now give a sketch of Mr Murray's labors at
Santa Bdrbara and vichiity, as nearly in his own laii-

MURRAY'S REPORT.

.->!.■)

Gfiinoc as practicable. The 12tli of June fi-om Santa
JJurhara he writes:

" I arrivcil at this plfico this morning. I went at once to the mission, and
■vvas received very kindly hy Father Sanchez and a young Irish jiriest whose
n.iine I did not learn, Father Romo being absent. They are disposed to
jilVord me every facility in their power, but unfortunately could ]iliioe at my
(lUjiosal only a manuscript volume of Memoriati, the remainder of the archives
l.iiiig in charge of Father Romo, who is not expected to return for several
d;iys. I'adre Sanchez, however, gave me a note to the parish priest, who has
kiiiilly consented to allow mo to copy from the books in his charge. There
arc several volumes, records of l>irtl<s, baptisms, confirmations, and deaths,
niid ill these I hope to liud enough to keep me busy until the libruriau's
nlnru."

Without breaking the narrative with constant rcfcr-
onecs and dates, at the J-anie time addini; sutiicieiit
coiiiicction, I will select from Mr Murray's letters, ia
tlicir proper order, such items as I deem worthy of
record. jNIr Murray writes carefully, and his IcMij^
labor and experience in these parts entitle his worls
to oreat weight:

''There are in charge of t! 3 curate," he goes on to say, "two sets of
rccdrds, one for the Inili.ins and one for tlic white population. Among tliesc
iivc two volumes of records of San Ruenaventur.a mission, one a jKtilroii be-
uiiming in tiie year IS'J.j, the other copies of invoices of the annual reniitfaincc
I'l' merchandise to the mission. In the county recorder's ollice there arc two
volanies, Aciierdo'i del Ajjinitaviiento da Santa Burhura dfsdc 13 <le Mdrr.u de
J^.'/f^, t\\ul ending April '2."), 1S30, and Solarex y Ti-rrcnoi de Lnhrur.d, this
list being grants of land within the city. In the city clerk's ofBce there is
one vcihime of Ordcnanzax of the Coiikcjo Municipdl from 1850 to isr)4. I h;ive
idrciidy secured one copyist, and have in view another. I have proc\ired ii
)il;ae to board as near as possible to the mission, yet I am nearly three
'jiiMrtcrs of a mile from it. Shall Uike my lunch with mc, and anticipate a
]ilcasuut walk morning and evening.

"The first day I went up to the mission they showed me nn old book of
.lA7)((/r/((,t, which they said had been by chance left out of tlie library, and
wliicli I was welcome to use. It was mostly accounts which would have to
1" vciy much abridged, and I did not intend taking it up, only as a last resort.
1 \M lit up a few days after an<l asked to see the book, and they handed me
I'lir cif Pdtinteg. I intimated that it was not the same I had seen on my first
\ i-it, Imt they assured me that it was. I was not disposed to dispute it. and
iil'tt r a little examination was pleased to find that it was perhaps the best

' 'i 'hilt tliey could have given me, as it contains the reports of the mission

f 11 '111 its foundation.

"I send you this week," writing the 2d of July, "the Acuerdos del

510

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IX THE SOUTH.

Ayvntnmhnto complete, a portion of the Onlcnanzas, and Canamientos ile
IikIIos, and ('aMiniki to» ili: Ion de /'(hoh ci>niplcte. I have already starti'u
OHO (if my assistants at the mission to copy tliu I'uleniea, 1 have ascertained
the names of several of the old residents who are most likely to give me
information, and I think I have found one who, if so disposed, can give some
clew to the city papers of lS3o-.")0, lost several years since. There is an oM
man by the name of liurkc, who has been hero, I think, since 1830. Hecanu!
from Los Angeles, and was concerned in an affair with one Maria Pcgi. Sht^
was banished to San Diego, and Biu'ke to Santa rwii'bara. Yon should liave
a copy of the proceedings in this case among the Los Angeles papers. I pro-
pose visiting him this week. I can make a tracing of tlie old presidio anl
most of the adjoining houses that existed some forty or fifty years .ago. At
the mission one afternoon one of the priests asked nie if the Mr Bancroft liy
whom I was employed was not formerly United States minister to Germany,
who had written .'igainst tb.c (.'atholics. I assured him that he was not tlie
same Mr Bancroft, whereUjion he seemed satisfied."

A week later he says:

" Father Romo arrived Friday morning. He leaves again to-morrow for
San Francisco, and will call on Mr Bancroft. lie has placed everything at my
disposal, and has given me the room formerly occupied by Father tiouzalc; ,
fur myself and assistants. Father Romo tolil me that in the ofTice at tlic
mission there is a board about two feet square with the Lord's prayer in om^
of the Indian languages ^vritten on it, whicli was used in teaching the Indiana
the I'ldhe Xiientro.

" There are reports here of all the missions from as early a.s 1773 to 183(>.
The earlier reports are very fidl, many of them giving the date of th< ir
establi.shment, their geographical position, distance from adjoining missions,
the names of the fathers in charge, and in some few instances the age, yvnv^
of sen'ice, and place of birth of missionaries. As it is quite probable tlmt
tlie originals, and in some cases the copies of many of the papers of tliis
mission are contained in those of the archbishop, it would, perhaps, save tin:
rccopying (>( some of these documents if you would send me a list of tlio ■■
taken from his library. I would like suggestions as to the copying of cor-
respondence. That of Serra, Lasuen, Duran, and Payeras, presidents of tlio
missions, and also that of the viceroys are for the most part to be copied in
full, I presume."

-;,

> I

Passincf on to AuGfust, I find in his several letters
the followin<^ items of interest :

" I am very sorry," he says, " that I should have copied the Hcprcfniin-
Clones of Padre Senu of 1773, but your mention, in your last, of I'atli' r
Palou's book was the first intimation I ever had of its existence. I sin 1
you a list of several documents of date prior to 1784, as also the titles of \
few others of hiter date, alwjut tlic copying of which I am in doubt. I lind
it very slow work, and exceedingly trying to the eyes, reading these ])a|n: -;
and lately the necessity of assorting, arranging, and selecting work fm i-y

DE LA GUEPwRA PAPERS.

r,\:

assistants has oWigcd ine to read continually, allowing mo no time to <lo any
Cdpying. There scenis to be an impression that any one who lias u sniatti'ving
of .Spanish and can write is capable of doing this work, wliich, however,
does not agree with my experience, and that the price paid is excessive.
Altliough not a novice, I do not consider myself an expert in this biisims-.s;
aiiil yet, I employ an assistant whoso language is Spanish, and whom 1 have
ijuite frequently had to help along.

" Yesterday I examined the Do laGucrra family's papers," he begins, Sep-
timber, "and tliink there may bo many documents of interest to you among
tlKiii. There is a large mass of these papers, principally correspondence of
t!ir old Comandantc do la Ctuerra, extending from the year 1801 to IS")!),
iKL'ounts and inventories of the presidios of San Diego, Santa IVirbaia, and
.Moateri'y, araneelcs, etc. Have you the account of the ranon pcrdiih, and
tni- iiuliiienloa 2'f»oti of Santa Barbara? From the extent of his researches in
the mission archives I conclude that Mr Bancroft intends to give a most com-
I'lete histoiy of the mission system, and that everything relating to tlie In-
ilians, who were the object of this system, their manners and customs, both in
tiic'ir savage and semi-civilized state, must be subject of interest. 1'his
Beeuisto be the first and only formal search that has been made of the missiou
I'ucliives; however, much information may have been derived from other
sources. Tliere is more authentic infonnation contained in these records tlian
I'liii possibly bo included in any other public or private archives, excepting,
l«i haps, those of tlie college of San l''eniando do Mexico. My instructions to
my ii.s.sistants are to copy in full the reports of the president, observing tlio
iiuiuericitl order of questions, and to copy from the reports of tlie missions
ri.-pectively the con'esponding answers, only, however, when they diiier ina-
t< rially from those of the presidents. I wish you to feel that in this work
yniir inti^'cst is mine; that I idealize fully not only tJio importance but the
imperative necessity of thoroughness and all pos.siblc accuracy. It is a matter
vi pride with me that my work shall give satisfaction. I have a number of
riljnrts showing tlie names of the diti'erent fathers, the missions they were
ii^si^ned to, date of their arrival, and that of their death or return to Mexico.
Tlicre are many years missing, but with the aid of the reports from the difl'er-
eiit missions, the general biennial correspondence of the missions, and circu-
liiis of the presidents, I hope to produce a complete list.

"Heretofore, agreeably to your suggestions, I have made no attempt to
iiiviuigc or classify the papers chionohigically or with reference to .sid^ect;
I'Ut UDW that I am about to begin the abridging and condensing, I do n(jt see
li'iw it can well bo avoided, at least the arran ^iug of .subjects. Where tliere
arc se\eial documents relating to the same subject, the abridging will bo
(: I tally facilitated and accelerated by having them together. In such cases,
lieciuently, by givhig one full abridgment, the title, date, and signatures only
<! the otiicr arc re(iuired ; if their purport be tlic .same, reference can be made
t'l tlie leading one, and if there be anything additional, a lino ortwij^iU
buiiice to show what it is.

"I send herewith the first bundle of gem-ral index. I have numbered
iill the titles ami abridgments of documents and arranged them under diller-
1 III heads, and as fai- as possible in chronological order. All the documents

'.fl

JlS

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

i.H''

I am marking with subjects, title, and numlicr in the same way, so that they
will c'oiTcspond with tlie index. Fatiier Itomo is plcaseil with tliis (irdcr,
whidi 1 liave i'X]ilainud to him, and assures me that it will not be changed ;
BO that should you at any time ruijuire a copy of any of these papers, it can
lie designated by subject, title, and number, and save all needless delay in
searching for it."

In answer to fears expressed that others niiglit sock
make
October :

to make use of the work he was doing, he wiites iu

\il''

"No one has ever examined, copied, or taken notes from the matci'ial
extracted by nie for you; no one has ever applied to mo for permission to do
so; neither is it possilile for any one except the fathers to gain access to tlie
papers. I iiso as a « liting room the sanic apartment in whicli tlie papers
weie kept wlieii you visited the mission iu 1S74. I am never absent during
the day, and at niglit tlie room is locked and the key kept by Father lldiuu.
I am under the impression tliat some material was derived from these papers
for Father Oleeson's work."

"In my last lot of manuscript I made a copy of Echeandia's bando of (Ith
of January 1831, with notes by — I siiould judge — Father Xarciso Duriiii,
tince his initials, thus, ii'.i' wiiUt Fr jV. JJ,, occur at the end of tlio htiiido, and
the wi'iting tliroughout seems to be his. I intended to abridge it, but did nut
see how I could well do so. I am finding several documents that I consider
too important to be abridged, especially tliose relating to the Secidarhacioii il,-
iis Miiiviies. There are j-et to be indexed six hundred and thirty-live doeii-
ments. Of these, about one liuudred, perhaps more, will have to be abridged,
an<l less than half that number copied in full. There are also counted in
tiiis number, one hundred and twenty-live letters, the correspondence of the
inissi(m presidents, and many of the higher military ofiicials. I am sorry to
learn that my abridgments have lieen too full, and would feel very tliankt'ul
for a few suggestions. This condensing and abridging is very perplexing at
times. "

Toward the close of the year he meets with some
hinderances :

"I have been unable to get at the papers in the mission for the last three
weeks,'" he writes the 21st of December, "owing to tlie diphtheria haxiug
matle its appearance. There ai-c still several cases, including two of tin;
brothers ; and one of the pupils has died. "

In common with all the proud old families of Cali-
fornia, the descendants of De la Guerra had to be
won from a state of prejudice and disinclination.

THE OLD CALIFORNIA FAMILIES.

519

The 25tli of January Mr Murray writes from Santa
JJarhara:

" There ia no disposition on the part of the Do la Gucrra family to give,

(ir t'\en lend, any of their papers to Mr liancroft — that is, to send them to .San

I'liiucisco. It is even doul)tfiil if I ean get permission to take tliem to my

nxim for convenience in copying. They are kept in an old diusty and tlindy

lii.'lited attic, or alto, and there I expect I sliall be obliged to do all my work.

I li.ive already spoken to some one of the mendjers of all the principal Cali-

loiiiian families, and although they have all ollered to furnish me with papcis

in greater or less numbers for copying here, none of tiiem 'vill consent to

tlidr leaving 8anta ]>;lrbara. They understand tiie a<lvantagi! of funiisliin;^

iiic with information, in order that their families may be fully an<l creditably

I (presented; yet, although I have ollered to give them a receipt for their

[i.iliers, and have assured them that they would be properly arranged, neatly

liMiind, (airefuUy preserved, or .safely returned a.s soon as the work is cum-

]ilitcd, it is all to no purpose. Documents that before my impiiry were

wditldess, and would eventually have been consigned to the ilanies or have

I'uniislied some rat a lining to his nest, have suddenly acquired a value that

may lie measured by the caprice or cupidity of tiieir holders, or my apparent

iiiiHirL'rcnce or eagerness to obtiiin them. Hundreds of documents, many no

duulpt of no little historical interest, have been carelessly burned, without

iiny assignable reason. A large numlier have been used for kindling lires and

manufacturing cigarettes. The average Californian is loath to believe that

all American, or as tln;y woulil say, a Yankee, ciin possibly have any view

but that of pecuniary gain in all his undertakings and enter,>rises; ami this,

tngrther with his natural antii)athy for the race, docs not iiuJine him to bo

"liHiiitcrestedly obliging. Consequently their willingness to even furnish mo

u ith the j)uper3 for copying is due entirely to tiie persuasiim that tlicir own

iiitcicsts are greatly served thereby. 1 do not apprehend any serious dilii-

iTilt y in obtaining any and all papers not of a strictly private nature ; fur,

while I make them believe that these papers are not objects of great or even

small solicitiidc with me, I shall also be careful to make them understand

that by their failure to furnish me with whatever infonnation, oral or doru-

iiiLiitary, of interest to me that they may possess, they will be the losers.'

Novcrtlielcss Mr INIurray obtained for mo many
|ia[)ors to send to San Francisco, some of which were
to 1)0 copied and returned, while others were pennitled
to remain. After a two month.s' ilhiess he write., the
l:;tii of March 1877:

•'As to my mistake in underestimating the t'mo necessary to complete the
inissinii work, I can only say that the appearance of the papers, tlieir numlicr
ami their importance, as I supposed without having read them, led me to
think two Weeks enough for their completion. I proposed to look overall those
iiliiing to matters purely ecclesiastical, giving tlieir substance L' brief. The

\Hi

523

iii5iTorjc re.";earciies in the south.

])<)litical corrcsp'mdfiico I expected to condonsc very mucli, but T found
4iliuii(hiiicu of matter tliiit I could not omit, and in many cases that I dared
not uljridge lest t!ie meaning; hIiouKI be ad'ccted. In letters es|iecially, and in
all docuiiieuts in •vvliich reference is njiulo to others, expressions are fre(|Uently
used in relation to persons and alTairs previously mentioned whose full foici'
and precise meaning arc somewhat doubtful, and which can bo ascertainiil
only by careful study and comparison with those to which they refer. Again,
the authors of these letters did not at all times express themselves with
clearness and precision, and indeed one cannot but notice that their language
is often made purposely vague and obscure. In such cases I prefer that either
you or Mr Laucroft interpret their meaning."

Writing in April, Mr Murray says:

"I am making out a list of tho padres and missions, and I have found that
it requires much more time than I had at first expected. Tho list when com-
p'.eted will contain an abridged account of tho fathers, their names urrangcil
i:i alphabetical order, the date of their ai'rival, the mission or missions to whii li
tliey were appointed, with the date of such appointments, and that of tht ir
transfer, etc. ; following this will come a list of tlio missions in their regnl.u-
order, and under each the names of tho padres who administered them, and
the dates of their taking charge, the capacity in which they served, and their
duration in the mission. There arc thirty -one lists or reports of tho padri s,
the earliest that of 1789 and tho latest that of 18.32. Between these dates
there arc misshig those corresponding to the years 170O-1, 17'J-t-o, 1707. .■.ml
lS"2'2-30. I expect to supply thein, in part, from the mission reports, especially
those from 18±2-,30. I have already between one hundred and twenty and (iiii;
hundred and thirty names, and expect to add from ten to twenty more. Tlii.-i
done, there remains only the mission accounts, sermons, etc.

"I shall obtain as much information as possible about Father Oonzalrs.
I liad expected to be allowed to look over his papers, of which there is a trnnl;-
ful, but in this I was disappointed. I did succeed in getting a few of tliciu
when I first came here, but I was interrupted by one of the fathers whilu
looking over them, and was informed that Father Romo had instructed him to
allow no one to examine them, f was at a loss to account fortius at tlmt
time, and up to within a few months since, when Father Romo mentioni'd in
one of our conversations his intention of writing a biography of Father
Gonzales."

The 5 th of May saw the last of the Santa Barbai a
mission archives copied or condensed:

" I made no extracts from the Libr-> de Sci'mnnes" says Mr Murray, "f'^f
the reason that tliere is nothing of special interest in any of the sermons. '{"In y
are all apparently copies of sermons preached in Mexico or Spain, and continn
nothing but what applies to the supposed spiritual condition of the neophytis
and 1 should judge them to bo too deep even for the neophyte educated in tho

THE WORK FINISHED.

521

mission, and wholly incomprehensible to tlio adult convert. From the Liliro
tie Siciiihrnii I havo mailu no extracts, as I expect the reports 'will furnish the
Riinie tacts.

"In making notes of tho mission, I pro^iosc, as before stated, to give a
liijcf account of its present appearance and conditinn; tho objects of intcr-
c-it within tho mission and churcli, such as the ontamentoH y raxoit najradon, of
which there still exist several vestments and vessels flrst used in tliis nii;ision.
1,1 till! vault underneath tho cliurch arc tho remains of (.ieneral Figucroa, if I
Mii.it.ilic not; and I have no doubt thero arc many things about winch a brief
laiiition will bo acceptable. Without the mission proper there jiro the
(i)( liiird, tho ruins of the convert houses, tho old mill, tho tau vats, reservoir,
iiiul other ol)jects of interest.

"At San Buenaventura thcro is an ex-mission chorister, qu'tc ohl, \i t
sound in mind, and intelligent. IIo speaks Spanish fluently, luid .still retains
lii-i native language, lie served as interpreter for the fathers. At S.int;v
liii's there are several, and among tliem one who is reported to havo passed
iiis liundredth year. Ho is still unusually sound in body ar.d mind, is
Miiuewhat intelligent, has a good memory, ami remembers quite distinctly
the founding of that establishment and many of tho events connected
with it.

' ' I am close upon the track of the missing city archives, but tho prospect
"f getting my hands on them is by no means encouraging. There is an old
S[):uiiard wliosc name has been given mc, a resident of this place, who told
my informant, a professional gentleman whom I consider reliable, that lie lias
]'a[iL'i's in his possession which if published would imidicato several of thu
I'ldiiuiicnt miMi of iSanta Barbara in frauds in city grants of land, committed
wliilu they were in tho common council.

"On inquiring into tho histoi-y of families hero, lam inclined to think
that the character even of somo of tlie most prominent will have to bo
jiatflied up to make it appear oven respectable, T'ljro have been practicei
■unuiig thu old Californians that are, to say tho least, discredifcibKi to their
name and family. Illegitimate children abound; and in one of the. families of
Santa Larbara, which has, I believe, always been considered among the iirst,
tluy have brought up, in close companionship with their legitimate ollsj.ring,
line or more of illegitimate issue. This is but a single instance; there aro
many more, I am told. Thero is also abundant material hero for another
thaptcr of the Burko and Maria Pcgi affair.

"It is not my desiro or purpose to make special inquiry as to the evil acts
"f those whom I may have occasion to write about; but I suppose that it is
<|inte as desirable to know the evil as the good relating to these persons, in
filler to form a just opinion of their character. All iufonnation of this evil
nature I havo decided to send you on separate notes, which I will head
' lilaek List,' and which I would prefer to have kept by them.selves, that no
<iiit.-siile person be allowed access to them, cither at present or in the future.

" I havo mado a uoto of the reports, which the blanks show to be want-
in,' in your library, and which do not exist here; and should I find ■•my of
them ;it the nnsBiiou I am about to visit, I will make necessary extracts and
siiiii them to you."

iaii'

■mbk

(02 HISTORIC RrSF.ArwCIinS IX THE souin.

From Sail Buoiiaventuia ho writes the 1 2th of
JuiK!:

"I liiivt' liccii at tliis place since tlio flth instant. I founil iicrc nt tlm
cliiii'c'li tlu^ iiiiii.sli rcconla only. l'"r<pin tln'si' I liavc Ixxn able to extract a feu
facts of intiTi'st ami to coiniilett) tiio list of tin; jiadn^s who nerved this
misHioii. 1 Khali make a few notes from the rccortU of kiptisins, niarriagtB,
and ch'atlis, of whatever may lio useful I'elatiii;,' to the iji ul,' </.■ nr.oii.

"'llieio aio tliroe old Californian families living iu and near tiiis town.
Arnaz, the most important, has, I am told, a numlier of private papers- a
whole tnnikful, one ('f the sons told nic. Ignacio del Valle, who lives ,it
the ifaucho (Janiulos, some tlfty miles distant, is also said to iuive an aliun-
dance of ])rivatc papers. At >Santa iut^s I will complete the work as bonu
aa possible."

Thi! I7th of Aui^unt Mr Murray sent up copies of
the Sail Buenaventura, Santa Ine.s, and La Purisinia
nii.ssion ])aper.s.

IJaci; to Santa Barbara again, !Mr ^lunay makes
another eli'ort to .secure the J.)e hi Guerra documents:

" I have not had access to the De la (Juerr.i papers until to-day," lie writes
tlio J.">lii of October. " I was kept waiting for over a month for the return nl'
Mis ] )(! latiuerra; and upon her arrival lit;r(^,i;bout two weeks since, they found
another pretext, in the absonceof Mr l)ilililee, for putting me oil' until to-day.
What reason they have for this, after having assured me something like n ye;ir
n:,-o that I could have the papers for copying whenever I wished, I einniut
ima :ine. There will bo no further delay in tiic work on tlu'se papers. I
think I shall have no trouble in inilucing from live to ten prominent (.'alifui-
iiians, men or women, to dictate their rcrucnloa. I have already taken a few
notes from two of the oldest men in the place."

Ten days hiter he sent an instahncnt of the Dc li
Guerra papeis, and in duo time copies of the wholi'
of tliem.

The results of ]Mr Murray's long and faithful labois
are additions to the library of twelve large maim-
Bcript volumes of Santa Barbara mi.s.sion archives;
one volume of Santa Barbara county archives; one
volume San Buenaventura mission; one volume La
Purfsima mission; one volume Santa Int5s mission;
one volume mission correspondence; six volumes Do
la Guerra documents, besides a number of dictations
by old residents, and a large quantity of original docu-

EXPEDITIONS OF MR SAVAOK.

833

mt'iits from vuiioiH simrccs. Later ^[r ^riirray tuok
liis Hout ill tliu library as ouu of my iiio.st lailUrul
assistants.

A further most important work in southern Cali-
fornia was that performed for mo by ^Mr Thoma.s
iSava^e, an account of whic') I now proceed to j^isi-:

After a preliminary examination of the county
aivldves at San Jose and Salinas, and the papers at
tlie .fesuit college and parochial church at Santa Clara,
with seveial copyists, notably Senores IMna, Corona,
and (jIouk-'Z, Mr Savage ])roceeded in March 1877 to
Salinas and began operations in a largo I'oom which
lie rented near the ofiicc of tho recortler, Jacob 11.
Loese, who allorded him every facility.

Despatching Gomez in search of native Calil'orniana
fi'om wliom a narrative <tf recollections was desiivd,
Mr Savage [)laced before the others books of rocoi'ds,
and directed tiiem what and how to abstract. l*i-om-
iiuiit among those who gave In their testimony at this
time were Francisco Arce and T'rancisco liico, tho
latter detailing the particulars of 1H45-G, the wars of
lilt' revolution, the camjiaign against !Micheltoivna,
and the actions of the Californians against the United
States forces. Thus passed four weeks, when, the
wisrk at Salinas being accomplished, the copyists were
sent back to San Francisco, and Mr Savage proceeded
to AEontercy. Here were imi>ortant personages, for
instance, Florcncio Serrano, Estevan do la Torre,
^Fauricio Gonzalez, Jt)hn Chamberlin, and James
^[••adows, the last named being one of the prisoners
sent from California to Mexico in 1840. These and
other dictations, with a bundle of original papers, were
tli<' result of four weeks' labor at this i)kice, after
wWuAi Mr Savage returned to San Francisco.

A second trip began the 2 1st of ]May, when with
till' same copyists Mr Savage went to San Jose,
anil after a month's labor secured to the library ;dl
that was re(]uired from the public nrchives of that

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

]»lace, which consisted of six volumes of records and
twenty-iivo hundred loose documents, ever}' one of
which Mr Savage carefully examined for historical
ilata. Among those from whom dictations were tluii
taken was Eusebio Galindo. From the heirs of the
late Antonio Suiiol a collection of letters by John A.
Sutter was obtained.

Sending the copyists back to San Francisco, ]\[i-
Savage proceeded with Gomez to Santa Cruz, w^lier< •
the books and loose papers of the mission were placed
under contribution, and also the public papers, which
were mostly of the old town of Branciforte. From
Father Ilawes and Mr McKinney, county clerk,
Mr Savage received many favors. Near Watsonvilh'
lived Jose Amador, son of Pedro Amador, one of the
soldiers present at the founding of San Diego ainl
]\Ionterey, and for many years sergeant in the Sau
Francisco presidial company. "I found this man tif
ninoty-six years," writes Mr Savage, "who had at oik;
tinu! been wealthy, and after wdiom Amador count v
was named, living in great poverty under the care dt"
his youngest daughter, who is married and has many
children. He granted my request without askiu.:
gratuity, and in six days narrated two hundred and
fort}' jmges of original information. I used to tak-
every day something to the children, and occasionally
a bottle of Bourbon to warm the old man's heart.
The 17th of July Mr Savage was back in Sau
Francisco.

■I';'

As the history of California progressed it became
evident that, notwithstanding the mass of material iii
hand, namely the Hayes collection, mission, goveiii-
inent, municipal, and private archives, transi'iipt-'
mode by Hayes, Mrj-ray, Savage, and others, tlieiv
were gaps which yet more thorough research aluif
would till; or rather, from a fuller insight into the
subject, and the reports of intelligent persons, I wa-
convinced that important inf^'mation romaincd \et

PIO PICO'S DICTATION.

523

unearthed, and I could not rest satisfied without it.
There were church records to Ije looked into and
utilized at nearly all the former missions between
Sau Diego and San Juan; and moreover, it was im-
]>i)itant to procure the version of old Californians and
others in the southern counties on the sectional quar-
ivls there existing, especially between the years 1831
aiul 184G, and ev^en appearing during the last struggle
(if the Californians and IMcxicans against Uiiited
States occupation. Till now, though the su)X'nos and
iiortenos were equally represented in the contemporary
records obtained, yet too much of the modern dictated
ti'stimony had described those occurrences from the
northern, or Monterey and Sonoma, points of view,
^[en and women still lived in the south who had
taken an active part in or had been witnesses of
tliose troubles; and from them more or less unbiassed
accounts might be obtained. Others possessed knowl-
edge derived from their sires, and old documents
worth securing from the careless hands which had de-
stroyed so many.

^Ir Savage accordingly, well provided with letters,
took passage the Gtli of October 1877 on board the
steamer SciKxtor, which carried him to Santa ^Eonica,
\\ hence he proceeded to Los Angeles, and was soon
at work upon the dictation of Pio Pico, formerly
governor of California, carrying on at the same time
the examination and copying of the papers of Ignacio
( 'oronel and Manuel Roquena. To these experiences
original documents were added, some from the estate
of Andres Pico; from J. J.Warner the manuscript
volume of his Recollections was obtained. l\ipcrs
and reminiscences were further obtained from I*edro
( arrillo and Jos(5 Lugo. To Antonio F. Coronel Mr
Savage expressed the highest obligations; also to
^Jovernor Downey and Judge Sepulvcda. l>lsho[)
Mora, under instructions from Bishop Amat, loane^l
Mr Savage twelve manuscript books, permitted him
liee access to the episcopal archives, and furnished

52G

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IN THE SOUTH.

■ ^

I! 'i

liim a letter authorizing all priests within the diocese
in cliarge of mission records to allow him to make
sucli extracts from them as he might desire.

To the mission of San Gabriel !Mr Savage pro-
ceeded in the latter part of November, and foiiiid
Fatlier Bot most oblicjino:. Hereabout dictations were
obtained from Benjamin D.Wilson, Victoriano Vega,
and Amalia Perez, stewardess of the mission, and well
informed upon mission life, habits of the padres, and
manners and customs of the Californians,

Spadra next, and a dictation from old Pablo Vejar,
famous in military mutinies, for which ho had b.eii
sent a prisoner to Mexico. Escaping thence, he re-
turned, fought the Americans at San Pascual, an 1
was taken prisoner; once rich, ho was now ashanud
to ask ]\Ir Savage into his hovel. Then Pomona, to
Bce the Englishman Michael White, who came to the
coast in 1817, and settled in Alta California in IH-^.
Thence Mr Savage returned to San Gabriel. At Los
Nietos was seen Jose Mari'a Romero, a Calirorniaii
of ninety; at San Juan Capistrano the mission boo!;;;
then followed a dictation from John Foster of Santa
Margarita rancho, an examination of the mission
books at San Luis Rey, and more dictations IVoin
Juan Avila and Michael Kraszowski, and Christmas
had come. At San ])iego, Juana Osuna and Jose
!Maria ]Cstudillo furnished information. Fortunately
the widow of ]Moreno, government secretary uuil i'
Pico, wa.> at San DiejTo, where she had brouo'ht IVom
lower California a truidc filled with the papers of
her late Imsband, who used to endorse even onliiiaiy
letters "A mi archivo, apuntes para la historia." It
seems hero was another dreaming of history-writiii;'.
"The papers are indeed interesting in an hlstoiiiil
point of view," says ^Ir Savage, who so ingratiate il

lie

himself with the widow as to gain access to
trunk; "Moreno had not oidy been secretary in npiH r
California, l>ut had taken part in the war against the
United States in 184G, and for several years was

MR CHAUXCEY HAYES.

527

tho f)cfe jwlitlco of the region called the northern
fVoDticr of Lower California." Senora Moreno re-
1 urncd to her rancho at Guadalupe, leaving her docu-
ments in the possession of Mr Savage.

Narclso Botcllo was a man of character, and though
now poor, liad held many important positions, as an
iictive [tarticipant in public affairs from 1833 to 1847.
He was induced to wait on Mr Savage at nortli San
Diego find give his experiences, which were rich in
liistorical events, manners and customs, education,
and judicial processes.

Throughout tho entire expedition Mr Savage was
untiring in his efforts, which were not always attended
liy encouraging success. But fortune smiled on him
(luring this January of 1878, tliough the face of tlic
sun was clouded and the roads in bad condition from
the rains. At the time of his death Judge Hayes
was (leep in two large collections of documents whicli
h(> had shortly before obtained, one from ^Ir Alexander,
son-in-law of Ilequena, and the other from Coronel,
tlie former containinuf the valuable diary of Mr ^lell us.
All then fell into the hands of the son, ^Ir CMiauncey
Hayes, who resided at his ranclio, five miles from San
liuis Key. From him Mr Savage, now on his home-
ward way, obtained "two cases pretty well crammed
wilii manuscripts and newspaper slips, every one of
which contained some informatiiMi on the Californias
and on other parts of the Pacific coast. They were
taken to San Luis Hey under a heavy rain, which,
however, did no damage. After some carpentering, to
render the cases secure, I arrani^ed for their C(^nvev-
ance to San Diego, thence to be shipjied to San Fran-
• i^co." Mr Savage does not form't tl»e kindness of
.liidge Egan, Doctor Crane, Pablo Pryor, Juan Avila,
lather ^tut, and others.

I5aek to l^os Angeles, and again en route, armed
with a letter from tlie best of our southern friends,
•Tmlge Sepi'ilveda, to Ignacio del Valle. A warm wel-
toiiie, a dictation, and all the documents the [daco

528

HISTORIC RESEARCHES IX THU SOUTH.

afforded, followed a hard ride to the famous ranelio of
Camulos. leather Farrolly, the parish priest at San
Buenaventura, was a jolly good fellow, as well as a
kind-hearted gentleman. ]>esides extracts from the
mission books here obtained, were the reminiscences
of Jose Arnaz, Ramon A^aldcs, and others.

The 1st of March, at Santa Barbara, Mr Sava-^c
joined j\rr Murray, then engaged on the Do la Gmria
papers, kindly loaned him by Mr Dibblee, adminis-
trator of the estate. From early morning until far
into the night, Sundays and other days, ^Ir Savagj
was soon engaged on the mission books, public an I
private documents, and in taking dictations from !^^^s
Ord, one of the Do la Guerra daughters, Agustiu
Janssens, Apolinaria Lorenzana, and liafael Gonzalez.
Small but very valuable collections of papers WiW
received from Concepcion Pico, sister of Govj^rnor
Pico, and Dolores Domingucz, the two ladies bein^,^
the widows of Domingo and Jose Carrillo. ]\Iany
family archives liad here by foolish heirs been wilfully
b;^ 'ned or used for making cigarettes. "The results
in Santa Barbara," Mr Savage writes, "from ^larch
2d to April 4th were about four hundred pages of
dictations, over two thousand documents, and two
hundred pages of manuscript from the mission books.
]Much time was spent in vain search for papers nut
existing." Subsequently ^Mr Murray obtained dicta-
tions from the American pioneers of that locality,
notably from the old trapper Nidever, who came
overland to California in 1832.

The usually thorough researches of ISIr Savage
met with some disappointment at San Luis Obisjio,
though, through the courteousness of Father Rousst 1,
the widow Bonilla, Charles Dana, Maria Inocente Pice,
widow of Miguel Avila, and Josd de Jesus Pico, t!ie
results were important. These all did much. Inoc(Mi(e
Garcia also gave one hundred and ten pages, aiul
Canuto Boronda and Ignacio Ezquer valuable <i'ii-
tiibutions. The very interesting diary of Waltei*

FURTHER EFFORTS BY MR SAVAGE.

529

^Murray was kindly loaned by his widow. On a fear-
ful stormy niglit, at the risk of his life, driven to it
by circumstances, Mr Savage, accompanied by Josd
(Ic Jesus Pico, visited the rancho of Senora de Avila
in the interests of history, and there received every
kindness.

T have not the space in this chapter to follow
Ml- Savage further. Many journeys he made for
the library, and encountered many experiences; and
gnat were the benefits to history, to California, arising
therefrom. Though less ostentatious than some, his
abilities were not surpassed by any. In the written
nairative given me of his several adventures, which
is full of interesting incidents and important histori-
cal explanations, the keenest disappointment is man-
ifested over failures; nevertheless his success was
gratifying, and can never be repeated. During the re-
moJnder of this expedition, which lasted eight months,
ending at San Francisco early in June, Mr Savage
secured to the library, the collections of Cdrlos Olvera
of (yhualar, and Rafael Pinto of Watsonville, "con-
taining so much valuable matter," Mr Savage says,
"that the history of California would not have been
complete without them." Pinto was collector of the
l>ort at San Francisco at the time of the American
occupation; he also gave his reminiscences.

^Ir Savage did not cease his present efforts until
tlie missions of San Rafael, San Josd, and San Fran-
cisco were searched, and material extracted from the
state library at Sacramento. The old archives at
tlie offices of the secretary of state, and county clerk,
at Sacramento, were likewise examined, and notes
taken from the several court records.

Lit. Im. M

CHAPTER XXII.

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

It is undoiiiablo that the exercise of a creative power, that a free crcativo
activitj', is the liijihcst function of man; it is provoii to bo so by man's
liudiug ill it hU true happiness. Malthew Arnold.

In company with jMrs Bancroft, on the 30tli of
April 1878 I sailed in ilic steamer Citi/ of Panuuxi,
Captain William Seabury, for A^ancouver Island, with
the view of returning by land. After five days and
nights t)f tempestuous builetings, though without
sj)ecial discomlbrt, we safely landed at Escjuiuialt, and
«h'ovo over to Victoria, three miles distant. We found a
good hotel, the Driard house, and a gentlemanly host,
Jiouis Redon. The day was Sunday, and thougli oM
ocean yet billowed through our brain and lifted our
feet at every step — or, perhaps, bi'cause we were t lius
dogged by Neptune even after treading firm land —
we decided to attend church.

On setting out from the hotel we met Mr Ed^ar
!Mai'vin, who accompanied us to Christ church, where
the bishop presided over the cathedral service. Next
day j\Ir ^larvin introduced me to several persons
whom I wished to see; and throughout our entire
stay in Victoria ho was unceasing in his kindness
]Mr T. N. Ilibben, an old and esteemed friend, to-
gether with his highly intelligent wii'e, were caiiy
and fi-equent in their attentions. Then there Vviic
Sir Matthew 13. Bogbic, Dr Ash, the honoralilo
A. C. Elliott, Lady JJouglas, Mr and ]Mrs Harris,
Governor and !Mrs Richards, and a host of others.
Though he did not aft'ect literature, Sir ]\Iatthj\v

(HO)

BRITISH COLUMBIA.

681

was thoroughly a good fellow, and no one in British
(Columbia exercised a more beneficial or a greater po-
litical and social iniluence; in fact, I may as well say
at ilio outset that nowhere have I ever encountered
kinder aj)preciation or more cordial and continued
iiospitality tlurn here. Invitations so poured in upon
us as seriously to interfere with my labors, and greatly
to piolong our stay. I found it impossible to declino
])roirers of good-will so heartily made; and no less
interest was manifested in furthering the object which
liad taken me there than in hospitable entertainment.

To examine public archives and private j^apers, to
extract such portions as were useful in my work, to
record and carry back with me the experiences of
those who had taken an active part in the discovery
and occupation of the country — these, together with
a desire to become historically inspired with the spirit
111* sottloment throughout the great north-west, con-
stituted the ])Urdcn of my mission.

I'ingnging two assistants on Monday, the next day,
Tui'sday, J sat down to work in earnest. One of these
assistants, Mr Thomas II. Long, I found a valuable
man. The other I discharged I't the end of a week.
Aiterward I tried two more, both of whom failed.
Tlie province was in the agonies of a general election,
lu'cc'Hsitated by the dissolution of the assembly by
the governor, on the ground that the Elliott govern-
ment, as it was called, was not sufficiently stiong to
• any out its measures. Untbrtunately the old Hud-
son's l)ay Company men, whom of all others I wished
historieall}' to ca[)turo, were many of them })oliti-
eiaiis. Composed to a great extent of tough, shiewd,
clear-headed Scotchmen, the fur company's ancient
servants were now the wealthy aristocrats of the
province; and although they loved their country well,
and were glad to give me every item respecting llieir
early adventures, they loved office also, and woukl by
no means neglect self-interest. But I was persistent.
1 was determined never to leave the province until

I 111

532

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

II t'

my cravings for information should be satisfied, and to
obtain the necessary information at as early a day as
possible.

The governor was absent fishing, and would not re-
turn for a week. Mr Elliott, the provincial secretary,
was affable, but exceedingly occupied in the endeavor
to rise again upon his political legs. He quickly guM;
me all printed government matter, but when it caiin'
to an examination of the archives he manifested no
particular haste. His deputy, Mr Thomas Elwyn.
offered access to everything in his office, but assured
me that it contained nothing, since all the material
which could in any wise throw light on history was
in the house of the governor. None of the archives
had been removed to Ottawa on confederating with
Canada, as I had been informed.

When the governor, Mr Richards, as the people of
this province called him, returned, I immediatLly
waited upon hin md made known my wishes. II i;
was a plain, farmer-like man, with deep, bright, clear
eyes and large brain, but by no means strikingly intd-
lectual in appearance, tliougli as much so, purhajis.
as many of our own officials. He was a conii)ara-
tive stranger, he said, sent there from Canada; kiuw
little resxardinij: the documents in the governor's olfict,
and proposed that a minute-in-council be passed hy
the provincial government in order to invest liiiii
with the requisite authority to open to me the gov-
ernment archives. Addressinir a letter to ^Ir Elliott
askmg the passage of such a measure, he put me "W
once more.

Now Mr Elliott was prime minister, and his asso-
ciates being absent he was the government, and liatl
only to write out and enter the order to make it valid.
I knew very well, and so did they, first, that tliu
governor required no such order, and secondly, that
Mr Elliott could write it as easily as talk about it.

After a day or two lost by these evasions, I deter-
mined to bring the matter to a crisis. These north-

VERY SMALL (;REAT MKN.

688

western magnates must be awakened to a sense of
duty ; they must be induced to give me immediate
iucess to the government archives or refuse, and the
latter course I not beheve they would adopt. Meet-
iii(r Mr Elliott on the street shortly after, I said to
liiiii:

'The benighted republics of Central America not
only throw open their records to the examination of
the historian, but appoint a commissioner to gather
and abstract material. It can hardly be possible that
any Englisli-speaking government should throw ob-
.stiuetion in the way of laudable historical effort."

The minister's apologies were ample, and the order
came forth directly, liut the order did not suit the
governor, who returned it and required in its place
another, differently worded; and this at lust given
him he required that his secretary, the honorable
-Mr Boyle, a most atlable, but soniewhat needy and
wholly inexperienced, young man, should alone have
the making of tlie copies and abstracts, always, of
cuiu.se, at my expense.

^leanwhilo every spare moment was occupied in
bringing forward the ancients of this region, and in
obtaining information from any and all sources. There
were many good writers, many who had written essays,
and even books. To instance : Mr G. M. Sproat, who
drew up for me a skeleton of British Columbia history,
according to his conception of it; Mr J. D. Pember-
ton, formerly private secretary of Sir James Douglas,
and author of a work on British Columbia, who not
only brought me a large package of printed material,
I lut gave me some most valuable information in writing,
and used his influence with Doctor Helmcken, the
eccentric son-in-law of Sir James, and executor of the
Douglas estate, to obtain for me the private books
and papers in the possession of the family; Dr John
Asli likewise wrote for me and gave me material,
as did Thomas Elwyn, deputy provincial secretary,
Arthur Wellesley Vowel, and Mr Elliott; from P.

034

HISTORIC EXPI/)RATIONS NORTHWARD,

N. Compton, Michael Mnir, Alexander Allen, James
Deans, and others, I obtained dictations. But most
valuable of all were the reminiscences, amounting in
some instances to manuscript volumes, and consti-
tuting histories more or less complete, of New Cah -
donia and the great north-west, the recollections of
those who had spent their lives within this territory,
who had occupied important positions of honor and
trust, and were immediately identified not only with
the occupation and seitlement of the country but
with its subsequent progress. Among these were A.
C. Anderson, W. F. Tolmie, Roderick Finlayson,
Archibald McKinlay, and others, men of mind, ahlc
writers some of them, and upon whose shouldeis,
after the records of Sir James Douglas, the diaries
of chief factors, and the government and Hudson s
Bay Company's archives, must rest the history ot'
British (yolumbia.

James M. Douglas, son of Sir James, whose mni-
riage with the daughter of Mr Elliott we had tlu'
pleasure of attending, granted me free and wiHinLT
access to all the family books and papers. "Ah!'
said everybody, "you should have come before 8ii'
James died. He would have rendered you assistant!
in value beyond computation." So it is too often
with these old men; their experiences and the bent tit
thereof to posterity are prized after they are beyond
reach.

Lady Douglas was yet alive, and, though a luilf
breed, was quite the lady. Her (laughters were charm
ing ; indeed, it were next to impossible for the wife and
daughters of Sir James Douglas to be other than ladies.
Scarcely so much could truthfully be said of the sons
of some other fur magnates, who as a rule were both
idiotic and intemperate. Young Douglas, tliou;ih
kind and polite in the extreme, did not impress nn
as possessing extraordinary intelligence or energy.
So in the family of Chief Factor Worth: the Indium
wife, in body and mind, was strong and elastic as st('< I,

QUITE A MIXED SOCIEIT.

636

?ind while the (lau<jliters were virtuouB and amiable,
the sons were loss adMiiniblr.

The honorable Amor de Cosmos, 7ic Smith, the his-
toric genius of the place, was absent attending the
legislature in Canada. lie was one of two brothers
who conducted the Sfrnidard news[)aj)er, and dabbled
iti politics and aspired to history-writing. One of these
brothers was known as plain Smith; the other had
had his name chanLred by the lejjislature of California.
It was some time before I could realize that the man
1 1ius playing a practical joke on his own name was not
a builbon.

^Ir William Charles, at this time director of the
Hudson's Bay Company's affairs at Victoria, gave nie
iiiUL-h information, and among other things a journal
(if the founders of Fort Langloy while journeying
from Fort Vancouver and establishing a new fort on
Fraser ri\('r. The record covered a period of tlir(;e
years, from 1827 to 1820. Mr Charles also sent to
!"'ort Simpson for the records of that important post,
and forwarded them to me after my return to Sun
Francisco.

From George Hills, bishop of Columbia, I obtained
copies of missionary reports giving n)uch new knowl-
edge of various parts. Mr Stanhope Far well of the
\ ictoria land ofHce gave me a flue collection of maps
and charts of that \ ieiiiity. Through the courtesy
of" John liobson, paymaster of the Canadian I^icific
railway survey, Vietoiia. and AVilliam Buckingham
of the office of the minister o{ publie works, Ottawa,
1he printed re[)orts of the survey were sent me fiom
Canada. F. J. Iloseoe in like manner furnished nm
'.villi the Canadian blue-books, or ])rinted public docu-
ments of British Ameriea. These, together with the
Mue-books found in the public ofiices at Victoria,
and other official and general publications, boxed and
hhippcd to San Francisco from that port, formed ex-
tensive and important additions to my library,

Mrs Bancroft begged permission to assist, and took

636

mSTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

from one person, a miasionary, the Rev. Mr Good,
one hundred and twenty foolscap pages descriptive ui'
the people and country round the upper Fruser. In
Mr Anderson's narrative, which was very fine, sIkj
took special interest, and during our stay ni Vietoil.i
she accomplished more than any one engaged in tlic
W( rk. Writing in her journal of Mr Good she says;
"His descriptions of scenery and wild life aru re
markable for vividness and beauty of exj)ression. His
graphic pictures so fascinated me that I felt nu weari-
ness, and was almost unconscious of effort."

It was like penetrating regions beyond the world
for descriptions of scenes acted on the other aldr.
of reality, this raking up the white-haired reujiiauts of
the once powerful but now almost extinct oigaiiizu-
tion. There was old John Tod, tall, gaunt, witli ;i
mouth like the new moon, which took kiuiUy to gin
and soda, though Tod was not intemperate. IL;
called himself eighty-four, and was eleai-heaJed and
sprightly at that, though his friends insisted he was
nearer ninety-four. The old fur-factor lived about
four miles from the city, and regularly everyday, in a
flaring cap with huge ears, and driving a bony l.)ay
hitched to a single, high-seated, rattling, spring wagon,
he made his appearance at our hotel, and said his .say.
While speaking he must not be questioned; he must
not be interrupted. Sitting in an arm-chair, leaning
on his cane, or walking up and down the room, liis
deep-set eyes blazing uith the renewed fire of old-
time excitements, his thin hair standing in electiic
attention, he i-ccitcd with rapidity midst furious ges-
ticulations story after story, one scene calling u|»
another, until his present was wet with the sweat of
the past.

Archibald Mclvinlay was another, a really brave and
estimable character, and a man who had filled wiili
honor to himself and profit to the Hudson's Bay Com-
pany many responsible positions, but, while young' r
than Mr Tod, he was not possessed of so unclouded i

ties.'

TOD, MoKINLAY, TOLMIE, FINLAYSON.

537

memory or so facile a tongue. Tlio wlusk«y lie drank
was stronger than Mr Tod's gin. lie knew enough,
hut could not tell it. " If it's statisticals ye want
I'll give 'em to ye," he would hring out every fjw
minutes, ** but I'll have nothing to do with personali-
tit's." When I hinted to him that history was made
l>y persons and not by statistics, he rctortod: "Well,
I'll write something for ye." lie had much to say
of I*eter Skeen Ogden, whose half-breed daughter ho
hud nuuricd. The first evening after our arrival he
1 nought his wife to see us, and seemed very proud
• •1' her. lie was really anxious to connnunicate his
experiences, coming day after day to do so, but failing
lV<»in sheer lack of tongue, lie onee interrupted
Mr Tod, disputing some date, and tl»e old gentleman
never forgave him. Never after that, while ^MeKinlay
was in the room, would ^Ir Tod opiiu his mouth,
uxt-ept to admit the gin and soda.

Doctor W. F. Tolmie, who had been manager of
tli(.' Puget Sound agiicultural com|)any, and subse-
<|ti('ntly chief factor at Victoria, w'as of medium height,
liiil so stoutly built as to seem short, with a large
bald head, broad face and features, florid complexion,
ail!', small blue eyes, which, through their corners
and apparently without seeing anything, took in all
tlie world. He hatl been well educated in Europe,
was clover, cunning, and withal exceedingly Scotch.
Tolmie knew much, and could tell it; indeed, he did
tell nuich, but only what he pleased. Nevertheless I
I'ound him one of my most profitable teachers in the
doings of the past; and when I left Victoria he in-
1 rusted me with his journal kept while descending
the Columbia river in 18;}:5 and for four years there-
alUT, which he prized very highly.

lloderick Finlayson, mayor of Victoria, and founder
of the fort there, was a magnificent specimen of the
old-school Scotch gentleman. Upon a fine figure was
Well set a fine head, slightly bald, with grayish-white
hair curled in tight, short ringlets round and behind

538

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

ii!

't \

a most pleasing, benignant face. His beard was short
and thick, in color brown and gray, well mixed. Ho
tasted temperately of the champagne I placed before
him, while Tolmie, who was totally abstinent for ex-
ample's sake in the presence of his boys, prosoribcfl
himself liberal doses of brandy. The Rev. Mr Good,
I think, enjoyed the brandy and cigars which were
freely placed at his command fully as much as onn-
struiuGf elegant sentences. Preferring to write rather
than to dictate, Mr Finlayson gave me from his own
pen in graphic detail many of the most stirring iiui-
dents in the history of British Columbia.

But more than to any other in Victoria, I feel mv-
self indebted to ISIr A. C Anderson, a man not only
of fine education, but of marked literary ability. Of
poetic temperament, chivalrous in thought as well as
in carriage, of acute observation and retentive memory,
he proved to be the chief and standard authority (Mi
all matters relating to the country. He had published
several works of value and interest, and was uni-
versally regarded as the most valuable living witness
of the past. Tall, symmetrica], and very erect, wifli a
long narrow face, ample forehead, well brushed wliitc
liair, side whiskers, and keen, light-blue eyes, lie
looked the scholar he was. Scare* 'Iv allowing hinisi'lt'
an interruption, he devoted nearly two weeks to n'v
work with such warm cllecr^ulne^;s and genllcnKuily
courtesy as to win our hearts. Besides this, lie Ijroug! it
me nmch valuable material in the form of recoid-
books and letters. He took luncheon with us eveiy
day, smoked incessantly, and drank brandy and soda
temperately.

Ilehncken was a queer one; small in stature, Imt
compactly built, with short black hair and beaid,
thickly sprinkled with gray, covering a round hard
head, with clear eyes of meaningless, measni-el'-^s
dei)th, nose rose red, and the stump of a cigar always
stuck between tobacco-stained teeth — this ior a luvid
and body placed on underpinning seemingly insecun .

WASHINGTON.

&39

Ro as to give one the impression of a rolling, uncertain
walk as well as manner, and added to most peculiar
speech larded with wise saws and loud laughter, could
be likened only to a pliilosoplier attenij)tlng to ape tlio
fool. One day he came rushing into our parlor at the
hotel in a state of great excitement, so much so that
he forgot to remove either his hat or clijar stub, <>'ivin'j:
Mr3 Bancroft the impression that he was deriJedly
drum;, and demanded to be shown the papers delivered
me by Lady Douglas and ^Irs Ilarri-. " They liad
no business to let them ont of their li.iudsl" he ex-
claimed. "Where are they?" I sliowed them to him,
explained their value and application to history, and as-
sured liim thev would be s]>eedily copied and returned.
Smiles then slowlv wmthed the i-ed face; the eyes
(lanced, tjie hat cameotf, and h)ud laughter attended
the little man's abrupt disappearance.

I could write a volume on what I saw and di,l
(hu'ing tliis visit of n])out a montli at Victoria, but I
iiuist hasten forward. After a gentlumen's dinner at
Sir Matt hew's ; a grand entertainment at ^\v ^farviu's ;
s(>veral visits from and to Lady Douglas, Mrs Harris,
Doctor and ^Trs Ash, and many otlier chai-ming calls
and parties; and a hundred [)romiseM, not one in
1 'H of wliich were k(>{)t; leaving ^Ir Long to fmisli
cMpying the Douglas [ aj>ers, the Fraser papers, the
Work journals, am.! tii.3 manuscripts fui'iiished by
Anderson, Finlavson, Tod, Spence,^'^owel, and otliers;
after a vovage to Nev»' Westminster, and aftei- lending
oar assistance in celebrating the (Queen's birtliday, i>u
the l.'ist day of ]\Iay we crossed to Port Townseiid,
ha\;ng completed one of th(^ liardest montlisof recrea-
tion 1 ever experienee(l. I'.ut long before tliis I liad
I'cached the conclu.iion that while this work lasted
there was no rest for me.

At every move a new held opened. At Port Town-
^f'm\, wliich in its literary piM'speetive j^resented an
iisju^ct so forbidding that I threatened to pass it by

1 '

■■:'A

■^

f '

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

without stopping, I was favored with the most for-
tunate results. Judge James G. Swan, ethnologist,
artist, author of lliree Years at Shoalivater Bay, and
divers Smithsonian monographs and newspaper ar-
ticles, was there ready to render me every assistance,
which he did by transferring to me his collection, the
result of thirty years' labor in that direction, and sup-
})k!menting liis t'orincr writing by other and unwritten
oxperieiices. Poor fellow! Tlie demon Drink had
long held him in his terriole toils, and when told that
T was in town he swore ho would first get sober be-
fore sotjing me. How many thousands of our pioneer
adventurers liave been liastened headlong to perdi
tioM ])y the ]iellis]i coniforterl jNTajor J. J. II. Van
Bokkclcn was ther(>, and after giving me his dictation
prcsentod to ^Irs Uaiicroii a valuable collection of
Indian lelics, wliich lie had boon waiting twentj^ years,
as he said, io }tl;ic-c in tin,- liands of some one w]ii>
woidtl a])|)reciato them. There we saw ^Iv Pettigrove,
one of tlie founders of Portland; j\Ir Phnnmer, one
of the earliest settlers at I'ort Townsend; W. G.
Spencer, N. 1). Hill, Jolin L. Butler, Henry A.
Webster, and L. II. Priggs, iVoni all of whom I ob-
tained additions to my historical stores. Dr Thomas
T. Minor eiitertaiuc^d us handsomely, and showed mo
through h.is hospital, Vv hieh was a model of neatness
and comfort. He obtained from Samuel Hancock of
Coupeville, Whidbey isl;iii<h a voluminous manu-
HcrijU, which was then at the east seeking n publisher.
James S. Lawson, ca[)ta!n of the United States coast
sui'vey vessel Faunthroij, took us on board iiis siiip
and promised to write for me a history of western
coast survey, the fullilment of which reached mo
some six months after in the form of a very complete
and valuable manuscript. Here, likewise, I encoun-
tered Amos Jk)wman, of Anacortes, Fidalgo island,
wiiom I engaged to accompany me to Oregon and
take dictations in short-hand. Bowman was o scientitio
adventurer of the Bliss type. He remained with mo

, 1 a

ELWOOD EVANS.

541

until my northern work as far south as Salem was
(lone, when he proceeded to San Francisco and took
his place for a time in the hbrary. He was a good
stenographer, but not successful at literary work.

After a visit to Fort Townsend, upon the invita-
tion of William Gouvcmcur ]\Iorri.s, United States
icvenue agent, wo continued our way to Seattle,
the commercial metropolis of tlie territory. Three
tliousand lethargic souls at this date conipiiscd the
town, with a territorial university and an eastern
railroad as aspirations. There we met Veslcsr, saw-
mill owner and old man of the town; and Ilorton, who
drove us through the forest to the lake; and fiercer,
Lansclale, Arthur Denny, Booth, Hill, Si)cncor, and
llaller, from each of whom m'o obtained viduablo
information. Mrs Abby J. Hanford snbse(iuently
sent me an interesting paper on early times at
-brittle. There also I met the pioneer cxpress-
iiiun of both California and British Columbia, Billy
Ijallou, a rare adventurer, and in his way a genius,
sin(^(> dead, like so many others. Had I time and
space, a characteristic picture might be made of his
ix'culiarities.

The North Pacific, a neat little steamboat, had
(\Trried us across from Victoria to Port Townsend,
where the Dahota picked us up for Seattle; thence,
alter two days' sojourn, we embarked for OIymi)ia on
biiard the J\fesscnr/i'r, Captain Parker, an early boat-
man (m these waters. When fairly all(jat I took my
stenographer to the wheel-house, and soon were spread
uixin paper the striking scenes in the life of (^*aptain
pMi'ker, who, as our little craft shot through the glassy
I rcst-frinijed inlet, recited his history in a clear intel-
n;4«iit manner, together with many jxtints of interest
discriptive of our charming surroundings.

On board the Messenger was Captain Ellicoit of the
United States coast survey, who invited us to land

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

at his camp, some ten miles before reaching Olympia,
and spend tlic nic^ht, which we did, touching iirst at
Tacoma and Steihicooni. After an excellent dinner,
Bowman wrote from the captain's notes until eleven
o'clock, when we retired, and after an early breakfast
next morning the captain's steam yacht conveyed us
to the capital of the territory.

Immediately upon our arrival at Olympia we
were waited upon by the governor and IMrs Ferry,
Elwood Evans, historian of this section, Mrs Evans,
and others among the chief ladies and gcnilcmcii
of the place. ]\Ir Evans devoted the wliole of two
days to me, drew forth from many a nook and corner
the musty rerorfls of tlio past, and placed the whoic
of his material at my disposal.

"I had hojied," said ho, "to do this work myself,
but your advantages arc so superior to mine that I
cheerfully vield. 1 onlv wish to see the information
I have gather' h1 during the last thirty years properly
used, and that I know will in your hands be done."

And so the soul of this man's ambition, in the
form of two large cases of invaluable written and
printed matte?' nn the Nurtlnvest Coast, was slii[)ped
down to )i;y hln-ary, of which it now constitutes an
imjiortant [)art. To call sucli a one generous is faint
praise. Then, as well as before and after, his warm
encouraging words, and self-sacriticing devotion to ui''
and niy work, won my lasting gratitude and affection.

At l\)rlland \vv fi»und reatlv to assist us, bv exerv
means m th^ir power, many warm fiii-nds, among
whom were S. F. Chailwick, thm governor of Oregon;
^Matthew P. Ueady, oj' the United )Stat(S judieiai\ ;
AVilliani Strong, one of the th'.st appointees of the
federal government, al'tei- the treaty, as judge of tlie
supreme court; ]\lrs Abernethy, Vtidow of the iir.it
jn-ovi.-ional governor of Oregon, ami Mrs llarvoy,
daugiitcrof ])octor McLougldin, and formerly wife o['
William Cllenn lliw., who had charge of tho Hudson's
Lay Company s alfairs, tirst at Stikeen and afterwaid

OREGON.

543

at Yerba Buena. Colonel Sladen , aide-de-camp to Gen -
oral Howard, who was absent fighting Indians, not
only threw open to me the archives of the militrry
tlopartment, but directed his clerks to make such ab-
stracts froni tliem as I should require. Old Elisha
White, the first Indian and government agent in
Oregon, I learned was in San I'rancisco. On in}' re-
tain I immediately sought him out, and had before
his death, which shortly followed, many long and
jirofitable interviews with him, I should not fail to
mention Governor Gibbs, General Hamilton, Stephen
Coffin, Mrs J. H. Couch, Mr McCraken, H. Clay
Wood, Mr Corbett, Georije H, Atkinson, Simeon
Heed, W. Lair Hill, and XL W. Scott of the Orcgo-
iiian. II. P. EarJjart kindly supplied me with a set of
the Oregon giand h)clge iiroecedings. In company
with Dr J. C. Hawthoriii3 vv e visited his insane asylum,
.1 model of neatness and ortlcr. General Joseph Lane,
h(3ro of the Mexican war and many northern Indian
hatiles, iirst territorial governor of (Jregoii, and iirst
li' kuate from tlio territorv' to conixross, I met; iirst at
I'oi aland and took a dictation from him in tlie parlor
of the Clarendon iiotel, at which we were staying,
and subsequently obtained furtlier detail at his lionie
at lioseburg. J. N. Dolph wrote Mr Cray, the
historian, who lived at Astt.)iia, to come to lN)rtland
I" see me, but he was not at liome, and my business
with him had to be done by letter. ^Irs F, F. Victor,
whose writings on Oregon weie by far the best extant,
and whom I wished much to see, was absent on tlio
.••outlu;rn coast gathering infoi'tnation for the revision
>'!* her Urvijon and \V(is!,ii,<jti)ii. On my return to
>un Francisco I wrote oiibring her an engagement in
111}' lil>rary, wliicli s!ie acce[)lcd, and for years proved
t)ae of my most failhrul an-l oUicient assistants.
Father Ulanchet was shy and sus[»icious: I was not
'jf ])is fold; but as liis \\'uU\ range of experiences was
.•ihvady in |)rint it made little dilfeienee.

Wc had been but a few hours in this beautiful and

"'J

1 V

544

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

liospitable city when wo were informed that the annual
meeting of the Oregon pioneers' association was to
open immediately in Salem. Dropping our work at
Portland, to be resumed later, we proceeded at oneo
tf) the capital, and entered upon tlie most profitable
five days' labor of the entire trip; for there we found
concfrcfjated from the remotest corners of the state
the very men and women we most wished to see, those
who had entered that region when it was a wilderness,
and had contributed tlie most important share toward
makinij the society and L'.>vernment what it was, Tluis
six. months of ordinary travel and research were com-
pressed within these five days.

I had not yet reiristerod at tlie C'heniekfita liotel
in Salem wlion J. Henry Brown, secretary of the
pioneers' association, presented himself, at the in-
stance of Governor Cliadwick, and offered his services.
He was a fair type of the average Orcgonian, a printer
by trade, and |)oor; not particularly pleasing in oj)-
})earanco, somewhat slovenly in his dress, and in-
different as to the length and smoothness of his hair.
I found him a diamond in the rough, and to-day tlieie
is no man in ( )regon I more liighl}'' esteem. 1 [e knew
everybody, intro(hiced me and my mission to every-
body, drununet^ the town, and made appointment'^
faster than I could keep tlieni, even by dividing my
force and eacli of us taking one. He secured for nie
all [)r'uted matter which I lacked. He took me to the
state archives, and promised to make a transcri[)t of
tliem. I paid him a slim of money down, for whieh
hi' did more than he had boruained.

It was a hot anc^ dusty tune we had of it, but wc
worked with a will, clay and niiiht : and tlie notes tlieic
taken, under ".lie trees and in the buildings ahout
the fair-gronnds, at tlie hotel, and in private parlors
and offices, made a liuge pile of historic lore when
written out as it was on our return to San Fran-
cisco. There was old Daniel Waldo, who, thou^jh
brought by infirmity to time's border, still atoutly

TIIR <;00D PKOPLE OF SALEM.

:A5

stumped Ills porch ui<l swore roiintlly at everytliiiig
mid cver}l»()(l}- hctwccn the Atlantic and Pacific.
There was the mild uiis^sionarv Parrish, who in brin<r-
iii^ the poor Indian the white nian'y religion and civ-
ilization, strove carnoistly but iruitlessly to save him
t'roiii the curses of civilization and reli<rion. There
was John Minto, elo(|Uent as a s|)eak(.'r and wi'iter,
with a wile hut little his inferior: the women, indeed,
sjioki; as freely iis the men when o-athered round the
(■aiu[) fires of tlie Oregon jiionccrs' association. Foi-
< Mimjtle: j\Irs Minto had to tell how women lived, and
lalioivd, and sull'ered, and died, in the early days of
Oii'gon; how they clothed nnd housetl themselves,
oi. latlier, how they did without houses and clothes
during' the first wet winters of their sojourn; how
an .'uhnirint' youn'jf Khoemaker had measured tlie im-
|iii ss of her maiden feet in the nmd, and sent her as a
jirrsLiit her Ih'st Oregon shoes. Mrs Samuel A. Clarke
fiKik a merry view of things, and called crossing the
plains in 185f a grand [)icnic. J. Quinn Thornton,
with liis long grizzly hair and oily tongue M'as
tliiic, still declaiming against Jesse Ap[)legate for
leading him into Oregon by the then untried southern
roiilo thirty years before. Still, though so-, ewhat
crahhed and unpo[)ular among his fellow-townsmen,
.ludge Thornton rendered im[)ortant service by trans-
ii 1 ring to me valuable material collected by him foi'
liti lary purposes, for he too had afi'ected history,
hut was now becoming somewhat infirm. iJavid
\(\vs(>me knew something, he said, but would tell it
finly for money. I assured David that the country
woidd survive his silence. Mr Clarke, with his
inniable and hospitable wife and (laughters, spared no
liauis to make our visit })leasing as well as profitable
Sriiator Grover was in Washington, but I caught
him afterwaixl in San Francisco as he was passing
tiuDugh, and obtained from him a lengthy and vain
;ihl,. dictation. Geueial Joel Palmer told me all ho
could remember, but his mind was evidently failing.

Lit. I.no. 35

't . , •
i: if.

M ' ft

.■ i

<-i -

la.

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

James W. Ncwmith rolated to me several anecdotes,
and afterward sent me a manuscript of his own
writing. The contribution of Medorem Crawford
was important. Among the two or three hundrtsil
prominent Oregonians I met at Salem I can only
mention further Richard II. Ekin, Horace Holdeii,
Joseph Ilolman, W. J. Ilerren, and II. II. Gilfry, of
Salem; W. II. Rees, Butteville; 13. S. Clark, Cliain-
poeg; William L. Adams, Hood lliver; B. S. Wilson,
Corvallis; Joseph Watts, Amity ; George B. Roberts,
Cathlamet; R. C. Gear, Silverton; Thomas Con-^-
don, Eugene City; B. S. Strahan, and Thomas Mon-
teith, Albany; and Shamus Carnelius, Lafayette
Philip Ritz of Walla Walla gave me his dictation in
San Francisco.

On our way back to Portland we stopped at Oiv-
gon City, the oldest town in the state, wlu^ro I met
and obtained recitals from S. W. Moss, A. L. Lovo-
joy, and John M. Bat»)n, and arranged with W. .11.
II. Fouts to copy the archives. I cannot fail, bofoiu
leaving Portland, specially to mention the remarkahli;
dictations given me by .Ju<lge Deady and Jii(]'.;(;
Strong, eacli of wliicli, with the authors' writings
already in print, constitutes a history of Oregon in
itself Indeed, botli of these geutlunien had thrcuL-
eued to write a liistory of Oregon.

Alter a Hying \ isit to tlie Dalles, ovoiland by i;iil
from I'ortland to San Francisco was next in order, witli
private eonveyaiiee over the Siskiyou mountains, ll
was a trip I had long wished to make, and we enjuMil
evei-y liour of it. I have not space ibr details. Wo
stopped at many places, saw many men, and gatln iv.l
much new material. At Drain we remained one day
to see Jesse A])plegate, and he spent the entire tiun;
with us. He was a remarkable person, in sonif iv-
fspects tlnj foremost man iu Oregon duiing a puiud
of twenty years. In him were united the praciliai
and the intellectual in an eminent dei>iee. He could
explore new regions, la}' out a I'arm, and write essaj.-i

JESSE APPLEGATE.

547

with equal facility. He was political economist, me-
chanic, or historian, according to requirement. His
iatal mistake, like that of many another warm-hearted
and chivalrous man, was, as he expressed it, in "sign-
ing liis name once too often." But though the pay-
jiiciit of the defaulter's bond sent him in poverty into
the hills of YoMcalla, he was neither dispirited nor
dyspeptic. At seventy, with his active and intellectual
lift*, .so lately iuU of flattering probabilities, a financial
faihire, his eye was as bright, his laugh as unaffected
and merry, his form as erect and graceful, his step as
olaslif^ his conversation as brilliant, his realizing sense
lit' nature and humanity as keen, as at forty. Never
si Kill I forget that day, nor the friendship that grew
Mill of it.

Tlic veteran Joseph Lane I found somewhat more
ilif.icult of mana<jrement in his home at Iloseburj; than
al Poll land. Congressional honors were on his bram,
lostcred therein by his friend Applcgate, Then ho
was troubled by his son Lafayette, who though some-
what silly was by no means without abilit}'. The
lather wished the son to aid him in writing his history
I'T uie. The son would promise evcTytliing and per-
i'oi III nothing. Nevertheless, in due time, by persist-
iil (dbrt, I obtained from the general all I reipilred.

-Vt Jacksonville I sat through the entire night,
luilil my carriage called for me at break of day, taking
a most dis'nistino- dictati(m from the old Indian-
hut<her John E. Koss. This piece of folly I do not
iv('nrvl with pleasure.

I must conclude this narrative of my northern
jniniicy with the mention of a few out of the several
.scons I met (m my way who took an active interest
ill I heir history:

At Drain, besides Jesse Applegate, I saw James A.
Httiling, who was with Walker in Nicaragua, and
'hihn (J. Drain, the founder of the place. At Kose-
hm .;• wci'e A. K. Flint, L. F. Mosher, and others, and
at A.-hland, O. C. Applegate. By reason of his per-

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548

IIISTOIIIC KXI'LOIIATIOXS NORTHWARD.

sona] devotion I will forgive my old friend B. F.
Dowcll for employing his copyist, William Iloffnitiii,
to write from a newspaper belonging to the historic;! 1
society of the place a sketch of lifty manuscript
pages, at a cost to me of thirty dollars. After J. ha.l
paid this exorbitant charge without a murnmr, and
Uowell asked for more similar work f )r his protem',
I replied that historical information at Jacksonvillu
was too high for any but a ten-millionaire t(j indul-v
in; and that it was strange to me a town with ])ublii-
spirit sulHcient to boast an historical society shoulii
make so great a mistake as unmercifully to tlecci
one willing to spend time and money in giving ii
a place in history. The fact is that, although as n
rule the men I met were intelligent enough properly
to appreciate my efforts, there were cverywheru .i
few who saw in them only mercenary motives, and
would impart their knowledge, or otherwise open In
me the avenue to their local affairs, only for a j)rici'.
On the strenij^th of J. B. Bosborough's magniliccnl
promises I gave him a ream of paper and a set nf
the Xatice Races, and received in return not a word.
This, however, was not so bad as the case of tliu
honorable Mr Justice Crease, of Victoria, and his nmu
(.'layt<^)n, who besides a liberal supply of stationery se-
cured from me a sum of money for promised writiiiL;,
not a line (jf \vhich was ever sent to me.

P. P. Prim, T.. J. C. Duncan, J. :\I. :\[cCidl,
Lindsay Applegate, .f. !M. Sutton, Daniel (Jaliy.
William Bybce, Da\id Lin, and James A. Cardwrll
were also at .lacksonville. Then thi're were Ant Ik my
!^^. Slee[)(.'r, Joseph Kico, D. Beam, A. P. McCait'ii.
Thomas A. Bantz, A. E. Baynes, F. G. Ilr.iiii.
of Yreka; (\ W. Taylor and Charli.'S ^IcDonald h1
Shasta; Henry F. Johnson and Chauncey C. Bu-'Ii
of Beading, important names in the local history <>t
their respective places. Mrs Laura Morton of the
state library, Sacramento, very kindly copied for niu
the diary of her father, Philip \j. Edwards.

PKrOsITS OF MATKKIAL.

The 7tli of July saw inc again at my table at Oak-
ville. It was during the years innnediately sucoceding
the return from my expedition to the north lliat 1
wrote the llistonj i)f tliv Xortharst Coast and the
lUdnry of BritisJt Columbia; Onyon and .i/ashi came
ill later.

Ill reviewing this journey I would remark that I
t'niiiid at the head-quarters of the honorable Hudson's
Hay (Company in Yi(?toria rooms full of old accounts,
liiioks, jiiid letters, and boxes and bins ol' pa[)ers iv-
':itiii;^' to the biisiiu>ss of the company, and of its sev-
I lal posts. The comj)any's ( )regon archives were
l.id'^frd here, and also those from the J lawailan islands
and tlie abandoned posts of Xew (^dedonia.

The oihce of the [»'o\iii<'ial secret:iry contained at
this time books and pnjiers jelati\e to llie local affairs
(if the government. I>.if [ found in them littit; of his-
tnri'ai importance. At tlio government jjouse, in
llir otHce of the govonior's private secretary, was
ri 'her material, in the shape of (K'sj)atclies between
the governors of Ihiti^h ('oluml»ia and ^^ancouver
inland and the secretary of state f )r the colonies in
London and the governor-general of Canada. There
wrie likewise correspondence of various kinds, de-
spatclies of the minister at Washington to the gov-
< rmnent here in 185(3-70, paj)ei's relative to tlie Sau
•iuaii difliculty, the iia.val authorities at I'lsipiimalt,
IS,VJ-71, letters from Admiral Moresby to (jlovernor
Hlaiicliard, and many miscellaneous records and papers
iiiiiKutant to the historian.

Oregon's most })recious mati>i-ial foi* history I found
ill (he Iieads of her hardy })ioijeers. The of'ice of the
ailjntant-gencral of the department of the Columbia
<<inraiiied record-books and papers I'clative to the
ailaii's of the department which throw nmdi light
(III tlie settlement and occupation of the country,
f licre are letters-sent-books and letters-rcceived-books
since 1858, containinjjT instructions and advices con-

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 873-4503

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550

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

, i i ;|

cerning the establislinieiit of posts and tlio protection
of the people. The pubUc library, Portland, con-
tained nothing worthy of special mention.

There was once much valuable material for history
in the Oregon (■^tate library at Salem, but in 185G a
lire came and swept it away. The legislature passed
a law requiring a copy of every news[)aper published
in the state to be sent to the State library, but the
lawyers came and cut into them so badly for notices
or any article they desired that finally the lil)raiiaii
sold them to Chinamen for wrap[)ing-j)aper — a sliift-
less and sliort-siiihted ]>olicv, I shoultl sav. It liad
been the intention of the state to preserve them, hut
as no money was appro])riated for binding, they wciv
scattered and tk-strtjved. At the time of mv visit in
1878 there was little in the state library except
government documents and law-books.

In the rooms of the ofovernor of Oregon were tlio
papers of the provisional government, and otlui-
such as naturally accuuuilate in an executive oliici .
When I saw them they were in glorious disordri',
having been inrown loose into box"s without I'espici
to hind or quality. Engaging Mr J. Ilenr}" Brov.n
to make Coynes and abstracts of them for me, I sti[ni-
lated with him, for the benefit of the state, that lie
should leave tlium ]iroperly classified and chronoloL;-
ically arranged. Mr 13rown had made a collect ioii
of matter with a view of writing a statistical worlc uu
Oregon, and possessed a narrative of an expeditiuu
under Joseph L. ]\Ieek, sent by the provisional gov-
ernment to AVashington for assistance during tlic
Indian war. lie also had a file of the Onyouii'ii.
A. Bush possessed a iile of the Onyon Skdesnuin.
From Mrs Abernethy I obtained a file of the Onyvu
Spectator, the first newspaper published in Oregon.
Mr Ncsmith had a file of the journal last mentioned,
besides boxes of letters and papers.

The first printing-press ever brought to Oregon
was sent to the Sandwich islands by the Ameiieau

KARI.Y ORKdON TRINTINC.

561

!)(>;. rd of commissioners for foreii^n missions, and was
used there for printing- books in the Hawaiian lan-
^iiaj^e; then, at the re(|uest (»f doctors Whitman and
Spa aiding, it was transferred to Oregon, to the Nez
I'erce mission on the Clearwatei-, now called the
Lapwai agency. This was in 1H38. The press was
used for some time to print hooks in the Nez Perc(5
and Walla Walla languages, and at the time of mv
visit it stood in the state house at Salem, a rare
and curious relic, whore also might be seen spf>cimens
(if its work under the titles: Nez-Pcrcts Flr.^f Booh;
designed for children and new beginners. Clear
Wider, Mission Press, 1830. This book was prepared
ill the Xez Perce language, by the Rev. H. IT,
Sjjauiding. Jfaffheirnirn TaaisJd. Printed at the 'press
of the Oreijon Mission under the direction of The
A.nerlean Board, C. F. Missions. Clear Water: M.
fl. Fuisy, Printer — being the gospel of ^Matthew,
translated Ity II. II. S[)aulding, and printed on eighty
])ages, small -ito, double columns. Another title-page
was 2\dapusapaiain Wanipt Tinias. Paul wah sailas
liitranpshina Godxim nxitashitpli. Luk. Kauo wan-
j)ith LoRDirii tininal-i. Paul. Lapwai: 1S4 ' — which
hilongeil to a book of hymns prepared by H. H.
S])aulding in the Nez Perce language.

Before setting out on my northern iournev I had
arranged with Mr PetrofT to visit Alaska, and con-
Jume the northward line of search where my investi-
gations should leave it, tlius joining the great north-
west to southern ON:[)loi'ations already eft'octcd.

In all my varied undertakings I have scarcely asked
it favor from any one. I never regarded it in the
light of personal favor for those having material for
history, or information touching the welfare of them-
selves, their family, or the state, to give it me to em-
body in my work. I always felt that the obligation
was all the other way; that my time was spent foi-
their benefit rather than for my own. As a matter

562

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

of course, my object was to benefit neither myself
primarily nor them, but to secure to the country a good
history.

From boyhood I have held the doctrine of Fenelon :
"I would like to oblige the whole human race, es-
pecially virtuous people; but there is scarcely aiiy-
bo 1y to whom I woukl like to bo under obligatioiiis."

And even among the many who contributed, there
was singular lack of consideration and coopei-ation. I
might go to any amount of trouble, spend any amount
of money, yet it never seemed to occur to them to
furnish me their dictation at their expense instead
of mine. Moneyed men of San Francisco have growled
to mo by the hour al)(>iit their great sacrifice of valu-
able time in telling mc their experiences. And some
of them, instead of offering to pay the copyist, stipu-
lated that I should furnish them a copy of their dic-
tation, which they had been at so much trouble to
give. One man, a millionaire farmei', the happy ownei'
of forty thousand acres, with fifty liouses on the place,
enough to accommodate an army, permitted one of
my men to pay his board at tlio hotel during a ten
days' dictation. This wasthouglitlessness rather than
iidierent meanness, for these men did not hesitate t;*
devote themselves to public good in certain directions,
j)ai'ticularly where some newspaper notoriety was to
be gained by it. It certainly recjuirod no little devo-
tion to the cause to spend my time and money iu
thus forcing unappreciated benefits upon others.

Once only in the whole course of my literary laboi's
I asked free passage for one of my messengers on a
sea-yfoin-x vessel: this was of the manaofer in San
Francisco of the Alaska Counnercial company, and
it was curtly refused. I was drawn into this request
by the seeming friendliness of the man for me and
my work. He had gone out of his way to express
a willingness to assist mo to mateiial for the history
of Alaska; so that when PetrofF, who knew all about
Alaska, assured me of the existence there of valualjlu

PETROFF'S VISIT TO ALASKA.

653

material, I did not hesitate to ask a pass for him up
and back on one of the company's vessels. This un-
ci »iirteous refusal of so slight a ic(]uest, aiming at the
largest public benefit, the burden of which rested
wholly upon me, the cost of Petroff's i)assage being
aljsolutely nothing to the company, struck me as very
])('c'uliar in a man who had been once collector of the
port, and at that verv moment was i.ot unwilling to
s[)i!nd and be spent for his country as United States
senator at Washington. However, we will rest sat-
isiled : for the verj^ first vessel despatched for Alaska
alter this conversation, the schooner General Miller,
1)11 wliich Mr Petroff would have sailed had permis-
sion been granted him, was capsized at sea and all on
hoard were lost.

I innnediately applied through Senator Sargent to
tlic government authorities in Washington for passage
lor Mr Petroff on boaixl any revenue-cutter cruising
ill Alaskan waters. The request was granted, on con-
dition that I paid one hundred dollars for his sub-
sistence, wliich I did.

]\Ir Petroff embarked at San Francisco on board
tlio United States cutter Illahard Rush, Captain
Ixiiley, the 10th of July 1878, touched at Port
Towiisend the 10th, at Nanaimo for coal on the l7tli,
and anchored that night in the Seymour Narrows,
in the gulf of Georgia. Late on the afternoon of
the 18th Fort Rupert was reached, where Mr Petroff
iiu't ■Mr Hunt, in charue of the station, who had re-
sided there since 1849; Mr Hall, a missionary, was
also settled there. Aftei* sailing from Foii Kupert
in the early morning and crossing Queen Charlotte
sound, anciionige was made that evening in Safety
cove, Fitzliugh sound. l*assing Bellabella, another
of the Hudson's Bay company's stations, the cutter
continued its course until at sundown it reached
Holmes ba}^ on McKay reach. On Sunday, the
'^Ist, the course lay tlirough (Trenville channel to
Lowe inlet, and the following day was reached Aber-

554

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

'{■'

!'■

1 I-

deen, Cardcna bay, where an extensive salmon can-
nery was situated.

The first archives to be examined were at Fort
Simpson. There PetrofF met Mr McKay, agent of
the fur company, who placed at his command the
daily journals of the post dating back to 1833. Over
these papers Petroff worked assiduously from night-
fall till half past one, in the quaint old office of the
Hudson's Bay company, with its remnants of homo
made carpets and furniture. Only eight volumes
were examined during his limited stay; but subse-
quently I had the good fortune to obtam the loan of
the whole collection for examination at my library in
San Francisco. In inky darkness Petroft* then made
his way out of the stockade of the fort through a
wilderness of rocks and rows of upturned canoes,
until he reached the cutter. Mr McKay had taken
passage for Fort Wrangel, and during the trip fur-
nished a valuable dictation. The fort was readied
on the evening of the 23d. Upon arriving at Fort
Sitka, on the morning of Jul}'' 2Gth, Petroff immedi-
ately began to work upon the church and missionary
archives furnished by Father Mitropolski, and spent
the evcnins: obtaining information from old residents
and missionaries; among the latter, Miss Kellogg,
Miss Cohen, and ]\Ir Bredy had interesting experi-
ences to relate. Collector ]3all and his deputy weru
most attentive. Jul}'' 28th the cutter steamed away
for Kadiak, which was reached two days later. Th*^
agents of the Alaska company, and of Falkncr,
Bell, and company. Messrs Mclntyre and Hirseli,
came on board the steamer, and were very hospitable
Mr Mclntyre lent Petroff the company's journals,
which were thoroughly examined. Among those win*
furnished personal data from long residence in tbis
country were j\Ir Stafeifk, Mr Zakharof, and Fatlur
Kasherarof. Others, recently arrived from Cook
inlet, also gave considerable information. MrPavlot,
son of the former Russian governor, and manager ;it

THE HONORABLE MEMBER FROM ALASKA.

aod

this time of the American and Russian Ice company,
had much important knowledge to impart.

Mr Mclntyre presented Mr Petroff with a mummy,
which was sent to the Bancroft Library and placed in
a glass case. It was obtained by Mr Mclntyre from
Nutchuk island, from a cave on the side of a steep
mountain very difficult of access. In this cave were
the dried bodies of a man and two boys. One was
secretly shipped, but when the others were about to
be placed in a box the natives interfered, and required
their burial for a time. It was Mr Oliver Smith, a
trader at Nutchuk, who undertook their removal,
and who obtained for Petroff the leijend connected
with them. The body is well preserved, with finely
formed head, bearing little resemblance either to
Aleut or Kalosh. The hair is smooth and black; it
lias the scanty mustache and goatee, sometimes no-
ticeable amonff Aleuts. The nose has lo>-:t its orijjinal
!<hape. Brown and well dried, with chin resting on
the raised knees, this strange relic has a curious ap-
pearance as it surve^'^s its new surroundings. This
much of its history is furnished by the natives: Long
ago, before the Russians had visited these lands, there
liad been war between the Nutchuk people and the
]\Icdonopky, Copper River people, who were called
Ssootchetnee. The latter were victorious, and carried
liome the women, slaying the men and boys. The
conquered Nutchuks waited for many years their turn
to avenge themselves. One day, while some of the
Ssootchetnees were huntinij sea-otter alonij the shore,
several bidarkas from Nutchuk approached, and in
the attack which followed captured the hunters.
Ouided by a smoke column, they went on shore and
discovered a woman cooking. She was one of the
Nutchuk captives, who had been taken from their
island, and was now wife and mother to some of the men
just secured. Her father had been a great chief, but
was dead; and when she was returned a prisoner to her

■ ^%

It:

5r.6 niSTOmC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

native land the chief of the island refused to recognize
her l)ecause of her relations with the Ssootchetneea.
Cruelly he drove her from him, telling her to go to a
cave in the side of a mountain if she sought comfort.
Obeying, slie proceeded thither, and found the naked
bodies of her husband and two sons. So copiously
ilowed her te.srs that the bottom of the cave was
lillod with water, which submerged the bodies. Nor
were her groans without avail, for they reached the
heart of tlie powerful Wilghtnce, a woman greatly
respected for licr goodness, and because she controlled
the yahnon, causing them every year to ascend the
liver, and bringing other fish from the deep sea near
to the shore. Wilghtnce lived in a lake of sweet
water above the cave, and soon learned the story of
wi'ongs and injustice from the weeping woman. Com-
manding her to cease lamenting, and assuring lier that
she need not grieve for the want of skins in which to
sew her dead, as was the custom, Wilghtnce took the
bodies where should fall upon them the waters from
her mountain lake, and in a short time they became
fresh and beautiful, shining like the llesh of the halibut.
Then were they returned to the cave, and Wilghtnce
promised that they should forever nfter remain un-
changed, lletribution followed the chief's cruelty,
f(jr Wilixlitnee was as relentless in her anti^er as she
was tender in her sympathy, and not a salmon was
permitted to enter the river or lake that year, which
caused the death from hunger of the chief and many
of his tribe. Then was the woman made his suc-
cessor, and during her rule never again did Wilgh-
tnce permit the salmon to fail. The new ruler taught
the people how to presei've their dead, and closed the
cave, in which alone and forever she destined should
remain her Ssootchetnee husband and children.

On the 3d of August ]Mr PetrofF reached the trading-
post at Belkovsky, which had existed there for fifty
years; thence he passed along the southern extremity

ALASKA MATERIAL

857

of the Alaskan peninsula, through Unimak strait into
Bering sea, to Tlinlink, Unalaska island, whcro ho i'i>
niained for two weeks, and wliere he received cordial
assistance in his lahors from all who had it in their
power to help him. MrGreenbauni of the Alaska coiu-
])any secured Jiiui access to tlie ("liurcli and coinpany
records, and gave him a desk in Iiis oUict^ Thi-ougli-
(»ut tliis trip Mr Grcenbaum was exceedingly kind,
liirnishing liini means of transportation, and otherwise
assisting in his explorations. Bishop Seghers of ]]ritish
Colundjia, and Father Montard, the Yukon mission-
aiy, furnished much important material concerning
the Yukon country. The bishop was an accomplished
llussian linguist. Father Shashnikof, the most in-
telligent antl respected of all the i-epresentatives of
the Greek church, was the oldest priest in Alaska,
and chief authority on the past and ])resent condition
of the Aleuts, and had in his possession documents of
great value, of ancient date, and interesting matter.

Mr Petroff visited, among other places of historic
interest, the spot where Captain Levashcf wintered
in 17G8, ten years before Captain Cook, imagining
himself its discoverer, took possession for the British
crown. A few iron implements left by his party, or
stolen from them, arc still exhibited by the natives.
Again he visited an island where a massacre of Rus-
sians by Aleuts took place in 178G; the ground plan
of the Russian winter houses is still visible.

Mr Lucien Turner, signal service officer and cor-
respondent of the Smithsonian institution, had been
stationed at various points in this vicinity for many
years, and had made a thorough study of the languages,
habits, and traditions of all tribes belonging to the
Innuit and Tinneh families. Petroff found him a val-
ualik; informant on many subjects.

Hearing of an octogenarian Aleut at IMakushino,
on the south-western side of the island, whose testi-
mony it was important to obtain, Petroff went in
search of the old man, accompanied by the Ilinlink

553

HISTORIC EXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

chief Rooff as interpreter, and another Aleut as guide.
They encountered great difficulties. Instead of the
five or six streams described they waded knee-deep
through fifty-two the first day. At five the next
morning they started again. It was possible only at
low tide to round the projecting points of rock, and
at times they jumped from bowlder to bowlder, at
others they crept along narrow slippery shelves, while
the angry tide roared at their feet, and overhanging
rocks precluded the possibility of ascent. Eleven
wearisome hours of walking brought them to a lake,
through which for two miles they waded, as theit-
only way of reaching Makushino. There the old
chief received them well and told all he knew.

Before leaving Ilinlink, Mr PetrofF had long inter-
views nith Doctor j\lclntyre, Captain Erskine, and
Mr John M. jSIorton.

Again the cutter weighed anchor, amidst dipping
of flags and wavinjx of handkerchiefs. This was (Jii
the lyth of August, and at noon the followmg dav
they arrived at St George, where Mr jMorgan and
Doctor Specting, the agent and physician, of the fui-
company, came on board and gave INIr PetrofF sonic
notes*. Upon reaciiing St Paul that evening, Mr
Armstrong, an agent of the company, and Petrofl'
landed in a whale-boat, jiassing between jagged roclcs
through dangerous surf. They were met by Captain
Moulton, treasury agent, Doctor Kelley, and Mv
Mclntyre, who, togetlier with Mr Armstrong, kindly
assisted in malcinij: extracts that night from their
archives and hospitably entertained him. Early thu
following morning Father Shashnikof placed in his
hands bundles of church records, with which tlio
former priest had begun to paper his house, but th(>
present incumbent, recognizing their value, rescued
the remainder. The chief of the Aleuts spent somo
time with him, giving a clear account of the past aiul
present condition of his people. He was very intelli-
gent, and evidently had Russian blood in his veins.

ABOUT ALTOO ISLAND.

800

At Tchitchtagof, on Altoo island, where the cuttop
anchored the 25th, Mr PctrofF found rocorda of the
community kept during the past fifty years. Five
clays after saw the Rush at Atkha, in Nazan bay.
Here some interesting incidents of early days were
obtained from two old men and one M'oman of
eighty. On all these islands the natives spoke of M.
Pinart and his researches. On the 1st of Septem-
ber they landed at Unalaska, where PctrofF met Mr
Lunievsky, Mr King, Mr Fred Swift, and the Ilev-
orcnd Innocentius Shashnikof, and was at once put
in possession of the archives, and materially assisted
in his labors by the priest throughout his stay. The
Rush was detained here several days on account of
the weather. Gregori Krukof, trader from a neigli-
boring village, Borka, on the cast side of the island,
and the native chief Nikolai, visited Unalaska during
that time, and took Petroir back with them to visit
the place where Captain Cook had wintered in 1778.
]3orka is situated on Beaver bay, between a lake and
a small cove. On the arrival of the bidarkas the
chief assembled the oldest of the inhabitants and
f|uostioncd them as to their knowledge of Captain
(Jook. They related what they remembered as told
them by their parents; that once a foreign vessel
came into Beaver bay and anchored opposite to their
village, off Bobrovskaya, where they remained Ijut
a few days, afterward sailing around into what has
ever since been called the " English burkhta," or bay,
whore the vessel was moored and remained all winter.
The foreigners built winter- quarters, and with the
natives killed seals, which abounded at that time.
The captain's name was Kuklui. The following morn-
ing Mr Petroff, with the chief as guide, vi.sitcd the
places mentioned. All that remains of Bobrovskaya
is a gigantic growth of weeds and grass over the
building sites and depressions where houses had
stood. A whitewashed cross marks the spot where
the chapel was located, and at some distance away.

* »1

C60

HISTOIUC KXPLORATIONS NORTHWARD.

on the lilll-sidc, a few i)osts and crosses indicate tlic
ancient graveyard. Two or three miles interven».'d
between the old villa<jc and the anchorasfc, tiic trail
benig obliterated by luxuriant vegetation. It is a
beautiful landlocked bay, and as a harbor for safety
and conv(Mii(!nce can not be excelled in all vVlaska.
Abreast of this anchorage is a circular basin, into
which empties the water runniiiLf over a led<re of
rocks. Between the basin and tlie beach is an ex-
cavation in a side hill, twenty feet square, indicating
the winter habitation of foreigners, as it is contrary
to the custom of the Aleuts to build in that shape or
localit3\

Mr. Pctrotr made an expedition to some Indian
fortifications, supposed to be two hundred years old,
situated on the top of a mountain two thousand feet
high and ten miles distant. According to tradition
there had been fierce v/ai-s between the Koniagas, oi-
Kadiak islanders, and the Unalaska peojjle, and the
ruins of fortifications on both islands confirm these
traditions.

On the 9th of October the Bnsh started on the homo-
ward voyage, reaching San Francesco the 27th.

Several *other trips to Alaska were made by ^li'
Petroif during his engagement with mc, and wliilc
iKmc of them, like the one just narra^ted, were wholly
for historical purposes, material for history was vwv
jirominent in his mind. After the return of tlie Iius/i.
Mr Petroff resumed his labor in the library, which
for the most part consisted in extracting Alaska ma-
terial and translating Russian books and manuscri[>U
for me.

While thus engaged he encountered a notice in tlio
Alaska Times of the 2d of April 1870 that General
J. C. Davis had addressed to the secretary of war in
Washington five boxes of books and papers fornui ly
belonging to the Russian- American fur compaii\,
and had sent them to division head-quarters at San

PETROFF IN WASHINGTON.

501

Francisco by the Xcivhern. It was in December 1878
that this important discovery was made. Upon inquiry
of Adjutant- general John C. Kelton it was ascer-
tained that the boxes had been forwarded to the war
department in Washington. Secretary !McCrary was
({lU'stioned upon the matter, and replied that the boxes
]i;i(l been transferred to the state department. Mr
John M. Morton and William Gouverneur Morris,
llion on their way to Washington, were spoken to on
Ihu subject, and promised to institute a search for tho
archives. On the 13th of February 1870 a letter
iVoin Mr Morton announced that the boxes had been
found by him among a lot of rubbish in a basement
of the state department, where they were open t .
inspection, but could not be removed. The greater
j)ortion of tho rio^f, two years was spent by Mr
Pctroff in Washington extracting material for my
Ilistorj/ of Alaska from the contents of those boxes.
The library of congress was likewise examined; also
the archives of the navy and interior and coast sur-
vey departments, and the geological and ethnological
bureaus.

Lit. Ian, 86

CHAPTER XXIII.

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

^!" '

I worked with patience, whiclj means almost power. I did some excel-
lent things indifferently, some bad things excellently. Both were praisfd;
the latter loudest. j^^^ Browiiiwj.

In treating of the main issues of these industiiiN,
I have .somewhat neglected hhrary details, wliicli i
esteem not the least inn)ortant part of these experi-
ences. If the history of my literary efforts be worth
the writing, it is in the small particulars of e very-day
labors that the reader will lind the greatest })r()lit.
The larger results speak for themselves, and neotl no
particular description; it is the way in which things
were done, the working of the system, and the means
which determined results, that are, if anytliing, of
value here. For, observes Plutarch, "Ease and qiiirk-
ness of execution are not fitted to give those enduriiiL;'
qualities that are necessary in a work for all tinic;
while, on the other hand, the time that is laid out on
labor is amply re])aid in the permanence it gives to
the performance." And, as Maudsley observes, "To
apprehend the full meaning of common things, it is
necessary to study a great many uncommon things."
I cannot by any means attempt to give full details,
but only specimens; yet for these I will go back to the
earlier period of the work.

Kcgular business hours wer<^ kept in tlic libiarv,
namely, from eight to twelve, and from one to six.
Smoking was i'reely allowed. Certain assistants de-
sired to work evenings and draw extra pay. This was

I sua)

MKXRANs AS ASSISTANTS.

668

permitted in some instances, but always under protest.
Nine hours of steady work were assuredly enou«^h tor
one day, and additional time seldom increased i-esults;
so, after offering disscouragcment for several years, a
rule was established abolishing extra work.

So rapid was the growth of the Hbraiy after 18G9,
uud so disarranged had become the books by much
luindling for indexing and other [)urposes, that by
midsummer 1872, when Goldschmidt had finished a
long work of supplementary cataloguing, and the later
arrivals were ready to occupy their })laces on the
shelves, it was deemed expedient to drop the regular
routine and devote three or four weeks to placing
things in order, which was then done, and at intervals
thereafter.

Mr Oak spent tliree montlis in perfecting a pUiii
for the new index, and in indexing a number- oi' books
in order to test it and [)erfect the system. Gold-
.schniidt's time was ijiven to takin"; out notes on the
subject of languages, with some worlc on the large
i'llniographical map, which was prepared only as the
work progressed. Ilarcourtwas indexing, Fisher was
taking out notes on mythol(.)gy, some were gathei'ing
liistoi'ical reminiscences from [)ioneers; and others
tiiutiiuied their epitomizing of voyages and other nar-
latives.

(lalan, the expatriated governor of Lower Cah-
lornia, came to work in the library in Jnly. Some
subjects were at iirst given him to extract from
Spanish authorities, but his I'nglish, 1 hough, i-eading
smoothly, was so very diifuse and unintelligible
that 1 was obliijfed to elian<>'e his occupation. Even
alter that I regarded him as a superior man, and he
was given some ini])ortant books to index. 1 remem-
Iji'i- that he was obliged to index JlaircraH Historic
(ivjicral two or three times, before I was satisfied with
it. IIo was one of a class frequently met with, partic-
ularly among Mexicans; he could talk well on almost
uuy subject, but his chain of ideas was sadly bi'okeu

664

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

in attempting to write. It is somewhat strange that
a person of this kind should have worked for a year
before his work was proved wholly valueless.

The books given out to the indexers at this time
were such as contained information concerning those
tribes which were first to be described; that is, if I
was soon to be writing on the peoples of New Cale-
donia, as the interior of British Columbia was once
called, I would give the indexers all books of travel
through that region, and all works containing infor-
mation on those nations first, so that I might have
the benefit of the index in extracting the material. In
this manner the indexers were kept just in advance of
the note-takers, until they had indexed all the books
in the library having in them any information con-
cerning the aborigines of any part of the territory.
At intervals, whatever the cause of it, the subject
came up to me in a new light, and I planned and
partitioned it, as it were, instinctively.

In the pursuance of the primary objects of life, it
is easier for the man of ordinary ability to perform a
piece of work himself than to secure others to do it. I
do not say that the proprietor of a manufactory is or
should be more skilful than any or all his workmen.
It is not necessary that the successful manager of a
printing establishment, for example, should know
better how to set type, read proof, and put a form on
a press than those who have spent their lives at these
several occupations; but as regards the general earn-
ing on of the business he can himself perform any
part of it to his satisfaction with less diflSiculty than
in seeking the desired results through others. But
since civilization has assumed such grand proportions,
and the accumulated experiences of mankind have
become so bulky, it is comparatively little that one
man, with his own brain and fingers, can accomplish.
He who would achieve great results must early learn
to utilize the brain and fingers of others. As applied

MR NEMOS' SYSTEM.

563

to the industrial life, this has long been understood;
but in regard to intellectual efforts, particularly in the
field of letters, it has been regarded as less practicable,
and by many impossible.

Often have I heard authors say that beyond keep-
iii<»- the books in order, and brinffinc: such as were re-
(juircd, with some copying, or possibly some searching
now and then, no one could render them any assistance.
Thoy would not feel safe in trusting any one with the
manipulation of facts on which was to rest their repu-
tation for veracity and accuracy. So of old held priests
with regard to their religion, and merchants where
their money was at stake. I am as zealous and jealous
for the truth of mv statenionts, I venture to assert,
us jiny one who ever wrote history ; I am exceedingly
careful as t»t the shades of truth preseiitoil, holding
false coloring of any kind e([ui\alent to downright
inendacity; yet, fortunately, thore have always been
those among my assistants to the accuracy of wliose
work 1 would trust as implicitly as to my own. For-
tunately, I say; for had it not been .so, I could have
accomplished but little. This has been conclusively
shown in preceding chapters; and the truth t)f the
asscition will be brouijht into clearer lisiht as further
details are given.

The system of note-taking, as perfycted in details
and supervised by Air Nemos, was as follows : The
first step for a beginner was to make I'ofcrences, in
Itooks given him for that purpose, to the information
riH^uired, giving the [)lace where found and the nature
of the facts therein mentioned; after this he would
take out the information in the form of notes. By
this means he would learn how to classify and how
ihily to condense; he would also become familiar with
tlic ri'spective merits of authors, their bent of thought,
;iiid the age m which they lived, and the fulness and
reliability of their works.

The notes were written on lialf sheets of legal paper,
one followms: another, without reijfard to length or sub-

i ' hi

566

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL,

ject, but always leaving a space between the notes so
that they could be torn apart. The notes when sepa-
rated and arranged were filed by means of paper bags,
on which were marked subject and date, and the
bags numbered chronologically and entered in a book.

After the notes had been used, with all printed
matter bearing on the subject, they were returned
to the bags to be pasted on sheets of strong brown
paper, folded and cut to the required size. Tliis
work would require the labor of two men and two
boys for over a year. These, bound and lettered,
would make some three hundred books, fifteen by
eighteen inches, varying in thickness according to
contents.

In this it v/as deemed best to follow the plan of tlu'
history, and present the sul>ject much more in detail
than the printed volumes. This series would consti-
tute in itself a library of Pacific coast history which
eighty thousand dollars could not duplicate even with
the library at hand.

Thus qualified, the assistant was given a mass of
notes and references covering a certain period, or
series of incidents, with instructions to so reduce tin
subject-matter that I might receive it weeded of ;ill
superlluitics and repetitions, whether in words or in
facts already expressed by previous authors, yet con-
taining every fact, however minute, every thoiiu'it
and conclusion, including such as occurred to tli>'
preparer, and arranged in as good an historic oidi i
as the assistant could give it.

The method to be followed by the assistant to this
end was as follows: He arranged the references and
notes that pointed to events in a chronologic ordoi'. yet
brin^inij toojcther certain incidents of different d;i1 -
if the historic order demanded it. Institution;!! v
and descriptive notes on commerce, education, witli
geography, etc., were then joined to such dates m
occurrences as called for their use: geography cominL;"
together with an expedition into a new countiy; cdu-

EXTRACTING MATERIAL.

567

cation, with the efforts of churchmen; commerce in
connection with the rule of some governor who pro-
moted certain phases of it; descriptions of towns,
when they were founded, destroyed, or prominently
brought forward.

This preliminary grouping was greatly facilitated
by the general arrangement of all the notes for the
particular section of territory, Central America, Mex-
ico, California, etc., already made by an experienced
assistant. In connection with both arrangements a
more or le&s detailed list of events and subjects was
made to aid in grasping the material.

With the material thus grouped it was found that
each small subdivision, incident, or descriptive matter
liad a number of notes bearing upon it, from different
authors, sometimes several score. These must then
bo divided into three or more clasees, according to
the value of the authority: the first class comprising
original narratives and reports; the second, such as
were based partly on the first, yet possessed certain
oriij^inal facts or tlioacrhts: the third, those which wen;
merely copied from others, or presented brief and
liasty compilations.

The assistant then took the best cf his first-class
authorities, the fullest and most reliable, so far as he
could judge after a brief glance, and proceeded to ex-
tract subject-matter from the pages of tlie book to
which the reference directed him. This he did partly
ill liis own language, partly in a series of quotations.
The accurate use of quotation mai'ks and stars con-
sumed much til Yet I always insisted upon this:
llie note-taker could throw anything he pleased into
Ills own words, but if he used the exact words of thr
author he must [)laii)ly indicate it. Sometimes lie
I'ound the extract already made on the slips called
notes. The same book might appear to be the best
authority for a succession of topics, and the extracting
was continued for some time before the book was laid
aside. Each extract was indexed in the margin, and

sr>8

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

at the foot of it, or on the page, was written the title
of the book or paper from which it had been taken.

The next best authorities vere then read on the
same topic or scries of topics, and any information
additional or contradictory to what had already been
noted was extracted and placed at the foot of the page
herring on the subject, or on a blank page, on whicli
was indexed a heading similar to that of the original
page, so as to bring the same topics together. If
these contradictions or additions bore on particular
expressions or facts in the original extract, they were
subdivided in accordance with and by means of num-
bers brought in connection with the particular word
or line. To each subdivision was adflcd the title of
the authority. The titles of all, or of several first-
class authorities whicli aixrecd with the oricfinal ox-
tract, were also added to the foot of that extract, witli
the remark, ' the same in brief,' or ' in full,' as the case
might be. This showed me which authors confirmed
and which contradicted any statement, and enabled
mo readily to draw conclusions. From second-class
authors the assistant obtained rarely anything l)ut
observations, while the third class yielded sometimes
nothing.

As he proceeded in this refining process, or system
of condensation, the assistant added in notes to par-
ticular lines or paragraphs his own observations on
the character of the hero, the incident, or the author.

By this means I obtained a sort of bird's-eye view
of all evidence on the topics for my history, as I took
them up one after the other in accordance with niv
own order and plan for writing. It saved me the
drudgery and loss of time of thoroughly studying any
but the best authorities, or more than a few first-class
ancient and modern books.

To more experienced and able assistants were given
the study and reduction of certain minor sections of
the history, wliich I employed in my writing after
more or less condensation and clianiic

DIFFICULTY OF CONDENSATION.

560

The tendency with all the work was toward volu-
minousness. Not that I am inclined to prolixity,
but the subjects were so immense that it often ap-
peared impossible to crowd the facts within a compass
which would seem reasonable to the reader. And
none but those who have tried it can realize all
the difficulties connected with this kind of writing.
Besides increasing the labor fourfold, it often inter-
feres with style, dampens enthusiasm, and makes an
author feel like one doomed to run a mile race in a
peck measure. Just as every horse has its natural
gait, from which it is forced to go faster or slower
only to its disadvantage, so in writing, a certain num-
ber of words are necessary to place before the aver-
age mind a subject in its strongest light, additions
and subtractions being alike dotriuioiital. Wliilo I
was resolved to take space enough fairly to present
the subject under consideration, I could not but
remember that as books multiply, readers demand
conciseness, and that no fault can be greater in this
present ago than verbosity.

In November 1872 I engaged a copperplate en-
graver, and from that time till the Native Races
was completed I had engravers at work at the
Market-street end of the lil)rary. Besides this, con-
siderable engraving was given out. The cuts for
volume IV., such of them as I did not purchase from
eastern authors and publishers, were al' prepared in
the engraving department of the printing-office, on
the tliird floor.

On this floor likewise, a year or two later, the type
was set and the first proof read. Matters of no in-
<'onsiderable importance and care with me were the
type I should use and the style of ray page. After
examining every variety within my reach, I settled
upon the octavo English edition of Buckle's Civiliza-
tion, as well for the text and notes as for the system
of numbering the notes from the beginning to the

570

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

end of the chapter. It was plain, broad-faced, clear
and beautiful, and easily read. The notes and refer-
once figures were all in perfect taste and harmony.
It is a style of page that one never tires of. I sent
to Scotland for the type, as I could find none of it in
America.

It was about this time that I studied the question
of the origin of the Americans, to find a place in
some part of the Native Races, I did not know then
exactly where. When I began this subject I pro-
jiosed to settle it immediately; when I finished it 1
was satisfied that neither I nor any one else knew, or
without more light ever could know, anything about
it. I found some sixty theories, one of them about as
plausible or as absurd as another, and hardly one (»!'
them capable of being proved or disproved. I con-
cluded to spread them all before my readers, not as
of any intrinsic value, but merely as curiosities; and
this 1 did in the opening chapter of volume v. of tliu
Native Ilacc.s.

Meanwhile indexers were constantly coming and
going, attempting and failing. After trying one <^v
two hundred of the many applicants who presented
themselves, and securing little more than a dozi n
capable of doing the worJi, I concluded to try no moiv,
unless it should bo some one manifesting mai'lccd
.'.bility, but let those already engaged continue until
the index was iinished. Nine tenths of the a])[)li-
cants were totally unfit for the work, thouu'h tlu\"
professed to be able, like Pythagoras, to write on tln'
moon and in as many languages as Pantagruel could
speak.

The fact is it operated too severely against mo.
First, the applicant expected pay for his time, whctlic r
he succeeded or not; secondly, no inconsiderable ])oi-
tion of the time of the best indexers was spent in
teaching the new-comers; and thirdly, those who at-
tempted and failed were sure to be dissatisfied and
charge the cause of failure to any one but themseh '

, C!3.

CARTOGRAPHY OF THE PACIFIC COAST.

571

During the first half of 1873 work continued about
as hitherto. Mr Oak spent some weeks on antiqui-
ties, but was occupied a good portion of the time
on early voyages. All this time I was writing on
northern Indian matter, giving out the notes on the
southern divisions to others to go over the field again
jind take out additional notes.

While the subject of early voyages was under my
notice I felt the necessity of a more perfect knowl-
edge of earl}' maps. Directing Goldschmidt to lay
( lilt all cosmographies, collections of voyages, or other
books containing early maps, also atlases oi' facsimiles^
and single maps, together wo went over the entire
licld. Beginning with the earliest map, we first wrote
ji description of it, stating by whom and when it was
<hawn, and what it purported to be. Then from some
])oint, usuall}' the isthmus of Panama, we started,
and, following the coast, wrote on foolscap paper the
name of each place, with remarks on its spelling, its
location, and other points, marking also at the top
of the page the name, and taking usually one page
for every place. Every geographical name and loca-
tion, great and small, which we could find on any
early map was thus entered, together Avith the title
of the map or source of information. From the
next map we would take new information respecting
previous names, and also new names. After thus
1 raining Goldschmidt I left him to complete the task,
and when he had thus gone over all our maps wo
lound before us all information on each place that
could be derived from maps. Several months were
thus occupied, and when the manuscript was bound
in three volumes and lettered, we found added to the
liKrary a Cartography of the Pacific Coast, unique
an<l invaluable in tracing the early history and prog-
ress of discovery.

The collection of documents obtained from Judge
Hayes was gone over by D'Arcy, and the loose
l)apers were pasted in his scrap-books. The judge

'} : h

r»72

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

had a way of doing things pccuHar to himself, and I
was obhged to follow him so far as his documents
were concerned. For scrap-books he cut a portion of
the leaves out of congressional reports, and journals
sent free by congressmen to their constituents. His
scraps were then pasted one against another and at-
tached to the stubs of these books accordinij to sub-
jcct. This collection was an olla podrlda of southern
Californian knowledcre.

A fire wliich broke out in November 1873 in the
basement of the western side '^f the building seemed
likely for a moment suddenly to terminate all our
labors. At one time there appeared not one chance in
ten that tlie building or its contents would bo saved ; but
thanks to a prompt and efficient fire department, the
flames were extinguished, with a loss of twenty-five
thousand dollars only to the insurance companies. The
time was about half-past five in the evening. I had
left the library, but my assistants were seated at
their tables writing. A thick black smoke, which rose
suddenly and filled the room, was the first intimation
they had of the fire. To have saved anything in case
the fire had reached tliem would have been out of
the question. They were so blinded by the smoke
that they dared not trust themselves to the stairs,
and it was wnth difficulty they groped their way to
a ladder at one side of the room, which led to the
roof, by wliich means they mounted and emerged
into tlie open air. In case the building had burned,
their escape would have been uncertain. No damage;
was done to the library, and all were at their places
next morning; but it came home to me more vividly
than ever before, the uncertainty, not to say vanity,
of earthly things. Had those flames been given five
minutes more, the Bancroft Library, with the Ban-
croft business, would have been swept from the face
of earth; the lore within would have been lost to
the world, and with it mankind would have been

RISK OF FIRE.

573

spared the infliction of the printed volumes which
followed. Thus would have ended all my literary at-
tempts, and I should probably have idled my time in
Europe for the remainder of my days. Five minutes
more and that fire would have saved me much trouble.
In the burninj^ of the library, great as would have
been my loss, that of posterity would have been
^^^reater. Anaxagoras, driven from Athens, exclaimetl,
" It is not I who lose the Athenians, but the Athe-
nians who lose me." So I might say without egotism
of the literary treasures I had gathered; their loss
would have been not so much mine as California's;
for in many respects, for example, in respect to time,
ease, pleasure, health, length of days, and money, I
should have been the gainer.

In regard to the risk of fire, as my writings in-
creased, and the manuscripts in my room represented
more and more the years of my life and the wearing
away of my brain, I deemed it wise and prudent to
liave copies made of all that had been and was to bo
written. Since it would Lave been premature to
begin printing at this time, I called in copyists,
about twenty, who in three or four months trans-
cribed in copying ink all that I had written; from
this a second copy was made by means of a copying-
press. This performance completed, I sent one copy
to my house, one copy to Oakville, and kept the
original in the library; then I went to sleep o' nights
defying the elements or any of their actions.

In December 1873, with Goldschmidt's assistance,
I made a thorough investigation of aboriginal lan-
guages on this coast. The subject was a somewhat
difficult one to manage, dialects and aflfinities running,
us they do, hither and thither over the country, but
I finally satisfied myself that the plan of treating it
<^riginally adopted was not the proper one. The result
A\as that Goldschmidt was obliged to go over the entire
field again, and re-arrange and add to the subject-
matter before I would attempt the writing of it.

574

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

Parts of the work seemed at times to proceed
slowly. The mytholoj]fy dragged as though it never
would have an end. The temptation to shirk, on the
part of certain of my assistants, was too great to bi;
resisted. The system of note-taking, which was then
mucli furthcrfrom perfection than subsequently, tended
to this among the unscrupulous. With one or two
years' work before him, abstracting material acconl-
ing to subject instead of by the book, tended in sonni
instances to laxity and laziness on the part of tho
note-taker. Any one so clioosing, in taking out notes
on a given subject with the view of making his sub-
ject complete, and at the same time not duplicatiii'L,^
liis notes, could plant himself in the midst of his
work and there remain, bidding me defiance; for if
I discharged him, as under ordinary circumstances T
should have done, it would be at the loss perhaps
of six months' or a year's time. This was well un-
derstood, and some took advantage of it. But such
I discharged as soon as that particular piece of work
was done. Thus it always is: those whose integrity
cannot withstand every influence drawing them from
duty are sure sooner or later to be dismissed from
every well ordered work.

No little care was required to keep in order the
files of newspapers. As there were so many of tlicm,
I did not attempt to keep complete more than
the leading journals on the coast. Many couiitiv
editors sent the libnirv their journals fjratuitouslv.
My thanks are in ne the loss due them because in
this they showed ; high-minded sagacity; for should
their own files be 'estroyed by fire, as is too oftiu
the case, it is coi enient to know of another iilf
to which they ma} have free access. No kind "f
literature goes out > i existence so quickly as a n(nvs-
paper; and of booko it is said that the rarest arc
those which have been the most popular. Collier n -
marks in his introduction to the Pranks of Iiobrn
Good/ellow, " The more frequent the copies originally

FILES OF NEWSPAPERS.

rt:n

in circulation, the fewer generally are those which
have come clown to us."

My chief source of newspaper supply was from tlio
public libraries and advertising agencies of San Fran-
(;isco. To the latter were sent all interior journals,
and by arrangement with the agents these were kept
for me. They amounted to several wagon-loads annu-
ally. Once or twice a year I sent for them, and out
of them completed my files as far as possible. In a
large record-book was kept an account of these files,
the name of each journal being entered on a page an(l
indexed, the numbers on the shelves being entered, so
that by the book might be ascertained what were in
the library and what were lacking. In this manner
some fifty or sixty thousand newspapers were added
to the library annually.

The task of indexing the books was so severe, that
at one time it seemed doubtful if ever the newspapers
would be indexed. But when it became clearly evi-
dent that history needed the information therein con-
taincd,twentv more new m^n were oncfaged and drilled
to the task. I sometimes became impatient over what
seemed slow progress, yet, buying another wagon-load
of chairs and tables, I would till all available space
with new laborers, all such work being afterward
tested by the most reliable persons. For the time
covered by them, there is no better historic evidence
than several files of contemporaneous newspapers,
bitterly opposing eacli other as is commonly the case.

The leading journals of the United States, ]\[exieo,
and Europe, before which I wished to bring my work,
I now noted, and directed Goldscliniidt to mail to tlieir
addresses copies of such descriptions of the library
as appeared in the best papers here. Tliese were als( »
sent to scholars in ditferent parts, so that they miglit
know what was going on in California.

The printing of volume ii,, Native Races, was begun
in j\Iay 1874, and continued, sometimes very slowly,
till February 1875. Matters proceeded during the

,1 ■'.' ''■i'

576

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

i-l,

last half of 1874 about as usual. Between one
Saturday night and Monday morning mj engraver
absconded to the east, and the maps immediately
required I was obliged to send to Philadelpliia to be
engraved.

While up to my neck in this most harassing of
labors, with three unfinished volumes, embracing sev-
eral main divisions each, in the hands of the [)rintci',
a proposition came from the ])roprietor of thcOrei-laiul
Mont /ill/ to two of my men, Tisher and Harcourt, offer-
ing them the editorship of that journal, with larger
pay than I could afford to give.

The young men behaved very well about it. They
innnediately informed me of the offer, asked me to
advise them what "^hey should do, and assured me
they would not accept unless with my approbation.
Although they were deep in my work, although I
must lose in a great measure the results of their last
year's training, and although I should have to teach
new men and delay publication, yet I did not hesitate.
I told them to go: the pay was better, the position
was more prominent, and their work would be lighter.

I do not recollect ever to have allowed my interests
to stand in the way of the advancement of any young
man in my service. Whenever my advice has been
asked, remembering the time when I was a young-
man seeking a start, I have set myself aside, and havo
given what I believed to be disinterested advice, feul-
ing that in case of a sacrifice I could better afford
it than my clerk. I could not but notice, howevei',
that, nine times in ten, wdicn a young man left me it
was not to better his fortune. If he began business
on his own account, he faih'd; if he accepted another
situation at higlicr salary, his employer failed.

So I told Harcourt and Fisher not to let me stanil
in their way. They accepted the position, but oflerod
to give me part of their time and complete their note-
taking up to a certain point; but so slowly had Ibo
work proceeded when their whole time was devoted to

A HISTORICAL SOCIETY.

677

it, that I had no faith in pieces of time and spasms of
attention. The best brains of the best men were poor
enough for me, and I wanted no secondary interest or
efforts.

The habihty at any moment to be called to servo
on a jury was a source of no little annoyance to mc.
To break away from my work and dance attendance
on a judge, with nerves unstrung to sit in the foul
atmosphere of a court-room and listen to the wran-
,iL,^lings of lawyers, was a severe penalty for the ques-
tionable privilege of squeezing in a vote between
those of a neecro and an Irishman for some demaijoijue
on election-day. I cannot longer halloo myself hoarse
in July because I may so vote in October. TLc San
Francisco judges, however, were quite lenient, nearly
always excusing mc. To sit as juryman for a week
unnerved mc for a month. I could not take up my
work where I had left it and go on as if nothing
had happened. Besides actual time spent, there was
always a severe loss. I felt safest when in the countrj'',
away from the reach of the sheriff. Tho judges in
tiuio came to understand this, and ceased altogether
to demand of me this senseless service.

In 1875 I declined the republican nomination for
member of congress. There were ten thousand ready
to serve their country where there was not one to do
my work in case I should abandon it. In ^larch
lb7G Mr John S. Hittell came to the library and
asked permission to propose my name as honorary
mc;uiber of the Society of California pioneers. Tho
iiiks of the society were such that none might be re-
('oi\('d as regular members who reached this country
for the first time after the 31st of December 1849.
Thcic was no historical society, so called, in San Fran-
cisco, and Mr Hittell's wish was to unite with the
pioneer association the historical element of the com-
munity, so that the pioneers' society might be tho
iiistorical society as well. As the date of one's arrival

Lnr. IND. 37

i 'J

:,J

578

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

in a country is not always ffovorned by one's love of
literature and antiquity, so love of literature does not
always flow from early arrivals. Hence it was deeniod
advisable to attacli by means of honorary membei-
sliip the desired element, which could not be reachcl
in the ordinary way under the constitution and by-
laws except at the risk of interferincf with certain <jifts
and bequests.

While I fully appreciated the motive, and was
duly grateful for the honor conferred, I was unable
to perceive how any alliance, even in mere name or
imagination, could be formed which would be of the
slightest benefit to them or to me. Work like miiu;
never yet was done by a government or a society.
No body of men has ever yet been found who would
spc'.id both the time and money requisite, laboring ii
lifetime with the unity of purpose of a single miiul.
A monarch reigning for life might prosecute such a
work at the public expense, were he so disposed, l)nt
where heads of governments rule in quick succession,
and every legislative body undoes what was done l>y
its predecessor, there is not much hope of public liti ' -
ary accomplishments.

Many letters I received requesting information cii
every conceivable topic. If I had establisliod ar.
agency on the Pacific coast for the distribution <'t'
general knowledge, I should have felt flattered by my
success ; but as these letters drew heavily on my time,
and the labor I bestowed in complying with their re-
quests seemed to be poorly appreciated and seldom
acknowledged, the applicant appearing only to eaic
about the information, and not how he obtained it,
such letters were not very welcome. Nevertheless, 1
made it a rule to have them all promptly attended to,
trusting the next world for returns.

One wishes to know all about the wines of early Tal-
ifornia. At which mission were the first vines planted '.
Where did the cuttings come from — Mexico, Soulii
America, or Spain? At which mission and when was

COMPLETION OF THE InATIVE RACES.'

570

wine first made? Did the padres make wine for their
own use only, or did tlicy export it? Where was ni<ist
wine made in 184G? Into whose hands fell the vine-
yards? Mr Lea of Philadelphia desires material on the
Inquisition in Mevlco; Edward Everett Hale asks in-
iormation concerning the introduction of the horse in
America. Another wants a list of all the medicinal
herbs. Mr Packard of Salem, on behalf of the United
States entomological commission, makes inquiry re-
garding the Spanish Jesuit accounts of grasshopj)cr
invasions in California; and there were hundreds of
such queries, which I deemed it my duty to answer
whenever it lay in my power.

To those who best know what it is to make a good
book, the rapidity and regularity with which the sev-
eral volumes of my works appeared was a source of
constant surprise. " Plow you have managed," writes
John W. Draper on receipt of the fifth volume of
tlie Native Race!*, " in so short a time and in so satis-
factory a manner to complete 3'our great underta!;ing
is to me very surprising. The commendations that
are contained in the accompanying panq)hlet are
lichly deserved. I endorse them all. And now I
sup|)ose you feel as Gibbon says he did on completing
his Decline. You know he was occupied with it more
tlian twenty years. He felt as if the occupation of
liis life was gone. But you are far more energetic
than he. You are only at the beginning of your in-
tellectual life: he was near the close. You will find
sometliing more to do." Thus it is ever. Our best
reward for having done one work well is that we
have another given us to do.

On the comjJetion of the Native Ilaces Oliver
Wendell Holmes writes: "I congratulate you on put-
ting the last stone upon this pyramid you have reared.
y<n- truly it is a macpmm opus, and the accomplish-
nicnt of it as an episode in one man's life is most
remarkable. Nt)thing but a perfect organization of
nil innnensG literary workshop could have oftected so

■fiH

.'li

•i 1

580

FIJRTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

much within so Hmited a time. You have found out
the two great secrets of the division of labor and the
union of its results. The last volume requires rather
a robust reader; but the political history of the ijcs
and the itls is a new chapter, I think, to most of those
who consider themselves historical scholars. All the
world, and especially all the American world, will
thank you for this noble addition to its literary treas-
ures."

Such are some of the details of my earlier labors.
But above all, and beyond all, in breadth of scope and
in detail, was the history and the workings of it. It
was a labor beside which the quarter-century appli-
cation to business, and the Native Races with its lifty
years of creative work upon it, sink into insignificance;
and it was, perhaps, the most extensive effort ever
undertaken by a private individual for historical pur-
poses.

I thought before this I had accomplished some-
thing in life, with my mercantile and manufacturing
establishments in full and successful operation, antl a
literary reputation world-wide and most fluttering. I
thought I knew what heavy undertakings were, and
what it was out of no very great means to accomplish
great results ; but all seemed Lilliputian in comparison
with the seas of performance upon which I now found
myself embarked.

The 15th of October 1875 saw the Native Haccs
completed; but long before this, note-taking on the
History of the Pacijio States had been begun on tlio
plan developed while I wrote several parts of this
liistory years before, and perfected by the experiences
gathered in preparing the Native Races. As I have
before remarked, my purpose in this latter effort was
to take up the same territory covered by the Native
Races, and continue its history from the coming of tlio
Europeans. This would be the history proper of
the couptry, the Native Races being in reality a do-

THE HISTORY.

581

scription of the aborigines; yet the one followed tlic
other in natural sequence. Without the Native Races
the history would be incomplete, could not, indeed,
bo properly written; while the history is in truth
but a continuation of the Native Races.

It is an immense territory, this western half of
North America; it was a weighty responsibility,
at least I felt it to be such, to lay the foundations
of history, for all time, for this one twelfth part of the
world. It seemed to me that I stood very near to
the beginning of a mighty train of events which should
last to the end of time; that this beginning, now so
clear to me, would soon become dim, become more and
inorc indistinct as the centuries passed by; and though
it is impossible for the history of a civilized nation ever
to drop wholly out of existence while the printing-
))rcss continues to move, yet much would be lost and
innumerable questions would arise, then impossible
of solution, but which might now be easily settled.
Large as my conceptions were of the magnitude of
this labor, and with all my business and literary ox-
purience, here again, as thrice before in these liistori-
cal efforts, once in the collecting of the library, once
after completing the first writing of the first parts of
Miy history, and once in the writing of the Native
Races, I had no adequate idea of the extent of the
work before I engaged in it.

Immediately the Native Races was finished, all not
yet so engaged were set at work taking out notes for
tlio history. A much more perfect system was em-
]>lovcd in abstracting this material than had been
used m any of the former work. I do not mean to
l)t»ast, or if I do, it is with that godly boasting which
the cause makes pardonable; and further, it is not of
my.'- elf but of my assistants I herein boast, for I took
out m\j the notes for the first parts of my history
wirh my own hands; I say, then, without unpardon-
able boasting, that in my opinion there never in the

,«i

S82

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

history of literature was performed so consummate
a feat as the g:atherin<j:, abstractinjj and arranj^inuf of
the material for this H'lstorij of the Pacijic States.

It was reuarded as a tjreat achievement successfully
to handle twelve hundred authorities and compress
their contents into five volumes, presenting' the list in
the first volume of the Native Races. Still more re-
markable was it from two thousand authorities to
write the three volumes of the llistory of Ceiitnil
America. But when on making the list of authori-
ties for the six volumes of the IIlsto)\i/ <f Mexico I
found there were ten thousand, I was literally over-
whelmed. They were all employed, in one way or
another, every one of them, in writing the histoiy,
but I could not afford the space to print all the titles,
as was my custom. They would occupy neai-ly half
a volume. It was finally resolved that, referring tlio
reader to the list of authorities printed in the lirst
V( hunes of Central America and the North Mexican
States, it must suffice to print only the more impor-
tant ones remaining, and to state clearly the omission
and the cause at the head of the list.

The task of making references as well as tliat
of taking out material was equivalent to five tiiiioH
the labor of writing; so that at this work, and pic-
i>aiiiiijf the material in the rough, I found no difficultv
in keeping employed fifteen to tw'cnty persons; foi-
exam[)le, in taking out the material for California
hist<Hy alone, eight men were occupied for six yen is;
for making the references, merely, for the Illston/ "f
Mexico, without taking out any of the required in-
formation, five men were steadily employed I'oi' a
[)eriod of ten years. Counting those engaged on such
work as indexing newspapers, epitomizing arcluNes,
and copying manuscript, and I have had as many as
tifty men engaged in library detail at one time.

For Sc^'cral reasons I determined to beg in tliii^
second resumption of the history with California;

HISTORY OF CALIFORNIA.

583

that is to say, althougli the work was to ho a liistory
of the Paoilic States fVoiii the coining of the Euro-
peans, covering the same territory enihraced by the
Xative Races, and would of chronological necessity
hegin with its southern extremity, anil follow the
natural order of discovery and conquest northward,
yet I deemed it best, all things considered, to i-esume
in the middle of the work rather than where I left oft',
for tlie following reasons: First, of the central division
of the subject, embracing northern Mexico, Arizona,
(Adifornia, Nevada, and Utah, following the natural
channels of history from the conquest of Cortes, more
[)articularly of California, the centre of their central
division, I had in my possession a great mass of orig-
inal matter, more, proportionately, than of the states
lvin<>; to the south of tlie citv of Mexico. Tliis ma-
terial consisted of unpublished manuscript histories
and original documents wliich had lain hidden throuoh-
out the entire progress of the country, and which had
been by me, little by little, unearthed, assorted, de-
ri[>hered, and i)ut in order for historical use; material
of a value which could not be measured by money,
for if once lost it never could be replaced. If lost, it
was so much knowledge dropped out of existence,
it was so much of human experience withheld from
the general storehouse of human experiences; and the
loss would remain a loss throughout all time.

Moreover, there was of this more, proportionately,
than had ever been collected about any other country;
iiujre of oriii'inal and uiuised material for the historv
of California than had ever before been collected antl
preserved of any country of like extent, population,
and ai;e. The richness of this material consisted in
the })rofusion of documentary and pei'sonal evidence
jilaced side by side; letters, oflicial pa[)ei's, and mis-
sionary records, united with personal narratives, and
complete histories of epochs and localities dictated
by eye-witnesses, and written out by men employed by
me, and solely for my history.

m !

i-r Hi

'ii' 'ill

!i:

664

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

Day by day and year by year I had seen these
priceless treasures accumulate until the thought of
their destruction by fire became unendurable to me,
and I determined, long before the Native Races was
finished, that to place at least the substance of this ma-
terial beyond the peradventure of destruction should
be my very first work. As I could not then erect a
detached fire-proof building for my library, the next
most direct and practical method was to melt and
draw off from the mass the metal of historic lore,
and recast it into permanent form, in which it miglit
be preserved in some place apart from the original
material.

To save the contents of this invaluable material,
then, was my first consideration. This saved, and all
my library swept away, I might possibly, in some
way, by the aid of the archives of Mexico and the
libraries of America and Europe, complete my history ;
but the California material once lost, there was an end
to all my labors.

Another reason why I would write the central part
of the History of the Pacific States first was that I then
found myself at the head of a corps of thoroughly com-
petent and trained assistants, very different in points
of knowledge and ability from the untutored and un-
skilled workmen who assisted me at the be<?innin!]f of
these undertakings. They, as well as I, had learned
much, had gained much experience in abstracting ma-
terial for history, and in printing and publishing books.

There were several among my assistants who could
now take a book or a manuscript, no matter how ob-
literated or in what language, and decipher it, and
placing themselves at their desks could intelligently,
correctly, systematically, and expeditiously take out in
the form of notes all the historical matter the vohune
contained, knowing that the work was properly done,
that it was no experiment of which the results might
liave to be all thrown away and the labor perfornud
anew. This no one of them was capable of doing at first.

EVER GROWING EFFICIENCY.

685

They were likewise familiar with the library, the
books and their contents, the index and how to use it,
the territory and much of its history. They knew
better what to take out ; and although the information
to be extracted was as undefinable as ever, and tht;
subject-matter as intricate, the note-taking was much
njore systematic and coniplete. For five years our
minds had been dwellinfj on these thinofs, and on little
else. Our whole intellectual being had, during these
years, become saturated with the subject ; and although
work was now to be taken up in a new form, and con-
(Uicted on a higher plane, and brought yet nearer
to perfect completion than any before, I felt adequate to
the task. Three or five years hence I might or might
not have as good men in the library. Death and
disagreements are insc})arable from humanity, and yet
of the latter I had seldom experienced one in connec-
tion with my literary labors. I believe I never have
liad a serious misunderstanding with any one of my
regular assistants. We worked together as friends,
side by side, as in one common interest. This central
l)art of my subject I regarded, I will not say as the
most important part, for each part was equally im-
jtortant, but it was the most difficult part, the most
intricate and laborious part, and with competent and
trained assistants it was the part which I could most
thoroughly perform, and most perfectly finish. This
was to be the crowning effort of these literary achieve-
ments; let me do it, I said, while I am able.

The library was moved to Valencia street the 9th
of October 1881, and type-setting was begun on the
history the following day. Although opposed in this
move by several of my friends, T persisted. The truth
is, I was becoming fearful lest it would never be put
into type; lest I should not live to complete the work,
and I was determined to do what I could in that
(Hrcction while life lasted. My health at this time
was poorer than ever before, and my nerves were by

lit

FURTHER LIBRARY DETAIL.

no means quieted by reading one day an article on tlio
business, submitted to me by Mr Hittell for his Co>,i-
inerce and Industn'cs, in which lie took occasion to
remai'k of my literary undertakings: "The scale on
which he has commenced his work is so comprelicn-
sive that it is doubtful whether he will be able to
complete it even if he should reach the age of three;
score and ten, with continuous i)rosj)erity and good
health." I thereuj)on resolved to complete it, to post-
pone dying until this work was done, and I immedi-
ately ordered a dozen compositors to be put uj)()U
the manuscript. Matter equivalent to fifteen volumes
was then in manuscript, and three fourths of the work
on the remainder had been accomplished in the note-
taking. I gave out, first, volume i. Central America,
and then volume i. Ilistorij of Mexico, both of which
had been written long years before, and rewritten;
after that I gave to the i)rinters whatever part of the
work appeared convenient, so that they fre(juently
had several volumes in hand at one time. The utmost
care was exercised in revising, rewriting, comparing,
and verifying, as the work was passed to press, four
or five persons devoting their time altogether or in
part to this woi'k.

Further than this, not only would 1 print, but I
would publish. I had no delicacy now in placing the
imprint of the firm on my title-pages. The MorlJ
might call it making merchandise of literature if they
chose : I knew it was not, that is to say in a niercenaiy
sense. There was no money in my books to the busi-
ness, hence the business did not specially want tlicin.
In the publication of several extensive works tlic
house had acquh-ed a national reputation, and I was
convinced that it would do better with this series
of Pacific States histories, than any other firm. So
I engaged Mr Nathan J. Stone, lately of Japan
but formerly of our house, a man of marked ability,
of much experience in our establishment and else-
where, to devote himself to the publication and sak-

PPwINTING AND PROOF-RE.VDINO.

£87

of iny books. Transferring to liiiu tlie business con-
nected therewith, I went on with my writing more
vigorously if possible than before. I reijuested the
mayor and the governor to visit tlie library, inspect
tlie work, and then give me a certilicate, expressing
tlieir belief in the completion of the work as then
})roniised, which was at the rate of throe or four vol-
umes a year. I took better care of my health than
l)efore, determined to piece out my life to cover the
time I now calculated would be required to fniish the
work. Lastly I revised my will to provide the neces-
sary funds, and ap[)ointed literary executors, so that
my several books should be completed and published
even in the event of my death. Strange inl'atuation,
past the comprehension of manl Of wliat avail this
terrible straining, with my body resolved to dust and
my intellect dissipated in thin air! One would fancy
the ])rizo a heavenly dukedom at the least; but when
I lo(jked up into the heavens I saw no dukedom there.
Vi)V all tliat, I would abridge my life by twenty years,
if necessary, to complete the work; why, I cannot tell.

After beginning printing, proof-reading was again
in order. It was a severe tax; that is, in the way it
was done in the library. When the proofs came from
the printing-office, where they wore read and revised
by an expert familiar with this work, one cojiy was
•iven to me, and one eacli to Nemos, Oak, and Gihnour.
The latter compared and verified both subject-matter
and references, comparing with original authorities,
aiul placed the corrections of the others with his
own on one proof, when it was returned to me. One
of the others besides myself also read the corrected
proof in pages, which were gone over by the chief
proof-reader for printers' errors.

There is something: extremely fascinating to mc in
the printing of a book. The metamorphoses of mnid
intt) manuscript, and manuscript into permanent print;
the incarnation of ideas, spreading your thoughts first

688

FURTHER LIBRARY DET^VIL.

u[)on papor and then transfixing^ them by the aid of
metal to the printed page, where through the ages
they may remain, display a magic beside v hich tlio
subtleties of Albertus Magims were infantile. " ^F.
Duputel is smitten with that amiable and enviablo
passion, the love of printing for private distribution,"
remarks Dibdin in his BibUographical Tour. Wliat
this passion is I never stop to consider. With me I
think it is the satisfaction of seeing a valuable sonio-
tiiing growing under my fingers; this and the multi-
j)lying power of the types. The masses of mankind
clothe with mysterious influence the unseen being wlu;
commits his thought to print. And living books are
indeed a i)ower; even those that come and go accoui-
j)lisli much. No book ever lived in vain; the black
and white of its pages, its pa})er and pasteboard, may
pass into oblivion, as all but the sacred few wliicli
spring from the inspiration of genius do and should
do, yet the soul thereof never dies, but multi[)lies
itself in entlless transmigrations into other books to
the end of time.

and

.'ubitn

l\rany

the coi

fore

volume

During the progress of the history through tlio

f)rcss there were many maps and plans to be drawn,
ocal and sectional maps to illustrate text or notes,
and sometimes a more general map to accompany tlic
volume. These were drawn as required, many of
them by Mr Gilmour. The several lists of authorities
quoted were prepared in the main by jNIr Benson,
who also assisted Mr Gilmour in making an index of
the several historical as well a'^ supplementary sots.
In order to have the use and benefit of the indexes
during the progress of the work, the several books (»r
sets were indexed on paper cards about three b}- four
inches, as the pages appeared in type, and when the
set, such as the Ilistori/ of Central America or the
History of Oregon, was complete, the cards wcic
handed to the printer, who from them put the index
in type.

ORDER OF PUBLICATION.

689

Though written early, the Tlistory of California was
not so early to be published, except the first volumes.
Originally I thought of the history only as one com-
plete work, the volumes to be written and published
ill chronological order; but later it occurred to mo
that there was too great a sweep of territory, climate.^
and governments too several and diverse, for mo
arbitrarily to cement them in one historical embrace.
Afany persons would like a history of one or more of
the countries, but would not care for them all. Tliere-
fore I finally concluded to write and number tho
volumes territorially, and yet maintain sucli chrono-
logical order as I was able; that is, I would begin with
Central America, that part coming first in order of
t imo,and bring the liistory of those states down to date,
inimbering the volumes i., u., and in., History of f/ie
rarijic Slates, as well as i., ii., and in., liistory of
Crntnil America. The History of the Pacific iSlates,
volume IV., would be tiie History of Mexico, volume
1., and so on; and the works might then be lettered
mider both titles and the purchaser be given his choice;
or lie might prefer to include the Native Races and
(he supplemental volumes under the yet more general
i\i\ii o\' Bancrofts Works. Thus would simplicity and
uniformity be preserved, and purchasers be satisfied.
With this arrangement it would not be necessary to
• onihic the order of publication to the order of num-
horing, as the volumes might very properly appear
chronologically, which was, indeed, tho more natural
sequence; and as a matter of fact they were so pub-
lished.

Thus the History of the Pacific States would com-
prise a series of histories each complete in itself; yet
the whole would be one complete history, each in the
requisite number of volumes; viz., the History of Cen-
tml America; the History of Mexico; the History of the
North Mexican States and Texas; the History of Arizona
and New Mexico; the History of California; the His-
tory of Nevada,\Vyoming, and Colorado; the History of

sno

FURTlirR LirSRARY DETAIL.

L'fah; thcllisfori/ of flic ]\"<n'fhirrsf Cocmt; tlic Ilisfnyi/
of Oregon; the Jllstoyij nf W(ishui(/ton, I<h(ho, ami
MonUtiui; tlio ITistori/ of Ih'itish Columhla; tlio His-
torij of Alasla. Tlio })]iin was to j)ul)lis]i thi-t'O

lit

lour volumes a veai-, to bo issued sunultaneously in
San Fraiu'isf'o, New York, London, and Paris. In
reirard to the two volumes of Xovth. Mexican States,
I should have jireferrcdto include tlicm in t\\Q Ilistor,/
of 3I(\ru'o, under the one general title, llut thev
were in i'(>ality a separate work, given more in detail
than the southern ^Texican states, whie-h were treated
from national rather than from local standpoints.
And this fur s(!vcral reasons: they were runver, so
to speak, mitre native, less suhdued, less settled and
cultivated, the ^NFexican frontici- being always townid
the north and not westward, as in the United Stales;
then they wwo nearer the United States, more ])ro-
gressiv(! than the southei'ii ^Mexican states, and in tliis
way they woidd constitute a stepping-stone in respect
of detail to the nations of the south and the states of
the north.

Another work of the highest importance later
forced itself uj)on me, and took its ])laee among mv
labors as i)art of mv history. This was tlu^ lixcs ol'
those w1m» had made the history, who had laid the
foundations of empin; on this coast "p(Mi which future
geui'rations were forever to build. Thus far a naira-
tive projxr of events had been givtMi, while those who
had [x'llbrnu'd this marvellous work were left in the
backgi'ound. livery one felt that they tlesei'Ved fulKi'
ti'eatment, and after nuieh anxious consideration of
the suhjcM't, there was evolved in my mind a separate
section of the history under title of (lironieJe^ of llir.
Jhiilders of the Comnioiivraltfi, which in a framework
of history and industi'ial i-ecord gives to biography
the same jH'oniintMice which in the jiistory proper i^
given to the narrative of events.

THE NEAIIKST OF ASSISTANTS.

591

III addition to tlic liistory were tlio supplcinont.d
works, (\il/fonii(i Piislonil, ('dlifonud Jiitcr Paciila,
I'opular Trilnniuh, J'^-^says <iinl Miscdhini/, and Lit-
( mry Iinlutilrirs, all of which orew out of tiu; work
on the hi.story, and were carricil alon<;' WiLli it. 'V\iv.
first two consist of material lei't ovci- in writiiiL? the
liistory, the cnie of Califoinia under missionarv n'ljinic,
and the other of (California during' the Hush times,
too lij^ht an«l sketchy for exact historical narra-
tion, and yet more rcadalde in some i'espe(^ts than
the history itself. The titles of the last two siteak
tor themselves. (If the thir<l I shall speak I'urther

)resenilv

]

need not mo mto di

tail 1

ier(> reu^ardmn'

their conc( ption and }»roduclion; sutlice it to say that
tlie suhjccts all came to nie of thi'Ir own aceoid, and
tliat I wrought them out without aid from any one,
tliere hein^;" no notes to he; taken or inlormation to he
uathered and silted fuither than what I was alth; to
accomjilish myself wliili; wi'itiiiL*' the histoiy. And
yet 1 should not say this. Much of tin; lahor on these
voliunes was performed at my home, where was the
sweettst and most sympathizin»i' assistant a literary
(hud^e ever had, constant in season and out of season,
jialient, foi'heariny, encoui'ag'ins^, clu't'rin^'. Many a
loni;' day she has lahored hy my si(K', I'eadini;' and re-

\ismi>'; many woinaiuy aspnations she has silenced i

il(

order to devote her fresh, l»ii(i\'

lif

c\-er ren'ai'oed as a liiiili ami noole ■ ate'e

e to w
•t. (

hat

S1R>

lO(l

tliat

sill

e and our chinU'en m<;y lonjji' live to ^atlu'i

H'l'ant

]i]casant fruits from these ]jiterary Industries, ior 1
suspect that in this hope lies t'le hidden and secret
spring that moves the author in all his efforts.

CHAPTER XXIV.

MY METHOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

Tlierc i3 a class of authors different from those who cringe to prevalent
tftstes, ;in<l p;inilcr to degniding passions; men whom neither power can in-
timidate, nor ilattery deceive, nor wealth corrupt. .,-, . ,

Hegel says of the Germans: " Instead of writing
history, wc are always heating our brains to discover
how history ought to be written." Nor is brain-
beating fruitless. Better never write a word of his-
tory, or anything else, unless it be done in the best
maimer possible.

My system of liistorical work requires a few words
of explanation, since not a little of the criticism, both
favorable and unfavorable, has been founded on an
erroneous conception of its nature.

In order to compreliend clearly the error alluded
to, it is well to note that the composition of an his-
torical work involves labor of a twofold nature, tht;
dividing line being very clearly marked. INIaterial in
the nature of evidence has first to be accumulated
and cl;:.ssified; subsequently from the evidence jud la-
ments have to be formed and expressed.

The two divisions micfht of course be still further
subdivided, but such subdivision is not needed loi-
niy present purpose. My system — if it be worthy
to be termed a system distinct from others — of whieh
I have in my different works had somewhat to sav,
and others have said still more, has no applic^itioii
whatever to tlie second and final operation of an liis-
torian's task. Every author aims to collect all possible

THE ORDINARY METHOD.

503

evidence on the topic to lie treated, and he acconi-
jili.shes his purpose by Avidely difterent methods, of
which more anon; but having once aceomphshcd tliat
primary object, in his later work of mind and pen
there is little that is tangible in his methods as dis-
linguished from those of another. He studies the
evidence profoundly or superficially, according to his
habit of study; forms his opinions more or less wisely,
according to the strength of his judgment; and ex-
] tresses them in language diffuse or concise, forcil)le
and graceful, or commonplace and awkward, according
to his natural or acquired style.

The philosopher, learned in mental phenomena,
may t'lissify to his own satisfaction the minds and
'.•■hivi • >rkings of authors; the literary critic may
trim comparisons and broad generalizations upon
style. There are as many variations in thoughts as
tlicre arc in men, in style as there are in writers;
but in this purt of my w'ork I have no peculiar
system or method, and I suppose that other authors
have none.

^Fy system, then, applies only to the accumulation
and arrangement of evidence upon the topics of which
I write, and consists in the application of business
methods and the division of labor to those ends. Bv
its aid T have iittempted to accomplish in one year
what \\ould .-•KMjMi'o ten 3'ears by ordinary methods;
ov on a, coiinjli'^^v.'ed and extensive subject to collect
piacticaU\ ail i he evidence, when by ordinary methods
a lifL'time of toil would yield only a part.

To illustrate '^.A us suppose an industrious au-
thor, determined to write the history of California, at
the start wholly ignorant of his subject. lie easily
learns of a few works on California, and having pur-
cliased them studies their contents, making notos t<i
aid his memory. His reading directs him to other
litlcs, and he seeks the corresponding books in the
libraries. ; -Mic and private, of the city where he re-

.sid

es.

Lit. i

irch of the shelves and catalogues of

004

MY :mei hod of writixg history.

the various libraries reveals many v(jliinics of whoso
existence he had not dreamed at first; but yet lu-
continues his reading and his notes.

His work, even if he devotes liis whole atti'ii-
tion to it and resides in San F/ancisco, has at tlii-^
stage occupied several years, and the author just be-
gins to realize how very many books have been printed
about California. His reading, perhaps, has covoied
two hundred and fifty books, and he has accumulated
the titles in diflercnt lanijuasfes of two hundred and
fifty more not to be consulted in San Francisco. ] le
makes an effort +<", secure some of those that seem
most important; i; ' d ices friends at a distance to
send liim notes from ,;rs; if possible he travels in
]\Iexico and Europe, ana thus actually consults many
of the missing tomes. But in the mean time lie ha-;
prol3ably learned, through catalogues and bibliograpli-
ical lists, that five hundred more works have betii
printed on liis subject, even if he does not yet suspect
the truth that besides the one thousand there are \vt
at least another thousand in existence. Ho now gives
up his original idea of exhausting the subject, undei-
stands that it would be impossible in a lifetime, ;.nd
comforts his conscience and pride with the rellectinn
that he has done much, and that many of the orks Ik;
has not seen, like many of those he has, are probalily
of very slight historic value; indeed, it is most likrly
that long ere this he has allowed himself to glanro
superficially at some ponderous tome or large coIIlc-
tion of miscellaneous pamphlets, almost persuading,'
himself that they contain nothing for him. Tlni'!
are ten chances to one that he has not looked at onr
volume in twenty of the m3^riads of the United Stales
government reports, though there is hardly one wliicli
does not contain something about California. It lias
never occurred to him seriously to explore the count-
less court records and legal briefs, so rich in histori' d
data. He knows that newspapers contain valual>l>'
matter; he has even examined a partial file of tliD

A DISCOURAGING PICTURE.

oOo

fitli/nrnian, and some carl}' niinibers of the Alfc or
Sacramento Union, hut beini;' a sane man lie has never
<Ii-eamod of an attack on the two hundred files of
( 'alifornia ne\vspa})ers, even could ho find them to
attai-k. lie knows that each of these fields of research
^.■<luld afford a lahor of several vears, and that all
of them would fill the better part of his life with
(hnidgery.

Another trackless wilderness of information now
opens before him. Our author has before this realized
that there arc sources of history other than tliose
t'umd in printed matter. He is surrounded by early
>^ttlers, whose cond)ined rv 'X)llections are the coun-
tiy's history in the main; he i.as talked with several
lit" them, and obtained a few choice anecdotes and
ii'iuiniscences to be utilized in his book; he has no
lime to obtain the statements of many, and chx's not
attempt it. He is aware of the desiral)ility of original
inanusci'ipt authorities; he eagerly deciphers a musty
document j)rocured by a friend wiio knows of his in-
\istigations; is delighted at tlie discovery of a small
)iackage of old pajK-rs at some mission, mysteriously
i landed out by tlie [)arisli priest to furnish choice cx-
tiacts for the author's note-book; handles gingerly
llie limited archives of Santa Cruz; obtahis from ]\lr
Hopkins, of the United States surveyor-general's
olli(.-e, translations of a few documentary curiosities;
tries to flatter himself that he has studied the archives
of California, and is a happy man if he escapes being
Iiaunted by the four hundred huge folio volumes of
iiiaiuiscripts containing the very essence of the annals
lie seeks to write, yet which he knows he could not
master in fifteen years of hard work. Perhaps he
( scapes the vision of the papers scattered over the
state in private hands, enough to make up sundry
other hundreds of similar tomes.

I [e now realizes yet more fully the utter imi)ossi-
I'ilitv of exhaustinjTj the material; feels that the work
lie set out to do has but fairly commenced, and can

■)90

MY METHOD OF "WRITIXG HISTORY.

not be com[)]ctocl. Of course he floes not feci called
upon to nialvc known to the public his comparatixo
failure; on the contrary, he makes the most of his
authorities. Ilis notes are brought out and arraiiLCcI ;
he has before him the testimony of several good wii-
nesses on most of the prominent points of his subject :
he has devoted twent3'-five years of industrious ic-
search to his work; the book is linished and justly
praised.

This writer, whose investigations I have thus fol-
lowed, is one of a thousand, with whom most of tlie mi ii
who have actually written so-called histories of many
nations and epochs are not worthy of compai'ison. 1 Ic
failed simply because he attempted the ini[)ossiblo.

Xow the reader will permit me to trace my (n\ii
course through a similar routine of investigation,
pursued, however, b}'- different methods. I, like my
imaginary friend, was determined to write the histoiy
oC ( "alifornia, and had almost as va'jfuo an idea as ho nf
the task assumed. Ho purchased some books as (ool-
with which to work, selecting such as were known 1m
bear on his subject; I l)cgan ten years before I \\;i-
ready to write, and bv^ught through agents in all pan-
of the world ever}' book that could be had conconiin :
the Pacific States, thus up to that time or a litth
later obtaining twenty thousand volumes, sure to in-
clude, as I thought, all existing material about ( "il-
ifornia. To search among my twenty thousand '<'i'
two thousand on California was a less forniidnlilr
undertaking than for him to search the shelvis of
different libraries and catalogues for his five hun-
dred volumes; but it was too slow for my purposes,
and from ten to fifteen men were employed to index
the whole and furnish me a list of California mateii.il
with reference to volume and page. ]\Iy imaginary
author plods industriously through each work as lie
finds it, making careful notes of such matter as ln'
deems of value, while I put ten men, each as cap;.! 'If

THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD.

597

In this kind of labor as ho or I, at work to extract
rvurything under its proper headiiig. I, like him, ani
more and more astonished at tlie appai'ently never
euiUng mass of material encountered, but I can see
my way through if only the treasury depai'tnient sus-
l;iins me. So I tunnel the mountain of court I'ccords
and legal briefs, bridge the marsh of United States
government documents, and stationing myself at a
-ale distance in the rear, hurl my force's against the
>ohd columns of two hundred liles of California news-
iui])ers.

[, too, see about me many living "witnesses, and
tVom several hundreds of them I obtain, by aid of
stenographers, as well as other reporters, detailed
statements respecting early times. I more than sus-
pect the existence of important papers scattered in
private hands, and I procei;d to buy, borrow, and beg,
until the product lills a hundred volumes. The six
hundred bulky tomes of public and mission archives
1 1-e up before me, but there is no such thing as retreat
at this point of procedure; I have no fifteen years
to spend in plodding through this pathless waste, but
til'teen searchers reduce the time to one year, and the
arcliivcs are transferred to my library. Meanwhile
liu note-takers continue their labors; each volume,
]iamphlet, manuscript, and newspaper is made to give
up Its evidence, little or much, on one point or man}',
and nothim; is omitted or slighted.

At last the preparatory wo)'k is ended, and the
e\;dence on each specific |)oint is laid befoi'c me, as
my friend had his before him, with this difference:
I liave practically all where he had only part — he
liai'dly realized, perhaps, how small a part, lie had
two or three witnesses whose testiniony ho had se-
lected as essential on a certain topic; I have a hun-
'hi'd whose evidence is more or less relevant. Fi'om
tills point our progress lies practically in the same
path, and the race is well nigh run. Had he the
same tlata as I, his results would be superior to mine

J9S

MY METHOD OF WRITING IlI>;TORY.

if he wei'o my superior as a thinker and as a writoi-
Our res})ective nietliods and systems have httle or i
iuikieuee in the matter, save perhaps that in my e.\-
l)erience with many assistants I liave been ahle tn
select a lew to whom I am able to intrust the pre})ara-
tion of systematized notes on special topics, and thu>
still further to shorten my labors.

My work at last completed, I have been able to ac-
complish thoroughly in fifteen years what my friend,
(juite as zealous, industrious, and able as I, has ddiw
su[)erileia]l3' in twenty-live years, and what he could
not have done as thoroug'hly as T, in six lifetimes. And
yet our respective mi'thttds dilfer after all in dei;'i'e(!
rather than in kinil, I have done scarcely anytliiii'^
that he has not attempted. ITo has purcliased books,
.studied books, handled newspapers, deciphered maii-
uscri[)ts, and questioned pioneers; I have simply dom.'
twenty times as nmch as he in each of these direc-
tions, much more easily and in much less time.

I come now to consider the relative merits of tlic
two methods, the desirability of applying.,' busiin ss
methods and division of labor to historical nw.l
scientific research. The advanta<j:es and the dis.u!
vantages, if any such there be, of such ap[>licnli-M
should be noted. I claim that mine is tlie ii:i!\
method by which all the evidence on a great subject
or on many smaller subjects can be l)rought oui.
A\'ithout it the author must confine himself to liniitrd
topics or do his work superficially. To thus limiting
himself there is no objection, as there can be n<iii ■
that I know of to the more ambitious i)lan of ha\ i'lg
hel[) and doing more and better work. I can concei\i'
of no case where it is not desirable for an investigator
to have before him all the evidence; thougli 1 li;i\'
had some experience with critics who revere as tin
historian the n^an who writes fr(jm a study of twenty
books with rare and patronizing credit to tin ii'
authors, and more liohtlv esteem him who stutli( - -i
thousand works, and chooses in his notes to leave

THE LOCAL ANNALIST.

.'W

•standing tho ladder b}' which hu mounted. I liavc;
also mot critics wlio a])[)arontly could not t'om])rclu'nd
that a writer wiio refers to one thousand authorities
does not necessarily use them mechanically, or allow
a numerical majority to decide every jxtint, instead
of internal evidence. ]3ut these objections sc-r\e
only to show in a clearer light their own absurdity,
and that a thorough study is far better than a super-
licial one.

An industrious author may in a reasonable timi!
collect data and j)ro|)erly record the mannei's and cus-
toms of the iSIodoc tribe, the annals of Grass Valley,
iir the events of the Bear Flag revolution; and for
the man who thus honestly toils to increase the store
of human knowledge I have the greatest I'espect.
Such a man could not by ordinary methods write
anything like a com])lete work on the aborigines of
America, or even of California, or on the histoi'V
of the Pacific States; and for the man who from an
ae(juaintan(,'e with Iro([Uois manners and customs,
with the reading of a few books on the North
American aborigines, proceeds learnedly on the in-
stitutions and history of every tribe and nation from
Alaska to Cape Horn, from the Crow reservation
in 1S75 back to the dwellers of the prehistoric
Xibalba— for such a man I have not very nmch ad-
miration to spare, even if some of his theories are
|ilausiblc and ingeniously and eloquently sup})orted.
Neither am I ovei'burdened with respect for the sni-
(lisaid historians of California who can in the leisin-e
hours of a few years and within the limits of five hun-
dred pages record all that is worth knowing of the
annals of our state; who before 184G see nothing but
the acts of a few padres and 'greasers,' of which uo-
oody c.'ires to hear; who glance vaguely and su|>er-
licially at a few of the many phases of the subject they
profess to treat.

The great advantage claimed for my system of
literary work is, then, that it renders possible results

' '.V

cno

MY ^[ET]IOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

otliorwisc iinattaiiinblo. I deoin it desirable tliat the
few to Avhoiii nature has j^iven tlie capacity to derive
tlu'irn-reatest enjoyment fV( nil the hard toil of literaiy
and scientific reseai'ch should he enabled to embrace
in tlieir efforts the l)i-oadest tields and accomplish the
grandest possible results.

On the other liand, this system of research involves
a jfyreat j)ecuniary outlay. In many kinds of lal)or twd
workino'tou^ether will accomplisli more than four Avoi'k-
ing separately; in other kinds, four will not do twic(!
as much as two. But this is a disadvantage which
aifects only the author, and not his w^ork, nor tlio
interests of his readers. The same reply miglit hi;
made to the complaint tliat assistants cannot be found
who will woi'k as carefully and zealously as the em-
ployer, since tliis fact simply renders necessary tlin
extraction of some superlluous or duplicate material.
It is true that an investigator in his studv of authoii-
ties learns nuich of his subject beyond what is con-
tainetl in the notes that he pi'cserves, and that at the
close of the preparatory studies this knowLxlge l>y
mv system of work exists in several mimls rather
than in one. This objection is to a certain extent wi II
taken, and I am disposed to admit that on a limited
subject which can be really mastered within a peri* "I.
say, of five years, one man will produce better wM)ik
than several, although ex})erience has taught me that
the a}iplication of varied talent, ao two men treading'
in the same path, is not witliout its advantages. I
have always encouraged among my assistants a i'vv>.)
ex})ression of their own ideas, and have derived the
greatest benefit from frequent conversations and dis-
cussions with them on special topics. In long aii<'
complicated subjects to which my method is applicable,
and which cannot be successfully treated by any othei',
I am inclined to regard thedivisi(m of labor as an ad
\antage in itself. I question if the mind which eaii
plod for a long series of years through the necessary
preliminary work is the mind properly constituted fer

TEXT AND NOTES.

001

the best use of the inatorial acfjuii'ed; or whether the
l)est abihty is not iniuretl bv loiiLf (h'ud'erv.

Tlie })ruuary I'luluavor in all u\\ historical writiinj^s
lias been to exhaust the sultjoL-t, but presenting it
.ihvays as condensed as possible. In the text is givi'n
the information eoni})lete, the full narrative in the
fewest wortls.

It was ever my aim to tell the story clearly and
concisely, taking a connnon-sense practical view of
things, and arranging them in natural sequence, giving
an episode as nmeh as possible in one place, even
though in its relation to other episodes it overlap])ed
a little. Analysis of character, as applied to leading-
personages, I endeavored to make a feature, giving,
with physical description, bent of mind and natut'al
i\nd acquired abilities. In cases where characteristics
were not directly s[)eciHe(l they might be arrived at
i'loni the acts of the individual. A little colloquy
was deemed not ineffective when short, ter.sii, and in
language ap})ropriate to the persons and the time.
A shoit story, pointedly given, is eifective to enliven
the text, but it must not be carelessly done. The
notes were for reference to authorities, for proof,
• lucidation, discussion, illustration, balancing of i-vi-
(lence, and for second-cla.ss information. To this end
([notations from authorities were deemed in ordisr, ncjt
j.s repetitions, but as presenting the subject in its sev-
n-al shades and opposite positions. Though not illus-
ti'ated — first-class writings are seldom illustrated —
maps and plans were inserted in both text and notes
wherever needed. In rci^ard to biblioLrraphv, it was
my aim to give every important book and manuscript
t'ormal notice in the most suitable place; the title to
he given in full, in italic. The contents of the work
were then briefly epitomized, after which a criticism
of the work and a biographical notice of the author
were given. The biographies of all leading historical
I haracters were of course presented in the text, these
of themselves constituting history; inferior characters

il'l

«02

MV Mi;TII()r> OF WRITINf! HISTORY.

wt'ic (lisjioscd (if in tlu! noti'S, Imt of those latter tiieio
were lew except among [lioneers.

Hetweeii tlie old method and the now there is ahont
the j>ame dilKerence that would arise in any undci'
taking' hy a practical man ot business and hy a |)urelv
garret j>hiloso[)her oi- student. Elscwere in this ^(»l-
ume I have drawn certain conij)arisons between the
industrial life and the intellectual life. I di'sire lu iv
to s]»eak more particidarly of the etfects of a business
and a collegiate course on literary labors, the dillereiicL'
in the men prc^duced by these two s[)ecies of training,
and the etfect-s upon my historical efforts of my former
business experience.

In tlie two classi's of oceu])ation, while there is much
in harmony there is also much that is directly antag-
onistic one to the other. The elements essential to
success are alike in both, but the training suitable i'ny
one is not the best for tlio other. There are certain
qualities e(|unlly beneficird in both. PConestv, intelli-
gence, a[iplication, and the like are as valuable to
the i)rof<.'ssional man as to the business man, and not
more so; just as blood, endurance, reliability, are as
valuable (jualities in the draught-horse as in the rnce-
horse; the training, however, would bo quite dilFerent
in tlie two cases. Obviously the course [)ursued in
fitting a horse for the turf unfits the animal for the
cart.

I never imagined this difference to bo so pronounced
in the traininu' of younof men destined to their dilfei-
cut jnu'suits until I was brought into immediate and
con.stant contact with two distinct sets of assistant ',
directing both, and ])art of the time under the same
roof The business I had planted; all its growth and
branchings I had directed, eno'acfinij and oversee-
ing all those employed in it. This represented one
part of mo, and of my life. ]My literary work I had
conceived, })lanned, and was then performing, direct-
ing fully every one engaged in it. This represented

LiTHRATrnK AND T;rsrNr;>!s.

no.'t

aiiotlior part of me, luy nature, my aspirations, uiid
niv lilo.

A younj^ man or an old man appli(\s to mo for a
situation. JlcmaylK' suitalile i'ur the business and
not for tlie librai-y; nay, if ho is speeially fitted lor
one lio is not snitahlo i'or the otlicr. ^[y fn-st (pies-
tions are: Wliat did you last^ What have you Ix-cn
doini;- all your lile:* What are your aspii'ations ^

If the apprK'ant's time hitherto has heen spt'ut as
salesn)an or hook-keept-r in a mercantile or manu-
facturing ostahlishnunit; if his mind he of th<' i-olor
of money, and his chief (K'sires and tastt-s lio in tht;
threction of huying, and selling, and g(;tting gain, he is
worth nothiiiLC to mi' in tlio lihrarv. On the other
hand, if he bo scholarly in his tastes, of meditative,
intellectual hal)its, careless of money, i)roferring the
merchandise of mind to i\ui accunnilations df the
warehouse; if he he sensitive, didident, and ictiring,
iiK'Xj)erienced in business, with parents and fiiends
iiilellectuallv inclined, having s])ent his whole life at
study, having ac([uired a good collegiate education, and
lieing still andjitious to ac<|uire more, I should ne\er
thiidv of })lacing such a man in the l)Ustlo of Inisi-
ut'ss. It would be no less distasteful to him than
unprofitable to both of us.

1'he 3'outh's training and experience while in a store
ai-e invaluable to him if he means to become a mer-
chant. It is time lost, and often worse than lost, if
the intellectual life be his iuture field; althou<j:h in mv
own case, beuinninu' with literature later in life, and
lu-osecuting studies after my own [)eculiar method, my
I'Usiness ex})erience was of the greatest advantage to
iiie. " Leufal trainiii'jf," remarks rieorLi'e ]']liot, "onlv
makes a man more incompetent in questions that I'e-
• luiie knowledge of another kind" The activities of
business call into play such totally different (piali-
ties of mind, drawing it from its content in quiet,
thoughtful study, and stirrin.g it to acciunulative
stiii'e and the passions of ac(juisition, that it is in

ff; "'ill
I'll

004

MY METHOD OF WRITING illSTORY.

souu: ivspccts, but not in all, u jjositivc detriniont to
intellectual ])ursuits. On the other luuid, study and
1 !u' thounhti'ul investigation which .should iullow it are
too apt to engender sensitive, se<lentary hal/its and a
(hstaste i'or the activities of business. As Mr J Li-
bert Spencer puts it: " Faculty of every kind tends
alw.iys to adjust itself to its work. Sj»ecial adjust-
ment to one kind of work involves more or less non-
adjustment to other kinds."

It is not my i>ur[)ose here to discuss the relative
iinpoitanco of these two pursuits. Both are impor-
tant, tlie one no less than the other, and it woidd be
well il' one could have the benelit of both. It would
be well if in (»ne person could be united twentydillerent
kinds of traininL!". A military training has its advau-
tages; though 1 nuist say 1 see no greater wisdom in
introducing the military element in a boys' school than
the wood-.sawing element or the watch-makiniJ' ele
nient. For instance, the wood-.sawver and the watcii-
ma'cer, in actpiiring or in practising their occui)aru)iis,
ilerive advantages beneiicial to the lawyer or merchant.
A medical training is advantaLi^eous to a cleruvman:
eviry s[)ecies of training acts beneiiciallyon every ol Ik i
.'-[)ecies. There, is no occu})ation in which the learnei'
Would not be benetited by the training incident to a
dozen other occu]»ations, were it possible to learn the
twelve! without slighting the one.

In my literary work, at every turn, I found niyst It'
deriviui'' the ]ar<>'est benehts from mv business exiKii-
ence. iiefore I had been engaged in my historical
lahois for five years I found my new woik broadly
[ilanni'd and faiily systi'Uiati/i'd. Accustomed to util-
ize the labors of others, I found nodilHculty in directlii;'
a small army of workers here. I found fastened u[>oii
me as [tart of my nature habits of a[iplication ai,.!
perseverance from which I could not teai- myself it' 1
would. I was woimd U[t by my inother to work; aial
so wountl that the running down should bo with the
last tick of time.

ADVANTAOES OF VARIOUS TRAININGS.

605

Moreover, I found myself as free as iniglit be from
prejudices, though this, I helieve, is tl)e o})iniou of
the wihU^st fanaticism concernifiLf itself; i'ree IVoni
^sectarianism and party bias, and from the whole
catalogue! of isms, some of which arc apt to fasten
themselves on innnature minds and there remain
thi'ongh life, I found myself with no cause- to hattL-
i'or, no preconceived lights or wrongs to vindicatf
or avenge, no so-called l)elief to establish, no s[)eeial
])olitics to jilead. I had no aim or interest to pi-e-
st'ut aught but the truth; and I cared little what
truth should prove to bo when found, or whetlier it
agreed with my conceptions of what it was or ougiit
to be. I would as williii<>ly have found the uioon
in the bottom of the wel', were it really there, as in
the heavens, where we have always supposed it to bt\
It was as though I had been born into th<! world of
letters a full-grown man.

lie who accumulates facts seldom o-oneralizes them,
ln'cause no one man has the time and the ability to
do both to any great extent. Herbert Spencer could
have made little ])rogress weaving his vast and spark-
ling theories had he not possessed a good store of
raw material before he began them. Tlien again,
general speculations spring from habits of tliought
d i lie rent fi'om those that regulate the mind-machin«'ry
of scientific specialists. Yet the spii-it of business
activity may be infused into the meditations of mind.
The ethics of commerce are not i'ully apj)i'cciat(Ml by
tlie student of literature, of law, of divinity. Thei-e
are in the commercial life more intluenct^s at work to
form habit, character, opinion, than in almost any other
splu'ri' t)f action. Jn looking back upnn the past the
success of my historical undertakings di'p«nde<| no lt>s
on liusiness experience than on literary abihty.

So long as the spirit incai'iiate, so long as mind,
abides in the body, the l)ody must be cared for; in-
deed, it is the first care of the mind to ])ri>vide Ibr
the b.xly, but the body (»nce furnished with jtroper

GOG

MY ilETIIOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

food and covering, it is not only cncrvatinji", but posi-
tively debasing for the mind to go on unneces.saril\'
pampering and ]iroviding all its days. Eating only
gold Mill not satit^fy hunger; drinking only gold will
not quench thirst; a. higher and holier appetite tliau
that for wealth should swell men's instincts. Othci-
wise the simple re(]uirement of nature corrodes, be-
comes gangrene with greed, and the intellect, the
only part of man which lives or is at all progressive',
is k;ft to decay.

As to which is the higher, the nobler of these ]>ur-
suits, there is no question. Philosophers are the mind
of society, as agriculturists and manufacturers aii-
the body. "We res})ect the mercantile mind, as we
should," says Stoddard, "but something tells us that
it is inferior to pure intellect. We reverence genius
more than gunny bags."

Like every other animal, man toils for simple exist-
ence. Now if wealth increased life, there would l>e
some sense in struggling for it. But this is not ••n:
it absorbs life. Only the multiplication of mind laul
tiplies life; and it is in the exercise of this [)rivile!':i
alone that man is better than a brute, ^[oni'V and
l)ower, at first esteemed as ministers of our pie;. sure,
linally are loved for themselves alone.

A life of business, of acquisition, of struggling tn
better one's bodily condition, however well it may b .
however necessary, never can produce the highest
results. Drawn into the whirlpool of money-getting,
the mind is lost to nobler efforts. " Every man's aim, '
says Higginson, "must cither be riches or sonjething
better than riches." And here is one strong })lea ibr ,i
non-accumulating aristocracy, for some units of eveiy
society to stand as perpetual reminders to covetous
men that there are things in heaven and earth m»>i •
valuable, more worthy rational consideration, than
gold, merchandise, and stocks; that there are suc'i
things in this universe as imperishable treasures l)r-
yond tlie reach of nistth and rust, and that he wli'

THE CURSE OF COVETOUSNESS.

607

dies worth only his ten or twenty milHons in money
dies poor indeed.

What shall we say of a lifctinje of besotted wal-
lowinij for wealth, when bright souls arc sullied even
by the contamination of it:* As Jean Paul Iliditer
expresses it: "The pure and upright man is always
once, in the earliest time, a diamond of the first water,
transparent and colorless; then ho is one of the second
water, and many r,nd various colors play in its beams,
until finally he becomes as dark as the stone which
<a-inds the colors."

Wealth, if it does not paralyze literary eflbrt, in
almost all cases diminishes intellectual activity. Often
it completely annihilates all intellectual thinking and
living. The highest mental energy springs under the
stimulant f)f necessity, exce[)t, indeed, in ci'.^esof super-
al)undant genius, which are exceedingly rare.

Pleasure is not the only inlluence that draws the
rich man from his literary devotions. The power
which money gives, and which encourages the ])0s-
scssor to employ it in accomplishment, instead of the
feebler cfi'orts of personal drudgery, is a stronger
temptation even than that of pleasure. Honor and
I tower as well as pleasure are already secured; why
should one voluntarily descend to a state of such
severe servitude? The man with money can accom-
jilish so much more, and with so much greater ease,
by directing the labor ol" others than by l)uny })er-
sonal efforts. Once in a great while, as in the cases
of Ruskin and the Humboldts, one sees intellect [)os-
si'ssed of gold, and not }>ossessrd l)y it; l)ut the younger
l^hny was for the most i)art right when In; said, "'Ea
iiivasit homines, habendi cupido, ut possideri magis,
(juain possidere videantur."

"Industry, and a taste for intellectual jileasures,"
says Lord Macaulay of noble authors, "are [>eculiaily
respectable in those who can afford to be idle and who
liave every temptation to be dissipated. It is impos-
sil)le n(»t to wish success to a man who, finding him-

COS

MY METHOD OF WRITING HISTORY,

self placed, without any exertion or merit on his part,
above the mass of society, voluntarily tlesconds iVoin
his eminence in search of distinctions which he ni;iv
justl}' call his own." In his model republic, Plati'
unites elegance with siniplicity,and makes men learned
without being we;^k.

Pride is a great comforter. Some arc \)Vo\v\
of their wealth, and some of their poverty; some of
their noble ancestry, and some of their low origin.
While wo rejcjice to see wealth scattered and the
mi'dity things of this world made useful: while we
cry with Lucan, "In so magna ruunt: loetis huni-
numina rebus crescendi posuoro modum!" yet if
these poor gold-ridden plodders are satisfied, I do not
see why wc should molest them. If Crresus fancied
himself the happiest of mortals, was it not unkind in
Sok)n to attempt to undeceive him?

Horace boasted his humble birth; so did Burns,
and so J^eranger. Now, while I see nothing to be
proud of in wealth or high birth; while I respect ;i
man not one whit more because he happens to lia\('
bushels of money, or because his ftithcr gave him tlh
privilege of writing lord or count before his name, on
the other hand I see nothing glorious in being born
in a hovel. Let him praise himself who, born rich < r
titled, achieves true greatness, rather than the liunibL
person who rises by his own efforts, for poverty diive>
one on to laborious undertaking, while the rich and
great have no such incentive. Of the two, the laud
able efforts of poverty or the ennui of wealth, give ni'
the former.

A word with regard to retiring from business. Tt
is well enough understood at this day that he wl •
suddenly exchanges life-long, active occupation for idl
happiness seldom finds it. It is only the constitu-
tionally lazy man, he who has never done anythinL;.
who enjoys doing nothing If the commercial ni ii
has a cultivated intellect, he has an unfailing resouivc

RETIRIXG FROM BUSINESS.

609

within himself. But this is not often the case:
a man of refined and cultivated literary tastes is
seldom a great commercial man. " Tiie tendency of
modern business life," says Doctor Beard, "for one
who succeeds in it, is to repress whatever of poetry,
or science, or art there may be in the brain." Yet
absolute retirement from an active and successful
husinoss life which he loves, even to a purely intel-
lectual life which he loves better, may not be always
the best a man can do. The strains of study and
writing are so severe upon the nerves that at times
business may be recreation — that is, if the business
is well systematized and successful, with plenty to do,
with plenty of capital, and without haste, anxiety, or
worry.

At all events I never could wholly retire from
business, although at times its duties were extremely
distasteful and its cares crushing. Some of the hap-
piest associations, some of the warmest friendships,
liave sprung from my commercial life; and they
iiover left me, but ripened into sweeter fragrance us
aye crept on apace. Kenny, Colley, Dorland, and
my nephew Will, Welch and Mitchell, Maison and
Pit Tson, and all the rest of the little army I used
to general with such satisfaction, not oidy were
you diligent and loyal to the business, but you
were among those 1 was ever proud to call niy
fiii'iids! In the midst of the severest literary labors,
as I have before mentioned, I have voluntarily taken
solo charge of the business when it was largest ond
most intricate, for months and years at a time,
doubling its capabilities and profits with as little
ellort as that employed by the skilful engineer in
adding to the force of his machinery; and 1 bclii'vo
I dciived only pleasure and benefit from it. It was a
relief to my tired brain to step from the libraiy
to the office and in a few moments shape the next
month's affairs; it was a relief to fingers stiff from
writing history to sign checks awhile. Nor is this

Lit. IMS. 39

610

MY METHOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

any contradiction to what I earlier remarked about
interruptions when deep in literary labors. A man
can do much if left to his own way.

It is no new thing to travel and collect data. Four
hundred years before Christ the world's first histoi-iaii
was abroad in search of material. But the travels of
Herodotus covered an area of not more than seven-
teen hur^lred square miles; that is to say, along inter-
secting lines extending through thirty-one degrees of
longitude and twenty-four of latitude, though, indeed,
all the world of his day.

The country whose story I proposed to tell, all
that was known of it, its physical features as well as
its peoples, the aborigines and their supplanters, em-
braced an area of some three millions of square miks,
nearly one twelfth of the earth's land-surface, uith
twelve thousand miles of sea-coast. The whole earth
was ransacked for information touching this territorv.

Arnold says : " For the creation of a master- work
of literature two powers must concur, the power of
the man and the power of the moment."

Histories of the early nations of Asia and Europe,
as I have before said, had been collated by many
skilful hands, had been studied with care, greatly lo
the profit of mankind. The inhabitants of ea:sti'iii
North America likewise had their able chronickis,
men who had spent their lives in studying and i)oi-
traying aboriginal character as well as modern his-
tory. All this I was now attempting to do for the
western side of the continent.

History will be written, and men will rise to write
it. Nature reports her own progress, reports it Ii.
the sandstones, the coal and peat beds, in mountains,
rivers, and seas. The migrations and convulsions oi'
society leave not their footprint upon the stones, but
the doings of civilization are none the less certain td
be reported. In every nation there are some who
will gather and communicate from pure love of it.

GENERAL NOTES.

Gil

All writings are a description of somethinGj, either
real or imaginary. Thus, history describes nations in
their successive events and epochs; poetry paints the
passions; the novelist gives a series of imaginary,
social, or other occurrences; science and pliilosophy
describe realities, material and immaterial. Tlie diller-
c'lit kinds of literature did not originate and develop
simultaneously; poetry and philosophy were born be-
fore romance and science.

j\Iy theme should be the people and their land.
Whatever should concern them, their character and
comforts, their origin and destiny, surely was not
out of place. The burden of the Iliad is not the siege
of Troy, but the wrath of Achilles; the burden of
Herodotus is not the history of Greece, but the de-
struction of the Persian anuada. But the less sisjfiiiri-
cant instruments by means of whicli civilization cuts
her channels should not monopolize all my tlioughts.
The straightforward truth itself in all its simplicity
should be my aim, ever beseeching deliverance from
iniud-befogging collateral speculations, as well as from
gruat-man worship in every one of its varieties.

Besides the regular subject-matter or historical
notes, which were largely taken out by my assistants,
there was another class of notes, allusorv and illus-
trative, which I was obliged to take out for mj'seh", in
order to obtain satisfactorv material for use. I hiivc
found these notes exceeilinu'lv serviceable. They wrve
made during; occasional <jeneral readimj^s of from a
woelv to three months in duration. So long as I could
write steadily I had neither time nor taste ior miscel-
laneous reading; but feeling that a writer could luvrr
liave too nmch familiarity with history an<l classical
literature, whenever I could do nothiniT: else I read
vi'jforously in that direction, takinix notes and recording
111}' own ideas. The substantial facts of history are
iixed and determined. When the objc^ct is to present
them all as they are, without thet)retical bias or class

612

MY METHOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

prejudice, with no desire to elevate this person, sect,
or party, or to humihate or debase another, there
is something about the work definite, tangible, aiul
common to all minds. But notes for purposes of proof,
illustration, or garnishment, such as Buckle presents
in his Commonplace Book — though there indeed are
notes of every class indiscriminately thrown together —
must be abstracted by the person using them, as no
two minds think exactly in the same chaimels; nor
would one person undertaking to use notes of this
kind made by another be able even to understand in
many instances oiicir (significance or relevancy.

With the notes for a volume all out and arranged,
and the plan of the work clearly defined in my mind,
the writing was comparatively rapid. While the
writing was actually in progress I avoided as nmch as
possil)le all outside reading.

But at the completion of every one or two of niy
written volumes, I ran through some fifty or a hun-
dred books which I had laid aside to read as my eye
had fallen upon them from time to time, taking notes
and memoranda applicable both to what I had written
and to what I had yet to write. Jean Paul Ricliter
was exceedingly careful to preserve all his thouglits.
"He was as thought -thrifty and thought-storing,"
says one, "as he was thought- wealthy." Had the
time been at my disposal I should have been a great
devourcr of books, for I scarcely ever could pass a
book without looking at it, or look at a book without
wanting to read it.

"I have long had it in my mind to speak to you
upon the subject of which this letter treats," writes
Mr Harcourt to me the 4th of April 1877, at White
Sulphur springs. "You have made literature your
profession, and have already attained a position in tluj
world of letters which the vast majority of those who
have grown gray headed and worm-eaten in the cause
have failed to reach. This notable success is partly
owing to the wise and far-sighted system you luivc

HARCOURT'S PROPOSAL.

Gib

adopted of leavinj^ to others the drudgery that is in-
separable from Hterary labor, and thereby kee})ini^
your own energies fresh for tlie part that is expected
of genius. You have carried the progressive spirit of
the age into a quarter where it is least expected to
be found, for you have applied machinery to liter-
iiture, and have almost done for book-writing wliat
tlio printing-press did for book dissemination. It is
true that few men of literaiy tastes — for is it not
written that they arc all miserably poor? — are in a
j)osition to avail themselves of your system, and I
know of no one but yourself to whom the sugges-
tion I am about to make, which is simply an exten-
sion of that system, would be practicable.

" It is of course well know n to you that notes of a
general character are indispensable to every writer.
Their importance and viilue cannot be overestimated.
They are absolutely requisite for the attainment of
l)()th brilliancy and accuracy. What makes a man's
))agcs sparkle so brightl}'^ as a judicious and appropri-
ate use of those 'jewels five words long which on the
stretclied forefinger of all time sparkle forever' ? They
serve to show the breadth of his readinti' — a most
laudable vanity, I think, if kept within bounds — they
inspire respect in the reader, they say things for him
tliat the writer could but indifferently express in his
own words, and by obliterating the obnoxious ecjo for
a moment they stamp his wt>rk with the mark of
authority. But I am sui-e that you appreciate their
A'alue and desirability. Yet how is it possible to have
thorn at hand without the use of notes? A man can-
not carry in his head all the books he has read;
neither, though he has them all by heart, will the
passages and facts which lui most admires or which
ate most appropriate to his present purpose occur to
liini when he needs them most. The prejudice which
» xists against a common})lace book in the minds of
many who are not writers is absurd in the extreme
What author of eminence hos been without one? It

814

MY METHOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

is true that quotations and allusions as they crop out
in the paji^es do and should appear to have occurred
to the writer on the spur of the moment; but that
they were in reality carefully drawn from his written
archives and not from the calls of a superhuman
memory is a compliment to his industry and no slur
upon his learning.

" You will think me fearfully long-winded, I know,
but I come straight to business when I state that I
should like to take general notes of this kind for y<"^i,
and what I have said was merely to show, first, tliut
my taking them out for you would bo perfectly in
accordance with your views of the way in which such
work must bo done, and second, that such notes should
be in your possession.

"I have, of course, no doubt that you have already
a large collection of your own ; but one can never have
too many, or even enough of them, and I think that
I miglit materially assist you. To keep himself u])
with the literature of the day is about all that a man
can attend to in these times, and he has little lcisui(j
for taking the back-track amonjjc the brain-work of
the past."

Fuw persons were better qualified for this woi-k
than Mr Harcourt. No one possessed finer literal y
tastes than he; no one's reading was of a wider rann'i)
than his. And yet for him to accomplish this labor
for me I deemed impracticable. For his own use his
notes would be invaluable. But in a common[)la(i;
book made for my use by Mr Harcourt, and one uiaili'
by Mr Ijuckle, or any other author for himself, I couM
see but little practical diftercnce ; that is to say, I mig'at
almost as well draw my notes of illustration from cyclo-
piedias and quotation dictionaries already in use as to
have ]Mr Harcourt make a collection specially for mo.
His would be on the whole better, unquestionably,
since I could direct him what cateijories to draw from
and in what form to write them out; but after all, the
fact would remain that they were quotations, either

"WORK, THE CHIEF DEPEIfDENCH.

ei5

literal or in essence, and in their original conjunctions
they were worth far more to me. Moreover, there
was too much of sham in the proposition.

After all that may be said of inventions and sys-
tems, or even of ability, work, work was ever my
chief dependence. That which wc call genius is often
nothing else than the natural fjrowth of or'jfans and
faculties which of necessity grow by their use. All
productions are the result of labor, physical or mental,
ai)plied to natural objects. Says Saintc-Beuvc of tlio
lul)or expended in writing his inimitable Causcrics da
Landi, or Monday-Chats, "I descend on Tuesday into
a well, from which I emerge only on Sunday." It is
no small task even to edit another man's work, if it
be done thoroughly and conscientiously. John Stuart
]\Iill, in editing Bentham's liationale of Judicial Evi-
dence, was obliged to condense three masses of manu-
script, begun at three several times, into a single
ti'catise; he was likewise to supply any omissions of
]\Ir Bcntham, and to that end read several treatises
on the law of evidence.

Intellectually, as well as physically, the rule holds
good that he who will not work shall not cat. To
the rich, therefore, as to the poor, this rule applies,
and with greater intensity it rivets the rich man's
lH)nds. The most worthless of us, if poor enougli, are
luunmered by necessity into something useful, even
as the cooper hammers the leaky barrel.

Wealth is greatly desired; it is attained only by
liil)or or sacriiice. Learning is greatly desired: it is
attained only by labor or sacriiice. So is respecta-
bility, fame, or any other fancied good. Air and sun-
shine, indispensable to all, are not wealth, because
they are free to all; that wliicli lifts one in any way
above one's fellows comes only from labor or sacriiice.

The work of man is distinguished from that of
boasts in that it hos intelliixeuce in it. Strictly
speaking, there is no sucli thing as purely manual
labor. All hum.an labor is partly physical and partly

610

MY METHOD OF WRITING HISTORY.

mental; as wc descend the scale the physical element
increases and the mental decreases.

It is only the ruder forms of labor that bring im-
mediate returns; the more com[)lex productions of
the mind are of slower ripening. In the earlier stages
of progress muscular exertion is depended ujwn almost
entirely for supplying the wants of mankind. ]3ut as
the mind acquires strength and experience, natural
agents, the falling water, wind, heat, and electricity,
are harnessed to mechanical contrivances and made
to d<» duty as labor-saving machines.

Nature abhors immobility. Motion is the normal
condition of man as well as of matter. Society is but
a stream, ever seeking its level, ever flowing on toward
the ocean of eternity. And who wonders at the belief
prevalent in certain quarters that on reaching this
ocean beyond the shores of time the souls of men are
beaten up by the universal sun into new forms of
existence, even as the sun of our little system beats
the waters of the ocean into cloudy vapor? This is
the central idea round which revolves all thought, the
central force from which radiate all energies, the gtiin
of all development, the clearest lesson thrown by
nature upon the dark economy of providence, that in
labor and sorrow are rest and happiness, that in decay
there is growth, in the dust of death the budding
flowers of inmiortality.

Experience alone must be the teacher of those who
strike out into new paths; meanwhile old ways must
satisfy the more conservative. Learning from experi-
ence is a different thing from learning by experience.
All the wealth of Russia could not teach Peter the
Great how to build a ship; but a day-laborer in a
Dutch dock-yard could reveal to him the mystery,
and speedily it unfolded within him.

Before genius is application. The mind must be
fertilized by knowledge and made prolific by indus-
try. With all the marvellous energetic training of
his son, which alone made him the man he was,

SO^IETIIIXO FOR EVERY ONE TO DO.

017

the father of John Stuart Mill failed to implant in
him practical energy. He moxlo him know rather
tlian do. Many men there have been of great ca-
j)abilities and zeal who have expended their energies
on energy alone; that is to say, they were ready
enougli to begin a great task, and would begin many
such, and labor at them with brave conscientiousness;
but so high was their standard and so keen the sense
of their own imperfections, that after a lifetime of
futile study and elaboration they sank beneath tlieir
burden, the child of their excessive labor being still-
born and never seeing the light.

Surely each of us may do something; may leave
a bequest as beneficial to our race as that of Hiero-
cles, joke-compiler of the fifth century, who after the
arduous labors of a lifetime left to the world a legacy
of twenty-one jokes which he had collected. And if
they were good jokes he might have done worse; like
many another of more pretentious wisdom, he might
li.'ve died and left no joke at all. For, as Goethe
;:iys:

"Soil doch nicht als ein Pilz der Mcnsch dcm BoUcn entwochsen,
Und vcrfaulen gcschwind on dem Platzc, der ihn crzeugt hat,
Keiue Spur uachlassead voa seiner Icbendigcn Wirkung!"

CHAPTER XXV.

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

Daa Wcnigo vorschwindet Iciclit dciii Blicke,
Dor vorwiirta sieht, wio viel noch iibrig blcibt.

Goethe.

With Goethe I might truly say at this juncture
that the httle I had done seemed iiothinuc when I
loolced forward and saw how much there remained to
be done. Whatever else I had in hand, never for a
moment did I lose siglit of the important M^ork of col-
lecting. Moved by the increasing importance given
to facts and points of detail in the imhictive, moral,
and physical science of the age, I regarded with deep
longing the reach of territory marked out, where
so much loss and destruction were jj^oiinj^ on, and at
such a rapid rate. My desires were insatiable. Si»
thoroughly did I realize how ri[)e was the hiu'vost
and how few the laborers, how rapidly was sli[)[»ing
from mortal grasp golden opportunity, that I restctl
neither ilay nor night, but sought to secure from those
thus [)assing away, all within my power to save beioiv
it was too late. With the history (jf the coast avvv
before me as the grandest of unaccomplished ideas, 1
gathered day by tlay all scraps of information upon
which I could lay my hands.

Among my earliest attempts to secure origiu.il
documents from original sources Avas the sending nt'
Bosquetti to San Jose and Sacramento in ISOD, ns
previously related. Long before this, however, while
collectinLif information for the statistical works issurd
by the firm, I had secured a little material of a local
character, but nothing of a very important nature.

(018)

DATA FOR CALIFORNIA HISTORY.

619

The conception first assumed more definite form in
the brief sketches of notable pioneers, or indeed of
any one who had come to the country prior to 1840;
indeed, at the time of beijf inning my work the popular
idea of a history of California dated in reality from
the comincif of the Americans. All before that was
shadowy, if not. indeed, inythologic. At all events it
was generally supposed to be something no one knew
much about, and the little that coukl be ascertained
was not worth the writintj: or the readiniTf. The liijos
del pain were regarded as being nothing, as having
done nothing, as boinu: ^djle to communicate nothIni>",
and would not tell of themselves or of the past if
they could; so that at this period of my investi-
qations a white man who had ronie to the country in
IS4() or in 1848 was a magazine of historical infor-
mation.

No inconsiderable results attended these eiforts
even at an early day. Quite a number of piiMieers
responded to ap})eals made them by letter, and scut in
their written statements. Some called at the library
and gave in their testimony there. Up through Xa[)a
valley, into the Lake country, and Ijack by Clover-
dali' jnid Santa llosa, I made a hasty trip in 1871.
About this time I enijacjcd ^Ir Montufomerv, editor
of a Xapa newspaper, to furnish some sketches I'rom
oriijjinal sources of the e\))Lrien -es of early sL-ttlers.
From the secretary of the society of California
pioneers I obtained the names of those whose ad-
ventures were deemed worlliy of record, and sent
men to take their statements. "There should be a
clii'onic'le kept," says J)oet(n' Johnson, "in every con-
siderable i'amily, to preserve the eharaeters and ti'ans-
actions of successive generations."

At Sacramento, at Salt Lake City, and elsewlitTO
in m}' travels about the l\ieiiic coast, I made additions
irom time to time to this very valuable part of my
collection. Some' of tile ellbrts and expeililions made
by mo and by my assistants in search of historical

620

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

(lata I give in this volume, but thrice as much must
forever remain untold.

Long before I made my memorable journey to the
north, where I received such a warm reception and
cordial aid in every quarter, particularly in I'uijjet
sound, I received from the author, tlie honorable
Elwood Evans of Olympia, early in 1873, a manu-
scri[)t histoiy <»f Oregon and the great north-west,
v»ith permission to co])y the same, and to use it at my
disci-etion. Mr Evans was a highly talented member
of the l)ar, a ripe scholar, a graceful writer, and a man
thoroughly i'amiliar with the history of those parts,
where he had i-esided the greater portion of his lile.
His histoiy had been carefully written, and had
many times undergone critical revision by those who
had taken part in the develo[)ment of the country;
for exami)le, bv Sir James l)ou<'las and W. F. Tolniie,
of Victoria, touching the o})ci'ations of the Hudson's
Bay Company, of which those gentlemen were ehict"
officers for a quarter of a century or more. I need
not say that this manuscript was of the greatest value
to me in writing the IHstofij of the X< n't hurst C<><isf.
or that ^[r Evans is entitled, aside from my heart-feh.
thanks, to the highest praise for his singular and dis-
interested magnanimity in permitting me to copy and
use so important a manuscript, which he had written
for publication. A strangtn* to !Mr Evans might iv-
gard his conduct as peculiar, but one ac(piainted witli
him would not. Years before I hail any thought ol'
writing history I had known him, and had hehl him
in high esteeni. Far above all common[)lace or \)vv-
sonal views of what ail'ected the general good, his
mind, to me, seemed cast in other than the ordinary
mould. At all events 1 was impressed by ]\Ir I"]vaiis
as by one dwelling apart in an atmosphere of higli-
miiidedness such as few of his fellows could under-
staiul, nmch less attain to.

Mr James G. »S\van of Port Townscnd, author of

RUSSIAN-AMERICAN MATERIAL.

621

The Northwent Coast, made the subject of the coast
tribes a special study for some tweuty years. "I find
a deal of error," lie writes me the 22d of February
1875, "in the accounts of the early voyagers, partic-
ularly in their speculative theories in relation to tlu>
natives; nor is this surprising when we rellect that at
that early day the whites and Indians did not under-
stand eac'i )ther, but conversed mostly by signs and
jiantoniime. None of these early voyagers remained
at any one place long enough to acquire the native
language; hence we find so much of error. ]']vcn
most modern writers have passed over this region
rapidly, and have jotted down their ideas without
l;n()wing or caring whether they were correct or not."
!Mr Stephen Powers gave me the use of an unpub-
lished manuscript cm the manners and customs of
certain native Californiau tribes amonj; which he had
spent nuidi time.

For material for the history of Alaska I applied
ill 1874 by letter to the Russian consul in San
Francisco, ]\[artin Klinkofstrcim, who forwarded my
cf)mmunication to the academy of sciences in St
Petersburg. It happened at this time that my friend
Aljihonse Pinart, tlie distinguished Amcricanish' who
had published sevei'al works on the Pacific coast,
more particularly of an ethnological and linguistic char-
acter, was pursuing his investigations in St Petersburg,
and to him the consul's letter was referred. Monsi(nir
A. Schiefner, member of the academy, writing the Gth
of June 1875, says: "Si vous trouverez que 1' academie
vous pourra utro utile commc intermediairc elle sera
toil jours {I vos services."

]\l. Pinart had been engaged for two years past in
collecting material on the early settlement of the
Iiussians on leering sea and the north-we.st coast, and
<»ii the establishment and abandonment by the Iius-
sians of Fort Ross, in California. For this purpose
he had visited Alaska, searched Franco and Germany,

622

FURTHER IXGATHERIXGS.

and was now in St l^etcrsburg. Writing from that
city the Otli of February 1875, ho offers to place; at
iny free (hsposition all such books and documents as
lie had found upon the subject. Indeed, he was offi-
cially notiiied so to do by M. Schiefner, to wIkmu my
best thanks are due, and who granted INI. Pinart every
facility, both on his own account and mine.

M. Pinart concludes his letter as follows: "I must
tell you that the archives of Russia are very jioor in
documents relating to Russian America, they having
been in some way destroyed. I was able to put my
hand only on very few of them. ]\Tost of the notices
relating to the colonies are printed in papers or re-
views, some of them exceedingly difficult to find."
Pinart M'as to bo in San Francisco the following
autunm, and was to bring with him all his matei'ial.
This he did, adding rich treasures to my library. Of
such books and manuscripts as he had in duplicate, I
took one; the rest were copied in full in a translation
made for me by ^Ir Ivan PetrofT.

A few words more upon the antecedents and efforts
of this navaiif: Alphonse L. Pinart was born at ^lar-
quise, France, and followed the common course of
French schools in Lille and Paris. At an early day
a strong taste for languages maniiested itself, so nuidi
so tliat during his leisure hours at college he applied
himself to the study of Sanscrit; later he atteudctl
tlu! lectures of Stanislas Julien cm the Chinese, jmd
of A. Dos ^lichels on the Cochin Chinese. During
the int(M-national exposition of 1SG7 in Paris, he made
the ac<|U;untance of the Abbe ]3rasseur de l]ourbourg,
who had spent a considei'able ])ortion of his life iis
missionary at Rabinal, Guatemala, and was afterwai'd
for a time in ^lexico. Through this dlstingui,4i( d
man M. Pinart became interested in the Naluia and
JNIaya languages; and i'rom that date he turned his
attention toward things vVmerican, prosecuting his
studies in this direction with ever increasing interest
until 1801), when ho came to California.

MEXICO AXD CENTRAL AMERICA.

623

In 1870-2 ]\r. Pinart visited Alaska, and acquired
knowlcdLjc of the lanijiia'jfes and custonis of the
Aleut and Kolosli nations. Ilcturning to Europe in
187'2 he was awarded the gold medal of the French
geor^raphical society for his explorations on the north-
west c(jast of America. Afterward ^I. Pinart spent
much time within the territory of the Pacilic States,
livinj^ with the aborigines, and studying their charac-
ter and languages. iJurint; 1874-G he was in Arizona,
Sonora, Utah, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, British
Columbia, and the South Sea islands,

In 1873 jNI. Pinart purchased a portion of the
libraiy of Brasscur de Bourbourg, and after the death
of the abl)e, in January 1874, tlie rest of his books
and manuscripts fell into Pinart s hands. "J'o all of
these ^I, Pinart most goncnnisly gave me free access,
and further to facilitate my labors, boxed such portions
of thoni as I required for my history and sent them
to my library. After I had used them, they were
returned to Marquise, where his collection was kept.

To Innokentie, metropolitan of ^loscow, lohan
Vcniaminof, llussian missionary to the Aleut,-;, to
Achuiral Lutke, and to Etholine, formerly governor
of tlie Russian- American possessions, I am likewise
indebted for favors.

At an early date in those annals I placed mj'self in
correspondence with the heads of governments lying
within the territory whose history and literature
I sought to serve. In every instance my overtures
met with a warm response. The presidents of the
^lexican and Cc^ntral American republics, and all
governors of states to whom I deemetl it advisable
t(» explain the character of my work, replietl by oll'er-
ing me every facility at their command. I\Iy object
ill this correspondence had a nmch broader signiti-
cance than the outpouring of comi)limeiits. As this
was some time previous to my acquisition of the
valuable works from the collection of E. G. Squier,

624

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

I liad folt the lack of Central American material
more than of any other kind. In writing the first
volumes of my history, while I had abundance of
material for a history of the conquest of ]\Iexico, I
found myself in the possession of less bearing upon
the history of the conquest of the more southern
parts ; and of further material for modern history
I was also in want. I therefore directed Cerruti to
make energetic appeals to the supreme authorities
of these extreme southern states of my territory, and
to explain the object, progress, and importance of the
work. Indeed, I asked no great favors, nothing but
access to their historic archives.

Despite the partisan strife which had thrown the
Central American states into disorder, it gave me
much pleasure to find that my eftbrts to establish a
history of the indigenous and imported races, abo-
riginal, Latin, and Anglo-Saxon, of western Nortli
America, would receive the support of these govern-
ments. It was here that aboriginal civilization had
attained its fullest proportions, and it was here that
the European first placed foot on North American
soil. These states were stepping-stones, as it were,
to the history of the more northern countries. Hert'
begins our history proper. Keplete are the early
chronicles with the doings of the comjiiistadores in
this region; and although their prominence is no
longer what it once was, although history liad
troubled itself little of late with their petty conllicts,
yet they had followed in the wake of progress, and,
what was more to the point, they now display e< I a
commendable interest in the historical literature; of
their country. Some went much further than this,
even so far as to appoint commissioners to obtain
and forward me material. This did the presidents
of Salvador and Nicaragua. Gonzalez, president nt'
the republic of Salvador, in his letter of the 2Jd
of August 1874 speaks with regret of the disregard
shown in Europe for the history of Central America,

GONZALEZ, BRIOSO, CUADRA, SELVA.

625

and the consequent ignorance of Europeans as to the
real importance of that magnificent country. lie is
profuse in his appreciation of my efforts in that
tlirection. " La simple enunciacion del nombre del
libro que U. prcpara," he writes, "seri'a bastante
jiara intcrcsar en su favor d todo bucn Americano;"
and as sucli a one he proffers his services, M. Brioso,
minister of foreign rt'lations, seemed to shai-e the pres-
ident's feelings. "Los hombres de saber," he writes
the 2Gth of May, "los hombres de pensamiento, los
liondircs de Estado han saludado con entusiasmo su
j)rimera entrega."

No less appreciative was his excellency the presi-
dent of Nicaragua, Vicente Cuadra. Writing: to
Ccrruti from Managua the 12th of December 1874,
lie says: "Tengo la satisfaccion de decirle que el
coinisionado del Gobierno, Seilor don Carlos Selva,
})ara reunir i remitir a U. documentos relatives d
Nicaragua eumplc fiel i aetivamente su comision, y
<[ue ha liecho ya algunas remesas que deseo scan
I'ltiles al ilustrado Bancroft." I fouml that civil war
liud unfortunately swept the country* of many of its
archives. "Siento verdaderamente," says President
Cuadra, "que los archives de este pais lia3"an sido
(Itstruidos 6 deteriorados d consecuencia de las vicisi-
tudes."

Under date of September 22, 1874, the commis-
sioner Carlos Selva MTotc Cerruti that he had already
l)ugun the collecting of documents for the history of
Nicaragua, and flattered himself tiiat he should be
able to accunmlate a number sufficient to enable me
tu write the history of that country at least from
the date of Central American inde[)endence. At the
feauie time the commissioner shipped a (juantity of
documents relating not oidy to Nicaragua but to her
sister republics. Nor did his kindness stop there:
for years thereafter he was alive to my wants, not
only as regarded manuscripts and original documents,
but ;)rinted journals and bound books. The Nica-

LlT. IND. 40

'i]

m.
(•■it

ill

036

FURTHEll IXGATIIERIXGS.

raguari secretary of forciMii iel.it ions, A. ^I. Rivas,
writes the 2(1 of November that private individuals
as well as the public authorities were respoiKfin^-
in the most satisfactory manner to the a|)peal maiK;
by the government for historical data lor my use.
The secretary hoped the d<tcunu;nts already sent had
safely arrived; and regretted tlie loss of a great part
of the archives of the rej)ubiie, they having been
destroyed when in ISaG Granada was Imrned by the
fdibusters.

The I Ith of December Vicente Cuadra in an auin-
graph letter ex})resses the great interest he personally
as well as officially takes in my literary etlbrts, and
his satisfaction in knowing that the connnissioncr
appointed by liiiu was most active in the discharge
of his duties.

Tn an autograph letter <lated at Guatemala the Ith
of Dccend)er 1874, his oxceHeney J. Kulino ]jaii-i(f>,
|)resident of the rej)ublic, ap[)t'ai'ed keenly alive t(» (lie
im[)ortance of the work, and desired detailed informa-
tion I'egarding the kind of material sought, in ordrr
that he might the more undei'standingly coajieiatf.
On recxMving my reply, he went to work with a /.cal
second to that of none of his neighbors. After tins
who shall say that the repuldies of Central America
are one whit behind the foremost nations of the world
in their interest and active zeal toward securing a
[)roper record of the annals of thidr country!

OiK! aftei'iioon in ^lay 1874 Father Kitzsimons,
an intelligent and charitable member of the onlcr
of St Dominic, called at the library and infoi-ni'd
me that tiie jii'iests of his order lately exiled lV"ni
Central America, had in many instances, in oi'dfi'
to })revent their valuable libraries from falling int"
the hands of the government, delivered them to tin-
natives to be hidden until they should call for tin ni;
and to strangers these custotlians would undoubtedly
deny the existence of any such books. The supei ior
of the order, Father A'^illaiasa, who resided at Beni- ia,

TITE VROA DOCUMENTS. 0J7

heing in rorrespoiuleiico witli many of the Central
American i)riests who were then returning from tli«^ir
late exile, kindly interested himself to procure for
ine through an authorized agent njaterial for history
from that source.

As regards historical material at Panam;!, ^Nfr H.
Lefevre, writing Cerruti fiom that city the 8th of
.lune 1874, says:

" Hiul it not l)ceii for tho late (liaastroiis fire, I could liavo furiii.sheil Mr
litincroft with iiivaliiulilo data touching tlic history of the Isthmus from tin;
time of its first sottk'incut, for my fatiior-in-law, Doctor Joae I'\ do la Ossn,
has given much of his leisure during the last forty years to collecting
oi'jginal documents from all parts, even from .Seville, Spain, for a work he
had undertaken toucliing the political history of the Isthmus. However, a.s
it is, the doctor may have .saved something; in fact, I myself succeedeii in
netting several lots of docinncnts and manuscripts out of tho l)urning huiid
iiiu'. 15ut at present tho old gentleman is too much troid)Ied to atteml to
:iiiything of tho kind. I have spoken to him of your rciiuost, and he haa
piumiseil to write you lengtliily aftei- he get.sa little settled. "

At my re(|uest, in IHSii M. Pinart visited Panamd
niid s(!nt me a \V(>11 HIUmI trunk of tlie most importai^fc
.ivailahle papeis as the result of his etlbrts on that
occasion. Seized hy fevei" then raging, he narrowly
cs(;a]HHl from tlie place with his Tde.

Soon aft(T tlie war in Mexico, which grew out of
the Prencli intervention, (Jieneral Phicido Yega, com-
iii.inder under Juarez, hrought or sent to San Fran-
cisco i'or safe-kee|»ing two hoxes of documents. One
was deposited with tlie ('alii'ornia trust company
and the other in tlieA'allejo hank hoth heiiig sul>ject
to charges at the rate of two dollai's a month.

Tho boxes were dejiosited in the name of (General
^'allt>jo in 187'2, and for three y(>ars thereafter noth-
ing was heard in California fi-oin A'ega. Astlu-re was
little prol)ahility that the packages would ever he
called for, (general Vallejo sent to the lil)rary the
lio\ which was at the Vallejo bank, and sent me an
older for the one at the trust company's. 1 was to
IMV the charijes and hold the docuin(!nts for a rea-
tenable time subject to Vega's order, in case they

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

I I
I I

were ever called for. Should Vcfja never demand the
boxes the contents would Ijc mine.

" I have opoMod the tin box," writes Cerruti of on(^
(.f thoni the 11th of IMay 1875, "and found it filled
with very important historical letters. Mr Savat;( ,
who assisted nie in the inspection, leans to the belict"
that they ought to be copied. ]>ut I entertain a dif-
ferent view, because, the box beiiig in debt four hun-
dred dollars"— this was Cerruti's jharacteristic way (jf
writiiiij: one hundred and fortv-four dollars, that beiuL;'
the amount due on both the boxes up to this date —
" I do not think it lik(dy that the relatives of (jrcnoral
Veixa will ever claim it. I believe, however, that an
index would not be out of place, for it would facilitate
the labor of the historian."

General Yo<j;ii had taken a prominent part in the pub-
lic affairs of ^lexico. He was intrusted by Juan^z with
important connnissions. These boxes of official and
private (correspondence, accounts, etc., which were of
no small consecpu-nce to the history of that peiiod,
were never called for.

TJotween the years 187r) and 1880, with official per-
missifm obtainc^d throuu'h the efforts of General Vallejn
while; on a visit to Mexico in company with his S(»ii-
in-law, Fi'isbie, I had copies made of some of tin-
more important manuscripts lodged in the govern-
ment archives of the city of Mexico. This work was
superintended by my friend I'^llis Read, to whom I
tender thanlcs.

!Mr 11. i\ Corbale}- of the law department of the
business, attem[)te(l in 1881 to obtain legislative sanc-
tion to transfer the archives of New ^lexico for a time
to my library. They were in a deplorable c<jnditi<iii,
and I offered, if this was done, to collate and \n\A
them at my own cost. The proposal failing, I \v:is
obliged to go thither and have extracted such inl'ei-
mation as 1 required.

Before the visit of Dom Pedro de Alcantara, em-

THF, SQUIER MANUSCRiraS.

G29

])oror of Brazil, to San Franci.sco, I had sent au
Iiujuiry through the Italian consul to the imperial
library at liio Janeiro concerninj^ (locunjents lor
Central American histoi y. When the emperor was
in San Francisco in 187G ho several times visited my
library, scemd to bo much interested in tlie work,
md promised me every assistance in his power.

In the seventh chapter of this volume I ha\.)
-|)oken of the sale in 187G of the Squicr collection.
Mr E. (Jr. Squier was apjiointed in 1840 chart^u
dalFaires to (luatemala. lie orj^anizcd a conijiany
tor constructiuLj an interoceaiiic railwav thiouiili
Honduras, and assisted in surveying a route in 1853.
In 18G8 ho acted for a time as United States consul-
general to llontluras. ])esides h'[>^ yicanujua, Scrjunit
Si/mho/, Xotcs on O'nirtil Aincrieri, WdiliKi, and llvn-
diu'((s, he published scvoi'al minor woi'ks.

Squii.'r's collection l)ore the same relation to Cen-
ti-al America that Soi'ior Andradc's (Ud to ^[oxico.
It was by far the best in existence, better than he
himself could a<jfain make c^ven if ho. had twentv years
more in which to attemjjt it. ]Most fortunate was
tliis sale for me, for it enai)led n»e to strengthen my
liltiary at its weakest point. I had found it very
(liflicult to gather more than the few current works
<^n this part of my territory; and now were poured
into my lap in one magnificent .shower treasures
which 1 had never dared to expect. By this pur-
I liaso I added to the library about six Jumdred vol-
umes, but the number was not connnensurate with the
iniitv and value of the works.

It was owing to the death of ^tr Squier that his
• nllection was sold. It consisted of over two thousand
hooks, sots of pamphlets, maps, and manuscripts.

liy this i)archase I secured, among other things,
a scries of bound manuscripts of sixteenth-century
documents copied I'rom the Spanish libraries, such as
iMvila — reports by this renowned conquistador and

nso

FURTlinn IN'OATIlRniXOS.

(.'oinnules in l"il!> to 1524 on inattors rolatinj^ to
tlio confjucst of l^aimnul iind Nicarui^ua; Ccrczcda —
letters of 1 529- 1533 on Xicamgua and TionduriK
afl'airs; (irija/ra, llchw'ioii dc In Joniadd, 1533, to
the South Sea; I\'dro de Alranido- AAivvn, 153.".
to 1541, on the eonqiiost of (jriiateinala and the |ir<>
jt>cted niar'itlnie expedition; Andtu/oi/a —letters i>ii
a Pananui eanal to connect the t\v»» oceans; Crnfrnf
America II collection of letters and ri'poits, 1545 li.
1555; l)esid(! which W(!re a lar!L,^e nuniher of siniilai
<locunients, hound under vai'ious names, and helonijiini^
to the sixte-enth and seventeenth eentui'ies.

Thi-n then; was a lar^'e set relatini^ to a nunc
northei-n district. enlitle<l MalcrKilcs p((ra la J lis
toria dc SoiHH'd, cont.'iiniiin' letters Mud reports from
friars and ollicials c(»j)ied from the Mexican ai'chivi-.
such ;is Ziirita, JJrci'c ij Sniuaria llclacion, 1554, D<'
scripcioii dc la America, 1701-10, and others.

Tile most noteuortliy amonj.^' tlie printed work-
fi'om the Squier collection were Lcitn Pinelo, Tralo <!<
Cdii/iriiuieioiies Itcalcs dc J'Jiici»iiicnd((s, ]\lndi'id, |Ci:ln,
hearini.,^ on the oicomienda system of New Sjtain.
Jiclacioii sohrc. . . Lacandoi), 1(538, by the same author,
toi^etlu'r with Villiiquiian's aj>])ointment as t^overnor
there, !<].")'.>, a very rare and uiii(|Ui' co[)y, treat ini;- el"
a jouiiiey which creati'd iL;ivat excitemi'nt, at the tinn:
(rcmclli (Jarrcri, (iir<> del Moiido, part vi., Xn])eli.
1721, heiiiL"' a record of his ohservations in N-u
Spain; I'astfiH--:, C/iroidca dc la J*roriiicia. . .dc (fiiaf^
mala, (Guatemala, 1714, tom. i.. a I'are woi-k ; Jitarr<>:.
Coinpoidio de la Historia dc (iuatciuala, Guatemala.
1808-18, in two volumes, indi.spen.sable to the liiste.ix
of the state; Iiobles, Mcniorias para hi ilisturin dr
Chiapa, Cadiz, 1813; Pelacz, Mcmurias para la //'•>
toria del Antiijua Guatemala, in three volumes. In
addition to the above wore many important worl
which I cannot enumerate, bearing on history, cnl
nization, politics, and exj)loration, and narratives <
travel and residence, in Eu'^lish, Spanish, FrencI

Tni: CTAii pnor>Li:M.

on I

Gcvrnan, iiuA Ttaliaii, aii«l several volunu's of Central
American newspapers.

During the winter of 1881-2 bonie valuablo mate-
rial was secured an<l sent to tlic library l>y my aj^ents
in various pajts of the world, as well as by ijj'overnnK^nt
orticialsin Wasliini^^tou. NIexico, CtMitral America, and
( ^anada.

At the Hawaiian islands was Samuel K. Damon,
one always interested in historical lesearch, who sent
iiie tiles of the Friend, the Po/i/iifsiai), and the Acres',

• ontainim;' information since I H.'Jd on C)re;j;'on an<l Cal-
ifornia, nowhere else exist iuij^. At the suu^'^estion of
Stephen 11. JMiiin|)s I wrote Lawrence McAnley,who
^ave me ini'ormation i-e^'ardinuf tlu; sale of the; Pease
hhrarv, which occnnred in IH71. Ten vears later
(ieorj^a,' \V. Stewart kindly si-nt me the nundjci's of
the Sifiinhii/ I*n'ss', coiitainini^ a series of ailicles on

• ■ailv California hv lienr^ L. Sheldon, a journalist in
Culil'ornia as early as I H48.

Ctah was nci the easiest of problems with which
to deal hist<.rically. Not that 1 luul any hesitation
.'il)out tivati'iiu;' the subject when once I came to it, but
|ii-i'judice au^ainst the Mormons was so stron;^ and
universal, and of such loni^^ standinl,^ that anything- I
roiild say or do short of wilful and persistent vitu-
pci'ation would nr)t satisfy the j)eo})le.

This with me was out of the f|uestioii. Hate is
iiisan'"; injustici' is the greatest of ci'iines. At th(
outset in my writings T was determined that no j)ow(;r
nn earth should iiilhuMice me from the path of recti-
tude; no f<.'eling of dislike or of favor within my

• •ontrol, should swav me Irom telliiiLj the truth. I
Would do all parties and se(;ts justice, according to the
evidence, whichsoever way or into whatsoever pande-
monium of criticism or un[)opularity such a coursi'
might lead me. In treating of the Chinese, a fair
statement would .satislV neither one side nor the other;

k A

632

FURTHER INGATIIERIXOS.

in treating of Utah, I well know that strict impar-
tiality would bring upon nio the condenuiation of both
Mormons and giMitilcs. If this, then, was the test of
truth and fair dealinnr, I must subject myself to the
(^ensure of both sides; at all events, as had been my
invariable custom in regard to sects, nationalities, and
religions, social and politicil j)rcjudices, I would not,
write for the approbation of one side or the other.

My sympathies, ifanysucli existed, were witli tbi-
Mormons, knowing as I did how common it was to
ijrosslv misuse and vilifv them; and so I declaied,
assuring them that I would cioiisider the matter coolly,
disinterestedly, and ms e(piital)ly as in my power lay.
But this by no means [)ledged me to tlu;ir super-
stitioi^s, or led nic to advocate^ polygamy as the liigli-
(!st social condition.

Tli»> Mormons possessed stores of information that
I (hisired. ]Jy means of an histori<'al ollice and an
odicially appointed historian, and by other ways, tiny
bad pn^served the records of their doings to a re-
nia,rkal)le degree. Of this I soon became aware; but
although I knew I could not write n true and (;oin
])lete history of Utah without their aid, .1 would in
no wise, by insinuation or intimation, counnit myscll"
to any course, or hold out any ho[w» to them other
than that I would treat the subject fairly, according
to my custom, as it presented itself to my mind at.
the tii\ie of writin'j;;. Oi-son l*ratt was at that time
historian and church recoi-der, and it had been inti
niatinl to \no that if I would })rint '"without mtitila
tion" what lu; shoidd write, lie woidd furnish a i^ompltite
history of Utah. This only showed that they wei-e
wholly mi.stalven in the charact(M' of my work. It
was in this state of mind that 1 indited the following
e[>istlc:

"SvN Fkan'cisoo, .Taim.iry t'i, ISSO.
"Deaii Sir:

"I ;im in receipt of your csteumeil fjivor iiifurmiiij; me liiat your lii.-itoii
lyrapluT, .Mr Orson Pratt, will fiimish valiiahlts original inaterial respucliii ,'
Utali, for luy llisl'iri/ of the J'dci/ir '^taif.'i, now in iiroi^'ios, provided lie miyiiC
feci assured that a lair and proper use of it would l>e made.

F^ETTKRTO MH DWYER.

633

"In reply, permit me to liif before you tl)o nature of my work and its aim,
which I will «lo as clearly iiiid disintcroattMlly ns I iim aMo:

•'The history, upon which i havo liccn oiigaL;e(l for many years past, will
(;oni])riso soi^e twenty-right octavo Vdhnnos, of aljout seven hiinilretl pages
''.idi. The work is more than half <loiie, anil is heing iMrricil forwanl to
I'onipletion as rapidly as \'\ consistent with thoroughness and proper con-
dunsfttion. The territoi-y covered is tho westuri half of North Aiii. rii'a, the
>:unc cmhracod in my Xntiif liwrn of thr I'acijic Sinlc^; namely, Central
America ami Mexico; California, Arizona, and New >'exico; Texas, Colo-
rado, and Wyon ing; Utah and Nevada; Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and
Montana: Ihitisl. ColniMliia and .Vlaska. Tlio Xn'irc AV^rx is a dcsrriptiim
'if the ahorigines as lirst seen hy Knrop'ans; tlio IliMorii i\f llir I' < ''It'- Sinh-t
will comprise the discovery and fon(picst of the several ]iarts of Hi" country
hy tiie Muroj)eans, settlement, society, the organization of governments, and
all tile ii:ipoi-lai;t incidents tliat followed.

"It is written after a careful weighing of ;dl gathered totimony, and is in
the strictest sense of tho term digestcl narration -in a word, vKmX history.
Ilcncu the extract of wliat Mr Pratt siioi 'd Kindly furnish nu" would ho
added to the extracts of all otln ]■ niati i i d wiiiiin uiy nacli; I'ur fioiii .such
.1 hnixtures, through the alenihio of inlinite labor and pam.s my work is
'li.stilled. To what tJXtent Mi' I'ratl's material would lini'liire the mass it is
iin))o.s»iblo for mo to toll; 1 nivir know hel'orchiiiid what I am going to
wi'ile; but that it would |)al|ialfly atl-ct the work there is no doubt. Its
presence would bo felt in proportion as it ])resentcd new iniiiis and tlis-
■ losed uuknowu facts. It would stand upon the same iilatform as ihu rest,
.Old would In: given every opportunity to exercise its full force in sliaping
the records of the nation. To write tho history of Utah, <ir of any other
commonwealth, on the scale jjroposed by )a<', or on any other scale, on<!
wants all tho information obtainalile: uU that is known, and all that can bu
a.-iccrtained ; ami though the si/t! of the tiuishiMl work need not neci's,sarily
li • increased by the increase of raw nuiterial, the i|iialily should be assuredly
unproved thereby.

"What I sliould like from Utah »'•<■ i; . itivcs of early events, dictations,
iiom ditlereut j)ersons, of their sevrwa! experiences, what tiiey saw and ilid
who made tho history of llie couulry. What i should like particukirly from
Mr I'ratt is a manuscript history o; Utah from the advent of Knropeansto tho
present time; who and wh'.ri" thisi; peopj,' were before their wi'st ward migra
'ion; what led to their exodus from original tjuarters; wh.'it other olijectivo
points beside Utah wore considered in seeking a new home; why Utah was
liually chosen ; ilic routes ]iur.sued by the several ditachiiienls ; the iinal desli-
ii.ition of each; all tho incideiiis conuieted wilh their pre[iaiatioiis ami Joui-
111 ys, the seemingly trivial as well as tho more apparently important; what
ilii.y severally saw and did on arrival ; their eouilition, discomforts, and sull'ei -
lags; the selection of sites for s<!ttlemeiit ; the foinialiou of farms, the laying
out of towns, the building of dwellings, churches, and mills; the stale of
ocicty, its composition and condition; the founding uf schools, and all otln r
institutions; chufch and state org.ini/;at ion and relations; by whom conceived
• III how controlled, lieligion lying at the foundation of the movement which

634

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

resulted in a new and isolated community, great care should be taken to give
the true and inner life of both leaders and jieople: what were their longings
and ambitious, wliut tliey hoped to achieve, and what course they pursued
to the accomplitdiment of that end; the ideas, doctrines, and power that
But in motion, and the nature and successful workings of tliat truly inar-
vellous machinery which isbiined and governed them ; in a word, ecclesias-
tical and civil polity ar i history from first to lost. Then I should have tlu-
beginning of things, everytliing, cvcrywiiere — the first settlement, the first
town, the next, and su on; also tlie lirst house, farm, mill, church, store, etc.,
in till- several localities ; niiuiTals — gold, silver, etc. ; the discovery of metals,
the opening of mines, and the eHuct uiwn society; the organiziition and oper-
ations of local and subordinate governments; the judicial system — crimes
an<l ]iunishments; something of tlie resources and possibilities of the country:
agriculture, irrigation, commerce, manufactures, education, amusements, and
domestic lite, together with interesting inci*lents and episodes.

"1 liave many KUfh maiiutieripts relating to this and other parts of my
territory, some twelve lnin<lred in all, v.'irying in size from a few pages to live
folio volumes, covering the subjects above named in whole or in part, eonie
of them CDiuph'to iiistories, M'i'itten tor nu) and ut my request, tliough never
intended to be published, ur to l)e used in tlie words written — notable among
which are: Tlie lii.stories of California, by Mariano (). Vallejo, Juan 11. Alva-
nwlo, .Tuan liaudini, .Vntonio Maria Osio, and John Hiihvell; John A. Sutter's
PcrKoiHil lt-miii'mrrii'-ci : IHar'in ili> Juan Ji. dc Aiiyi; the lli'hinon of Manuel
Castro; Narradon /lintdricaoi Pio Pico ; lifiuiiiisfeuriua <le t'alij'iiniia,hy iio^i":
de JcMus Valli'jo ; J/i iiinri((iioi Jos(5 Jlaria Anmdm'; Sn t/iie Sahc ilr ( 'nl'/oriiin,
by \'icrnte (iomez; /ieiiiiiiifi<:cii''i<is, by Ksti'vau dc la Torre; A]inHti-< jiaiti hi
Jfi4(iri(t ill' la Ada Call/nriiM, by Floreneio Serrano; two hundred bouml
volumes of original documents, areliives fif Santa IJarbara, Los Angeles, San
Diego, San Luis Uliispo, Monterey, and San l''raneisco; thirty volumes on
jiussiaii .VuK'rica; twenty-live volumes on Vigilance Committees, by William T.
CohMuaii, ('. .1. Dempster, Isiuic Lluxome, M. F. Tructt, and oiherw ; William
M. t; will's .)fi-iii'i'ir-: Walter Murray's Xnrnitiir; William A. Streeter's
Pecoltii'tioiiK; .Joseph Lane's Antnhi'>iirii/i/i>i ; .Tessc Applcgate's UiMori'ul
Vii'irn: ,liicl Palmer's I'.ailii tli r.,ll-ctiniin; Fciwili' I'litiweriini, by Mrs. M. .\.
]Minto; P. W, ( 'rawt'ord's (inrlnml Joiiniei/ to Uri'<ioii ; Peter 11. liiiruett's
Jt'i C' -III I /^oii^ ; A. luivn S. Lawijon's .■l«<»/>/'(Ji//*((/>/*(/,' J. Harry lirown's Ort'ijoii
Mi.iriHaiihH; M.ittiie y P. Dt!ady's llUtonj of <)irjo:i; Lafayette (Jrovcis
jS'iiliihli; Tliiiiij'i ill Oifjoti; William Strong's //mAici/ i/ ";••;/"/(; Finlaysou's
Jl'iHtonj (>/ Vaiiroiircr IkIidiU; Harvey's Lij'i' of John Mi'LoiujliUn ; Prii'''t<'
J'lipers of Sir Jiiini's DoKi/itu; .Tohn Tod's Ulstor;/ of ytw ('alc'/oiiin ; A.C,
Anderson's ll'iHturii nfth' 2s' orthnrst Coast.; Elwootl Evans' /li'<li)n/ o/Orcjini,
\\ (M/iiii'jtiui, ami Idaho; Private Papers of John MfLomjIiliii; Sir James
Douglas'. Aowrifa/; Good's /i/vV-'s/i f'olumhia; Tolmie's Pii'jrt So:iiiil; Hudson's
IJay ( .'ompany's l-'orl Journals; Melvay's X/.Wc/tc.v,- De (Cosmos' llrUish (.'ihimliiii
Oovirnmctil; \\or\C a Journal; KbberL's Trd/ijicr'K IJfi ; Simon Fraser's Le/^r.^
and Journal ; John Stuart's Journal; Walilo's ''/•«'^V/«('.■<; etc.

"It is no more than the truth to say lliat never before was undertaken the
history of so largo and important a part of the world, upon so comprchcusi\ e

i-nough

MY AIM AND OBJECT.

035

and thorough a plan. There is no considerable part of the civilized world
whose history could have been thus attempted with any possibility of suc-
cess. Wo of the Pocitic slope are now at the turning-iwint between civiliza-
tion's first generation in this duinuin and tho second. The principal fii,cts of
our history we can now obtain beyond a perad venture. Some arc yet living,
though these are fast passing away, wliose a<lvonturcs, counsels, and acts
constitute a part of early liistory. Tliere are men yet living wlio licl[)od to
make our hi^itury, and wlio can tell us what it is better than tlieir sous, or
than any who shall come after them. A score of years hence few of tliem
will remain. Twenty years ago many parts of our territoiy were not old
enough to have a history ; twenty years hence mucli will be lost that may
now bo secured.

"If I succeed in my elibrts my work will constitute tlie foundation upon
wliich futuru liistories of western Xortli America mu.st forever be built. The
reason is obvious. I take events from the men who made them. My facts,
for the mo.st part, are from original sources; and wherever the desired facts
do not appear T t^ip tlie fountain for theui. He who hhuU come after me will
scarcely bo able to underniiue my work by laying anotlier or a deeper foimda-
tiou. He nnist build upon mine or not at all. lor he cannot go beyond my
authorities for facts. He may add to or alter my work, for I shall not know
<ir be able to tell everything, but lie never can nuike a eiimplfte structure of
his I ■ ;. Therefore, wiiatever Mr I'ratt miglit favor me witli would vitally
aflfcc irA- ttatns of his country before the world — would i'lfluence it, in fact,
throughout all time. No work of tlii.s c;iiaracter wliii.li lie liiis ever doiu^ or I
believe that any one at present could do, would be .■><) iiiipoiUint as this.

"I will now bricliy explain to you my method in the use of material:

"To what Mr Tratt, or any other whom you sliotiM suihrieiitly iutereat
iu the Hubject, might write for me, I would give an a|>pro|>i ialo title, bear-
ing the author's name. I should then bind it for pernmneut preservation,
iind u«.e it as I use other malciial, giving it due prmiiineuce ; that is. notes
would be lirst taken; those notes would be put with all other notes upon the
Nunc subject, .arranged so that all authorities c>n each point fall together, as
1 have once or twice explained to you. From such combiuod information tlio
liistory is written, witli full and constant reference to authorities, and with
biijgraphical and bibliographical notes. There is one thing I should have
that 1 forgot to mention -the biograpliies of all the leading men of Utah
from the iMgimiing. Besides tlii.s iiiuimscri[it mi Mr rratt'.s, which it seems to
nil' would give him \cry marked iiromineuce in the work, I should like to
receive all the jiiiuted matter ]io.ssiltle to obtain. I havi? already a consider-
able aiiiouiit, but cannot have tuo niucli — siuli as files of jiupers, books, and
liainpldets. Vou may think this prepaiation too great for the pio|iosed result,
iitid the allotted siiace iiisuliicient. 15ut 1 am accustomed to handling large
iiia-sses of material ; and can promise, with what you may give me, to im' nive
tlie r|ii;ility even if I do Hot increase the Imlk.

"Now as to what you can depend upon in regard to myself; you i.:ivo
known mu both us a business nuui and as an author long enoiigii to judge
how far to trust in what I sjiy:

"My object in this work is not money. If it does not cost me over

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

$200,000 more than over comes back to mc I shall be satisfiod. I have no pet
theory to sustain ; nor will I ever have. I am not in the least sectarian or
partisan — that is, so far as I can judge. I am neither catholii; nor protestant;
neither Mormon, niethodist, itor presbytcrian. I neither bend the knee to tito
United States government, nor revile Utah. My religion and my politics*,
such OH I may have, are laid aside, so far as possible when writing, for tho
occasion.

" I do not hoiH! to satisfy tho people of Utih or their opponents, because
I cannot espouse tho cause of either, iiut I cuu promise to give, I think, as
fully as lies in the power of most men, a simple, truthful statement of facts. I
ahall enter ivs fully into tlio sympathies, ideas, Impes, and aspirations of tho
.Mormons as into those of any who liave ever opposed them. Whether Mor-
monism as a liiunan or divine institution is right or wrong. I shall not deem
it any part of my duty to altomiit to determine. Natnially an imbia.sscd
author has jui all'oetion for his subject. I .>*liall earne»;ly entleavor to treat
the people i>f Utah with respect ; their ignoraiice and prejudices I shall not
overlook, nor pass by their stem morality and high endeavor. Good actions
I shall praise, bud actions condemn, wherever loiind; a«iil that in the satne
spirit, and under the same ciruest desire to deal only exact justice. In my
inmost heart 1 know of no fi'eli)ig unduly favoring one side more than tlie
other. I desire tho luarty eoiiiiecation of the people nf Utah, Mormon and
gentile, and am determined to nuike my woik worthy (/f it. This you may
regard in me as too .strictly judicial, lint I hope not. Every truthful writer
of history must hold himself absolutely free to be led wherever the facts carry
liini. Tluunoment lie becomes parlisiin his work is worthless. It is l>eforo tlie
eyes of tlie intelligent and disinterested throughout tho world that Utaii.
wishes to stand well, Iler own people have already ti:eir opinion wiiich no
words (if mine could clmngo if I so desired. I shall nndoubt'dly find raults:
humanity is heir to them. But better a thousandfold that our fiuits l)r told
by a friend tli.an by an enemy.

"Here, as e'>ewliore, I seek neither to please nor to d:splea:',e. And when
for any reason 1 cannot feel at lil)eity to write unadulterated truth; when
from fear or favor I fee! constrained here to cover and there to exaggerati;,
that momiuit I prefer to lay down my pen.

"Tliis, then, is the point; fair-minded men, who desire to see pla,e'..'d \>e-
fore tlie world a true hist')ry of Utah, i^tumot more directly or thoroughly
accomplish the pur[)ose, in this generation at least, tlian by placing within
my reach tho material necessary for tie.' builJii;g rjf such u work.

"Very sincerely,

" HtniEHT H. R\NCKOKT."

" Mr Jamed Dmyer, Sail Lake City."

In answer to this were sent to me tho io!iowiri<r:

"N\i.r Lajvi; Citv, Utah, January 27, 1880.
" H. It. llANcuorr, Ksg.: —

".1/y/ JJiar Sir: I received yi>ur aiuswei' to my former letter souii) days
iigo, and have read the outline of your woi'k on Ut.ah with inneU interest. I

PRESIDENT TAYLOR AND ORSON PRATT.

637

hastened to see Mr Taylor, president of the ^lormon clinrch, and read yonr
letter to him. Ho was very tanch pleased witli your ideas. Mr Taylor held
a council yesterday Mrith the members of the twelve apjstlea, and it was
agreed that tha material and all the infunnatiun you need fur yuur history
of Utah should be furnished you. The c mucil talked of sending Mr I'ratt to
San Francisco soon after the adjournment of the legislature, whicli is now in
session, Mr Pratt being speaker of tlic house of representatives. Yon will
find Mr Pratt a genial gentleman. Plcoae accejvt my tlianks for your kind-
ness. Yours truly,

" J.vMi:.'? DwrEH."

"Salt Lake City, U. T., Feb. 26, 1880.
"HcBERT H. BAycwoFT, Esq., San Fmnr.Uco, Cat.-—

"Dear Sir: Your communication of .Tunuary l'2th to Mr .Tumes Dwj'er
of this city, pertaining to your desire to obtain original nwterial through our
church historian, Prof. Orson Pratt, respecting tiie liistory of Ufaih for your
Hlstorij of the Pacijic Stales, has Wen handed to ni'j for jwrusul uiiil consid-
cration. I have given the matter some attention, and cuu»ultcd with Prof.
0. Pratt and others of our leatling citizens pt'ttaitiing thcrcLo, In conse(|U«!nco
of I'rof. Pratt being engaged for some time p.ast wsi speaker cf the house of
representatives of our territorial legislature, he ha.s nut been able to give
the subject that attention lie has desired to, and which must be our excuse
lor not writing you suouer.

"Wo fully realize your position and ability to aocomplisih this muclk*
desired work; and from tlie manner rcpros(;ntod by you of what is needed,
and of obtaining tiio required data from whii Ii to cumposo this hiatory, we
tind it will bo considerable expense to us to furnish and put in proper shape
such data and facts that we are in possession of ; yet feel encuuiuged to pm-
ceed with the work, in view of the great good we anticipate will be accom-
plished in placing before the world those facts, of which the majority are
more or leiw ignorant.

"I hhall bo pleased to place myself in direct communication with you on
this subject, and to be iufonned what period of time we can have to gather
this material to meet your necessities fur writing, and shall bo pleased to re-
ceive any further suggeatious you may have to offer.

"Respectfully yours,

"John Taylor."

"Salt Lake City, Juno 10, ISSO.
"Hubert H. Bascroft, Esq., San Francisco, Col.:—

"Dear Sir: 1 am reminded by our mutual f.ieud, Mr Dwyer, that you aro
• luite reai'y for the mat«i"iaJ which we design to furnish for your fortlicoming
history of Utah.

"I have found that to collate the facts for such a M'ork with certainty,
covering the broad groundb indicated in your letter of BUg,';estionB dated
•Ian. 12, 188U, is i* great labor; and that we are liable to exjxind much time
over items that might pnjve of little or no value to you when obUuned.

638

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

With a view to avoid this, and to como immediately and as efficiently aa poa-
«iblo to your aid, I propose to fnrnititli yoii ut once with tlie current docu-
niuntary history of our territory and church as wo have it in print, ^)olie^^n^»
that thin, with Buch oral information an I might bo able to give, would let you
at once to the labor; and any necessary itifonnation not tiiereby available
could Ih3 directly aimed at and probably obtained as soon and aa fast uh
needed for the work.

"It is our desire to furnish you all that you may wish, while vc are too
closely occupied to spend much time and lal)or unnecessarily.

"Should this niethcd suit your purpose, an early reply to that effect will
cause tho material to bo placed before you without delay.
"Yours very respectfully,

"OnsoN Pratt, Sen. "

"Salt Lake City, U. T., .Tuly I, 1880.
"HtTBERT H. Rantroft, Esq. , Sail Franciiico, CaL: —

"Dear Sir: On account of tho very feeble state of my health I find my.solf
oblij;ed to decline tlie l:il)()r of supplying material for a hi.storj' of our territory .

"This duty is transfenv.l to tlie lion. Fraukliu 1). Kichanl-i, ono of our
leadiiij,' iiilluential citizens, wlio has been one of tho most active and zealous
laborers in !issistin;j; to found l.'t.nh find to estiiltlisli lier institutions. Mr Uieli-
ards lias l.ibored nnuli abroad on foreign missions, as well as on liome service,
nn<l is fa'uiliar with the genius, spirit, and polity of oiu' institutions, whotlur
ecclesiastical or civil — he having served in both houses of the legislature fir
many years, and for the last ten ye^ii's as probatt; and county judge of \\'t\n r
county. My own personal aiipiaintanee and association with Mr Iviilianls
enable nie to introihice and recommend him to you as one who is lM)th eoni-
peteiit and zealour-ly inclined to r uiler you the necessary aid to get out sui'li
.1 history of I't.ili as shall do eredit to tli'! he;id and he.irt of its author, aii'l
justiee to an honest and virtuous, but a greatly maligned and misrepresenteii,
peo])Ie.

■•Pci-init me to mak(! very gra'.eful acknowledgment of your kindness in
offering me the hos.£iitality of your own house, and to say that any kindiiesn
you may show to my frit-nd and brother Richards will be very truly appif-
ciated.

" With considerations of respect,

"I am, 3' urs ti-uly,

"Orsox PR.\rr, Sen."

"Salt Lake City, Utah, .July 1, 1S80.
"IlrBERT If. Uancuoft, Ei^Q., San Francisco, CaL: —

"Deaf Sir: In consequence of tho feeble health of tho Hon. Orson Pratt.
he will not be abh", ns was contemplated, to attend with you in your re-
searches of material pertaining to the history of Utah, which wo projwso to
furnish you lor your lliMory of lli<: Pacific States.

" 1, however, take great pleasure in inforiuhig you that the Uuu. Fraiddia

FRANKLIN D. RICHARDS.

0.1D

D. Richards has been requested to represent the Hon. Orson Pratt and inyHcIf
in this matter. He is one of our leading and respected citizens, and a gentle-
man who ia fully conversant in literary and l(>;;al mattcra ; anil has served us
a member in both L'ranclios of our temtoriul legislature dining several ses-
sions, ajid officiated as probiito judge for Weber county for the jwist ten
years, lie has travelled extensively in KurojH! and in this country, and )iaa
a:» experience which makes him fully competent and a.dei|uate to render all
tlio information requisite jxirtaining to the rise and progress of the territory
of Utali; also of our institutions, either religious or civil, lie is now nearly
prepared to start for San Francisco, and will take with him the historical
datii referred to.

" Witli feelings of the liighesfc esteem,

"I am, yours truly,

"John TAyLoii."

Mr Richarcls came, and I foimtl him ovorvtliing T
could desire. With hiin, and in honrty symjiatliy, was
]Mrs Iiicliards, who liad l)oon marriiul and joiniMl to
the church prior to tlio divine revelation of jxih'i^aiiiy.
JIc was a man ol' varied ex[)ei'icnt;(.!, who had soon
much oC the world, and had at, his connuand a vast
fund of information. He was of sin^'uiaily hnmane
and l)enetolent mien, and, exco])t on points j)ertaiii-
ing to his faith, possessed of jji-oad views anil liheral
ideas, ]Ie held to his iaith as other men hold to
theirs, and I fully accorded him lliis liherty. I v.ould
not say that he was any more a hy|)()ci-ite than tlie
(•athf)lic priest or the preshyterian [)reacher. Jt did
not concern me what were his ideas i-ei^ai'dinti' the
divine mission of .rose[)h Smiih, oi' the insj»iration of
the hook of ]\Iorm(.n; and if with thiveoi'six women
he had luitered into mai'iiai;'e relations, I {\\i\ not jiro-
pose to follow ])ul)lic si'iitiment and iii;ht him for it.
In fact each of us (mte)-tained too nuich respect for
the other to attempt coercion or con\ersion. I d(>siivd
the facts concerninj^ the coming' of his people to I'tali,
and their settlement; I wanted them foi- a heneiicial
purpose, and the Moi-nion leaders helievi-d [ would use
them properly. They \vere sal islii'd, on my a.--uranc(.i
to that ellect, that 1 would not warp these i'acts to
their prejudice, that I would s[)ai't! tlu'm that \ ililica-
tion to which they were so accustomed; and although

C40

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

they know that I was not a ^Mormon, that my nature
was as foreign to the reception of the doctrines of
Joseph Smith as oil to water, and that I was not at
all likely to advocate tlu; policy of plurality of wives,
yet they believed I woukl do what they claimed had
never yet been done by a gentile, namely, give them
friendly and fair treatment.

Mr and !Mrs Richards spent the greater part of
July in San Francisco, most of the time as my guests.
While Mr ]lichards was jjiving a fortniglit's dictation
to my reporter at the library, Mrs llicliards imparted
to Mrs IJaiicroft much information concernint; female
life and stu'iety in Utah, which was also i)reserved in
writing. In addition to this, and to nmny manuscript
reminiscences, and county and local histories, the
Mormon church furnished me with a great mass of
material printed since 1832, and contained in the
Millennium Star, the Deserct Nch')^, Times and Seasons,
political and religious i)an»phlets, the Frontier Guar-
dian, Pratt's ]ro;7i,s', and other like pulUications.

"The coun(;il were pleased with the report given
of our visit and labors in San Francisco," writes Mr
Ilichards from Ogden the 8th of August, "and desire
to give all neediul information for your use." In a
second letter, ilated November 2Gth, he says: "Pui-
suant to suijfLjestions in your note of the 21st inst., I
have the i)leasure to Ibrward to your address histoiical
sketches of thirty-six settlements, towns, or counties
from various parts of this territory. Of this number
the following are county seats: Toqutrville, 1 leaver.
(Irantsville, lleber City, Provo, St George, Briglnun
( 'ity, Neplii, and Iliclitield. Salt Lake City and Logan
are in preparation, while Ogden, unfinished, you have;
these are each county towns als( <tU)inison Massaere,
by Bishop Anson Call; Autohi^ ijraplDi <>/" Parlri/ 7'.
Pratt; Report of Jubilee Conference April 0, Ib'SO, and
I'tah Pioneers Celebration Jul;/ L*4t/' ; Travels and
Ministry of President Orson Ili/de: Fugitive Poevts,
by Mary J. Tanner, with manuscript accounts of her

IDAHO AND MONTANA MATERIAL.

641

experience, and those of Mrs Nancy N. Tracy and
Mrs Martha H. Brown."

Among others to whom I am indebted for informa-
tion on Utah are Governor Wood, ISIayor Little,
WiHiam Clayton, A. P. Rockwood, George Q. Cannon,
Sumner Howard, Daniel Tyler, Miss Snow, E. W.
TuUidgc, Christopher Diehl, V. E. Connor, H. S. El-
(h'idge, O. H. Riggs, and George A. Black.

Granville Stuart interested himself in my behalf
in Montana, and through him, and by various other
moans, I was enabled to secure from that quarter,
including Idaho, sufficient for my purpose. I insert
the following letter from Wilbur F. Sanders, who is
entitled to the highest praise for untiring efforts,
under singular discouragements, to secure to his
country something of its history:

"Helena, Montana, Marcli 4, 1874.
" Sib: The historical society of Montana recently met with a serious dis-
aster ; on the 9th of January its archives, library, and property were destroyed
hy fire. Tlio loss was as sudden as it was remarkable. The building in
^^hich it had jts room.", had survived tho destruction of an adjoiuing framo
liiiihling by firo, which, having Ijecn replaced with brick, left us confident of
security, whicli the event has siiown wi; fancied. Wo had labored under
many disadvantiiges, but had {gathered much material having relation to tho
mountains and plains geuerally, as well as much pertaining to what is now
M'lita: a territory. Our library, if not large, contained many rare books.
lfaviii.j had opportunities to compare with other like societies wliat M-e had
d'liii', wo felt we had abundant reason to congratulate ourselves, at least.
'1 lir interest iu our society had greatly increased within the last two years.
iiii'l I feel sure our di.s.astcr will but serve to intensify it; indeed, wo con-
li iiililato tlie erection of u building of our own tlio coming spring. It was
iii't of these matters, however, I had intended to write. ^Vith renewed
ciiiTgy we trust to replace what wo so suddenly lost, and while absorbed in
Kciiiu other business to-day, I glanced my eye over tho Occrlaiul, and saw
tliiit you had taken a wide interest in subjects of historical research pertaining
til tile Pacific coast. I am glad of it, for iu my visits to your city it occurred
t'. IMC that it was the most iuNiting field I know; and notwithstandin;,' your
historical society, which had tho misfortune to fall into the hands of the
fullurs, who are not worldly enough, and to bo located outside San l''ran-
tisuo, I am still of that opinion. I thought perhaps you might have a cata-
lo-iu; of your library or some description of it which you could furnish us,
and that your suggestions would be of groat advantage to us. The upper
Lit. Ind. 41

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

Columbia, Ycllowatoiiu, and MixBouri nro our speciulticB, but all this region
vn citlicr flido of the niountaius has n liistory uf niost ubsorbi.ig and romiuitio
Interest. If you can aid u.s in the manner I have indicated, you will place us
under lasting obligations, whicii we shall be pleased to reciprocate as wo may
bo ablo.

"Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"VV. F. Sanders, Pimident.
" H. H. Bancroft, Esq. , San Franviaco, Cal. "

To Mr Charles L. Mast, for many yeai-s of the law
department of the business, I am indebted for a lull
file of the San Francisco Post, besides uiiremittiii.j
exertions throughout the period of my entire woik,
in gathering from many sources public documents ami
other material for my work.

These ingathering experiences, as may well be sur-
mised, were not always smooth and pleasant. Much
that was annoying, much that was exasperating, lias
been left unsaid. There is one case, however, that
should not be passed unnoticed.

All their lives John Charles and Jessie FreuKMit
had been railing against the world, all their lives had
they been complaining of the injustice dune thciii.
Their own conduct had always bjeii beyond reproach;
only the rest of mankind were desperately wiekitl.
Loudly for thirty years they had clamored for justice,
without j[)ausing to consider whether the gods in
answering their prayers might not lead tlieiii {<>
chastisonient.

I did not care for much about thom.selves — tin y
are not j)aiticularly pleasing historical subjects; and
besides, they had already told what they knew, and
perhaps more than they knew. But aware that they
felt aggrieved, and desirous of treating their ease,
like all others, with strict impartiality, 1 called u])'in
them, explained fully the character of my work, an<l
invited them to place before me the data for a correct
statement of their grievances. They affected groat
interest, Mrs Fremont, as the regnant avriiger of her
husband's wrongs, vuwod she would incontinently hi inj;

THE MERCENMIY FREMONTS.

643

John Charles to the front, open his mouth, and catch
the fury flowing thence upon liur pure i)aper; likewise
John Charles rousetl himself to say it should he done.

Thus mattei-s stood for two or three years, the
Fremonts always promising? but never performiui,'. I
could not understand it; it seemed to ma so jrjand
ail opportunity to accomplish what they hud always
jiietcnded to covet, namely, their proper i)la('e in his-
tory. I had no earthly object in approachin*^ them
other than the ascertainin<^ of simple honest truth. I
did not believe with them that they had been so
badly malijjfned; all the world do not unite in con-
ilciiming a good man. But I would hear and weigh
well what they had to say.

At last it came out: they wanted money. Mar-
riott of the Neivn Letter, who was their special friend
in San Francisco, saw their opportunity, which he
iii'Hed them to embrace; he even hinted, unknown
ti» mc, that I would ])ay them to write, lie knew
thi'iu better than 1, lor I had never suspected their
luiu'lity wrongs would creep for lucre; besides, it was
tlicir affair, not mine. It was not pure or original
iiiuterial for history they were to give me, for of that
tluy had none; they had published their story, and
ii was already in my library. If, indeed, they were
ill the j)ossession of knowledge belonging t(-) their
CMiiiitry, it could scarcely i)e called praiseworthy to keep
il linek for a ])rice, when tliey had l)een, the great<'r
jMit of their lives, fed and <li»tlied at |»ub]ic expense.

Ijct us see tlie elfeet the bale pidspcet of glitteiing
U"l(l had upon this chivalrous and pul)lie-spii'ited ])air.
Wilting jNTarriott fi'<»ni Staten Island the 18th of
October, 1877, Mrs Fremont says:

" I fully appreciate the trouble yoti took to WTite mo so long a letter, but
it »,is not needed to convince either the general or myself of the inipoitanro
of . lie writing of which you speak. Everything, for some years past, liaa
liiiu put aside for the one purpose of obtaining justice, and to d(j this,
iiKiking money enough to keep wlie(;l>i moving and gain tluit ]iowcr which
only money gives. . .Just now residy money is the moat essential i)oint, ami
till icfore the end of your letter is one that makos it possible do thii

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

■kin

«^ ii^ 1112.2
;:■ 1^ |||||20

1.8

1.25 1.4 1.6

■m 6"

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Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 873-4503

C/j

64i|

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

writing. . .It did not fall to the lot of many women to be 'so fathered and so
husbanded' as I have been. . .Will you assure Mr Bancroft thia work shall
be done?"

Likewise John Charles, upon hearing the distant
cHnk of coin, lifts his voice like an old war-horso at
the alarm of battle :

" It certainly would be a most pleasant work," he write." Marriott three
days after the date of MrsFrdmont's letter, " to occupy a little lime iii setting
the past right, and no part of my life has for me the same interest that
attaclies to the period about whicli you write; and iiowlicre could those
transactions be set out ■^vith tlie enduring authority of Mr Bancroft's great
work. Chauce threw me into the midst of those events. It was a fortunate
chance for me, and it would be an equally fortunate one for me if the part
which fell to me could be freely set out in his work. The question is, how can
I avail myself of tlie opportunity? As you say, it will presently be too laie,
and the narrow things at home just now are rigidly inQexible on me. Yoii
Bay in the postscript that Mr Bancroft would willingly pay some reasonable
Bum for the manuscript compiled as he would wish. Would he be willing to
advance something of this to enable me to give it the time now? If he would
do so, I would immediately set myself in a quiet comer, get my papers into
order, and go at the work witliout the loss of a day. Will j'ou speak of it to
him? If he decides for it, I should like to know what intei'val of time he
would wish it to cover, and how full he would wish it written. I think [
could make it of itself an interesting work. I have always had in mind llie
publishing of a work to embrace the unpublished journeys of 1845-7, '-IS-l),
and '53, and not 1 ng since had some conferences with publishers on the
subject.

" I have the material, and some years ago had some thirty plates cngiaveil
on copper and steel, and some twenty wood -cuts. If I should WTitc the
Bkctch for Mr Bancroft, I would abandon the idea of any publication, for the
reason that his work sets the historical past right, and this is all I care for.
Perhaps he might use, if his work permits it, some six or ten of the jilates,
which were the work of the best artists in Paris, London, and Philadelphin..
Would be glad if it should suit Mr Bancroft to make the arrangement. W'
should all of us deeply regret to stand wrong in his work. It would lie a
great misfortune. To be right there, would be most valuable to me in every
way, and it would constitute a rallying-point for every other part of my life,
Buch as it was. Pray give the earliest convenient attention to thia, ami if
you have occasion to write or telegraph me, do so to the address at tlics luad
of this note."

Now of all cool propositions ever made mc, tlii
John Charles was the most frigid. In the first placo.
I did not want a "manuscript compiled" by Iiiin,
and "ould scarcely pay money for such a docuiiicn^

VERY POOR PATRIOTISM.

645

The most I ever cared for from him was some ex-
])lanation on certain disputed points, on matters not
clearly settled, and which for the most part callod in
question his own fair fame. Secondly, why should I
pay him money for patching his tattered reputation ?
But most ridiculously extravagant of all was the
[)roposition that I should send him payment in ad-
vance. ]Mr Fremont was always a man of great
expectations; had I sent him a cheek for five thou-
sand dollars at the beginning of his work, and a like
amount at the completion of it, he would never have
dreamed himself overpaid for throwing together and
commenting upon, to the furtherance of his individual
reputation, a quantity of matter the most of which was
already in my hands in much better shape for my pur-
pose. At this rate five millions of dollars would not
have sufliced for the knowledge to which the public
was justly entitled without the payment of a dollar;
what this man did for the United States, while in
the pay of the United States, the people of the
United States had a right to know.

To the magnificent proposal of John Charles I paid
not the slightest attention. Thinking, however, that
the Fremont family might be led astray by ^Marriott's
nionoy proposals, I wrote to Mrs Fremont as follows^,
the 30th of October:

" Mr Marriott has sho^^^l me your letter of recent date, or that part of it
lic'iiring upon my former request. I see that ho has spoken of compensation
fur such material as you may furnish. While I deem it very important to
t iiimral Frdmont, to the public, and to myself, that the general's own version
lit certain events bo under my eye as I record California's annals, yet I would
by no means obtain that version at the cost of possible future dissatisfaction
oil your part. I have never paid, and cannot pay for original historical tes-
tiinony. I have, however — and it was to this that Mr Marriott referred in
his letter to you — paid in some cases, at a maximum rate of twenty cents
l»n- folio, for the actual labor of writing down such testimony. This I will
gladly do in the case of General Fremont, if ho will give me a complete nar-
rutive of events in California from March to July 1846, including full details
of his own acts and motives."

I would here state that in saying I did not pay
and had never paid for original historical testimony,

Wis

646

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

1 SI

I M

I did not refer to books, manuscripts, or documents,
but to knowledge in the mouths of living witnesses.
Thousands of dollars had I expended in committing
such knowledge to writing, and I would cheerfully
have remunerated the copyist fairly in the case (if
General Fremont; but to pay the narrator rnouf}',
except by way of charity, as in the case of Alvarado,
or in the way of expenses or entertainment, I never
could make up my mind to do.

Intellectual wealth can only exist as the conunon
property of the body social. Knowledge as a means
of civilization is valueless except it be pronuilgated.
It matters little how high the state of cultivation
arrived at by the individual, unless he impress it in
some form upon his age. Hoarded facts, like hoarded
coin, are absolutely worthless. He who having knowl-
edge of public events valuable to posterity withholds
it for gain, is beyond the reach of words condemnablo.
Bringing into the world absolutely nothing, the jne-
served experiences of all men and ages are freely
placed at his disposal, while he, stingily grudging liis
poor pittance, carries it with him into the realm eter-
nal, where it is not of the sliglitest use to him. Later
we learned that Fremont really had little to say.

In my comments upon those with whom I came
more immediately in contact while searching I'cr
material, it should be understood that I am pro-
nouncing judgment purely from a collector's point of
view. 1 would not have it a[)pear that frowns,
surly refusals, and withholding information of a puMie
character for money, governed my opinion of a mans
character in other respects. Because a man did not
regard me or my work with favor, it did not neces-
sarily follow that he was a bad husband or citizen,
that he was dishonest or of base instincts. I belit'\o
I may truthfully say with Martial, "Parcere personis,
dicerc de vitiis." It has been my constant aim in
all my writings to lash vice, but to spare persons.

THE OSIO HISTORY.

647

I .speak only of their conduct in such connection, and
pronounce my opinion upon it. Of those who said
plainly they would have nothing to do with my lite-
rary affairs I never complained. There were several
such in Vigilance Committee matters, and I do not
even mention their names. I grant every one the
right to exercise his own pleasure, and do not expect
all to think on every subject as I do. There was
Pacheco, who pledged me in faithful promises, which
he faithlessly broke. He said he had papers and
would give them to me ; I do not know that he had
them, as I never saw them. He pretended to personal
friendship, to friendship for my work, which rendered
liis failure to keep faith with me all the more exasper-
ating. Fremont's record, in many respects, is not such
as to command the respect of any fair-minded man.
JNIy treatment of him in history was made uj) purely
fi'om the records, and was in no way aft'ected by his
failure to fullil his promises.

Froni Mission San Jose Cerruti writes the 18th of
April 1875:

"A few days ago Mr Osio, a resident of California in 1820, arrived in San
Francisco, drugging along with him a manuscript history of the early times
ill (.'alifornia. I believe he originally intended to give it to your library,
l)ut certain persons whose acquaintance ho happened to make induced him
to reconsider his resolution, and made hini believe that there was money in
it. Actuated by that belief, he has given Ids manuscript to Mr Hopkins,
keeper of the archives in San Francisco, with a pi'aycr for enough subscribers
to pay for printing it. I believe, with judicious diplomacy and a little coin,
you could get some person to purchase the manuscrii)t for your library. I
think Mr Knight would be tlic right man. If I thought I could gain a.
point by going to San Francisco I would cheerfully do so; but I fear tny
mixing in the matter would cause a rise in tlio price of the manuscript."

Being in San Jos() one day in November 1 877, I
called on Juan Malaiin in relation to the Osio his-
tory, which Vallejo, Oerruti, Savage, and others, had
at various times during tlie pa.st three years en-
deavored to obtain. Th(3 original of this important
work belonged to J. R. Arques of Lawrence station,
into whose hands it fell as executor of the estate

643

FURTHER INGATHERINGS.

of Argiiello, to whom the manuscript was presented by
the author. Oslo was then living in Lower CaUfornia.

Malarin was non-committal : said he had no owner-
ship in the manuscript, but did not think Arques
would regard favorably the proposition to lend nic
the manuscript, though he did not say why. Mr John
T. Doyle had taken a copy of it; likewise James A.
Forbes. From the latter Malarin thought I miglit
obtain a copy if I was prepared to pay down money
enough. On returning to San Francisco I imme-
diately called on Mr Doyle, who, as soon as I had
stated my errand, exclaimed: "You shall have the
manuscript, and may copy it; and anything else that
I have is at your disposal. You have fairly earned
tlie right to any historical material in California, and I
for one am only too glad to be able to acknowledge
that right in some beneficial way." That settled the
matuer.

About this time I found myself greatly in need of
a manuscript history of the Bear Flag movement
by Mr Ford, a prominent actor in the scene. Thi;
manuscript was the property of the reverend doctor
S. H. Willey of Santa Cruz, to whom I applied for
it. Doctor Willey responded cheerfully and promptly,
not only sending me the Ford manuscript, with [)er-
mission to copy it, but also other valuable material.
"I take pleasure in lending it to you," he writes,
"that it may contribute possibly to accuracy and
incident in your great work. The manuscript needs
considerable study before it can be read intelligently.
Mr Ford was not much accustomed to writinjj. Gen-
oral Bidwcll says he was a very honest man, but a,
man liable to be swayed in opinion by the prejudices
of his time. His manuscnpt seems to modify tlio
current opinion touching ]\Ir Fremont's part in Bear
Flag matters." Doctor Willey also gave me a very
valuable manuscript narrative of his own recollection^s.

Notwithstanding all that had been done up to this

YET OTHER EFFORTS.

648

time, I felt that I should have more of the testimony
of eye-witnesses. Particularly among the pioneers of
and prior to 1849, and among the native Californians
inhabiting the southern part of the state, there was
information, difficult and costly to obtain, but which
I felt could not be dispensed with.

Mr Oak suggested we should make one more ap-
peal, one final elFort, before finishing the note-taking
for California history; and to this end, the 25th of
August 1877, he addressed over liis own signature
a communication to the San Francisco Bulletin, re-
viewing what had been done and sketching what was
still before us.

Extra copies of this article were printed and sent
to school-teachers and others throughout the coast,
with the request that they should call u|)()n such early
settlers as were within their reach and obtain from
them information respecting the country at the time
of their arrival and subsequently. For writing out
such information, for one class would be paid twenty
cents a folio, and for another less desirable class and
one more easily obtained, fifteen cents a folio was
ofl'ered. Not less than five thousand direct applica-
tions were thus made, and with the happiest results;
besides which Mr Leighton, my stenographer, took
some sixty additional dictations in and around San
Francisco, and Mr Savage made a journc}^ south, a
full account of which is given in another place. Thus
I went over the ground repeatedly, and after I had
many times congratulated myself that my work of
collecting was done; in truth I came to the conclu-
sion that such work was never done.

CHAPTER XXVI.

PRELIMINARY AND SUl'I'LKMKN TAL VOLUMES.

IVriculosae pleinnii opus aleae,

Traotas; et iiu'oilis jut igiies
Supposittia ciiieri iloloso. Iltvriice,

As I liave e1sewliei'i> riMnarkecl, tlio soul and cen-
tre of tliis litonuy uiuliTtaklnu; was tlio Jlistory of the
Pacijk Skifcii: the Xatire Ixacc.^ bring proliminary, ami
the ('ah'f(n')ii(i l*a.'<f()ral, Infer Pacnla, l*()pular Trihvinils,
K'<f<a}js and Mificclldin/, and Lifcrcm/ LKhnifrics sup])l(^-
mental thereto. To tl\e lii.story appears a biographi-
cal section entitled Cfn'0)iMes of the linildcrs of the
Commo)nrcalih

Of the inception and execution of the Native Races'
I give elsewhere tiie full liistory. The Cal/fdriuu
Patiforal, if not born so absolutely of necessity, was
none the less a legitimate oft'spring. In the history
of California under the donunion of Mexico, niany
of the most charming features in the precincts (I"
home and minor matters, in the peculiarities of the
people, and regarding their social and iiolitical be-
havior under the influence of their isolation and
strange enviromnent, were necessarily onutted. Ot
that remahiing from this sujterabundance of material.
I took the best, and weaving with it some antiqui'
foreign facts and later fancies of my own, I embodicvl
the result in a se])arate volume, and in a more attract-
ive form than could be presented in condensed history.

In like maimer into a volume entitled Califoriiid
I)der Pociila were thrown a multitude of episodes and
incideftts following or growing out of the gold discoN -

V fi50 )

'PASTORAL' AND MNTEK I'OCULA".

661

ery, which could not he vividly portrayed without a
tolerahly free uae of words, and could not be con-
denned into the more soli* I forms of history witliout, to
some extent, stiflinuf the life that is In them, and niar-
rinjLC their oriuinalitv and heautv. Indei'd, of this
class of matnial, eni^endered durinsj^ the flush times
and aftiTward, I had enough left over of a i^ood (jual-
ity to fill a dozeti volumes.

It is dittieult to imaufine a more miraculous trans-
formation of human afl'airs, u]>on the sanu; soil and
under the same sky, than that wliich occurred in
California durin*^ the years 1S48 and 1841). Prior to
this time, the two stretclies of seaboard five hun(h'ed
miles ou tsither sidti of San Francisco bay and run-
niui? back to the summit of tlie Sierra, was occuj>ied
by races of two several shades of duskiness, and divers
degrees of intelligence, the one representative (f the
lowest tl(>pths of savagism, and the other the most
(juicscent state of civilization. Tiu; former went
naked, or nearly so, att^ grassho|)[)ers and reptiles,
among other things, and burrowed in caves or hid
themselves away in brush huts or in thickets. The
latter dreamed life lazily away, lapiu'd in every luxury
bounteous nature could offer, unburdeneil by care,
delighting in dress and display, l)ut hating work and
all that self-denvijig effort which alone brinixs superi-
ority. Thesi! migrated Mexicans attended with scrup-
ulous regularity alikt; on all the ordinance of the;
])riests of Christ an<l tlie discit)les of Satan, an<l then
passed into the hereafter without ever knowing how
completely they had been deceived.

On all sides tluTo Avas a condition of things whicli
seems to have set at defiance thi' laws of evolution,
and to have turned backward the wheels of ])rogress.
While enjoying the most favorable surroundings, vwu
savagism appears to have degenerated, while the civi-
lizaticm of Spain was rapidly falling into a kind of
catholic savagism. In the place of those new neces-
sities which arc usually generated by new activities

PRELIMINARY ANI> HUI'l'LEMENTAL VOLUMES.

I *ii;

when predatory tribes cease from dissipating tlieir
whole time in war, there was here utter stagnation
among tho^e both of the American aiul the Latin race.
As matters then stood tliere was no more hkehliood
of innuediate iini)rovement in tlic way of art or
Hcience than that a s[)inirmg-\vheel or steam-engine
should be constructed by a people to whom cotton or
iron was unknown. Instead of higher forms being
here evolved from lower, it would si^cni that reptiles
wi-re s[)ringing from biids and monkisys from men.
Theology, tliough dogmatic, was in a measure strij)pod
of its sting. Whatever their ])ractice, their code of
tithics was as far as [)ossible n-nioved from the don:ain
of coimnon sense. And even in tlu; more advanced
comnmnities, if social, moral, and religious ]>rejudices
were analyzed instead of blindly cherished, what a
world of folly would be revealed 1

In the far north, along this same coast, at this very
time were two other phases of life, both of which were
abnormal and individual, one behig represented by the
Muscovite, the other by the Anglo Saxon. While Bar-
anof sat in Sitka, John McLoughlin on the Columbia
ruled, to the full measure of life and death, a hundred
savage nations, occupying an area five times as large
as that of the British Isles. S(jcrates said that
parents should not marry their children because of
t!ie discrepancy in their ages. One would think so
great a ]3hilosopher as Socrates might have found a
better reason for forbidding so monstrous a crime
ajxainst nature. The autocrat of Fort Vancouver ad-
vocated the marriage of chief factors and traders with
the daughters of Indian chiefs, setting the example
himself by mingling his blood with that of the
American aboriginal. One would think that so grand
a ijentleman as McLouohlin should need a better rea-
son than wealth, power, position, or the mandate of a
monopoly to compel him to forego noble succession
and spawn upon the world a hybrid race. "It is the
rich who want most things," says the Chinese pro-

'ESSAYS' AND ' INDUSTRIES.'

6r)»

verb ; the blessed poor of New Caledonia, besides the
hope of heaven, might have children of their own
rare. If God made me for bright immortality, well ;
if for opaque gloom, why then well also; I am not a
grub that may transform itself into a butterHy; but
while in this world, whatever betides, I may always
be a man, and father n<»iie who can justly lay at
my door the cause of their degeneration, mental or
]th3^sical.

In regard to the volumes entitled Kssai/s <ntd Mt.^-
cellany and Literary I)i(hi.s(ri'('s they shall speak for
themselves. But of my two volumes called Jhpukn-
Tribmiah I will here make a few exi>lanatlons.

The publication of the A\ifirr Jidcc.^ began the 1st
of October, 1874, and continued with the appearance
of a volume every three montlis until Christmas,
1875, at which time complete sets of the whole five
volumes were for sale in the several stvles of bindin<;.

Never at any time was I in a state of great anxiety
to publish. There was ever before me a healthy fea •
of the consequences. I could always wait a little
longer before seeing my fondest and>ition, perhaps,
dashed to earth. There was, no doubt, some feverisli
eagerness prior to the publication of the Native Ixacei^,
regarding the manner in which it would be received ;
but ever after that, it was in the quality and progress
of my writings that I chiefly concerned myself, the
end beino; a matter to be retvretted rather than a con-
summation devoutly to be longed for. There was
with me a constant anxiety to press forward my writ-
ing; I had but a short time to live and very nmch to
do. But when I saw how my first work was received,
and how I should stand with the literary woi-ld after
its publication, I determined to print nothing more
for several years. I had several reasons for adopting
such a resolution.

In the first place I had nothing ready to publish ;
and no one ever realized more fully than myself that

■!'!

■ jr

C04

PHKUMINAUY AND SUl'lM.KMENTiU. VOLUMES.

i I

it takes time and work to make a <j;ood book. History
writlni,'' cannot l)o liurried. Certain years of time are
necessarv tor tlie preparation of every volume, sonie
more and some less, anil twenty men for five years I
estimate as equivalent to one man one hundred years.
It is true I could carry forward certain volumes col-
lateral to the history whose imhlicjition I had]>lanned,
hut all these I thoujifht best to hold back until after
the liistory [)roi)er was ])ul)lished.

In the next place I thought it better to Ljive the
public a little rest. I did not wish to weary people
of the subject.

My books were heavy and expensive, and to issue
them too rapidly mitdit cheajien tliem in the eyes of
.some. But more than any other reason why I would
publi.sh nothijiy more for several years was this: I
had now, so to say, the ear of tin; public. I stood as
well as the author of a fir.st l)ook coul«.l stand. What-
ever of i»()od opinion there was abroad for me and for
my work I would keep and give all the benefit of it
to my history.

It was my an\bition to dt) for this last western
earth's end what Homer did for Greece, with tlu!se
diiferences : Homer dealt in myths, I should deal in
facts; Homer's were the writings of Poetical genius,
miiu! of plodding })rose. And yet as llerder says of it,
"Als Homer «>esunL''en hattc, war in seiner Gattung
kein zweiter Homer denkbar; jener hatte die BlUtlie
des epischen Krauzes gepHlickt und wer auf ihn folgte,
mus/ic sich mit einzeliuni Bliittern begnUgen. Die
griechischen Trauerspieldichter wiihlten sk-h also eine
andoro Jjaufbahu; sio aszen, wie ^schylus sagt, voni
Tisclie Homer's, berelteten aber fUr ihr Zeitalter eiu
anderes Gastmal."

Right well I knew that often literary failure had
been followed by literary success and vice versa. Now
I would not that my second attempt should prove in-
ferior to the first. When once the ultimate of my
capabilities was attained I would stop. I labored for

POPUI^R TKIBUNALS.'

G»5

tlio strcnpftli it sjavo inc ; when it should result in men-
tal or n»oml woaknoHs tiu'n my life's work was clone.

In the supplenu^ntary works I indulj^fd in a wider
latitude as to the choice of auhjerts, tlif exprrssion of
• HMnion, an<l i^ivinjy^ my faculties freer play in tin; exe-
cution. Cons(>quently, while th(\y weri' more myself
than ahnost any of my other work, tliey wen; mor<!
open to criticism, and would be, I felt huvv., severely
viewed in ci'rtain (quarters, llence it was that, all
thiniL;s considered, I resolved to writt; some twenty vol-
nmesl)efore printing further, an<l rewriti; until I should
be satisfied, when I would have them copied so as
to divide the risk of tire, — which was done.

During the two years and more my assistants were
enij:a<jed in takinjj: out notes on Califoinia historv. 1
wrote the two volumes entith'd Popular Trilmi t%
making of it at first three volumes and then reducing
it. I began thi.o Vt>rk in IH?;'), finished the first writ-
ing of it in 1877; revising and ])ublishing it ten years
litter. I began It as an e[)isode of (^difor-nian history
which would occupy three or four chapters, and which
I could easily write during the three or four montlis
in which I suj)posed the note-takers would bo engage<l.
Tlie note-taking was six times the labor I had aiitici-
})ated, and so was Popuhir Tn'hininfs.

As I did not like to interrui)t the notc-tnking, wliicli
was being done under the direction of ^Ir Oak, I de-
rived little help on this work from ii\y assistants.
When at Oakviile, White Sulpher springs, or Santa
Cruz, such material as I lacketl 1 wrote for and it was
sent to me.

The method I adopted in this writing was as fol-
lows: The subject seemed to divide itself about
e(jually betwecui the outside or public workings of the
institution, and the inner or secret doings. For the
former, there were the journals of the day, and a few
disordered and partial statements pi'inted in books.
There was no liistorv of the viiiilancc '^onnnittee
movement m existence.

1^1

■'..t

il,,

r
if

'i !
I 1

656

]'UKI,l.\tlNAUY AND SUrPLEMENTAL VOLUMES.

As a rule m'WS[)a|H^r iv]H>rt8 arc not the most re-
liable testimony u}h>u wliii-h to base history. But in
this itistaiu'o this class of ovidiMioe was the very best
that could exist. S}>reatliji«4 before me six or eijjjht of
the chief journals of the day, I had in tluMH so many
eye-witncssi>s of the facts, written by ki'en fact-hunt-
ers wliile the incidents were yd warm, and thrown out
nmon*:; a ]»eo|)le who knew as much of what was l>;o-
injj,' on as the newspaper reporters themselws, so that
vvvvy misstatiMuint was (]uickly branded as such by
jealous. com[»etinn' journals and by a ji>alous public.
3 b re was every ad van taL'V. For the transact i(»ns of
each day, and each liour, I could marshal my wit-
nesses, takuii;' tlu> testimony (»f each as it was i»iveii
iU'cordin<;" to actual o»'currenci>, takinjjf it with a full
knowledoe of the prejudu-es and }>rochvitii>s of each
witness. Thus {'ov a review of each ilav's doin«j;s,
radical on the side o{' vli^ilance, 1 took the Jiiillctiii.
h\>r (K'scrlptlon of the sanu' evi'uts t'rom the rabid law
and onK r point of view, I examined the Herald. For
nu)re moderate expri>ssion o'i facts and opinions still
li'anino- to the side of vij^ilance, I looked through tlu-
.Ufa (\ih'f\irnia, t]\c Sacra iiu/ifo rin'o)i, ihc CounVr,
Chro)url(\ and Tmni Talk.

Thus at njv command wt're a dozen or twenty report
ers to search the cltv for items and i>ive them to nic ;
and thus I went over the si'veral years of this eplsod*'.
i)oint bv point. brinLrin«>; In, coimectinir, contli'iisinu,
until I had a compK>te narrative from the beL!;innin»j;
to the end, of all tlu\se stran«4;t' doings.

This for the outsidt> of the subject. Rut there vet
remaininl an iniu>r. hidden, and hitherto obstinatiMV
veiled part, which was now for the first time to he
ri>vealed. Tliert> had been at various times, b(ttli hi
fore and after the disbandment of the conunittee, ]>ro
posals for publlshinsv a liistory of the movement, but,
none of them had been seriously t'utertained by the
conunittee. Indeed It was not reo^arded as safe to re-
veal their secrets. These men had broken the law,

TllK MKN OK VKULANCK

657

;m«l wlillc ill truth tluv wero law-abldiiisj: cUiz(>ns,
ihoy wcvv siil)j(>ct to ]uiMislmieiit l)y tlio law. Socit'cy
liad Ik'i'm fVinn tlu' ln';jjiiHiiinjj tluM'iinlinal virtu«M)f't1u'
association. Ahsoluto «;«)0(l faith, one toward anothci" ;
it was herein tlu-ir rnwxt str(>n<xth and otlicicncv Ijiv.

Tlicri', miolit ho sonu> nicnihcrs nioro t'oarloss, and
witli hroiidor aii<l nioi'(> int(>Hii;cnt views than the
others, wlio could sei' no oi)jeetion to plaeiniif on
record foi' the henetit of mankind, in suhsecjueiit at»es,
tlie whole truth and di'tails of th(^ traoical affaii's of
the association, who vet did not feel at lihcrtv to do
so as lonuj as otluM's inter[>osed ohjections. Sucli ol>-
jections wero inter|)osetl, and such denials t^iven.
many tin»t>s, until at last the (juestion arosi* : Sh«)uld
tliese things ever he I'evealed !* or sliouhl tlu^ secrets
of the executive coniniittee die with tlu; death of
tlie nieinhers? I sent (\'rruti after tlu'se nu'ii, hut
Italian hlandishnients secnu'i! to have !i;r(>ater etfect
upon his more volatile brothers of the liatiti race,
than upon thes(> hard-hea»l(Ml, col<i-hlo(»(led Yankees.
One of them when spoki'U to hy (\'rruti ih'i'W his
(inner across his throat siijjnilicaiitly savlnu' " that
would he to pay if I told all." Then I waited ujum
them myself.

"You have no ritj:;ht," I said, "to withhold these
facts forever from tlie w<»rld. Ulstorv helon-j-s to
socieiy. To our childi-en helonjjj our t>xperience8;
and if we hid(> the knowledge we hav(^ jjjained wo rob
them of a rinhtful inlieritance. Nearly a (juarter of
a century has now passed, ^'ou have; not always to
live. Are you williuL;' to bear the responsibility of so
livoss a ha.rbarism as the extinouishment of this
knowdi'd^'c ("

Sonu> were ccMwinced others obstinate. In vain
^fr Dempster, now wholly with me, called upon these
latter, out; after another, assured them that this his-
tory would be written, and a.sked if it were not better
it should be done fully, truthfully, than with only
half the evidence before tlie writer. No. They did

I.IT. iMl. 42.

{<i I

(538

PRELIMINARY AND SUPPLEMENTAL VOLUMES.

not wish to talk a])out it, to tliink about it. It was
a horrid ni^ht-inare in their memory, and they would
rather their children should never know anything
about it.

For a time the matter thus stood, so far as the m(;n
of ISfjO were concerned. Meanwhile the ijrim in-
(juisitors who had so closely sealed their own lips
could not v,lK)lly prevent their former associates from
talking- upon the subject. Little by little I gathered
from one and another information which it had not
been hitherto deemed proi)er to reveal. By repoit-
ing to one what another had said, I managed to gain
from each more and more.

Thus, gradually but very slowly, I wedged my way
nito their mysteries, and for over a year I made ih»
further progress than this. Then I began operations
with a stenographer, making appointments with those
who had taken an active })art in one committee oi
the other, for the purpose of taking down a nar-
rative of their early ex})eriences. Many of these,
once started on the line of their lives, seemed unabl*
to stop until they had tt)ld all they knew, as well
about vigilance connnittoes as otlicr matters.

This so broke the crust that I at lenijth succeedi'd in
persuading Mr Bluxome, the ' G7 secretary ' of tlic
first connnittee, and the yet more famous ' 33 secrt -
tary ' of the second, to let me have the l)ooks and
papers of the connnittee of 1851. All these ^yeais
they had been locked in an old iron safe to which In
had carried the key. The executive committee ol
that tribunal had never been so strict as that of tlif
second; there had been less op})osition, less law, less
risk in the first movement than in the second: and
such of the first connnittee as were not dead or i\h
sent manifested more indifference as to the secrets «»t'
their association.

Bluxoine tells a story how orders of court weit
wont to be eluded when vigilance papers were ordered
produced.

VIGILANCK ARCHIVES.

G59

111 one of the many cases for damages which fol-
lowed the period of arbitrary strangulations and
expatriations, tlie judge ordered the records of the
stranglcrs brought into court. Bluxonie obeyed the
sunnnons in person, but nothing was seen of books or
papers in his possession.

** Where are the documents you were ordered to
Ijring ? " demanded the judge.

"I do not know," replied Bluxome.

"Are they not in your possessiou?"

"No."

"You had them?"

"Yes."

"What did you do with them?"

" I delivered them to Schenck."

"Where are they now?"

"I do not know."

Dismissed, Bluxome lost no time in hurrying to
Schenck, and informing him of what had happened.
Scarcely had Schenck passed tlie document to a third
})orson, before he was summoned to H[)[)ear in court,
and bring with him the re(|uired pa[)ers. After tes-
titying as Bluxome had done, the person to whom he
had delivered them was summoned witli like n^sult ;
and so on until all concerned were heartily tired of it
and so let the matter drop.

It was a great triuin[)h, all the archives of the fiist
committee safely lodged in tlu:; library, and it proved
;i great advantage to me in ojKMiing the way to t]i»^
i)ooks and papi^'s of tlie second committee. TIk-s ■
were hi the keeping of Mr Dempster, to l)e jidd in
trust by him; and while he would gladly have placed
them all in my liunds at the first, he felt tluit he
could not do so wltiiout the jiermission of liis associates*.

I found it less difficult after this to obt;iin dictations.
Atenibers of the conimittee of 18.jG were not particu-
larly pleased that I should bave so much better facili-
ties placed before me for writing the history of the
tirst committee than the second.

i>.

CGO

PRELIMINARY AND SUPPLEMENTAL VOLUMES.

Man}' of theiu iu)W came forward of their own ac-
cord and told lue all they knew. The loth of Feb-
ruary, 1876, Mr. Coleman, president of the committe<.»
of 1856, wrote me, I being then at Oakville, that he
was ready to give me data. A long and exceedingly
valuable narrative of all the events from the begin-
ning to the end was the result. It was in ftict, a his-
tory of the movement, and from the one most able to
furnish it. This was sup])leniented by a no less val-
uable and even more thoughtiul and })hilosophioal ii
document by Mr. Dmnpster. Likt^wise from Truett.
Smiley, Bluxome, and twenty others, I obtained in
terestmg narratives.

When I had written the narrative of the first com-
mittee and had fairly begun the history of the move-
ment of 18.')6, the absurdity of the position assumed
by certain members struck me with more force than
ever, and I was determined, if possible, to have the
records antl papers of tlie second conimittee, 1 went
first to Coleman.

" I want all the archives of your committee," I
said. " It is the irony of folly to compel a man, at
this day, to make brick without straw when you lul^ e
abundance of material in your possession."

" Had it rested with me you should have had
everything h>ng ago," said Mr. Coleman.

Then I went to Dempster.

"Did I stand where vou do," I ventured to affirm,
" I would not permit the history of the vigilance com-
mittee to be written while those books and papeis
were unrev(>aled."

" What would you do?" he asked.

"I would pay tio attention," I replied, "to tlie
wishes of those few wise men of Gotham who would
arbitrate this matter between eight thousand vi'-i-
lants and their posterity. They are not tlie vigilan(('
committee ; they are not a majority of the executive
committee."

" I cannot give them up until I am authorized to

COLKMAN AND DKMl'STER.

GGl

do SO," said Dempster, " but I'll tell you what I will
do. Come to my house where the papers are ke|)t ;
take your time about it, and select and lay aside such
as you would like. I will then take such documents
and show them first to one and then to another of
tlieso men, and tliey shall designate such as they ob-
ject to your havinjjj."

And this he did ; and the n^sult was that no one
threw out anytliinji;. But even this did not satisfy me.
I wanted tho records and all material extant on the
subject. I wanted tliese s])read out before me wliile
I was writino-; and I iinallv ol)tai)U'd all that I asktid.

Thus I found at my command tliree distinct sources
of information, namely, ])rinted l)ooks and news])apers,
un[)ublished material and the personal narratives of tlu^
mole consi)icuous of those wlio ])ariici])ated in tlie

t'VtMlts.

The time of my writinpj this i'])isode was most op-
portune Had I undertaken it sooiu>r, — liad I under-
taken it witliout tlie reputation the aut]u»rshi]) of the
Xalirc Racffi gave me, — 1 am sure I could have obtained
neither the vigilance arc] lives, nor tlie dictations.
At all events, no one had been able to secure these
itdvantages, and many had so endeavored. On the
other hand, had the matter been delayed nmch longer,
those who <»ave hi their testimony would have i)asse(l
l)cyond the reach of earthly historians. And the
ame mii>ht be said re<ji:ardin<ji; all my work. Probably

never did opportunity present so many attractions foi'
writing the Jiistory of a country. Time enough had
<'la[)sed for li* ' ^ry to have a beginning, and yet not
Jill were dead who had taken part in prominent events.
In studying the \ igilance (juestion, I began with
unbiased views. I had never given the subject seri-
ous thoutjht, nor had I heard the arguments on either
side. I had not proceeded far in my investigations
hefore I became convinced that the people were not
only right, but that their action was tlie only thing
they could have done under the circumstances. I ar-

.11

i> i|

}■

ft ^1

662

riiELIMINARY AND SUITLEMENTAL VOi.UMKS.

rived at this conclusion in summing up the argumentti
of the opposite side. The more I examined tlio

f rounds taken by the law and oider party, tlio more
became convinced that they were untenable, and so 1
became a convert to the principles of vigilance througli
the medium of its enemies, and before I had heard u
word in tlielr own vindication. Furtlier than tliis,
my veneration for law, legal forms, and constitutions
gradually diminislu^d as the sophisms of their wor-
shippers became more palpal)le. I see nothhig more
sacred in tlie statutes men have made tlian in the m<ii
wlu) made them. I claim that the majoritv of anv
people possess the right to revolutionize; otherwise
oui's would still be the dark ages. At all events,
however worsliipful written laws and constitutions
may be, ])eople will overturn them or set them asuK^
when necessity demands it, whether they have tlic
right or not. What Is right ? Were the framers ef
antique laws so immaculate that tliey should be able
to provide for every future emergency? But tlic
vigilance movement was no revolution ; neither did
any member of the committee wish to subvert oi'
ovc;rthrow the laws. They merely aimed to assiM
impotent courts in the administration of the law.
As I proceeded in my investigations, I saw on tlic
one side crime rampant, the law prostituted, the bal-
lot-box under the control of villains of various dy^ .
the tools of men of intellect and education liiufh in
office. I saw between the two extremes, between t]\<-
lower and ui)per strata of this fraternity of crime, be-
tween tlie whilom convict, now election inspector,
poll-fighter, supervisor, and petty political thief, be-
tween these and the governor and supreme judges, a
multitude anxious to maintain the existhig state < I'
things. These were lawyers, whose living was al-
fected by such disturbance ; judges, whose dignity
was outraged; sherift's, whose abihty was called in
question, and with them all the skum of socieiy,
hangers on about courts, policemen, pettifoggers,

TIIK TWO SIDES.

cn:;

and thieves, — all who played in the filthy puddle of

j«)litic.s.

When I saw this <'l('iiieiit hiuulod in support of law,
or rather to smother law, and o[)poHc'd to tlieni th(>
i<;reat mass of a free and intellii^ent }»eoplc, reprt^sent-
ing the wenlth and industry of tin; state, merehants,
meehanies, lahorliijj^ men, hankt-rs, miners, and farm-
ers, men who troul)l<'d themselves little ahout })olitieal
trehniealities and forms (jf law, exeept Avhen caught
ill it meshes — when I saw these men drop their farms
and merehandise and vise as one man to vindicate
tlieir dearest ri;j,hts, tlie i)urity of the ]>olls, safety to
life and ])i-o]»erty — wlu'n I saw tlieni rise in their
simple-heartedness and integrity of purpose, carefvdly
( oimtinu^ the cost hcifore tahint»; the stand, hut, once
tcdcen, ready to lay down their lives in sup[)ort of it,
and then with consummate wisdom and calm moder-
ation, temperiiiij^ justice witl I mercy, pursue tlieir high
]»arposo to tlie end — when I saw them villilicd, snarled
at, and thn'atened with extermination hy jiompous
demagogues who had placed themselves in power, — I
was moved to strong expression, and found myself
oltliged repeatedly to go over my wi'iting and weed
out phrases of feeling which might otherwise mar
the re(H)rd oi' that singular social outhurst which I
aimed to give in all honesty and evenly halanced
truthfulness.

As to the separate section of the history, the
Chronicle!^ (>t the Bidldcrs of the Covimonircalth, 1 may
truthfully say that it was evolved from the necessi-
ties of the case. Tlu^ narrative of events could not
he properly written with the hiographies of those who
had made the country what it is included, and it
was not complete without them; hence the separate
work.

Among other lessons learned while writing this
work was never to come too near the object about
which you wish to write well.

CHArTER XXVII,

BODY AND MINI).

llanl students are coiiniKialy lioiililcd mu'.i gowts, ciitarrhs, rlu'Uiiis,
itaclicxiu, bradypcpsiii, l)!ul ^y^^•^, stmio, and colliuU, cnulitii's, oppilatioii-',
Vt^rtigo, winds, cousuiuiiiidu ;, and all siu'li d i -iwiHos aa como liy ovorniui'li
siltinj^; tluiy are mo.-it part lean, dr.\, ill-cnloitMl . . . . jiml ull llirmigh in'-
niodcrato jiaina and oxttadrdlnary stndips. If yon ^\ ill not Ix-licvo tlui triitli
of this, look upon tliu gruat To.statn.-i and Tlu>nia.< A(piina>i' works; and toll
mo wliethcr tlioMC lucu took pains,

I'.'irliiii'.t Auiilitii II I'f Ml liiiii'liiiljf.

Among {j^onoral })]iysiolooical aial ps\ cJiolojjjicul priii-
fii)lcs tluso tniiliSMi't' now iv^ankMl ok'UUMitarv — thati
the brain is in(liw[)cnsal>U; to tli<)U«;]it, volition, iind
foelinL^; that tliu brain is tlie seat of thouu'lit, of in-
tellect; thiit tlie brahi bcinsj: affected 1)V the blood,
the mhul is iniluenced by the (|uality or condition of
the blood; that witli the <j[iiickc^iiing' of cerebral circu-
lation tlioughts, fcc^liiigs, and volitions arcs quickened,
even up to the pitch 8oini>tinies of vtlienient mental
excitement, or delirium, and that the (i[ualitj of tlie
l)lood depends u})on food, air, exercise, and rest.

Undt^r great mental sti'ain blof)d of the best qual-
ity, pure, rich, and plentiful may Ix; drawn from the
nmscles, to the di'trin'ent of the muscular system,
to meet the pressing emtirgencies of the brahi and of
the nervous system ; nn^l vice verm excessive physical
exertion draws from the mental faculties nourishment
rightly belonging to them. Tlu^refore both mind and
muscle are alike dependent not less upon food than
upon the blood-puiifying organs, lungs, liver , intes-
tines, and the rest.

The influence of the mind upon the body, through
its three-fold states of intellect, emotion, and volition,
is no less great than the influence of the body upon

(I'M)

BllAIN AND NEUVKS.

605

the mind. Those reciprocal influences are exactly
balanced. A pound of one presses as heavily upon
the organism as a pound of the other. When the
(equilibrium is destroyed, the system is soon out of
balance.

For good and for evil the influence of each upon
the other is great. To the imagination we may refer
inucli of tlie otherwise unexplainablc morbid phe-
nomena springing from mesmerism, si)iritualism, and
the like. The imagination of St Francis d'Assisi so
revelled in Christ's sufferings as to bring upon liis
l)ody the pains under which Christ labored. While
the automatic action t)f tlie brain upon the body is
the occasion of many disorders, the will exercises no
small power over the body, and even on the mind
itself.

Lucretius plainly perceived that witli tlio Ijody the
mind stremjcthens and decays, wJion he said "Cum
corpore mentem, cresccre scntinms pariterque s(Mies-
cere," Likewise Ovid expresses the same opinion :
"Vitlant artns aegrae contagia mentis;" so that hi
all this there is nothing nev/.

]Mind is not that incori)oreal essence which theology
once declared it, but a tangible entity wliich may be
reached through the nervous system. The derange-
ments of mind are no longer regarded as exceptional
visitations of the deity, but as the result of nervous
disease. That which directs my fingers in writing is
no less a subordinate and governable part of me tli;in
the fingers which guide my pen. Between the wide
extremes of automatic acts reflected from the l)raln
and, a priori, intuitions, tliere is a vast field in which
the impulse of will exercises full sway.

Of all organs the brain alone sleeps. Other organs
may become paralyzed, and their functions cease wJiile
yet the body lives, but the first sleep of the body is
its last sleep.

Were it not that men conduct themselves as if they

1:';]|

II
i 9|

BODY AXn MINI).

know it not it would sceni superfluous at this l.ito
(lay to talk about exerciso as a requisite to healtli.
We all know that brain-work dissipates the nervous
forces with ijreater ra})idity than the most arduous
physical labor; that the nervous substance of tlic
body is exhausted by thouijfht just as jthysical exer-
tion exhausts tlu; muscles. And yet how few rei^ard
the fact. ] [ow few enthusiastic workers succeed in
schooling their habits in tliat happy equilibrium
which securi's health, and enables them to make the
most of both mind and body. Often it is the most
iliiflcult part of the daily task, at the appointed hour
to drop tlie work in which tl: -■ mind is so deeply eii-
ijjrosstfd, and to drive one's self forth to tbose mechan-
ical movements of the body which are to sccuir
strenu^th for anoth(!r day.

Some strength and stores of health had been laid in
for me, thanks to my father who gave me first an iron
constitution, and sup})lem<'nted it with that greatest
of earthly blessings, work, in the form of plowinu.
l)lanting, harvesting, and like farm occu}>ation. Ami
I doubt if in all the range of educational processi's,
mental and physical, there is any which equals tlic
farm. In farm labor and management there are con-
stantly at hand new emergencies to cultivate readi-
ness of resource, and the adaptation of means to vml^.
Five years of steady work on a farm is worth more to
most boys than a college education. Later in life it
was oidy by excessive physical exercise that I could
bear the (^xcessive strain on my nervous system. I>y
hard I'iding, wood-sawing, long walks and running, 1
sought to draw fatigue from the over-taxed brain, and
fix it ui)on the nmscles. Often the remedy was worse
tlian the disease ; as, for example, when recreating.
after long and intense application, I invariably felt
worse than while steadily writinji:. Rest and recrea-
tion are pleasurable no less ideally than by contrast :
no work is so tedious as play when we are driven lo
it by necessity.

Kxp:iicisi:.

ci;7

Altliouujh culture is so much loss nocossa.ry to hap-
])iiK'ss tliJiu hcaltli, yt't so fascin,*itiii;jf is (]u> acquisi-
tion of ktiowlcdtro, that wc an! ready to sacrifice all
for it. But iicviT is one so l)CL;;uili'(l as whcu oik; at-
tempts to Ix'i^uilc health. For a day, or a year, or
five years, one may jjjo on witliout re.ipite, hut always
havlni; to pay the penalty witli interest in the i^ml.

In all aids to physical well-heing, the trouhlo is to
hecomo suificii'ntly inten^sted in any of them to esca])e.
weariness. Irksome exercise produces little benefit.
The Instincts of activity nuist not be opposed by
mental aversion. Wearisome amusements are flat
pastimes.

On seatiu!^' myself to years of literary laboi-, I
soucfht in vain some intellectual charm in nuisclc-
making. Thou^di I loved nature, delighting in the
exhilaration of oxygen and sunlight, and in the stinm-
lus of contrary whids, and although I \vell knew that
liberal indulgence was the wisest economy, yet so
eager was I to st;e progress in the long line of woj-k I
had marked out, that only the most rigid resolution
(Miabled me to do my duty in this regard. I felt that
[ had begun my historical efforts late in life, and
there was nmch that I was anxious to do before I
should return to dust. In my hours of recreation I
worked as diligently as ever. I sought such exercise
as hardened my flesh m the shortest time. If I could
have hired some person to take exercise and indulge
in recreation for me, every day and all day, I would
have been the healthiest man in California, Yet
though I sought thus to intensify my exercise so as
to equal m}" desiri's, I could not concentrate the bene-
fits of sunshine, nor condense the air I brt-athcd. J. a
Rochefoucauld calls it a wearisome disease to preserve
health by too strict a regimen. " C'est une en-
nuycuse maladie de conserver sa sante par un tro[)
grand regime."

Nor is the benefit to the mind of bodily exercise
any greater than the benefit to the body of mental

Hsnl

BlllWI

M 3

^^WHi

111

HiH

1 S

^BHb

ii!

WljU|

•

|;<

11'

HODY AND MINI).

cxorciso. Bodily disease is no less certainly engen-
dered when the mind is left unengaged and the body
placed at hard labor, than when the mind is put to
excessive labor and the body left in a state of inac-
tivity. A sound mind In a sound body is only so-
cured by giving both body and iHind their due share
of labor and of rest. Wo are told that wo cainiot
serve two masters ; yot the intelloctual worker whilo
in the Hosh seoms to be under such obligation. If
man wore all aiiimal or all intellect, he could live
completely the animal or the intelloctual life, living
one and ignoring the other ; but being mai\ and undoj-
the dominion both of the animal and of the mental,
there is no other wav than to divide his allciiiance in
such a way as to satisty, so far as possiblo, both.
Further than this, betwoon the ditt'orent niontal facul-
ties and betwoon the ditforont physical faculties, in
like manner as between nu'iital and physical faculties,
there are antagonisms. One organ or faculty is cul-
tivated, in some measure, at tlio expense of some
other organ or faculty. The human machine is capable
of manufacturing a given quantity only of nervous
force, or brain ])ower, and in whatsoever direction this
is api)lio<l, tlua'o will bo the growth. Exact equality
in the distribution of this force would be to the acl-
vantao'e of the man as a whole, but not to society
which is progressional, as loading members crowd
certain faculties at the expense of the others. " Ex-
treme activity of the reflective powers," says Herbeit
Spencer, "tends to deaden the fooling,. , while an ex-
treme activitv of tl ^ feelings tends to deaden the re-
fiective powers."

Excessive brain- )rk is undoubtedly Injurious to
bodily health ; but i ' the evil effects so charged arc
not due to this caust Previous disease, confinement,
or other indirect a*.' ncy often lies back of the evils
laid at the door of Uicntal labor. Indeed, it has been
questioned by physiologists, whether a })erfectly
healthy organization could be broken down by brain-

WOHK AM) won It Y.

!>(;•>

work ; but as tliorc is tin such thin<i; in nature ns a
perfectly healthy or«.5anisin, tlu! matter cjin never Ik?
tested. As brain-work rests on a physujil basi^ and
as there is constant breakint? down in intellectual
labor, just h<»w much should bo attributed t<> tlio
dire<'t infhieiHM! of mind, and how nnich to extrinsic
njfluencc's one cannot say. The body may be alicady
In a sliatti^red state; mind may direct the body into
bad ways, a!id so brini? it to <jjrier; but that the mind,
by fair and honest pressuri; on a juTfect oioaiiism, can
(•rush it, is denied. But T am satifie(l that it is the
confinement attendint;' brain work, rather than brain-
woi'k itself that does the damaijje.

Worry is infinitely more consumin<j; than work.
Doctor Carpenter charL^'S worry and consecjueiil
mental strain as the cause o*' the premature death of
bushiessand pj'ofi\ssu)nal m(>n of the |>i'(-sentday. Can^
is tlu! sword which Damocles sees suspended ov(>r him
by a hair, which disjielsall happiness. Scott, Southey,
and Swift worried themsels t-s to death ; so did Thack-
eray, Greeley, and ten thousand others. The chafings
of the mind are far worse than those of the body. He
who would live long and i)erforn; nmch mental work
nmst fling care t.) tlu^ \vin<ls. Sonu> can do this:
others cannot. A sensiti\i' mind is subject to ij^reater
wear than a mind of coarser ti'xture. The finer the
intellectual fibre the men; care strains it. "The haj)-
pinoss of the great majority of men," says Lecky,
"is far more att'ected by health and by temperament,
resulting from physical conditions, which again physi-
cal enjoyments are often calculated to produce, than
by any mental or moral causes, and acute physical
sufFerings paralyze all the energic^s of our nature to a
greater extent than any mental distress."

The tension such as attends wild s[)eculatit»n is
nmch more wearing than the severest study. "It is
not pure brain work, but brain excitement, or brain
distress, that eventuates in brain degt^neration and
disease," says Doctor Crichton Browne. "Calm,

*''l

: I :

l- 1

670

WODY AND MIND.

vi;^()rous, severe mental lal)or may be far pursued
without risk or tletrimeiit ; but, whenever an element
of feverish anxiety, wearing responsibility, or vexing
chagrin is introduced then come danger and damage.'
Excessive fatigue results in a weakeninij of the facul-
ties and loss of memory.

Francis (ialton claims that Ixme and muscle as well
as genius are j)iaiseworthy and hereditary. Hence
in ills catalogue of great men along with judges,
statesmen, conunanders, scientists, literati, poets, mu-
sicians, and divines, we have oarsmen and wrestler.s.

Obviously tlu; powerful physuiiuo needs more exer-
cise to keep it in health than the puny one. The
weak, delicate woman is satistied with little movinL:
about, while the strong man's muscles ache if they
are long kept idle. Often we see a powerful brain in
a weak body ; l)ut that is usually when the mind has
been cultivated at the expense of the body. A stronu
muscular ))hvsi(iue absorbs the nervous force whicli
might otherwise be employed for brain work. It
draws in several ways: first, in l)odily exertion; then
if the exercise has been vigorous the mind is corrcs
poudlngly fatigued, or at least unfit to resume its
labors until the forces of the l)ody resume, to souk
extent, tlu'ir equilibrium. Again, the intellectual
energies, a great i)ortion of the time, are drowned in
slei'i), the system being meanwhile occupied in tin
great work of digestion, which olniously draws upon
the nervous fore s.

As thou'jht is influenced bv the material channcs
of the brain, so the brain is influenced by the material
i'hanges of the body. Food and the cooking of it
claim no unimportant part in the chemistry of mind.
The psychological etl'ect of diet is not less marked
than the physiological effect. Cookery colors our
grandest efl'orts. The trite saying of the French
" Cost la soupc qui fait le soldat," ap[>lies as well to lit
erature as to war. It is a significant fact that with tli •
revival of learning hi Italy was the revival of cookery.

KXTEllXAL A( ;i:XCIES.

671

For the influence of externals, of extrinsic agen-
cies, of bodily conditions, and changes on states of
mind, we have only to notice lunv our moods are
affected by hunger, cold, heat, fatigue, by disease,
stinmlants, and lack of sleep. Very sensil)ly Doctor
Fothergill remarks: "When the brain is well su})-
[)licd by a powerful circulation, and a rich blood sup-
ply from a good digestion furnishes it with an abund-
ance of i)abulum, the cares of life are borne with
cheerfulness and sustained with equanimity. But
when the physical condition becomes affected, a total
and complete change may be and connnonly is in-
duced." And again, "a disturbance of the balance
l)etwixt the wastes of the tissues and tlie power to
eliminate such waste products is followed by distinct
mental attitudes, in which things ap[)ear widely re-
mote from their ordinary as[)ect. This condition Is
much more common than is ordinarily credited In'
the general public, or even by the bulk of the pro-
fession. The i)hysical disturbances so produced are
distinct irritability and unreasonableness, wiruh is
aggravated by a consciousness that there is an elr-
ment of unreason present — a tendency to be jK'iturbed
hy slight exciting causes, the mental disturbance l>e-
ing out of all })roportion to the excitant."

Yet we must not forget tliat between the body and
mind there are essential diffen.Mu^s, so far as the
acquisition of strength from exercise is concerned.
Laidoubtedly the miii'\ like the body, enlarges and
strengthens with exercise, but not In the same yvo-
jiortion. Every arm, like the bhu-ksmith's, by proper
and persistent effort may be made to swell and harden,
lliough not all in the sanu^ degree; and to a givater
or less extent, beginning M'ith the child, and avoiding
over-strains, any mind may bo trained into something
approaching that of an intellectual athletic. Toward
the accomplishment of such a pur[>os(% necessity and
and)itlon, in that happy mixtuic^ found usually in the
intermediate state between liches and poverty, are

HODV AND MIND.

most conducive to intclk ctual gymnastics. The very
rich and tlic very poor are alike removed, — the one by
hick of opportunity and the other by lack of inclina-
tion, — from long and severe mental effort.

A single glance along the line of names conspicuous
in the empire of letters is sufficient to excite wonder
in us how the strong and sv/elling intuitions of genius
are warped by tlu^ weather of environment. Inspii'a-
tion itself seems but a pai't of that divine machine of
which bodv and mind are the more tanoible en<i:inerv.

Docs not nature make a mistake ini)lacin<; a stroiiu
and subtle intellect in suclv a little crazy withereil
htxly as l)e Quincey's? So weak and insignificant
was it that its owner despised it, often neglecting its
\ idi>ar ci-avinu's bevond the limits of endurance, and
then feeding it o[)ium to keep it quiet. Indeed opiates
and stimulants ])lay no small part in the economy of
inspiration. While the intellect of the great opium
eater was inspired by the hisidious drug, Poe's genius
was enlarged by rum, and Dryden's by a dose of
salts. So ill-suited to each other were l3e Quhicey's
mind and bodv that while the one was absorbed in
some social prol)lem, the otlier was left to starve or
given ten l)oi'rowed shillings to satisfy its hunger, the
owner offering to put up a fifty pound note as security.
For twenty years he was a slave to a vice. Then he
made a fight against it and conquered it. This was
his greatest achievement.

Back among the Athenians we find in the comedy-
writer, Cranitus, another noble example of victory on
the better side. As his years increased his fondness
for wine grew upon him so as to in)pair his intellec t.
For several years his pen produced nothing, and it
was thouu'lit his writiiiix davs were over. But when
very old he appeared before the public with a comedy
which was a satire upon himself, called The Bottle, in
which he acknowledges his desertion of the muse foi
a ncAV mistress, and promised reformation. So

WEAKNESSES OF GREAT MEN.

G73

pleased were tlie Atlieiiiaii critics at this sin;j;iil;\r
l)i'()(.lucti()ii of thtlr old favorite, that tliey awarded
him the prize, though Aristophanes had brou^lit for-
ward ill competition The Clouds which he reoardc d as
one of liis best plays. Theogins found inspiration in
|)otations which left him, as he hhnself says, not ab-
solutely drunk, nor yd (|uite sober. The details of
Poe's foity years of life are not attractive. Ik-
friended as an orphan, he was court-martialcKl at
West Point, and i'eturninL»' to his bencifactor, he was
kicked out of his house for improper conduct toward
tbe vounjji; hostess. After a series of swindl'mLT trans-
actions, and brief low rivin;.ij, he was picked from the
gutter drunk, and in a few hours was dead.

Onco or twice or thrice to risk all to win innnortal
honors is not so strange; but to risk all habitually,
with the one fatal failure certain soonc^r or later to
I omc, is more befitting insanity than genius.

A sad fate was that of William Collins, a foolish
fate, who, because his books did not sell, became dis-
heartened, then took to drink and finallv died insane.
J low many, among the nmltitudes of unsuccessful
and broken-hearted, whose epitaph might be written
in the same words.

Pope drank coffee; Eyron, gin ; Newton smoked ;
Xapok^on took snuft'; Lord Er.skine, opium; and
Wedderburne, when he wished to rouse emotion in
some great speech, put a blister on his breast. Cole-
ritlge, the poet preacher, made himself drunk with
opium, and for the last eighteen j'ears of jiis life was
under the care of a surgeon, in whose house he lived,
1' itzhugli Ludlow ate opium and wrote the JlashccsJt
J'Aifcr. ]\rangan drank li(][uor and ate opium.

Pope was delicate, irritable, unhai>i)3'. At the ago
of sixteen a literary temperament manifested itself in
him as fully as at any later period. Par i)ast mid-
night Charles Landj pored over his belovi'd books,
the ebbing of the brandy in the decanter which was
ever before him, marking the departing hours. Im-

LlT. ISD. 43.

■i lit!

k-'^

674

BODY AND MIND,

patience under confinement, a moral inal)ility to curl)
conduct with conunon-place conventionalisms ap[)ear.s
to be the usual attendant on genius. As Patmoi'c
says of Lamb, "he would joke or mystifv, or pun, or
play the ImfToon ; but ho could not l)riiii:,' himself to
prose, or preach, or jtlay the philosoplier." Hence it
was he "often passed for soniethinuf between an iml)c-
clle, a brute, and a buffoon." In trivial things irreat
minds may find diversion, though fools take })leasui<'
in nothing else. Some can accomplish more drunk
than can others sober.

Human nature has two sides, a sensual and an in-
tellectual one. To the fornuT, even in rude com-
munities, some slight degree of shame intuitively at-
taclies, while a corresponding pride appears upon the
side of the latter.

Most men come honestly enough by their pro-
pensity for drhik. With some it is an inJieritance,
with others the result of circumstances, of association,
of unconcpierable ills. The drinking man is by no
means necessarily a sensualist. The man of large ap-
petite or lust may be his superior in that direction.
There may be a sensualism of dress more disgusting
than the sensualism of driidv.

Literary men are somewhat prone to excesses, and
the orreater their talents, oftentimes the u;reatcr tluii'
intemjierance. If prone to eat, they are gluttons; it'
to drink, they are drunkards; if given to domestic
quarrelling, they are anything but saints in thcii'
households. Deep depression, often bordenng des-
peration, follows great or prolonged effort. In tin'
reaction which follows, hap[)y he who can lapse into
comfort without the aid of think.

The Asiatic we condenni for brin(jin<jf to the pour
and sorrow l^.den the di\dne drug. Very justly W'
condemn them, thcmgh England first thrust it u])iiii
them, for this portable ha])piness is woe unutterable
And yet it is a more refined madness than that whie)i

comes from intoxicating drink.

One engenders uitel-

WINE AND OriUM.

G7d

Icctiial l)liss, wliile the other, after liftiii'rr the l>rutish
}tart of mail iutotlie heaven of sensuous jji^ratificatlon,
phin'..>;es it into an al>yss of besotted stupidity.

Whose is tlie greater wisdom, 1 ask ; or rather, tlic
jjjreater folly, — tlio ij^reater madness ? Which brings to
man the most joy? which cures and kills the most?
Wine colors, war])S, disorganizes, and degrades mind,
exalting passion and fleshly lusts ; opium stinmlatesthc
diviner part, elevates and enlarges iTitellect, and gives
i)rilliancy ami harmony to Ideas. Befon^ we (juarrel
with our Asiatic brother for stimulating the bc-tter
])art of himself, let us abandon tliis pluralizing of our
baser j)ai"t.

The intellectual torpor produced by opium never,
like that ])roduced by wiiu-. reaches absolute moral
insensibility. Throughout all the si)lendid imagery
brought to the brain by the divine drug, the imperial
pomp of nature as displayed in dark tremulous forests,
in broad i)lains, lighted by a spectral sun, in the
eternitv of sparkliii'j; ocean, the <2;or<'eous sky ])ictures,
and the svmidionies of heaveidv hari>inos lK)rne to the
dreamer's car upon the wind, conscience is ever ] (res-
ent with its duties and a[)prehensions mingled with an
epjiressive sense of growing lnca})acity. All the
fu'ulties of mind and bodv are i^rostrate in the Circean
spell, and vet the nii>;htmare of moral resi>onsibilitv is
ever present, and though lifted into celestial realms,
from himself the dreamer cannot escape.

TIk* most muscular men are not always capable of
the orea test endurance ; neither arc thc! stron<»('st men
alwavs the healthiest. He whose arm measui'es ten
iiiclies and lifts with ease six hundred pounds, is not
necessarilv twice as healthv as the man whose arm,
live inches round, raises, with difficulty, three hun-
dred })ounds. The fat, sound man, of ruddy comj>lex-
inii. being in a state of perfect health, is seldom c;ij)a-
Me of accomplishing as nmch labor, or of enduring as
'^reat fatigue, as tlie thin cadaverous person of de-
ranged digestion, or imperfect breathing apparatus.

'if

|J1

' 11

;i! -I

07G

BODY AND MIND.

:i ,1

The f ijxniy Pope,w]i(>so spectral form every ni(M?i-
ing must be wrapjK'd in Hamu'l- to lioltl it toovtlu i'
tluriiio: the dav, and the diminutive and unauhstantial
ojtium-eater, with liis alabaster Hesh, and whose frail
tal)ernaelc was taught to withstand the effects of
three hundred and twentv tjrains of the drut; dailv.
were by their intellects made giants capable of out-
lasting formidabli^ pliysiques.

It was once the fashion for that tremblingly sensi-
tive mixture of love, hate, ecstatic joy, misanthropy
and misery called l)y tiie gods to poesy, to die youi;g.
Like the coral, wliose life is the swallowing of car-
b(^nate of lime, while the upper part is growhig, th(
lower part is dying. Beginning with Chatterton who
died at eighteen, the list eontiimes with Keats' deatli
at twenty -five, Marlowe's at twenty-eight, Shelky's at
twentv-nine, Bvron's at twentv-six, and so on. i>ut
both before and since the apjiearancc of this divine
e})idemie, there were men who did not deem hispiia-
tion incompatible with either conniion sense or Icngtli
of years. Homer lived until long ]>ast eighty; over
his wine cup leered Anacreon at eighty -tive ; King
David was not youmj; when he s<^rrowfullv san<x his
sms away ; Chaucer died at seventy -two. Then tlieie
was a list of earlier departures, such as Shakespeare
at fifty-three, Ben Jonson at sixty-four, Massengcr
and Milton at sixty -six, Dryden and Southy at sixty-
eight, though indeed Wordsworth reached eighty.
The crop oif latter day poets, however, bids fair to
outlast them all. Beginning with Bryant, past eighty,
there were Wliittier, Longfellow, Teimyson, Holmes.
Lowell, and others who "saw no reason why poets
should not live as long as other men.

It should not be forgotten that while engaged in ii
difficult and confmhig "work, a writer is scarcely him
self or anything else. Body and mind both a j in .ni
abnorir>arstate.' Thus it is that wc find the lives et
authors in direct contrast to their teachings. Yet this

XAirUAL AND ACQUIRED ABILITIKS,

677

inspiration, this abnormity, or wliat you will, must
1)0 his who would as[»iro to an inti^lectual st'at very
tar above his fellows. Few are educated Into tjrcat-
noss ; and thoUL'h genius of any quality short of in-
spiration must have cultivation before it has com-
pleteness, ac(juisition alone never yet made a man
famous. Nor do great men make j)rimary use of edu-
cation in building their ladder to fame.

(Jlauce over the names of those most eminent in
England during the last three centuries, and we find
rcmarkablv few of them who went through a rcLiular
course t/f instruction at a [)ul)lic school. Thi' Etl'm-
hiiri/h Jicrlciv gives the names of twxiity poets, a dozen
plillosophers, and a score or so of the first writci's in
morals and metaphysics who were not educated at
what that journal calls a })ul)lic school.

Xow mental cultivation is a good thing, a grand
thing, but it is not everything. It is what our mother
nature does for us, as well as what we do for our-
selves that mak(>s us what we are. All great men
j'.re men of natural abilities. If they are cultivated
^.o much the better. It is only cultivated genius that
reaches the highest realms of art; but if the nrenius
b ' not theri\ no amount of cultivation Avill produce it.
You may dig and dung your garden through twelve
successive springs, if there are no seeds in the ground
t!i(>re will be no ilowers. You may rub, and blanket,
;iiid train your horse until doomsday. If then; be no
speed in him he wins no race. Cultivation, in the
;il)sence of natural abilities, is like undertaking to
kindle the edixe of ocean Into a llame ; there is no
l)laze from it.

Genius itself cannot tell what it does not know\
( )ne nmst learn before one can histruct; nor is it wise
to attempt to define a thing without knowing what it
is. Better that the orations of Dcnujsthenes sliould
smell of th(^ lamp, as Pytheas, from the manifest
libor bestowed u)tonthem coniplained, than that they
should fall unheetled to the -ground. Historical and

i nl

1 iH

078

IJODY AND xMIND.

scientific facts do not sprin;^ from inspiration. Yet
there is sucli a tliln<>; as stitling genius by an over-
weiglit of learning. The Paradise hid begun by
^riiton in his fifty -cightli year is an example. The
subject is wholly ideal, and if undertiiken in the au-
thor's younger days, before his mind was buried be-
neath a mountain of classical machinery uhich marred
his su])ernatural concej)tlons, would have been as
matchless as any of Shakespeare's ])roductions.

Nevei-theless, let all men beware of genius. We
cannot judge fairly of genius by its work. As well
determine the slimy bottom of a })ool by the silver
skv reflected from its surface. A genius Is a cross
between an angel and an ape. Genuis is a ciseasi'
which blossoms like the measles or small-pox. It is
an intellectual excrescence, wart, or bunion. A hair
divides its destinv ; the road on one side leading to
the insan(> asvlum, that on the other to innnortal m-
tellectualitv. One thinu" is certahi ; ujenius mav
ripen and burst without aid, but the result de})cnds
upon labor. Never yet a genius made a lasting im-
i)rcssion upon the world without work. All great
men are workers. Wlio ever heard of a painter,
sculptor, musician, or author, who was not burden-
bearer and laboirr, beside which occui)atioas hod-
carrying and sand-shovelling are pastimes?

licncc.' men should be careful how they affect the
eccentricities of genius, lest, failing, they should show
what thev are — fools. StrikiiiLj out of the beaten
})ath in dress, belief, or behavior, one may reach a
[>ictures(]ue eminence or fall into a quagmire. As a
rule we may be pretty sure that those who find them-
selves forced bv internal enyinerv to cast off tradi-
tional circumlocution, and strike at once at the root.
of tlungs, are not the men to study long over the latest
tie of the cravat, or shape of the boot-toe. And so
eccentricity of dress and behavior always attend men
of genius. But that which in the brainless dandy
is affectation, in the man of genius is individuality,

GEXIU.S.

079

as much a jiart of the man as folly is of the fool.
A ncnius is ouc who Is singular in oroat things; and
this is scarce! V i)ossible without bein*; slnuular in
little tilings.

Pure n cuius displays its presence the moment
opi)ortunity otteis, whether at the a^e of six or
sixty years. Nothin_t»" ln)Wi;ver denotes more ])laiidy
^Xvu'iUH iiK 1 1 (JVC so i, thaw its manif('statiou in childhood
and youth. Sir Walter Scott's little favorite Mar-
jorie Flemino' displayed a most peppery power with
tonj^uc; and pen at the aijje of six. Bryant wrote
T/KDialojisix at eighteen, an<l ))ul)lislu'd a I/istor)/ of fhc
I'liital NaU'H at eij^hty, thus disi)uting the adage vlto
ntatnnni), cito juitridiim.

" Southey," said (.\)leridge, "]iossessed, hut wns not
possessed hy his genius." So it was witli ]Janiel
Wehsti-r. The man was more than tlie talents; the
inspired forces were held in suhjection hy a trained
•ndomitahle will. All his vast brain resources were
under connnaml of a disciplined mind, and (piickly re-
sponded to its call. Here is an instance,' where a com-
manding frame comes into play; ])ut Webster's mind
into ])e (^uincey's body, and the man never would be
heard from.

In Campbell and Goldsmith wcic mingletl, in an
extraordinary degree, the sublime and the ridiculous.
1\) great fastidiousness, Cam])l)ell added intense self-
consciousness which well-nigh destroyed his ])oetic
talents. Goldsmith, after Inning failed in divinity,
law, and metlicine, aftt'r having re})eatedly gaml)le(l
away his last farthing, and after having tram|>ed the
continent as an itinerant flute-})layer, finally took to
literature, at which, for the remainder of his days, he
iked out a ])recarious existence, his poverty nauseated
now and then by a gorgeous suit of silk or satin.
Sti'ange that the same man can be at once so wise and
so foolish!

Of wliat sort of stuff was made the brain of
Theodore Hook ? As a diner-out, rather than as a

^'\

i>L.

id ''ilHI
I"

•Mi

il
1-1 ■

k ■

((SO

1501 )Y AND MINI).

writer, IiIh tjjonlus slione brlylitost. As inus'icluii and
imiirovisjitori' in ('xttin[)()niiu'<»UH nu'loclnunas, aiul iu
wlilcli, not unfre(]uently, isvcry stanza contained an
rpiL^iani, lio iH'vcr was tM|uallcd. Witli t'X<[uislt(.; hu-
mor and inoxhaustihlo prodi«^mrity ho sliowcrcd ]mns.
h<)n-iiU)U, and anocdotus on every side. Validy liave
otlu>rs tried to imitate lihn; tlie counterfeit of genius
is easily detected.

liy llvinjji; simply and writinjjj only wh(>n in the
mood, Whittier attained a rii»e and lu'aceful old au;e.
^[. Thiers was worried to death; he did an Imniensi'
amount of work, hut it was not lahor hut nervous
anxiety that killed him. He hated noisy men and
noisy nature.

^[ortimer Collins worked until two o'clock at nii^lit
and ro;:;G at ei«>ht. The forenoon he took for reerea-
tion. ]\[ost men of u,(^nius attribute success in any
direction to severe api)licati(»n rather than to any
special tak>nt. Says ])octor Johnson, "Excellence in
any department can now he attained by the kihor ot'
a lifetime, hut it is not to he purchased at a lesser
price." "Nothinti^ is impossible to a man who can
and will," savs ^lirabeau. "This is the onlv law <>t
success." "The dilference between one man and an-
otlur is nf)t so nmch in talent as in enerLjy," writes
])octor Ai'nold : and Revnolds remarks, "Nothin«>; is
dt'nied well-dh-ected labor, and nothing is attained
without it." Turner Avhen asked, "What is the secret
of your success ?" replied, "I have no secret but hard
work." Of tlie great army wlu) i)lan, comparatively
few accomplish anything; in the brain even of tlie
hardest worker arc conceived many more volumes than
are ever brought forth. Sir AVilliam Hamilton had a
dozen imwritten volumes in his mind when he died ;
in fact it would be more dithcult to find one writei'
who had not died with unfinislied projects, than
one hundred who had. As Charles Lamb said of
Coleridge, that he died leaving "forty thousaml
treatises on mcta})hyplcs and divinit}', not one < !'

HABITS OF AUTHORS.

681

tliciu coiniJetc." Uiiwrittoii books cut no figure in
liUnituro.

Far above the creature is tlie creator. Who wou'kI
not ratlier be Sliakcspeare than the llvintx eniboui-
nicnt of any even of his t^ranilest or most euvial)le
heroes or lu'Voines?

.[olm Stuart jNlill's liabit was to write every book
(»ver at least twice. At tlie first writiuiui; was infused
the fresh viiujor <»f conce|»tion; the second, wliicii
secured greater stri'n<j;tli and ]>recislon, incorjxnated
tlie better ]iart of the first writing witli wJiatever
occurred to tlie mind subsecjueiitly.

])ickens wrote onlv four lK)urs, nnmelv, from tin
till two. His sentences were often verv lal)ored, be-
in;4 in this res}»ect in marked contrast to the ease and
ia|>idity with which Sir Walter Scott wrote. The
banker-poft, Rogers, in whom talent and wealtli wen;
found united to laborious ajiplication in a rare degree,
sju'iit seventeen years writing the J'lr(is'i(r(s of Mcmori/.

James Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, wrote while
sitting on the hills tending liis slice)). His knees
were his desk, and his ink-bottle he carried suspended
from his buttonhole. With him writing was no small
])hysical feat. Taking off his coat and rolling up his
sleeves, he went at it as if about to knock down men
instead of ideas. IrEazlitt wrote under immediate in-
s[)iration, without study of the subject or fore-thought.
As his pen was ins[)ired he could write when and as
much as he chose. J le wrote with incredible ra[)idity,
(iften e(juivalent to fifteen octavo ])rinted ])ages at a
sitting of three or four hours ; and he seldom made
any alteration. Indeed, he could scarcely bring hiin-
s(df to read over what he had written, and he never
derived any pleasure from reading anything of his
own in print. Unlike Pygmalion, he never was guilty
of falling in lo^■e with an object of his own creating.

For prodigious work commend me the (jerinan.
Besides utilizing the brains of others he makes the
most of his own, holding rigidly to early rising, siin-

' $1

,"if

BODY AND MIND.

j)l(^ diet, and rcLfular liourn. Eatiiiuj and drinkni<4' ho
jM»st])()nc'S ill a «;rt'at measure until after liis davs work
is done, and lunce anionj;' its otiier Itunlens, the l)rain
does not liave tiie horrors of indi<;(!stion laid ui><»n it.
'^riie afternoon hv s|)ends with his family and friends.
" What a comnjent on our si)asm()die autliorsliip I" ex-
claims Hurst. '* Many an American when lie gets
throiiuh his work is actuallv half dead from the ah-
Kciici^ of all social relaxation. He hecame shy of so-
ciety, and considered every hour anioiiji; his fiiends as
so much lost time. The result was that he losttlesh,
spirits, and tlu! indisjuiisahle pluck for new under-
takinii;s. The German, on the other liand, knows
tlu! liiji,h science of com[)ressiniij as much work as )>os-
sihk; into his morninL''s, and as much play as possihle
into liis afternoons and eveninus."

For years it was my custom to rise at seven, break-
fast at half i»ast seven, and write from eij^ht until one,
when I lunched or dined. The afternoon was devoted
to rcK'reation and exercise. Usually I would jj;et in
an hour's writin*;' before a six o'clock tea or dinner, as
the case mi^ht be, and four hours afterwards, making
ten hours in all for the day ; but interruptions were
so constant and fre(|ueiit, tliat inclmling tlie many
lonu: seasons durinn* which I hermited mvself in the
eountrv, where I often devoted twelve aiul fourtec ii
hours a day to writinjj,-, I do not think I averaged mori-
than eijjfht hour's a day, takiiii^ twenty years together.

Wlien I first began to write, composing was a very
labored operation. !My whol(> miLi* was al)sorl)ed in
liow, rather than what. But gradually I came to
tliink less of myself and the ii{.ui?ier of expression, and
more of what I was saying. Comparatively little of
my woi'k was of a character which admitt(>d of fast
writing. When full of my subject I could writi'
rapidly, that is to say from twenty to thirty manu-
s( ript pages in a day ; or counting by hours and meas-
uring by another's capabilities, about one quarter as

WAYS OF lIANlJlTXt; ^^ATI:I;IAT,.

{•.sn

iinich as irazlltt, tlmu^^li tlin*' tiuKs altovo tlu^ aver-
ajjo. IiicludiiiLT ''('ttiM"^ out and ari'aii'Mii'>' mv ma-
tcrial, and stialy'iML? my suljtrct, I could imt avi'i-ayf
duriii'^ tlio year more tliau ci-jlit l»adl\' scnttclit d
i'.iauuscri])t ])a/j('.s a tlay, or at tluvratcot' oiio an liour.
In jtmparln^; for me tlio rou^li matcilal from tlio
Mutes, mv assi.^taiits would not avera'jo over four
i:iaMUS('n[)t i)a;_«'eH a day.

" En t'erivant ma penst'es, elles lu'ediappt; f[uelqne-
fois," says Pascal. Sometimes a ilood ef tli<uiL;lit
would como rusliinj^in uiioii ine, like a torrent cuer-
Avlielmiii^' its l)anks, and I would lose tliu ni'ea(( r
])art of it; at other times so confused and slothful
would 1)0 my hrain, that in turnin.^ over the ',avcs of
I, IV dictionary I would for<j-et the word I was lookni'--
fir. Tills was more })articularly the case <lurlML;' ihe.
tarlier part of my llti'ra'y career; later my mind he-
c;;me more tractable, and I never waited for either
ideas or words.

There are many methods of gatherinc^ and arrant;-
iiiLj information juid puttinj;' it into nadahle shajie. Tiio
novelist has one way, the s})t'cialist another, tlie l:is-
torian a third, necessarily different, each yaryin^^ in-
dividually according" to cast of mind and hahit. As a
rule the best plan is to imbue the mind so thoroughly
^\■ith the subject to be treated as U) be able lirst t<>
arran;4e the matter properly in the mind, and the ii
commit it to paper.

Another way, not perhaps the best way, is'to write
reading, and read writin«jf; that is, it is ncjt tlu.' best
\v;iy, proyided one has the memory and mental <h;;-
( i[)linc to p^ather, arrauL^e, and retain the necessary
f ;cts and produce them as reijuli'ed. In certain hinds
cf writinijf, I first draw from my own brain until its
1'. sources are exhausted; then taking- up one author
after another, I learn what otlu-rs have tliou^ht and
said upon the subject. In the intercourse of my mind
with other minds, new thoughts are eng(^ndered,
which arc likewise committed to paper, after which

i.ii
I'l'.'ii

,*1;'B

I'.-i

■ i

!". i

684

BODY AND MIXD.

all is, or slioul(ll)0, rc-aiTan;j;'C(l and rc-wiittcn. Pliny
and others liavc said that one sliouhl read nuicli
hut not many bo(jks. This was well enough as a doc-
trine l)oforc history and science had extended the
ran'jfe of knowledtj^e beyond the limits of a few books.
Now, to be well read, one must read many books ;
buyinuf a cyclo[)odia will not answer the purpose.
Hamilton says, "An intellectual man who is forty
years old, is as much at school as an Etonian of four-
teen."

Tlie first presentiment of a subject, the first flusli
of an idea, is tlie one a writer sli(»uld never fail to
seize. Like the flash and report of tlie signal gun t;>
the belated hunter, lost after ni^;! it- fall in the dark
forest, tlie way for the moment seems clear, but if not
Instantly and earnestly followed it is soon lost. Says
(loethe in Faust: '' Wenn ihr'o niclit flililt, ihr
werdet's nlcht erjagen."

In diet and drink every one should be governed by
his own experiencb. To universal rules of liealth J
pay little attention. Nature has given me a J'ljy.^i-
cian in every organ of my body, which, If the ajipe-
tlte bo natural, prescribes only what is best, and cries
loudly against unwelcome guests. If I pay heed to
these friendly admonitions I am well; if carried away
by excitement, pleasure, or morbid a]>petite, I conmiir
excesses, cither by over-doing or under-doing I mu t
pay t]ie penalty.

In the free and natural flow of ideas in writiii.:,
the position nmst be neither too easy nor too con-
strained; as the former tends to inanity, while tlie
hitter distracts the mind from the sulyect in hand ami
fixes it U[)on muscuhir discontent. A jierson c;i:i
write better in one cha'ir than another, in one room
tliau another, in one locality than another. In chang-
ing one's locality there Is always some loss t)f tinii',
Tliouijht is sometimes a litth; fri'akv. Chan'>'e ^r
room, a rearrangement of books and papiers ofti ;i
breaks the current of thought, and severs the subtil'

INTITJlUrXIO^TS.

GGo

connection l)etM'(-eii mind and its surronndin<:>'S. S(\":t-
inix nivsolf Jit my tal)lu in the morning; and pooin;^ all
VAX })ripcrs as they were left, I take up the tliivr.d
wiiorc I drojipod it the ni;j;ht l)ofore.

InttTruptiv>ns are fatal to g(»t»d work. Even thouLijli
o:ie has tlie faculty of takinj^ up the thread of tliou!.']it
Avlicro it was laid down, there Is still a ;j;r(>at dili'er-
cnce in the results of a whole day and of a broken
day.

AVhilc at the library my time was tj^reatly broken by
callers. Frequently I have bc^'un on ]\Ionday n\orn-
hi'j; to write and bv the time I was fairlv seated and

*' ''11

mv thou'ihts arran!>('d, I would be comiK'Hcd to l)rrak
off. After an interval of a ludf hour, pi'rhaps, I
mij;ht be permitted to try it at;"ain, and with the same
r; svdts. So passed ISTonday, Tu<>sday, lialf the we( k,
(1' the whole of it, and n«»t five paj^es written. Oft-u
1:1 a fit of desperation I have seized a handful of worlc
;;:id rushed into the country, where I could count wi:.h
: ;>:iie de-'ree of certaintv upon mv time. Trulv, sa\s
I'lorence Nightingale"! Jiavc never known persons
who exjiosed tlu>nu'.( Ivc'S for years to constant inter-
ruptions who did not nmddle away their intellects by
it at last."

In January, 1870, I left San Francisco in one of
these moods suddenly, and whik^ under a st-nse of sonie-
tliing akin to dispalr. It s<>enied as though my work
would stretch out to all eternit)-. Wliilo hi the city,
week after week passed by with tiothing accomplished,
and I determined to cut loose from these interru[»tions
at whatever cost. So, bundling tlu; jvijters bi'foi'e me,
eliiefly memoranda f)r genei'al cbai>ters, I steppid
aboard the boat and that night slept at my fatln I's.
The next day I sent down for a l)ox of Popiihir Tri-
ftnmJs and other material, and during the m^xt six
wi'eks of a ' .pie life, without interru})tions, a<'coni-
jtlished more in a literary way than during any oiht i-
six weeks of my life. I worked from t(>n to tw 1 1\ c
] lours, and averaged twenty jiages of maimscrlpt a

I i

6S6

T?ODY AND MIND.

■ii

clay, rodo two hours, except rainy days and Sundays:
ate heartily, drank from lialf a bottle to a bottle of
claret or sherry before retiring, and smoked four or
five cigars daily. This, however, was more of a strain
tlian my S3'stcm could bear for any length of time. I
did not break down under it; I only shifted my posi-
tion. The mind fatigued with one class of Avork ofttn
finds almost as nmch rest in change as in rep(»se; just
as the laborer by chango of occupation brings into
l)lay a new set of nmscles, giving rest to the otliers.

Thc! glare from white papi'r sivmed at times move
trying to my eyes than even constant daily and niglitly
use of tliem when writing on a chirk surface. It wa.-
not until after several years of suffering that a sinipli
remedy occurred to me. ^Fy eyes had always been
good. I believed them capable of any enduraiKr,
and consequently ]>nid little attention to tliem until
they began to fail me. In smoked glass I found some re-
lief But the best tiling by farwastlie useof dark paper.

Tlierc were two possil)ilities Avhich would foici'
themselves upon my mind at intenals: One was tire,
and tlic other death before the completion of my
Work. So unmannerly are these ruthless destroyers
tliat I could hope for no consideration from either ot
them on the ground of necessity. Imperious death
seiMued indc^ecl to regard my labors grudgingly; not
less tlian eleven of mv library men died durimj; tlio
progress of my work; I could only solace myself by
workhiii tlie har<ler. I often thoui>ht of Cuvi< r.
whose paralysis struck him while actively engaged in
thc arranging (.T a large accunnilation oi' seientilic
matei'ial. Said he to ISI. Pascpiier, "I had girat
things still to do; all was ready in my head. Afti i'
thirty years of labor and researcli, there remaiiwd
but to write, and now the hands foil, and carry with
them the head." Oh! thou great sh an u^ of natmv:
will no Hercules ever rise and strangle tliec? "On
n'a point pour la inert de dispense de Rome," sighs
Molibro.

MELA^C1I0LY.

C87

At certain periods of my life my breast has been
torn by conHicting pain and ])assion preying like a
vulture on the undecavinL!; vitals of a Tit\ os. At
such times when I would writ(.' of iirief I had only to
dip my pen in my own heart, and bitterness would
iiow from it. Yet all this siJiunii' from tlie coloring'
which temperament threw on outward thhigs. As
Wordsworth said of Turner's picture of Jessica on
exhibition in Somerset house, so I would sav of cir-
tain creations of my fancy. "It looks to me as if the
l)ainter had mdulged in raw Uver until he was very
unwell."

'•B«)dily affliction," says Bain, "is often the cause of
.i ♦ ^,al chanije in the moral nature." So mii>ht we
-iis of mental affliction, or of anv kind of misfortune
oi- woe. Under mental torment not less than whin
in fleshy pains, the de\ il wliis})ers us, likii the com-
forters of Joh, to curse (Jod and die. AnKmg tl.e
most miserable of mei> that ever lived was William
Hazlitt; ami that not 1)ecause of bodily infirmities,
fi'om which he was not for a moment free, but chieHy
because thosi' strong affections which cfnistanily burmd
within him were left unfed bv fittinijc obiects, an(' so
consumed the cankered and corroded frame that bound
them. As Sauit Beuve says: "One does not a])pre-
( iat( the beautiful to such a degree of intensity and
delicacy. ssitlMUit behig terribly shocked at the bad
and vht ugh.'

T do jiot Set up for a man of sorrows. I am not
given to st in)e»,-; and moroseness. I have often
tlirough weariness fallen, into iliscouragenient; but
such blueness was only momeiitaiy. Whenever I
returned to my work after nee I'ssary ri'st it was
always with cheerful hope. Best n-moves niountahis.
1 would not have about me hi my family, my library,
< r my bushiess a sighing, despondent, croaking in-
dividu.. Until I began literary life I never thought
ef si;.-: ^hings as nervousness, nxMital strain, or
scarcely •..! gviieral health. Most of all I dcspisct'

■(■; :£l

mm-

I ■■

y i^

CSS

BODY AND MIXD.

tlie tliouo-ht of layinix infelicities of temper at tlio
door of mental labor. I regarded it cowardly and
untrue. But after a time I was forced to clianoo
these; opinions.

Sometimes the fire of disease so kindles the brain
as to cause it to throw off sparkling thoughts, just as
I have heard vocalizers say that they could sing best
with a cold oi sore throat, and speakers that they were
never so fluent as when under the influence of fever
— instance Douglass Jerrold whose wit was nevei
keener, or his thoughts more poetical than when his
body lay stretrh'^'! hi suflering. For fifteen years
Edward Mayhev s unable to use his limbs, and
yet with lirains aloi; did he so successfully fight life's
battle as to leave an undying name.

Often one is heard to say that inspiration conies
not at the bidding, that Pegasus will not always re
spond to the whip; that one's best is bad enough, and
that the tired worker sliould stop; that literary lali( i
is difl'erent from mechanical labor, and tlir.t the head
sliould be made to work only when it feels inclined.
There is truth in this doctrine, but there is llkewisr
error. At every turn in my literary labors I found
method essential; not alone to utilize the labor <t
others, but to accom]»lish results satisfactory in my
own producing. Unable to work entirely by the
clock like Southey, who had not only his hours for
writing but his hour in each day for the several kinds
of literary occupation resulting hi his hundred and
more volumes, it would not answer for me to trust
like Coleridge to hispiration, lest it should not conn'
Avhen needed, nor to fly from one piece of work to
another, like Agassiz, as fancy dictated.

Yet wliile method is above all thhigs necessary in
anv ijreat undertakinu', there is such a tliiiijj in literal v
eflbrt as excess of system, which tends to painful
monotony, particularly in the execution of a plan.

It is all very well to lay down rules, to write witli
watch and mirror before one's face, like Dickens, leady

RULES AND REGULATIONS.

to stop wlicncver the hour is up, or the veins bcirin to
swell —that is to say for those who can kee}) such
rules. It is by no means difficult for nie to tell my-
self the best things to do; it is easv^ to tell the loco-
motive it had better stop instantly when a wheel
cracks.

Tliero is no end to the rules and resjulations I have
made to govern my writing. I believe in them, i^'et
as it is impossible for man to make laws more power-
ful than liimself, I do not hesitate to break my rules
whenever occasion seems to demand it. Oft^n I
have said to myself, I wi'^ continue while I am in tlie
spirit, I will write while i cuu, and rest when I can-
not write. A writer with a stronj:^ constitution can
indulge in those insane excesses which would kill a
weaker maiL

Se'if-knowlcdge is the sum of all knowledge. IVIan
is to man the central mystery, the unravelling of
which would give him tlie key to the universe. Were
it ])ossible to })h<>tograph a human soul, to display in
visible ] )( )rtraiture the ethereal light and shade whicli
clieer and darken a human life, to see for one brief
moment the transfixed workings of that subtle cliem-
istry which now Impelled by passion, and now re-
strained by prejudice regulates the thoughts and
doings of the man, there would be no further need
(if less<ms from our great teacher, — -nature.

It has seemed to me at times as if I was filled wUli
tlie poetic instinct but without poetic expression; that
my poor inspiration was born dund). Often after tlie
f'iose of business, before I had ever thouo-ht of writln<j;
1 looks, have I walked out alone, up one street and
<lown another, for hours and far into the night, st;ir-
gazing, thinking, connnuning, the dim and pal[»ltating
light singing me a soul-song, and i)laying with tlu;
<lim and palpitating light which so feebly filled my
liraln.

I have no such flooding fantasv now as then. Per-

LIT. IND. 44.

''/•I

i I

I' ^1

t{' ^1

:',''.

BODY AND MIND.

haps the brain wearies of its fruitless scintillations as
one grows older, and the ideal ether of youth is cleared
of many crude imaginings, or else the mind has found
some relief in words. These were intense lonyjinos
for I know not what; unintelligible somethhigs, it
appeared to me, floating on the confines of thought,
dimly discernible to a vivid imagination, but imper-
ceptible to sober meditation ; murnmrings they some-
times appeared as they came floating over the sea of
conscience from the far distant horizon; heavenly
heart-burnings, or the soul-rumblings of an eternal
unrest, the unconscious respiration of the immortal in
us — myriads of formless perceptions thus come strug-
gling to find expression, like the disembodied soul
spiritualists tell us of, that hover near their friends
endeavoring to hold communion with them.

Then again it would seem as if all the powers of
my brain were held in solution, my thoughts all airy
nothings without sequence or continuit}^ unintelligi-
ble communion with unintelligible nature, and with-
out the alchemist at hand which should change to
useful metal or compact crystal this incoherent
mixture.

Day-dreaming, hovrever, was never profitable to
me; nor, so fiir as I could judge, were these star-liglit
musings. The real has always been more satisfying
than the fanciful. Yet I must confess I sometiiiK s
found these longings delicious, significant as they wciti
of the warm breathings of immortal affections.

Not unfrequently the most unaccountable freaks
of indisposition seize the steady literary worker.
Even the iron constitution of Mr Oak was not fr '^
from them, and, indeed toward the end he almost
broke down. On one occasion while I was at White
Sulphur springs he wrote me — it was the 3d of April.
1877 — "I feel as well in most respects as I ever did,
and my head is as clear as a bell, but I cannot slee}>~ -
even in the morning ! I find it impossible to fix my
mind on any definite point of ray work. For several

SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE.

691

to
;-llt
II 1^

days I have done but little more than sit at my table
and wonder why, feelinji^ so well, I cannot work. I
have tried writing all night, but I cannot got sleepy ;
have walked the skin off my feet, and have ridden
all day Sunday, but I cannot get fatigued. I presume
the affair will come to a focus, however, very soon."

Again the 24th of May he writes — "Although my
general liealth is much improv(>d, in fact as good as
usual, or even better, yet I still find myself unable to
work otherwise tlian mechanically. My active and
real interest in your work wliicli for many years,
through sickness and health, laziness and its opjKtsite,
despondency and g(H)d spirits has never weakened,
and which has I hope made my services of some valu«^
to you, has now for the most part gone, and I find
that mere industry will not take its place, especially
in the work I have now in hand."

Rest was all that he needed, however, for after a
few weeks in the country he was himself again. In-
somnia has often been complained of by the men in
the library.

As regards societv and solitude both are necessarv,
but here as elsewhere extremes should be avoided,
(ioethe says, "in solitude talents are best nurtured,
in the stormy billows of the world character is best
found." The tendency with me during my periods of
severest labor, as with every hard-worker, was more
and more towards alonencss. And tlie l(!ss I met and
conversed with men the more distasteful was it to
me. It is true I was peculiarly situated. With hun-
dreds of highly intellectual persons on every sidi; of me,
there w j few whose tastes or halnts led them in tlie
direction of my labors. Those from whom I could
learn the most, who were most familiar with the
direct line of my investigations, I sometimes culti-
vated; but as a rule I found books more profitable
than social intercourse, so much so that the time spent
talkintr with men and women seemed to me lost. It

\yil

BODY AND MIND.

is only wlicn a man is alone that he is wholly hun-
self. The presence of others throws him upon his
oruard and teaches him for the sake of their good
opinion to don the most pleasing mask at his com-
mand. "It is a great error," says Hamerton, "to
encourage in young people the h)ve of noble culture
in the hope that it may lead them more into wliat is
called good society. High culture always isolates,
always drives men out of their class, and makes it
more difficult for them to share naturally and easily
the common class-life around them. Th(\y sc^ek the
few comi)aiiiojis who can understand them, and when
these are n<^t to be had within any traversable dis-
tance, they sit and work alone."

I could not separate myself entirely from solituth;
or from society ; yetneither in tliemselves were wholly
satisfying. Of the two I preferrcnl the former; but
when I was without a ftimily I fv-lt the need of som(>-
thing to which I might anchor the time that exhaus-
tion would not pcnnnit me to fill in with mental appli-
cation, and which was occupied with recreations that
irave a sinister bias to what should have been strength-
restoring pastime.

Say what you will of the benefits of social int(>r-
course, an uitellectual man can spend but little tltue
in unintellectual society except to his disadvantage.
He who seeks true culture shouhl seek the society of
his superiors, or, at all events, of those whose studies
in certain directions have made them more than ordi-
narily familiar with their respective specialties. To a
sensil)le person current society is a lame affair; an
intellectual man finds it specially insipid. It is a
sham of every depth and coloring. Like tiverything
simulated and artificial there is enough of sincerity to
hold it in form, and no more. Men and women,
prompted by vanity or ambition, meet and call it
pleasure, or improvement.

To most of them it is a bore, but they feel it a
kind of obligation in return for their title of respecta-

OPEN AIR LIFE.

6'X\

bility. Evcsry fnnn of conversation approaching" tlie
inU'llectuiil is tal>oo(!(l, even sliould learncil and intel-
ligent pcoi)le thus chance to meet.

England, by law, makes sleeping in the open air
puuishaltlc as an act of vagrancy. California lias no
HLU'h law. It has been rather the fashion here to sleep
h, la belle etoile from the first. The al)<>rii>ines never
wasted niin'h time building houses; tlie padres and
the'ir followers thought it no great hardship) to sleej*
under the trees; the miners made it a constant prac-
tice, and durino- the last decade the custom has orovvn
up( )n })leasuro-seekers.

Every sunnm^r the <lells and openings of the Coast
range are nuTry with the voices of tlios(^ who, tired
of luxury and of tin; monotony of aipiiet life, abandon
their comfortable homes for the fascinations of sa\ag-
isin. Some have their regular camping-ground which
they occui>y year after year, either owning the land
or having sonu^ iirrangenu'nt with the owner; others
with teams, cooking utensils, and blankets, sometimes
with and sometimes without tents, travel in various
directions, up and d(nvn the Coast range or across
to Yosemite or other parts of the Sierra.

Caujping is quite an art. Let not the inexperi-
enced treat lightly its mysteries. No great talent is
necessary for one, or two, or three men to start on an
excursion, hunt all day, and at night cook their supper
and roll themselves in their blaidcets for sleep; but a
AVell regulated first-class cam[) is (piite a diH'erentatlair.

First a site nmst be selected with due I'egard to
water, game, and general surroundings. The further
removed it is from the highways of civilization, the
more communication and conveniences will have to be
given up. Then to provide for the necessities of a
jiarty of men, women, and children for weeks or
months, to prepare sleeping acconnnodatitms, lay in
stock of provisions, and gc^t all upon the ground in
jtroper shape is no small matter. The party once hi

111

''■■:■ li
V

Li:

■■3

694

BODY AND MIND.

camp, the idiosyncrasies of each are brought out in
hold relief; the strong men appear stronger, the silly
girls sillier, the efficient matron more efficient, and if
the boy has any manliness it is sure to show itself now.
The good and bad qualities of both old and youtig
force themselves in spite of their owners to the front.

Camping tries the strings of friendship. It does
not do as a rule for those who would retain a chival-
rous respect for one another long to remain in camp
together. It is easier for the civilized man to play
the savage than for the savage to play a civilized i)art.

Not all can throw off even the outer trappings of
conventionalism and still display a smooth symmetri-
cal fiirure. Not all can be themselves ojracefullv.
Not all can let in upon their true selves the unob-
structed light to their credit.

There is reality to camp life as well as romance;
pain as well as pleasure. To leave the dusted fog of
the city for some warm sj-lvan retreat; to lay aside
tlie chains of society and be free for a time; to roam
the hills by day with deatli-dealing breech-loaders,
lord of the ground-squirrel and the hare; to lie at
night upon the ground watching the twinkling stars
peep tiirough the buckeye branches, to sleep famicd
by the cool, dry, hivigorating air, and in the morning
to be wakened by bands of feathered songsters, who;"
nuisic no human strains can equal; to plunge into th<'
stream and play fish, mingling with the respective
members of the fish family, now with crab and now
with trout, gulping and spouting and splashing with the
})est of them, looking down upon the variegated pebbl\'
bottom, looking up the sides of the canon walls who.sn
summits reach the skies, becoming one with nature,
becoming nature herself, the chief difference between
us and our companion, bears and alligators, being tliafc
we know how to cheat — all this is most exquisite; but
every human heaven has its Acheron-pit not far hence.

The Californian camper for his sins is placed 1»e-
neath a broiling sun so hot as to melt bones and evap-

CAMPmO.

695

orate brain; streams come pantin<]f from the liills
bereft of every refreshinj^ quality save wetness, and
the noiseless breeze is stifling as from an oven; li/artls
creep over the blistering stones, and the heated sands
in treading on them feel to the feet like the newly
emptied ashes of a furnace; glistening snakes trail
tlirough the silvery ineand(3scent grass, and bloodless
winged insects dance throuofh the short day of tlu-ir
existence. Every cool shade is preempted by nuis-
quitos, and every inviting nook entertains with poison
oak. Beft)re the tired hunter who, with blisttircul
f(;et and lacerated limbs climbs the craggy hills, tlu;
game flees yet weary miles away, and the patient fish-
erman sits by the stream all day witlu^ut a nibble.
Add to these evils rats and reptiles as bed-fellows, the
burnings of indigestion arishig from the poorly ct)<)k((l
meats, and the little bickerings and disagreements
inseparable from all but the most sensible or amial)le
of associates, and the universal law of compensation
a[»jiears here as elsewhere in human affairs.

Often have I thrown myself weary upon a grassy
bank inviting to repose, only to find myself stung with
nettles and buzzing bugs about my ears, or ants and
reptiles crawling over me. Physical enjoyment is not
the highest or most refined species of pleasure; yet
of all physical pleasures none disi)lay tastes so savage
or which are in themselves so debasing as the -hunt-
ing and killing of anunals.

I never was much fascinated with the bloody,
though I have no doubt necessary, occupation of
butcherinjx. The excitements of the chase liave fas-
cinations for me, and where game is plenty I can lose
myself in slaynig it, but I cannot but feel that next to
killing men killing beasts is the most brutalizing of
l)astimes. But most lamentable of all is tlie wanton
slaughter of birds, beasts, and fishes, witiiout regard
either to human necessities or any considerations of
parent and offspring.

But you say it is according to nature. That may

'■"I

'II ii

li:':!^

«oe

BODY AND MIND.

l)o tnio, l)ut there are many tilings in nature doKisini''.
Civilization is a constant war on natun;. Only tanitd
nu-n and tamed beasts kill more than tluy need for
food — a pro^Hiisity in man it wire well not to culti-
vate. It in the takin<jf of that mysterious life Avhieh
hi man is the most hi;;ldy prized of all tilings. It is
gratifying oneself at the exp«Mise of another. To hill
a sweet songster for a mouthful of meat is vandalism
on nature. Wliy should I carry my Cain-accursed
propensity for robbhig and klllhig into the families of
nature's innocents when there are so many liuman
scorpions yet undestroyed? Rather let th(3 humane
mail in the country look at life and see (clod's crea-
tures enjoy it; or if he must slay something let him
hunt the Jegislalive halls, the marts of ronnnerce, and
other busy hauntsof men fortlTings fittest forslaughter.

Most of all others, he Avho lives cnvelofK-d in the
mists of sensitiveness needs a friend. !Most of all
otluirs, he whose retiring instincts unfold inttu'ests and
ambitions, draw him from his fellows, shut him within
himself, and wrap round him a non-conducting cover-
ing of crushed egoism, clouding that social sunshine
wlilcli of all things his soul covets, imprisoning mind
and heart affections within the dark, dank walls of a
detestable mauvaisc Jicmfe, mid dooming him while sur-
rounded by those whose hearts warm toward him and
toward whom his heart warms, to a life of unutter-
able aloneuess, iKx^ds one near liim who shall be to
him an alter ajo before whom ho may a})pear unre-
strained even by his own consciousness, and to whom
ho may open and air the musty chambers of liis in-
most being.

Such a friend need not bo rich, or great, or intel-
lectual, or learned, ho must bo simply fitting. He
sliould be one not already bound to his lover by family
ties or business obligations; he should be a man
whom manliness might marry in all true inwardness
and without the bias of externals.

Si
noNc
noth

FIlIKNhSlUr.

il'.>7

Sucii a fri<'n(l I had and lost, but not hy d(>atli. I
iicNcr knew liow niudi lie was to in(.' until lie was
nothinj^ to nie. Tlion I saw how, duihi},^ all tiu' o"lad
seasons, all the lonj^ years of swiftly-l'asshiL;' hours I
had ('njt>ye<l him, my s()ul had fed u}>on his friendship
— h«»w my huni^ry soul had i'vd, and was satislicd.

Ife was a J>i))i-v!i'((iit of tlu' rii;ht honoiahlc order of
l)rok(;rs, and a model member of tlie mad fraternity.
As a man of the world, he was a<-ute, bold, clear-
lieade<l, lively. He was tlu^ soul of honor, and so
careful of his clients' interests that I have known him
rei>eate<llv to ixx-ket a loss arisuii;' thr»>Utjh no fault of
his, and never reveal the fact.

Nervous, hi,!j;hly-struni;', (juick as unchained linht-
ninii^, and fiery as Lucifer, he was specially ad;t|>ted
to his arduous callinijj, and was one of the most efH-
cient mend)ers of the board. The work so wore upon
lilm, howe\eT', that at times I could discern fmn day
to day a sinking' undc>r it, until he was foi'ced t>> take
rest. Then he would want me, and I was usnally
ready to attend him, for at that time I had nr) fiinily
at hand to break the dead weight of mental applica-
tion.

He was peculiar In inanv wavs, but his little; sin-'U-
larities I loved. I never knew a more open-heartid
or fi'CHT-handed man. I never knew one more pure-
minded, or further remoxed from littleness. H(3
knew not what meanness was, except as he encoun-
tered it in others, and then it was so repuy,iiant to liis
nature that he sel(l()m referred to the subject, no niat-
t(>r how exasp(!rating had been the circumstance. Of
''N(piisite sensibilities, his whole being .s('emed attuned
to the most refined strains of soul and sense. Every-
tlnng that he touched must be of the best. He was
Mfupulously neat in his habits, and his heart was as
clean as his hand. He loved good company, a good
1id)]<\ frood wine and c'lLi'ars, and (jfood horses; and no
matter how times were, or whether he was making or
]<'sing money, whether he was flush or bankrupt,

•I.M

':;fi

\4r

lilt

698 BODY AND MIND.

these things lie wouhl have, and to his friends he
poured tlioni out Hke water.

Never man so wound himself round all my thoughts
and purposes ; never was friend so intertwined among
affection's heart-strings. Full of electrical joy to nit"
was the air he breathed; full of gladness was my
heart when the sound of his voice struck my ear, and
his smile sent the warm, thrilling^ sunlight into mv
soul. His was one of the most happy, cheerful dispo-
sitions I ever encountered. In his hours of recreation
he was as joyous as a child, and as free and frolicsonu-.
It were worth one term of torture, — the happy hours
I have si)ent witli hiin.

Because our daily occupations were so widely differ-
ent, I enjoyed his com}>any the more. The mys-
teries of stock-boards were as unfathomable to me as
those of history-writhig were to him. On the tinii,
clean, common ground of pleasurable emotion we met;
on the ground of s[)ontaneous liking for each other-
this, and nothing more. He was married, and lie
liusl)anded and fathered a charming family, whose
members lived in him and he in them.

About their home was an air of refinement, mingled
with a joyous ease and freedom which nature herself
might envy. Few homes were ever happier, fe\v moiv
fascinating. Though not as rich as some, whatcnc r
})leasui'es money could buy were lavishly bestow^ed l»y
the indulgent father, and sad indeed nmst be the dis-
tress that should cloud the radiant features of the lov-
intr wife and mother.

And he is lost to me ! Surely my cup of pleasuiv
never seemed to overHow before ; was it, then, neces-
sary to mix wormwood in the only draught tasteful to
me i Nay, never was foul mixture proffered by him ;
rather, was it necessary to dash this cup from my lips
and leave me forever thirstv for a friend ?

Lost! And yet, we never quarreled. We had
never aught to bring disagreement between n^.
Neither souijht advantayje over the other. Neither

LOST !

699

wished anything the other would not gladly grant,
were it in his })o\ver. Money i He would pour out
gold like water for nie, and delight in doing it.

Lost 1 And never an unkind word I And all the
while my heart going out toward hiin like that of
mother or brother.

Lost to me ! and as effectually as if he were dead :
and I have wished that one of us were dead, that the
separation might be consecrated l)y the inexorable. I
have mourned him as dead, and to my d}ing day I
will so mourn him. He was the light of my days —
tlie only liglit that penetrated certain dark corneis
within ; why should I not mourn the darkness that
sliall never again be dissii)ated ?

Lost! And the undoing all my own, all by my
own fault ; by no fault of his, for he never had a fault
of friendship. It is pitiful; it is daiiniable 1 A sacri-
fice, I might call it, laid by the high-}>i'iest of friend-
sliip upon the altar of idolatiy. It was a martyrdom
wliich I was called upon to suffer, witli misery as the
only crown. From the point our patli divided, on to
eternity, I find no other friend. For me, among men
tliere is no other. In none who walk the earth does
my presence kindle the euclianting ilame ; none wlio
walk the eartli warm the cold chambers of my heart
as (lid his })resence.

Tliroughout tlie wide univcTse there is not that ob-
ject, as})iration, or being to take his place. One can-
not make friends as one makes money, off-setting
loss by gain, and strikitig a balance. Once a
string of the heart's sounding-board snapjud, and
tliere is no mendiiiLi' it. You may insert another, but

it uives not forth the old music.

% 'III

\i})

■fflH

1 ■■,.■:

■'i i

CHAPTER XXVIII.

EXPP]])IT10NS TO MEXK'O.

By tlie mess, ere these eyes of mine take themselves to slombcr, ay 11 do
guil service, or ay'll lig i' the gruml for it; ay, or go to death.

Kiwj Jliiiry thf FiJ'lh.

Having read and written so much about Mexico,
it was but natural that I should wish to go there. I
liad completed the history of all that region, with
abundance of material, down to the year IHOO, and for
the present century I knew that tliere existed houses
full of information which I did not })ossess.

Accordingly on the 1st day of Septend)er, 188J}, I
set out, accompanied by my daughter and a Mexican
servant, for the great city of the table-land, proceed
ino; via San Antonio and Laredo, Texas. I took
copious notes of everything 1 encountered, the tiibl,
spread of frijoles, tortillas, olla podrida, and the rest,
c )oked witli garlic and onions in rancid oil, sending
forth a stygian smell not at all ap|)eti/-ing ; the nmddy
Rio Bravo, now angry and swollen with late rains,
wluch wo had to cross in a scow at the }»eril of oiii-
lives; the general and universal dirtiness pervading
people, houses, and streets ; the currency, being niostlx
silver, and at a discount of about twenty-five ]»er cent
below United States money ; the mixi'd S))anisli
and Indian population and architecture, the fornitr
of all shades of color and beastliness, most of tlir
people being ugly looking, and many of them deformed
and absolutely hideous, the latter of ever}' grade.
from the Andalusian dwelling of stone or adobe.
surrounding a court, to the suburban hut of sticks and
straw ; the soil, climate, and resources of the countr\ ;

< 700)

LIBRAUIKS AND LITERATURE.

701

eommorco, ajj^rioulturc, and nianufacturos ; soriotv.
politics, etc., all ofwlilcli I utilized at good advaiitago
in Volume vi of my History of Mexico, and wliicli I
shall not have space to touch upon here. One tliinjjj,
liowever, I did not present there, wliich I will o'ive
here, it beinj*', indeed, the chief ohject of my visit to
ascertain, namelv, about libraries and literature, ;ui«l
the amount and (juality of material for history exist-
in;jf in the republic.

I did not find at JNIonterey the archives so histoiic
a place might lead one to expect. Tlitn-e were the
usual state aufl numicipal documents, of little value
and limited extent, and in answer to a call of the
governor, the nucleus of a state library had been made
bv donations. The best library hi this re'>ii)n was that
of the bishop of Linares, I. ]\[ontes de ( )ca, renowned
throughout the republic for his ability and learning.

Zacatecas has one of the finest pr'ivate libraries in
the country, in the possession of Senor Ortega.

SaltiUo has even less to boast of than jMonteny in
archives and libraries. With unsurpassed facilities
for saving great masses of valuable historical and
statistical iidormation, almost all has been allowed to
lie carried away or destroved throuu'h sheer i«>iioi-a nee
and stupidity.

As we ]>enetrate the country we are more nnd
more struck with the phenomenon of a republic with-
out a people. There is lun'e no middle class. The
aristocracy are the nation. The low are very
low; they are poor, igiiorant, servile, and debased;
with neither the heart nor the hope ev(^r to
attempt to better their condition. I have nev(>r
liefore witnessetl such squalid mis(>ry, and so much
ef it. It surpasses Europe, and with this dif-
f<'rence: in Europe the mis(>rable know th(y are mis-
''rablc, hero they do not. Sit at th(^ door of your so-
• alled hotel, "nd you will see pass by, as in a panorama
of the accurst, the withered, the deformed, th(^ lame,
uiij the blind, deep in debaseineut, their humanity

' I

/ ll

702

EXPEDITIONS TO MEXICO.

well-nijjfh hidden in tlicir din<]fy, dirty raiment, form
bent and eyes cast down, as if the Hujht of heaven and
tlie eyes of man were equally pauiful — liunchbaoks
Slid dwarfs; little filthy mothers with little filthy
habes, the former but fourteen years old ; grizzly nun
and women with wrinkled tanned skin, bent double,
and hobblinjij on canes and crutches, and so on. Into
such pits of deep abasement does man thrust his
felhnv man in the name of Christ and civilization,
^rindin<^ him into the dust, under pretext of bene-
fiting him. Infinitely hapi)ier and better off, and far
less debased and wretched were the people of this
j)lateau before ever a European saw it.

Saltillo being at this time the terminus of the rail-
way, we took private conveyance to San Luis l^otosi.
and thence to Lagos by stage. This, really, is the only
way to see a country, if one does not mind hard
fare. For a fine city, beautiful, prosperous, some
what {irimitive, being as yet unmarred by railroads.
San Luis Potosi has few equals. Art and education
are likewise here well advanced, the state supi)orting
577 schools, with 12,020 attendance.

I found here a man who had visited my library
wliile in the United State s, Doctor Barroeta, a ])ni<-
tising physician, and i)rofessor of botany and zoology
in the Scientific Institute of this city, which has qultr
an extensive and valuable nmseum. The state and
nmnicipal archives, consisting of proceedings since
1G58, fill a room thirty feet square. Tlie state
archives are kept in bundles on slielves, and the city
archives in cupboards. El Seminario, or the catholif
college, has a well-kejit library of 4500 volumes of
theology, law, }»hilosophy, and history.

But by far the best and most im})ortant collection
thus far seen since leaving San Francisco was the San
Luis l^otosi state library, called the llihUofcca Pnhllcd
del Cicvfijicoy Liicrario, of which I obtained a printid
catalogue of about 8,000 titles, under th(> headings.
Jurisprudence, Ecclesiastical Laws, Science and Art,

.ftli

and

SAN LUIS rOTOSl.

:u3

Belles Lettres, History, and Tlieolo*jfy. The oollectioii
dates from 1824. The laws and lej^islatlvo documents
are incom[)lete, owing to fre(|uent revolutions. The
whole of the year 18J34 is a blank, also the period of
the so-called empire, or French intervention. Besides
the Diario Oficial of the o-cneral United States ]\[exi-
can j^ovcrnment from 1872, was /yi i!'<(>7nhra de Zara-
()oz(i from 1807, givinijf full information of political
affairs in this section to the overthrow of the admin-
istration of Leido de Tejada, which administration it
sustaincul. Thus will be seen, without further enume-
ration and description, what one mitrht reasonably
expect to find in the state capitals throui^hout the re-
])ublic, that is to say, from very fair collections down
to nothins^. The keeper of the state librarv uathered
for me a bundle of documents containing' the most
important information concerning the state of San
Luis Potosf, so that, by purchase and otherwise, I was
able hero, and at other places along my route before
rea(^hing the federal capital, to add about 500 titles to
my library.

There is much that is fascinating in this quaint old
town, with its historic buildings, its nmle-mint, and
sjiops, and signs over the doors such as VA Xuevo
T'^den, a l)illiard saloon; Al Fiel Pastt)r, a toy-sj.op ;
T^a Scnsitiva, a wine and ci<i-ar store ; La Ele'jancia,
a barber's shop. I will leave to others a descri|)tio!i
of the cathedral, and ])resent to the reader this ])arber's
sliop, where I did myself the lu^ior to get sJuived.
;Vtt(Midant on the ope rator was a man .and a boy. 'V\w
man held a towisl and the boy a brush ; if tlie grand
knight dropped his comb, the boy sprang for \t, if lie
siiap})ed his finger for a napkin, the man bow( d low
bciforo him with the desired cloth. I brongliL away
with mc a printed slip detailing the advantages of this
tonsorial temple and the merits of its acc(»iiijilislied
high priest. Freely translated, it reads: "Tlie Fle-
gance. Hsiir-dressing. Principal Plaza. Cleamiess
and elegance, attention, and prom])tneiss. Cenobio

lit

rf>ri

9-it ■
3'S' '>

■ '' 1

■1;
-1

I .'.ii ; :

704

KXrF,DITIO\,S TO MEXICO.

Santos Velazquez, professor in phlt;l)otomy of the fac-
ulty of this capital, lias tlio honor to inform lils nu-
merous clients that this estahllshnuMit has a regular
price for shavli\g, by wlTu'li one can get twenty tickets
at the mo(l(>rate i)rice of fi^'o for a dollar, the bearer
being able to use; them -when he likes. Besides this,
all the o}ierations r(>lathig to the scii-nce of phlebotomy
ar(! practised, such as bleeding with a lancet, a[>[>lica-
tion of leeches, cupping or scarifying with glass, caur;-
tics, bll.sters, jets, setons, vaccination. In ojievatioiis
of the mouth, to clean, fiU', straighten, fill, and i-xtract
molars, roots, and teeth. Here are found leeches of
the best khid, which are used only once, for the greater
guaranty of the public. The works of hair-dri'ssing,
as big wigs, little wigs, helmet wigs, braids, diaih nis,
friz7.es, beards, nmstaches, whiskers, and all the various
branches of the art will be performed with the greatest
attention and ])romptness." Perfumt-ry is then adver-
tised, and finally, dyeing. The document concludes :
"To the solenm poor, work is free," — that is, to tliti
poor of good standing, the poor of grave; aspect, the
pious poor, the highly respectable pool', the poor who
ncner would ask.

Staging in ]\[exico is an experience few care to rc-
peat. And yet it has its fascinations. Passing down
over the plateau, the traveller finds vast areas covered
with hojasen, a kind of sage-brush, nuOTpiite, <';cil»er-
nadora, and agrita, and he expi'riences a sense of lone-
liness, or of st)mething lacking, away from the leading
lines of trafHc. An occasional band of sheej) or herd
of cattle, accompanied by a herder or va(jU(-ro, aloiu;
bri>aks the monotony. It is the absence of this s;iine
nnddlo class, before discussed, which should be ovi'
spreading the land with their m^-riads of happy homes.
This laiul is f vrtile, and needs only irrigation to su))-
porfc a 1,'irgo po|>ulation. llo journeys league after
league through silent, untenanted fields, with here and
there a hut or a cluster of adobes, and at intervals an
luunonda and a town. It is always an hacienda or a

STAOINC} OVKIl THE PLATEAU.

706

h'lt. The owner of tliu foniuT, wlio spcnrls little of
his tinio on the invniises, holds from five to tifty, .ind
sometimes a hundred, s<[uare leagues of lands ; the
occupant of the latter is essentially his serf, though
not legally or literally so. Around the large, fortress-
like adol)e buildings of the hacendero are grouped the
jacales, or thatched huts of the laborers, the occasional
herders' jmts being scattered over the plains.

Evcrythuig strikes a stranger as old, exceedingly
old, and dh'ty. The towns of thatcOicd huts and tile-
roofed adobes, with their central ])la/a and church,
market-] )lace, little shops, and ])oor inn, are all of the
same pattern as the more ])retentious cities which dis-
play more stone in their construction ; when you have
seen one of them, you have seen them all.

The cosey plaza in the centre of the town, with its
]>aved walks leading to the fountain in the centre,
orange-tree borders, and l»eds of shrubs and ilowers,
is usually (juite attractive, and in fact, throughout
]\[exico the plaza, where at dusk the peoi)le gather
to listen to nmsic by the band, walk and talk, flii-t
and gossi[), is at once a uni(]ue and charming feature
of ^lexican life.

Few have suburbs drawn out in filthy huts or
elegant homes, but stop short, as if at a wall, which,
indeed, has encircletl many of them at some period of
tlieir existence as protection against surprise by nui-
rauding bands of Indians or guerrillas. The region
r*>antl is too often a dreary waste, with stretches of
sand, or with bare-looking cultivated stri[)s.

In most of the cities, the Asiatic style of architec-
ture is cons})icuous, the ]\Iot)rish, perhaps, {)nMl()mi-
iiatin<if. The houses with their solid walls are usuallv
of one story, low, with flat tiled roof, the better class
liullt round a court, with a wide entrance, closed at
night with double doors, and having iron-barred win-
dows devoid of glass looking into the court and street,
or as often without wind«»ws. The palaces, as they
are called, and the better class of dwellings are usually

Lit. iN-n. 45.

706

EXPEDITIONS TO :SIEXIC0.

of two stories, witli colonnades, arched, perhaps, in
masonry l^elow and roofed with wooden rafters above.
The floors are usually of burnt-clay tiles, and bare.
( )utsi<le run narrow stone sidewalks, frequently woi-n
hollow l)y centuries of use. Though everywhere with
plain and often forbidding exteriors, there are dwell-
ings in the chief cities with interiors of oriental luxury
and splendor.

Land and vegetation and cultivation improve as
the central and southern portions of the republic an-
reached. Here arc setn vast stretches as fertile and
beautiful as any in the world, producing three crops a
3' car by irrlgiliou and attention; and places are found
of pronounced character, displaying marked hidividu-
ality, such as IVtexico City, Vera Cruz, Queretaro,
Oajaca, (Juadalajara, and others, some owing their
origin to missionary convents, some to the will of a
rirli landholder, others to the course of trade. Elegant
villas can be seen in the suburban towns of the capital,
but there is scarcely in the republic what would be
known in the United States as a country-seat or a
farm-house.

Notwithstanding the monotony, the observer finds
much that is exceedingly pictures(|ue. The towns
and the country, the people and their surroundings,
all present studies. Here is foliage filled with blos-
soms and loaded with fruit ; here are fragrant flowers
and fiintastic jiarasitcs, palms, orange and lemon trees,
and a thousand other offshoots of redundant nature —
tiiis for the tierra caliente, and also for the footland
cities ; and for the table-lands, colored hills and plains
covered with a peculiar vegetation.

The statuesque is everywhere. Over thousands of
leagues you may go and see ten thousand weird and
fantastic images in the palm and the cactus, in the
mirage and in the mountain. The southern sierras
are grand, and of everv hue and height and contour.

In the cities the churches stand conspicuous, and on
the streets are figures of every form and pose. Drive

THE STATUESQUE.

707

into anv town In anv hour of tlio day or niiijht, l)o it
in s('orcliin;4 sumnior or tVce/in!^ wintiT, and standiii!^
by tlio roadside and in the doorways are o;rini fi<nir('S
wra])ped in scrapes and rel)ozos, niotionless and sih-nt,
l)ut always graceful and picturesque. You see them
wlicn you conic and when you i^o, as if they had
stood tliere since Mexico was made, and were now
waitinu^ for the last trump to sound.

In travellinij;' far liy diliii^cncia, race col rs approach
eacli c»ther, the dark skin hehiiili'-lhtcned and tlic li<>]it
skin darknu'd hy «^lirt. I sit on top behind the drivci-s,
for thei'C are two, the cochero and his deputy, who
are wholly oblivious of my })resence until a, few rcales
to each make me known to them. So stationed, and
watchii^jf their movements for three daj^s, havinnj little
else to do but to hokl on and keep my face from blis-
terin<;', I come to know them well, and to be able to
count uiion my fiii'n^rs their distin^uishinii; character-
istics.

The cochero was a small man, weiuhin;^- but little
oyer one hundred pountls, and measurinti' not ovi'r five
feet four, but his muscles were steel, lie wore wliite
cotton breeches, leathern len'^in^s, untaimed k^atln-r
boots, white cotton jacket, slouched straw sombrero
with the orthotlox four dents in the hi;4h-i>ointed
crown, and a colored hankerchief lound his neck or
waist. He was the most tliabolically ha]>py felhnv I
iver met; he used to find vent for his high spirits in
cutting with his whij) at the passing cait-nnil s and
their drivers. Yi-t his voice was low and plaintive,
as gentle as that of any woman, scarcely above a
whisper even when issuing orders to his assistant and
stablemen, of which there were usually half a scoic in
attendance at the statitMis. His mules he would curse
gently and with a smile.

His wife rode with liim for a da}' and a night. She
had a child in her arms. The night was cold — the
early morning s[)ecially so. A g(jwn each, one thick-

708

EXl'i;r)ITIONS TO MEXICO.

noss of clieap cotton, ami a flimsy rebozo between
them waH all their ('lotlilnjj; ; and while I shivered iu
a lu\"ivy overcoat, she i\uu\v no si^n of bciiii; cold,
(Joclicro was very kind to his wife and child, Ijut that
did not prevent tho usual delicate attentions to his
tlozen other jjfirls along the road.

Soto cochcro, lie called his assistant, a boy of six-
teen, who was as lithe and active as a cnt, juni[)in!j;
off to hitch U|) a trace, free therein, instil dilij^encc
into a foriTi'tful animal, or replenish his stock of stones
for use while crossin'> a crei-k or river, runninu' and
clamberinijf u[)on tlie staiije and crawlinj^ all over it
while uoinu; at breakneck speed, or bouncin*; about
the rocky road with such force that the wonder was
how wood and iron could be jnit together so as t(»
stand the blows. Not the least o( the s<»to cochero's
duties was to keep his suiterior in ciujarettes, lighting
them and takhiii a few pulfs himsi'lf to be sui'e tln'v
were in order. He in turn was allowed to hold tlu'
reins occasionally, and dri'am of days when he would
be cochero. ]3oth of these fellows had to be u\) at
tliree in the moriiinjjj and work frequently till e'';lit
or ten at ni;j;ht, the one receivinjjf then-for thirty dol-
lars a month and the other fifteen. Fre((uently the
bov 'j;ets no more than ei'>ht or ten dollars, and has to
board himself at that. They drove eiglit mules ; two
at the pole, then four abreast, and two leadeis. Each
carried a whip, one with a short lash, and one with a.
lash sixteen feet lonyjandan inch thick at its thickest.
In usinjj;' the large whip the driver would let the lash
drag out at full length for a moment ; a twist of his
arm would then bring it perfectly coiled high into the
air, wiien it would roll off in one long wave and de-
scend with unerring accuracy upon the off leader's ear,
or under the belly of a nearer animal, the latter being
the more difficult feat. If by good luck he peeled
the .skin from some lazy leg, the faithful lash with
merciless accuracy was sure ever after to find tho
bloody spot.

fails gri

VHUV .MULISH MULKS.

71 lit

It was a si''lit to sec this Ljontlo creature handl*^ a

ltU('kin<i; team in startlii;^ tVoiii tlio static

)ii.

Tl.

ii()s<'8 of tlie wlici'lcis are laslied to tlie l>olf, tlieir
iiioutlis lilccdiiiij^, tlit'ir li'j^s strikin;^ out ia every di-
rection, the leaders and others bein^,' lield eacli l>y a
man. At a low word from tlu' driver the men all Kt
;j;o their hold and step back. Then comes the jumii-
inn' and itlun<'in«x and kickin<jf and rumiiir'; of tl;e
hi'utes, while the cutting lash descends in rapid blows,
the driver att<'ndin<^ to the leaders, whilt; tlie assist-
juit makes forcible su<j::<»'estions to the wheelers wiili
his short heavy whip. Ti'ue to their instincts, the
animals i)resentlv rebel aujainst beiii'"' thus uri-entlv
jiressed forward ; they drop down into a trot, and let
wauj their cars in humble docilitv. Then the assistant
lets fly still further solid arij;uments in the shape of
stones, of which he has provided a supply for the dcea-
sion. A kicking mult^ is the deligiit of a coehero,
who whips until the anhnal kicks himself out of the
traces, and then whii>s until he kicks himself back

a nam.

)f th

ome or tnese mules are very muiisii

lish

1 saw

at one station a wheel-nmle s(|uat on all fours and
refuse to move, allowing the coach to pass over it,
turning its harness over its head, and cutting deep
gaslu>s in its l)ack with the projecting bolts under the
axles, ratlu^r than take liis tiaily jaunt. A stdtstitute
was found, and the mule walked away, shaking his
head, to eniov his hard-earned holidav.

I should not be doing my duty by ^[exico wert> 1
to jiass by without notice that nio.st useful and de-
voted production, the burro — a faithful companion,
a i»atie)it siTvant. Behold his ears — his loii'j; hairv
ears, Iving horizontal with his lar-e hairv head I lb;
wags them as the ilic^s and bugs crawl in — slowly, sol-
' nmlv wags them, while a settled air of sullen silence
overspreads his features, which the lash of the dn\'er
fails greatly to d.sturb. His unshod feet make little
more noise on thi^ stone pavenu-nt than a cat's, not-
withstanding' he mav be i()'>''ing along under a load

710

i:.\ri:i)iTi(iNs to mkxico.

l)i(r<ror tli.in liiiiiscit'. Yov <■( iiturics tliU littio brute
lias \n;vn raiTvlii^' th*' wikuI from the liiUs, the water
fi'oia tlio rivi-rs, tin* produce from tlie IowIuikIs, and
till' ore from the mines, tin- onmlprrsent link of all
industry, lie mav l>e seeu sin->lv [jririiiinn' to market
tlie wares of thf mountaineer, witli wife and haliy
perclied atop, or in trains at iTr^ht la(l(!ii witli tlie
products of nature or hidustry, seeking' the enjiy
market; for poor indeed is ho wh<> cannot keep a huric
Overwin'ked, underfed, beaten, kicked, and cursed, In;
rt mains the same serene and stoical Inast to the last.
To tlie steam-cars on their first arrival ho lifti-d up
his ^(lice in welcome, thinkin«'' his troubii'S at an end.
But alasl for man's ingenuity, which Hnds for him now
more work tlian ever. So with a somewhat di-ejtenei I
melancholy he relapses into the philosophic mood, and
accepts each day its j)rop(H'tion of the foreordained
nund)er of blows, never allowinjjf one of them to di.^
turb his serenity, or cause him to move in any degree
the faster. llai»py burro 1

We pass on the way long trains of large-whceleil
caits pileil high with merchandise, the native product-^
going one way and foreign i)roducts tlu! other way.
The whole is covered with white canvas, and has the
ap[)earance of a lime-kiln on wheels. Each cart is
drawn by nine or twelve nmles, driven by dark niozos,
the ligliter-skiniu>d conductor, or perha))s owner of
the train, atten<ling in gay trappings on horseback.

In the carrying trade the arrierof^, t)r the drivers
of }>ack-trains, play an important part. They arc
lionest i)eoi)le, conveying cargoes from one city to an-
other with scru}»ulous care. Owing to bad roads and
dee[) ravines pack-nmles are employed, on the whol« ,
\noro than wagons or caits. In past years the im-
mense carrying trade has been done almost entirei\
by nmles, and not unfrequently thousands might be
seen starting from the capital or a seaport laden for u
journey of a thousand or fifteen hundred miles into

AciUlt'ULTUUl':.

711

tin; interior. La comhirfa, tin; treasure train, wliicli
tiansjiortej the prndueis of tin- niliits and tlu> coin of
the nii'rchants tVoin tlie intii'mr to tin; rapilal, fVe-
(jiU'iitly <'arri('<l tVoiu half a irinioi' to si'V^ral niilHon
(lollai's in coin and hullion. These ti'iiins wnv
licavily •jfuanh'd l)y soldiers, and witli thfuitho nn i-
cliants and tlu'ir tainiht-s tiavi-lKd in and from tlm
lartje cities. AVitli tlie advent of tin; railroads and
cx))rcss companies all this has hecome a thini^ of thu
j)ast, and with the custom has nrono the i)ros|»crlty of
many of the interior towns whoso liAi depended on the
tiadc of these caravans. In conipinsati(»n, the railroad
huUds new towns and develojts fresh industries.

The way-stations hetween the towns are the char-
acteristic haciendas every now and then eneounteicd,
and consistinix sometimes of a lar'j'e adohe dwelliii"-
and outhouses, surrounded hy a whitewashed wall,
and sometimes of the wall and small huildin^s without
the lari^e dwellini^, with usually a muddy artificial
lake, fed hy the rains and drahuiLie, with milky, nuiddy,
li'ny, slimy water, and also a well and ])ump, worked
hy mule or man power, or a lar^e, S(juare tank of ma-
sonry, to which the water is conducted hy an under-
ground acjueduct. Some hacienda huildinL;'s present a
^ery palatial ap})earance ; instance those of Hacienda
de J^ocasofthe Farias hrothers, eleven lea-jues from
San Tiuis Potosi, which is valued at half a million d<tl-
lars, has 000 retainers, jjlants 1,000 hushels of wheat
and -'{,000 of corn, and has had expended in aitesian-
well experiments $200,000.

On the northern central tahle-land, the corn is usu-
allv small and poorlv cultivated. In other hteallties
farmui}^ is hetter done, the rich plantations attaininj^
hi^h culture, and the natives })resentinn' a hetter ap-
pearance. Yet we see, in most instances, the same
primitive ploughs of wood drawn by oxen, the yoke
tied to the horns. With one hand the plouuhman
htilds the phtui^h, which has but one handle, while in
the other liaud is a long goad. This fashion prevails

■J'f
I'.

[!;i

r
1 1>' ■

i".

712

EXrEDITIOXS TO MEXKO

also witli tlic American j)l()u<i^1is now widely ilisplariiiuf
tlie native, for all arc pn^t'erred nuule with one handle.
What, indeed, is the use of two handles, when one
answers every purpose i

Nearly everytliini;" is done in pairs. Sometimes one
jK-rson is sent to watch another, sometimes to lielp.
Women n'o usually hi pairs. On the stages are two
drivers, and I have seen on the cars two conductors,
one taking the tickets while the other checked them
off. ^Een and nmles are cheap m this country, and
women also, but they seem to get things mixed a little
For often is seen the man doing the mule's work, and
the woman taking the man's task ; and too often, in-
deed, man, woman, and muh! all dohig nothing.

The city of ^lexico is the ]*arls of America. Al-
though ensconced in the heart of the country, it is
less ^Mexican in typt* than might be expi'cted, owing
to the elforts of thi^ early Spanish viceroys, as well a-
to tlio concentration there of a society largely trained
by resideiK^e and travel in ICurojte.

It has been subject to the most rcMnarkablecliangcs
of a natural as well as of a social *Mid political charac
ter. Once it was the Venice ot the continent, I'li
throned out in the lake, while at a respectful distaiu r
swept the slu'ltering circle of fori'st-crowned knolls
and <j:reen meadows, studdc^d with tributarv settlements
that }teeped in gleaming whiteness out of their garden
foliage.

The im[>erial courts of the ^Fontezumas lent tin ir
splend(»r, swelled by the partly eidorced presence o\'
cacicpies and nobles from all ]»arts, with their liost of
retaiiurs and their ]»alatial rosldenceson rising terraces
with colonnades, battleuiented parapets, stucco a<loiii-
meiits, and hanging gardens. Ai-ound spread the
dwiiliings of traders, artisans, and serfs, to the numbei'
of GO, 000, ecpiivalent to a ])oj)ulation of 300,000, and
covering an area never since e([ualled.

(finals crossed the city in ev^ery direction, teemi;i r
with market c«,noes and statelv barues. On uala ihr, -

THE I'Al'ITAL CITY.

713

the lak«! itsolf swarinod witli p'll^nins and ploasuiv-
srrkcis, t's[»c'('ially to witness tlic imposing t'crenionics
at the many tcniolts, raised liiLjli above the dwellin<'s
of mortals upon lofty pyrann'ds, A[»propriat(» sta'j,es
M'ei'e there to heighten the etteet of mystic I'ltes. ;ind
lend additional liorror to the innnolatlon of liuman
heinijfs upon the saeritieial stone ; while priests in ^(n'-
gcous })aijjeantry circled with chant and smoking cen-
sers round the ascendinjjr i>ath of the hu"'e iiedestal.

And niglit veiled not the enchantment, for ett'nial
vestal fires shone from eveiy summit, and humhler
tributaries flickered below from light-houses and strci t
beacons to jjuido the travelk^r and call devout atten-
tion to the sacred abode of deities, retlrcted also in the
starry sky and peaceful waters of the lak(>.

Wliither has ilown tliis splendor? Everywhere now
we meet the withering as well as renewing iiiHueiice
of a iu>w civilization : in the defectiv(^ drainage system
for the lakes, which has left unsightly marshes instead
of green swards to fringe theii' evej'-nariowing ex-
panse; in the wanton «.lestruction of forests which
covered the hills and shaded the settlements ; in the
razing of ancient structures and outlying subuibs 1»y
( ;irly conquerors; and hi the ravages of later ci\il
wars.

Now the city lies at some distance from tlie lake,
with xuvvo. traces of its waters in the few canals, and
in disfiguring moats before the n>mnants of frowning
walls and ram[)ai'ts. Canals have giv(Mi way to roads,
with here and there a shad\' avenue ; the solid i>vvani-

t 1 L

idal temples to turrets, domes, and spiivs. which
slielter saintly images and pale tapirs hi lieu (»f grim
iluitzilopochtli an<l ilaniing brasiers, and with clang-
ing bells drown the di'cad notes of the famed ''j'l po-
nastli. Terraced and garden-covered palaces have
y ieUU'd befon; the less romantic struct uns of mores( pie,
got hie, and renaissance styles.

The sidits in and about the capital are numerous
and interestui'j:. Besides the L;()vernment palace, re-

t 'i; i{

714

EXrEDlTIOXS TO MEXICO.

built from tlic ancient structure represented above,
occupying two blocks with immense coiirts, and mak-
ing u[) in extent and solidity what it lacks in style of
architecture, thcue are the cathedral, which, from an
architectural })oint of view, is considered by some the
finest in America, the libraries, the museum, the art
galleries, the school of mines, and the many other in-
dustrial, religious, and benevolent institutioiis, the '//)-
calo, or government i)Iaza, with a fine stand for the
nuisiclans in the centre, surrounded by trees, shrubs,
and ilowers in profusion. On the east is the palace,
on the north the grand cathedral, on the west are com-
mercial houses, and on the south the offices of the
numici[)al government. The zocalo is often illuminated
at night, and there the best bands play and the elitv
of the city })romeiiade. There are also the alamed.M,
a bt'autiful foot-juirk, ten acres in extent, with shady
walks and bowers, fountains si)arklini; at everv turn,
and towering trees sliading all from the heat of the
sun; the race-track, the bull-ring, and at a little dis-
tance, the Guadalupe and Loreto shrines, the fioatim;
gardens, and famed Clia]»ultepec, the residence suc-
cessively of Aztec monarchs, Si)anish viceroys, and
]\rt!xicaii presidents, a castle on a liill rising out et'
tlie dense forest, approached by the Pasi'o do la Vu
forma, the drive of ]\[exico. Many strange scen( s
these venerable cypresses have witnessed; lilstorv
unwritten and nev(.'r to be known of aboriginal wais.
of statecraft and priestcraft, of love-makings and
merry-makings, for these trees were hoary, and tit'
heavy, fiowing beard when Quauhtemotzin was born,
thouuh still viu'orous now, and of majestic mien.

While the citv of Mexico Is well laid out, tl >
stnM'ts for the most part being straight and regular,
so tliat from one [loint can be si'cn the hills bonh'rhij,
either side of the valley, they are peculiarly named
and nmnbered, a change occurring sometimes at evtiv
block. Occasionally the same name is retained foi' ;i
longer distance, when the several bk)cks are designatt d.

GENERAL FEATURES OF THE CITY.

715

for instance, as piiincra calle do San Francisco, ^n'-
^unda calle de San Francisco, etc. .Vl)out tlie old
church and plaza of Santo Doiningo, the site of the
dread Incjuisition buildinij;, is noticeahlo what a liold
tilt! name has on the vicinitv. There arc not oiilv
])rnnei'a, se}i;unda, and terci-ra Santo Doinin;j,i). l)ut
I'ucrta falsa de Santo Doniinjiio, or False iL;*ate of Santo
])i)niinL:;<) street, and Cerca de Santo i)onnngo, or
Near Su,- to Doniini^^o street.

]^ut tins will soon he chanLTcd. Already thcv have
widened Into a l)eautiful av'enue the thoroni;hfare I'un-
iiin:^ from the cathedral to the ojKia-house, !j,ivin^- it
tlie one name, calle del Cinco de Mayo, or Fifth of
^NFav street, a standing: comi)liment t(t (General Diaz

ft/ ' ~ I-

and the iLjallant soldiers under him for the defeat of
the French before Fuehla in 18G2.

' Iv

Almost evcrv one on first cominix t^ the caiiital falls
ill. The chani^'e is so i^reat that some part of tlie sys-
trm is sure to he aifected hy it in u;reater or less de-
cree. Even natives of the city, returning!," after an
al)senc(\ have chills and fever, or some other trouble.
The air of the city is thin, and in places bad, and the
climate essentially treacherous. The houses, with
tlieir thick walls and solid masonry and stoiu^ floors
and Inner courts, are cool, often cold; the sim is ti'ojt-
ieal and its rays ]»enetratin;4'. In passing;" from tlit>
house to the sunshine and back the chann'e is great,
and care must be taken of the throat and lungs.

The city is lower than several of the lakes, arn! in
digging anywhere three or four feet through tli'-
U[t[)er strata of century debris and mouldeiing A/tee
remains, water is reached. This Sj)ongiiii .s is a eom-
inon feature of the ujiland valleys. 'I'here an; in som(>
loealities stygian smells, which wouh' Infect tlie entii'e
<ity did they not rise so quickly and pass away in
the thin, pure air without- as tlu; theory goes— as to
lirevent s]>reading. Still, the city is nut considered
uidiealthy.

,lii

•'t- I

irt

716

EXPEDITIONS TO MEXICO.

During' winter tlu^ strorts of tlio capital caro covered
witli a fine dust, and railway tiavcl is as l)ad as in tlic
T^aitcd States in sunuiicr. 'I'lie (Tniiate of tlx' eitydf
]Mexieo is very like tliat of San Fraiieiseo, with tlic
St asous reversed, and leaving out the fogs of the latter
l)lacc. Thus, in ^rcxlco the rainy season is in the
suuuner and tho dry season hi the winter, with winds
coiTes] bonding to the sunnner whids of San b'raneisco.
The teniperature varies but slightly during the rainy
and dry seasons.

The <|Uestion of draining the valhy lias been di>-
eussed for two centuries or more, and much work
has already b(>en done. It Avill some day be finished,
and when cleanliness shall be adiletl, the city of
IVIexico will be one of the healthiest capitals in the
world.

There is always more or less danger to foreigners
from yellow-fever on either seaboard; though (hiring
the winter months with proper care the risk is re-
duced to a minimum.

ISinall-pox is common in greater or less degree at
all seasons throughout most i)arts of tin; republic, sm
that strangers coining in cannot l)e too careful with
regard to vaccination. The multitude of scarred
faces one everywhere sees tells the story.

There are feast-davs and religious holidavs without
r'ud ; and if not a curse, they are at least a nuisance.
Why take so much (tf this world's litth? sj)an of tun"
for the next world's ail'airs, with its eternity for their
arrangement:' Most of the shops, (ixcept those ef
the l)arber, the grocer, the dram-seller, and the fooil
dispenser, close on such oc(asi<»ns, as well as on Sun
day, and even the street stan<l is withdrawn at tW"
or three o'clock, while tlu; venders of fruits, dulces.
and trinkets. In the ])la/as and market-places, pr«»s<
cute their calling till dusk or far into tlu? night.

Yet the po<»r people do not suffer from an excess ef
religion. They indeed ajtpear to (K-rlve great com-
fort i'runi it ; and it is doubtful if uuun' of them wouM

RUM ANT) RELIGION.

717

l>o l)pttcr employed were there no such eelebratloiis ;
lit all eventH, they are ready to enijjloy any excuse to
escape from labor. Kveu courtesans, gamblers, and
]iiu,liwaymcn stay their course for a moment to (lii'fct
a player and dc\'oti; an oll'crin^j;, though their objett
may he d()ul>tful. 'i'lien the day is so lia]»})ily ]iel[)ed
out bv druik and the bull or cock fi'j,]it. J^etween
reliiijion and morality there seems to be sli^dit con-
nection; and thouu'li great crowds, drunk with ])ukjue,
gathi>r in and round tlie chuivlies and tliroiig the
streets, there is seldom any quarrelling, or e\ en bois-
terous talk. The police arc strict in their watch, and
lie who creates a disturbance is quickly arrested anil
marclied off to jail, tliis promptness of punishment
exercising a most healtliv influence also on that class
f fovi'igners which frequents bar-rooms and indulges

ni her

drhikt

The hotel accommodations in the city of jMexii
are good of their kind, but the travelled stranger will
not like them. The rooms as a rule are too cold and
<'lieerless, and the restaurant m(ithod of having your
f lod served is not the most attractive for Americiii

IS.

who are accustomed to the best ]i(»tels in the world,
liooms in the best hotels can be obtained at from two
to four dollars a dav, with a nduction foi' lontier

(tccupajicy. In a })rivate fiimily fnrnishetl rooms rent
.It from twenty to thirty dollars a month. There are
plenty of unfurnished rooms and houses to rent, but
tiirniture is scarce and ex])ensive. There are iin(^ o])-
portunities for establishing in ^rexico first-<'lass hotels
Oil the American plan, and in <'ertain country towns
liist-class hotels may be fouiul with rates for room
;uid board at from two to tlire(> dollars a day. The
Ituildings shouhl be constructed of brick, stone, and
iion, with bay-windows and ornaments, with ventila-
lion, elevators, firi']>laccs, bath-rooms, and all tho
latest improvemeiits. Such establish nents, properly
conducted, are iimch needed, and would |>ay well i;i
the capital if not iu other places. Till thtu the

I-

111:11

II.

718

EXrEDlTION.S TO MEXICO.

transient dwcllor must sufTor discomfort and bo o\-
posed to tlic outra*jfeous extortions of restaurateurs.
The best procedure is to bar«j;ain to be fed after the
desired mode for so mucli a month, inrhid'mij; everv-
thiii!^; tlien if not more tlian twenty -five ]>er cent bi;
added to the agreed price for ])retended additions
and variations, one may rest satisfied.

Tlie Mexicans of tlio better class have adopted tln'
European stylo oflivinjjj: the ^/r.s'a?/?/?/o consistinu' (tf
coffee or chocolate on risin*jf, after which horsebiick
ridinjj; ; (tlnnirrzo, or breakfast, usually between iiiii''
and twt>lve, equivalent to a full dinner in some coun-
tries, with a <jfreat variety of dishes from soup to
dessert, with wine and cigars, to be followed by ])r<t-
fessional duties; conn'da, or dimier, from two to f'oui',
and aft(>r this the fticsfa, less observed in the cajiit;;]
than formerly, and wholly unnecessary, though usu;illy
observed on the table-land. Then the ladies ]ia\ c ;i.
rncricmh, or luncheon, from four to six, in which tlic
men, who are supposed to be at business, do not in-
dulge. Last of all is the cnm, or supper, from eight
to cloven. Professional men close their offic<^s at si?<;
then after supi>er stroll In tlie })laza or call on friends,
and after chocolate and cigars, retire.

])escen(ling the scale of wealth and refinement to
a conunoner class, the cooking becomes more ^lexlcan.
until tortillas supply the jilace of bread, and puhjuc
supplants even the chea[) vile stuff of the country
calh'd wine. Proba])ly fruit comes first as tlie shijile
food of the poor; ])articularly the tuiiu^ or cactus fiuit,
which is ])alatable and wholesome, and after th;it
corn, beans, with now and then eggs and goat's nuiit.

In manv wavs they produce conntarativelv <jreat
results from small means, which is the higliot
achi(n(>ment of science. For example, Inthelrcookn \ ,
with a bit of meat and a few vegetables, two or thn c
earthen pots and a handful of charcoal, they will
mak(i up for the table half a dozen dishes which may
Ijo pronounced excellent.

Th<

althot

lowlai

oxcepi

of orai

the di:

is rem

Me>

at the

is usUt'i

less t]

cliangc

Nati

arc coi

gradua

good p

cities 1(

avoid t;

country

distant

tlie pur

an e(jii;

Afexico

Fron

is an ex

I'llant n

iiitlier.

take off

and hii

embrace

other an

kisses tl

going th

kiss thei

the strct

.'Miotlier.

taiict^ is

\vith up]]

lingers.

SIOITEY AND MANNERS.

?19

The markets upon the table-land arc attractive ;
although tropical fruits and other products of the
lowlands are not what a stranger e.\[H'cts to find,
excepting the delicious phieapjiles and certain kinds
of oranges ; but drop down to the tierra caliciitc, and
the difference, not only in the fruits but in the p(H)[)le,
is remarkable.

Mexican money, consisting of bank notes and silver
at the capital, and away from there of silver chiefly,
is usually rated at from twelve to eighteen per cent
less than American mon(\y, which con readily be
chanued. There is little oold in circulation.

National bank notes and Monte do Piedad pap(>r
are coming into general use about the caj)ital, and
gradually spreading ni the country. On the border
good paper money is rare; but betwecMi most inland
cities local bills of exchange can be brought, so as to
avoid the risk and trouble of carrying sliver over tin;
country. A person making an extensive tour tliroU'.;li
distant parts, however, must still have a mule to cm ny
the purse. Exchange on Xe'W York or Ijondon Ibr
an equal amount of silver commands in the city of
Mexico a large premium.

From the highest to the lowest of the !^^exicans tin re
is an extreme politeness which soon permeates tlie less
]il'iant nature of their northern neighbors on coming
hither. I have even seen a Yankee railway conductor
take off his hat in speaking to a Mexican passenger,
and him of no extraordinary quality. IMeii often
embrace on nu>eting, each putting his arm round the
other and patting his back; and the youth occasionally
kisses the hand of the elder, who rises while under-
"•oin*T the ci-remony. On meetinii" and i>artin'4', hulles
kiss their vei-y dear friends on both cheeks, and on
the street there is no end of finger-wiggling one to
another. This latter mode of recognition at a dis-
tance is likewise indulged hi by the men, and consists,
AN 1th uplifted hand, of plying vigorously the two middle
lingers.

720

KXrKDITIONS TO MEXUO.

Tlic roro])tl()ii-r<)()m In every liouac of pretensions,
and in pul)lie otHces, has a sofa, with rug in front, and
at either cud chairs, placed at rii^ht angles to it.
otlier chairs being ranged ahout the room. This, as
in (Germany, is the; place of honor, to which on entei-
ing the guest is howed, the host seating himself in
one of the chairs at the side. Ladies receive in tin-
same way. Fashionahlo people would as soon thinl;
of getting along without a hf)us;i as without a sofa.

On taking" vour dei)arture after a visit you make
vour adieus. The host then follows you to the top of
the stairs — for the n>ceptiou and drawing rooms arr
usually on the second floor — where IniKta lucfjo is said
a''ain. As you turn the corner in descendiiiij the
stairs to the ct»urt, you for the third time l)ow and
rnise your hat, the ladies again repeating their adieus.
In beckoning for a person to come to them, they
move tli(^ hand downward and outward, lnst(>ad of
toward themselves, as connnon among Anglo-Saxon
races. If you are of the gentler sex, the host, ofl'ei-
ing his arm, escorts you di wn the stairs, and to the
ni '^■er-absent carriage.

There is a reason for all things, though not in all
things is there reason.

There is no reason in women going barefoot whiK'
the men wear sandals, as do the lowest class in Mex-
ico. The reason may be found by going back to abo-
riginal times, when the men as lords paramount
tramped the forest while the women as inferior beings
drudged at home.

There is no reason in the ladies of the capital driv-
ing to the alameda at precisely six o'clock every cveii-
inu', rain or shine, often permitthn; a maunificent dav
to pass by without fresh air or sunshine, and then
going out after dark to get neither. Nature has lu r
moods, though usually fixed in her habits. Fashion-
able women havi; tlu'ir ways, whi(di do not always a( -
connnodate themst^lves to the ways of nature. During
the months of October and November there is m tl'

REASONLESS REASON.

721

city of Mexico a roo;u]ar fivc^ oVlork shower. All tlic
samo, at five o'clock the woj-ld of fasliloii must turn
out of their houses for a drive, dowagers and damsels
(jocliniujjj all otlier exercise, and closeting theniselv(>H at
liuino until from inactivity a ])eculiar anivmic maladv
results. Th(! reason is that durinuf former trouhlous

t (■-

linie.s a p;uai'd was placed at the past>o for tlie ]M«»t
tion of healtli and pleasure seekers, and the liah'it.
once formed, conunon sense has not heen able to over-

come

it.

There is no reason in cmi>lovin*»' men to do the work
(if donkevs, drivin«»' tliem froui the sidewalk into tlie
street wliile staL'',L;;erin;jj under hurdens Avhich mi'i^ht
1 fetter he drawn in calls; imp(»sinu; ujion human he-
ino's work which would almost disijjrace a l>east, and
that with plenty of available lieasts. Yet e\en a
cheap Iturro may ])rol)r.hly he regarded as wortli more

than th(i man at no markitahle val

lis an(

I th

lialf-starved, half-naked children, sitthiL"' or slt'epinuf
upon the cold «lamp stones tliat send deadly disease
throuiL^h their poor little bodies, are amonj^tlie sad(Ust
sights I ever belield. Better a thousand battles and
)Utcheries. that however cruel tei'minate (juickly, tlian

this h

oni4-urawn ajjjony oi mans (lee[) t

del

>asement.

K(»r the reason here we must i»o liack to aboi-i;j;inal
times, when there were no beasts of burden <»n this

rthern continent. Under tl

le successive admiiii?

t rations wlilch followed tliose of the Montezumas, tli(^
descendants of the carriers, liavin<if found nothinLC
hetter to do, nuist continue to carrv till the end of
time, despite the prcscnc(^ of h<»rses and donkeys, and
steam and iron, unless benevolent men force them

111

to other channels of labor.

Take not too nuich uncti<»n to your soul at a per-
son's tellinj^ you that his house is yours, that he and
ill his are at y<tur full and free disposal, tliat he kis.ses

ur hand and kisses y(»ur feet, and will livi; for you
die at your ]»leasur(

\(i

111'

for 1

le wi

•11 k

nows, and vou

)uld know, that he would do nothins>' of the kind.

I.IT. INI

46.

'"I

ir ' i

itj 1

t'jr

i\i

722

KXT'EHTTrOXS TO MEXICO.

Considor tlio many nu>aniu<jrl<'ss forms amonijf otlu r
nations, which are tlie nlicH of by-jMrf)nc a^cs, when
socictv was ri<jj<>r()uslv separated into castes and
classes, masters and servants, lords and soifs, when
stj'an<j;ers were scarce and suspicious personau'es, and
tlie visits of fi'i'iids were few, and take not litcni'ly
wliat »vv inteiidi'd merely as polite expressions, in-
dicative; of |j;ood-will and fiiendly feelino-.

Tliere is no reason in i;oin<; <tut of one's wav to
make one's self uncomfoitaljle. A prejudice pi'evails
amoni;' Mexicans of all classes ajjjainst artificial heat
in houses. There are prohahly fewer stoves of any
kind than pianos in ISIexico to-day. The walls, lithrr
of adobe, brick, or stone, are so thick that the Inteiior
is cooler in sunnner than the atmos])here witliout, and
warmer in winter. Yet u])on the hii;h table-land the
houses in winter arc not comfortable; but rather than
liave a tire the occupants will shiver the cold niontlis
throu;j,h, because, tluy say, the air, already rarefied by
altitude, deterictrates when further rarefied by heat.
When absolutely necessary to heat a room, a brasicr
with charcoal is used. The assertion is not ]>rove(I.
liowever, either by this line of reasoninuj or by i'X]ie-
rience. It has never bei-n shown that for purposes of
n'spiration it is worse to warm the air on the toj) ot'
a mountain than to warm that at the base. The thlii
air when made thinner by the sun in sunnner is still
liealthful; but the superstiti<m remains. And I
notice that ^Nfexicans on passinn^ from an inner room
into the open air often pause for a few moments in ;i!i
ante-room, so that tlie chanj^e niay not be too suddt n.
A Lsitors are warned ajijainst a (/oljx'dcl airr — l)low from
the air — in goinij^ from the darkened interior into tjic
stron'jf liuht of the street, manv receiving injurv to
the eyes by so doinjj^. It is common to see [)ersoiis
walking the streets with a handkercliief over tlio
uiouth.

The bullfight still obtains, except in places where

AMUsr.MKXTS.

723

tlio nutlioritios Imvo readied tlio ronc'insinn tlint a
slau^litcr-liousii with Its cluap «lis|)l;iy of l)rav» ly In
tawdry colors amidst tlio Ix llowiii'Li's (»t' a hull as it
^ori'S to death a tni-dollar horse i» imt the most iii-
tolleetiiid or retliied of Sunday occii|)ati(iiis. or the hi-st
means of raising' funds for ehaiitahle ]iur|ioses, even
if directed 1)V the mayor and i>resided over hy the

governor.

The drama has often heeii enrourai;ed Ijy the l;<>^ -
crnment. no less than twenty thousand dolhirs !•< uiLf
«*onti'il)uted to supiMtrt the theatre hi 1S.';I--J, and
again during the rules of Santa Anna and Maximilian.

The ^Fexicans are natural musicians. I']very mili-
tary com[)any and eveiy town has its hand, t»r seveial
of tliem, whose niemhers have never had regular in-
struction. The son ]>icks u|) something from the
father, anil the leader does the icst, the I'esult heiii';-
very satisfactory, tilling the thousands of ]ila/as with
sweet music all through tlu' soft troi>ical exening.s.
Their specialty is the dance-nmsic, with its W( ir<l,
rhythmic moxcment, ])layed in ])erfect time jiiid tune.
Till' Mexican ear is remarkal)ly correct, and althou;.;li
for tlu^ most }>art untaught, their umsical tasti; and
instinct are uut-rrintif.

The ^lexican nuisician, though not wholly mortal,
is still suhject to the tVailties of mortals. Fond of his
jtuhjuo, and in need of constant refrt shment to keep
him U[) to the ins[tiied pitch, he sonu'times ind>ibes
too freely, and one of the over-ready suhstitutes has
to be called, while the overcome pei-former lies down
on the Hoor, and slumbers peaci^fully, revelry still
mingling wltli his tlreanis.

The natit)nal dance, the danza, taking the jilace of
the more pronounced Cuban h<ih<iii(r(t, has a slow,
swaying movement, coidbrming well to the nmsic.
^lexican songs partake of the same character, oftin
with the danza movement runnhig through them. In
fact, the nmsic of the ^fexicans isas in<livl(lual in its way
as that of the Neapolitan airs or German V'olkslieder.

I'i

;!;:?
W-

lit

T-M KWRDITIONS TO ^rF,Xr^O.

A sttikiiii^ fcaturi' is its iiirlaiiclioly strniti. FiViii
tilt' s(ii)ij;s niid sircct cries n\u\ strains of ljiu;^lit<-r aiv
in a miiiof key. ListiTi t<» i\\v ])laiMtivc voice of tlie
))(>()jile ill coiiimou conversation, ainl you would iiii-
atiiiie tlieiii in cont'ei'i'iice oN'er a (Kill""' c<»nira(U'l

Tljo A[exiran s4anil)les upon instinct, if such a term
lias any meaning:;. II*- lias in liiin su|ierstition enough
to l)elle\(! in luck; lie will n(»t work; lie fVe<|uently is
Hon^ly in need of money; liow else is lie to net it ^

Notwitiistandiiin tlie laws exlstiiiii^ in the ca|iital,
there is nanildhi'L? foi' all trades, tahles on which iiotli-
iui^ l)ut co|»ner is seen, other's of silver with some
;^old, and still others where L?<'ld al(»ne is us«'d, the
lowest liet here allowed l)ein<j,' an ounce.

A law of ISlIH closed many of the eainl»lin<4-houses,
thnnviiiii many profis.slonal ^amhlers out of employ-
nn'ut iind dej>i'ivin;j; thousands of thtlr accustoiiieil
aniusciiient. 1'he proceedinijj showed at once the
material stn^ijjjth of the ujovernment ahle to (>nforce
so unpopular a measure, and tin; moral streir^th of
till! rulers, who helieved i^amhlln*^ to he iiii(juitous
and pernicious. Ncverth<dess, tlit' Inliei-ent and old-
tinit! passion was not thus to bi' quenched. As in
relij^lon. thero was much comfort in it. So the fol-
lowin^j;" year we find written: "From the highest to
th(3 lowest, all <jjand»lo; and it is no uncommon thiiii;'
to see the senators, and even hi^lu'r officers, in the
cockpit or at the L^ianiln^-tahle hettin*^ and stakinu'
their money against the half-clothed laborer." INIeas-
ures have since be<'n fnMjuently taken to diminish the
evil, but with little ett'ect.

In some countries the business of })awid)roker is
deemed di.s^raoi'ful as well as [lernieious; but in Mex-
ico it is, under government auspices, a source of ojov
ernment revenue, and the manaijement of the Monte
de Piedad, as it is called, is confided to a pei-son of
the first inteijfrity. It receives whatever effects the
poor people can bring, loans them a large percentage

I'AUN.SIIOl'S AM) (..\Ml'.MN(i.

723

of tluir vjilut', uidI cliMr'^c's ii sin;ill pci-ctiito'^o for tlio
use nf ili(! iiKMifV wliiii tlif luiiii is jLiid. It' alliiNVt'd
ti> ifiiunii iiiii'cdcfincd t'oi" six iiioiitlis tlif i tlirts aii'
tlit'ii sold at inictii>ii. ii saK- takiii:;^' |ilacr t\iiv iiiniitli.
'I'ln' iiistitiitioii is lai'^i'ly pat loni/rd l'\ the Inwrr
classes, and the <'stal)lisliiiiriils air iinliid \i iitalilf
cui'iosity slioj)s. It lias Wraiiclirs all unci- tin' i<'|iid»-
lic, and dots also a Itaidxiii;^ and iaokfia^c l)ii>int ss,
(owirKJi iin]iiilsc was oImii l»y tlic coid'uscd state of
tlie laws tVoni colonial times coneeiiiin'4" |iro|Hi'tv and
colIecti(»n of del)ts. It may l»e an instil ntl'in ot' the
greatest beneficence, as declared; liut it' tlieie \vert(
sa\ ini^s hanks a rare tlnn^ in Mexiio and the jieo-
|)le Were tau-^iit to |>ati'oni/-e tliein, i»a\vn!irokeis uould

lie less needed. So witll Petard to lotteries, ot'wiiiell

tliei'e iiw hotli state and nat ional. and I'roni whieli the
^•o\■el•nment derives revenue, "^riiey are no douht
Well mana;4»'d ; hut with less oamhlini;' and more
lahoi', it miijjht ho i>etter for the ^'ovei'nment, or at
least for the commonwealth. Visitois ar^' aeeosted
at every turn hv ticket venders, who iiniuiri', I )o \ ou
not wish ten thousand dollars this afternoon .' If you
,<uoo,.st that the seller imi>rove the o|>|ioi t imitv to
henelit himself, he takes it «>ood huuioredlv, and turns
to the next intended victim.

Female beauty seems to he distributed by section.s.
In some parts of the re]iubli<- attractive younif women
abound, mestizas as a I'ule liaN'in'j, better fejitui'es than
the Indians, and beiuL;" more robust than tlh' ereoles ;
in other parts there ai'e scaieely any who, even Ity
courtesy, can be called beautiful <»nly little ^iils
from ei;j,lit to twelve, then little old wriid<le(l mothers
fiom thirteen to twenty-fi\ c, and after that old women,
almost if not (juite erandniothers. ]"Jut an attractive
timidity stamps all the maidens, and e\en the boys,
w

hlch 1

far into maturitv

lii>'h

jfers
twithstandinuj women are so i>lentiful. wives are

i-prieed m Mexico, and so the jioor often ^o un-
Lirried. Fur a marriaue license the ^lexieau laborer

'j: It

'^"4:'M

T-'i;

KXl'KIHTIONS TO MEXTCO.

iiuist ;j,iv(' from five to fifttnii dollars, equivalent to
tlic liard saviii'>s of several months, and have a ijod-
fatlier. Willie civil marrin<«(^ has heen made leoal,
so that jxxtr ])eo])le mii^lit marry without jjjreat cost, so
<levftted are the lower classes, t^s|)ecially the women,
to the church, that they consider no marriajj,e hettm'
tli;in one not solenmi/A-d hy the priest, wh(», as a I'ule,
charu'es for his services as much as tln^ means of the
jtjuticipants aihnit. Better lettliem marry fre(^ly and
chi';i|>ly. and so raise the standard of morality ; the
clerical revenue will not suffer.

]\leNic;m love-makin;^, althouijh very pretty find
roniaiitie. would not he at all satisfxinijf to the 10n"lisli
or American idea of tlu' fitnc^ss I'f thini;s. L'(i)ii!<ir
Id riisii, that is. to patrol the house, is a favorite mmv
of showing;' affection. The admirer of a seiioritn. elah-
oi'ati'l\- arr.'ivt'd in his hest, presents himself, mounted
oil a mustaiiLij. which, unless fieiy hy iiatui'e. is made
1<> prance with j^reat spirit hy due mani}iulation of tin
cruel M(\\ican hit. Tie rides up and down hefore her
halcony. where she is stationed at a ct>rtidn houi- for
tliejiurpose. occasionally dashiiijj;' furiously hy, and then
suddenly pulling' up short, throwiii'jf the horse hack
on his hiiunches. 'I'his niiiiieuvre is repeated until
tile i-ecipieiit <»rtlH^ delicate HaTtc^rv di'i;4'ns to cast nii
a]»|>i'oviiii^' iLilance on her ndor-er. ( )r the love-sick
youth will stand patiently for hours, t;dkiiiM- with his
iiiaiiioiata tliroUL';h the iron-harred windows, if per
chance for reward he may toueh ills lips to tlu> tips of
her tinv tin''-ers. and will stand for hours on the side

\\k opposite. na/in;4' at the window where the fair
lie ouulit to he, hut alas! oftentimes is not. Some
times flowers, or even notes, ar-e thrown u|> to her. or
her waitln^-maid is hi-ihed to transport tlu^ connnuni-
cation. \ co<»l pair of lovers it nmst Iw who cannot
keep at least one confidejitial servant thus employ

eti

But

\ man onlv too (»ften does no

t ohti

im or set

k th

entree to her father's house until he <»;oes as her ac
cepted lover, and then only meets his tiaucce iu com

AUTISTIC IXDUSTUTKS.

7-27

juinv with luT far.iilv, iii'Vcr a tcU'-a-totc l)v tlM^n-
selves. Till' ofi'ci' is usviallv luudc tliinu''li tlii' nit'dia-
tioii of a friend, the suitor not appi-arliiLij on the scene
until all pi'eliniinari( s are arraiij^'ed. '{'lie duena,
h.owcvcr, never abates her restraining wateh u[)on
them until the niarria<j;e-day.

Tilt ]»oor Work-Woman, in eity and country, will
carrv lu'r child with lur all d;iv, however hea\ilv
t;iskrd or huidcnod. The chiMren arc oft •n stunted
in tlicir ijji'owtli, if not actually deformed, i>y the un-
natuial ])ositions in wliidi tlicy are hoiiie.

The Alexican housewife, whether slie he hi,L;h < r
low, ;j,lories in an extensivi' stock of ilishes, althounh
too often she lias little t() |>ut into them. I have seen
i.i on(^ place the walls tliiekly covered witli <hei;|'
jiotterv, and in another euphoards stored wjtliathou
sand superfluous pieces with eilt rim and nioiKMiaui.
J']arthenware of a soft red clay is made, especially at
Ciuadalupc! and CJuadalajara, hut i]\r. hest ware come-^
from (Aiautitlan, and he who hrin;^s and sells it is an
oHo'o. The ty|te usually is ]»ure Indian.

Stran'L!;ers, on the otlier hand, patroni/.e the s< Ihr
of clay li'j.ures, n^presentiuL;" tyju s from all handicrafts
with no litthi ]>lastic skill and admirahle ehdxu'at ion.

At several points, hut iiotahly at !San J*edro, near
(Juadalajara, tlu^. Indian^ .xerci.-je eiciit .skill in takiiijj,
likenesses, (Mthcr hy sittinijjs or fi'om ])lioto!4raplis.
The work is done ei.tirely hy the eye, no measure-
ments h(>ini^ taken, and ihc material em|iloyed is a
peculiar oily clay of <lark color", wlTuh when haked

turns a lighter h

ia\e Seen an una'-e ma(

I.' 1

Pantaleon l^anduro, a full-hl(»oded Indian, iVom a
ph<)t(';.(ra)>h, which, consld(iiii<r thattim artist nevt r
saw the orii^inal, is a remarkahle likeness, and sliow s
j;reat artistic skill. Amon-j; the nati\es special fi^^uit s
are in demand for dilferent occasions, in comu-ction
with religions eelehi'ations.

Feather-work also is a specialty in which tlu' [nd

1 '<

:-2H

KXI'KDITIONS TO MEXICO.

i!P

Hfi

iaiis oxcol. Tli(!V not only produco exact iinltatioiis
«»f tlio tcatluaT(l triUcs wliicli inluil)it tlic countrv,

llloUll

ted

m n

■lief

oil Ciirdhoai

(I. l>ut also inaki

wicatlis, and iiitrirati; drsii^ns in dlU'cniit colored
tl'atlK'rs, priMluciiiL^ wonderful results.

The jilastic artists also manipulate wax and a va-
riety of stones with L^reat suecoss.

The tecali niarhU^ near I'uehla is woiked into forms
of fruits, fislies, and slahs f()r tahles and hureaus. A
hv'j-i' industrv, which would soon <>ain a world-wide
rc|>utalion, mii;'ht lier"<' he l)uilt up. for the tecali mar-
hlr. hcsides ht'inn' peculiar, is sometimes very hcaut'i-
f;il. h'eatlier-work and u,<)ld and silver ornaments ar<'
anion;j; the many artistic industries datin;j,' hefore the
e()iii|Uest. Then there aie ojtals, shell-work. ]>earls,
coral, and lava ornaments, the shawls of ( Juanajuato.

le s.ulules o

f 1

San Jjuls L\)tosi.

jcon.

le liorn-work aiK

ome manu

fact

ures are mc

leed

I rel

leh

»( >/( >s < »

nwu'e widely spreat

throu'^hout the ri'puhlic than may lu" hiia'^iiied fioi

a mere <»iaiic(

at tl

le minoi

t lists. S

ome liave a err

tain fame, e\t n if limited in extent, and others sup-
ply the wants of ten million inhahitanls ; such as the
Several score of cotton and twist mills with an a,vera;j,e
invested capital of nearly a million dollars ftr each ;
Woollen factories with an annual out})ut of ahout five
million doUai's, or one fourth of the precedin*^ ; silk

tactovies which thirtv Ncan

;\'S<) a

head

V nuiiii-errd

tweiity-one; papei'-mills -which a <piarter of a cen-
tury ago Were ]»l•oducill^;• papei' worth six million
<lollars ; tvu iron-woi-Us were then \ ie|dln<r at tlie rate

or a(?vcn ana a

half million dollars unnualK' ; and

along the list, till we reacli }ilano factories, two in

numhei

The loW( r or<l< rs ai'e divided into multitudin

ous

trad*' distinctions, each ha\ ing to some extent its own
peculiar di'ess and customs. For instaine, there are
i]\r h</f( ilrros; or woodeti-tray sellers; the /n 'iit< ro, or
scUer of reed nrits at a medio apiece, l)r(,)Ught from

STllKKT flUES.

7J9

4 i

Xofliinilloo, near tlio canal, and usoil by very poor
people as beds, twenty of tlicin in a slfe[)*m;^-r, tom
soinetinies ; t]\c jdiiirm tn- hird-ea;^^ selici- ; {]\{'. <'<i)ln-
r^')v;8 or sicN'e Seller; the caiidslrros, i)v basket sellers,
beiiijx f'<»r tlie most ])art ofjiure Indian blood; and many
otliers of till- same ilass, avIio manufacture articles
and cai'iy tli(>iii from town to town in ]iu;4c loads on
tht'ir bacls's, niamifieturin;j; and sclliir^ as they ^-o.
Then there r.re t!ie rnhr:rrnx, who ci'v "(}ood heads

f si

leep

hot

•ii'jj the street; the ('(if<f<r<>, ^vhl

kootis fi ei >li'ee-sta r.d ; the rr/rro, oi- cnndle sellei- ; tl

'II I (

>ops

rr/77i

ir<i, er

hard

wai-e ])edlei' ; the In)

)'')'(>, who sells

iiitestines to h- ll'lled With sausa'^e inent ; tlie II

ijh

iiiiK ni.

or cliieken

l.'r

10 rsciitx I'd, or hrooin-corn si

tlie itcri I'lK or ice-cream seller; the ni'iii/i ijiii ri>, oi- lard

<'arrier

l/r

feediuLT to bii'(b

le jin'iiio'o, or Seller or |iir!i. a red iieriv tor

1 til

lere ai'e men who s])en(i tlieir ii\es lii ^atherin'^

■ticLi to tnake charcoal; they are called h inuh

I n s

ind Ar/.s7//v /v.'.s'. oi' woni< II who collect van:

lese ail!

other \enders are

not s[

iariii'>' o

f t

leir \-olce With

uhich to allure ( iistoiiiers. Tin'
their hivdiiilt I'll, or washerwoman, a

lower class have
s Well as the up|ier

X >/< ),

class; sht^ of the foiMiier wears a hat o\er liei- rel
while the other ■Li'oi-s bareheaded. There is a j^dod
^^•ulkee steam laundry now in thi' capital.

poor Judas 1 After haviirj; been done to death .-o
lonij; au'o, his soul is not allowed rest to this i]i\\. ( >n
ihe Saturday which follows ( b>od Friday ni holy-week,
little imaL^es of fantastic shapes with heads of men,

(levil

and nnimal

.11

111 \er\'

.III,!;

IS as iK

now at diU'erent times, and containiirj,' |ioW(ier

are SI 'Id

aitoi

it the streets hy tlie judi m, and liun;^' up in

:ii;

li.ilconies, or s

truii'j; across the street. Thel'e are elli-
■^ies la,r;^'er, six or ei.;!:t, feet hi'^li, br<tU'.;lit out by
those who Mish to ^i\t' th«^ traitor pai'ticiilar ] anl-h-

ilt. At ten o'clock at ni jht, wliile the c

ihvd

"11 is strikiiiLij the hour, lire is set. (o these ima'^esall
ver the citv ; and the noist," of the barkiu'^; of doufs,

730

KXi -;i)ITir)XS TO MEXICO.

and the sliakinur of t]i(> rattles sold hy the wafrarjiKrun
to friL»"htou th<' di'\il away, is I'liou^h to make the uii-
]ia|)])y «i;host uo forth uiid hanuT itself aiifw.

Tlie street cries have not varied inuch for a ociitiirv
or two. Ill passln^C from the aljoi'iniiial tou;;"ue tlie
tone hecame somewhat ehaii'jjeil ; hut al! tliroii'di t]\o.
ju.'riod of Sjianlsh domination, and even totlu; pr* sent
day, tl.i-re is tlio same nioundul soii^!;, the sanut lon^'
drawn note of woo terniinat'iii'j' every ei'v, even as it
struck upon the ears of ^[ontezuma.

.\11 tliroui^h the nij^ht, in the chief cities, the shrill,
<loleful whistle of the policeman is h<'ai-d every (juar-
ter of an hour, uivhiu' notice that th-y are watchriil.
I.'he helaled traveller is quite likely to hear the chal-
lenge, i^iUdi I'd f who ^'ocs thei"e i from the; sentry-
ho\ (»f a cuartel, and most ])rom))rly resjioiid, Aiiih/a!
a friend ; and if further (piestioned, Domic rirc!' where

do VoU MVt

re] Mies W

ith the name of his hotel.

room, and passes on. Unsatisfactory replies tend ti
Ml

\c <ruai'(i-iious(

Ivirly in the mornin;j; the jieople are astir, th
bv'inn' tlu> hest part of the dav for work • then con
the noon siesta, and the short aftiu'uoon of bushu

K S

AXrr

le vendei's alone (»hserve no rispit

All day loiiL^ from dawn till dark th( if diseoidan
ij'e heard from hundreds of throats— first t!.

Noices J

coalmen s ciirhcsiii-n-ii : w

diieii heiu''' ti'anslated

nilies (•((rhi))i sinur! tlien tlie ni(Ui[i'iiu'-i-H!(i ! of t!i
hutternian ; iuul c(r/,tiihiii no ! from tli« seller of i;(>oi|
salt heef And now hefoK the door \A heard tli-
jirolon^ed and melancholy n(»te of a woman, /A
rdio-o-o-o-d-n! who.se i»usiness is the ])urchase d
kitchen suet. Another shorter, (|ui<'ker' ccy is heaid.
likewise that of a Woman hi shrill so|)raHo, who 1
litlU' hot cukes to sell, (I'nrd/ias Jr homo <'<il/r)ifcs!

\:i<

Thus the <lay we;irs a,lon;jj with ever-fresh \ari
tions, jterhaps tVom a selhr of J*ueh|a tnats, and fi

Ui aooii'jina

1 J.

ledK

r in Turkish dress, fresh fi

O'll
'Oil!

the hol\ kind, with b<'ads and crosses and trink

ever Ji

1 ask(
Th- ..

tee! li
his ow
lie woi

Ask

has ;in
kiiow .
ally .-UK
if you
you \\;i
(or if V
a- mile
Aswr!

I Me\i.

SOMK ClIAKAfTlTJSTirS.

781

ncn-

niado from dw crosses of all tlio saints, not to j
tion nu)ul)orl('ss hcj^-^ars wlioso only c'a]»ltal is soni*

tlcformitx'. And at ail tlnus ni

en, wonH'i), an

IrJiiK
(Ircn of .".ll 'grades arc scJlniL;' lottcrv -rickets. After

f h

noon tlic men or jioncv-caUcs an(

d el

U'CSC.

and 1

lOlKV

aj>[)i_'ar; tlio diilco nion, ( '(iniiiidos dc (sprniiu .' huca-
(lll/o (Ic cocii! T<ir(i/I(ts (If fiKijiidd! come oi\ toward
nitilit; tlu'n nuts, and " IJucks, () my son), li^t
ducks!" There are nianv more ciii s tlian tiicse,
some of late oriii'in, though th(!"neu' dcvdnpnH iit "'
little change's the native Afexican in this or manv

other res[)e(•t^

^^'

ienev(>r a I'aih'oad tram pulls up

at a station it is immc(Hatcly surrounded hy sellers of

■Ncrythuig eatahleand driid<al'l', whose haixl ofcri<

s irritatiujj,' to those not disposed to look on t!:

aniusuiL:; side o

fit.

Speakini;" of lying* ^rcxicans and TJicre are fw of
tliem wlio are not [iroiicii'iit in the ait Uiy man 1^'ri-
(lav, M'hoin I took iVom San Fraiici

SCO, IS dcsirvin'''

(jf sjiecial mention. Jie diil not lii' \\>r ju-. iit. l>ut
from ]>rinciple. I thought ('<i'ruti a g.i-.d liar, hut
the Italian v.'as a novice l)csi(!e tliis Mexican. His

niendacitv took the dirci-tion of oinniscicr

What-

ever lie W'lslu-d to i»e\\as; wliatcM r 1 w i>lu(| to IviioW
1 askt'd him tlicii went and found out fni' m\self
The governor was not in t«»wn if mv fi'llow did not

feel 1

ike gomg ou

t. Or if

m\' teilow desired time for

his own ])lcasui'< . iiotliliig can he dt)ne on a holiday,
he would (leiiuiicly ohserNc.

Ask the a\('iage .Mexican anything, and h<' always
has an answer ready; there is nothing he does not
know. He will spin you of'.' a string of lies as natur-
ally and as gracefuily asa duck lakes to wate;-. And
if vou are wise, V(»u \\ill keep \()ur temper; and if

t, t III

)U want anvtlilng out of him. j)retend to 1

M l|e\ o IliUl,

lor it vou

tell him 1

■s. lie i >\\\\ shruirs Ins

diould

i-r

a-- nuich as to say. 'AVIiat ei.-e could you expect j"
As well find fault with a mustang tor hucklng. as with

exiean

for 1

VIU'

H' U

!! ;

i si

iiii; ?'

)

i ^ .i^

732

KXPEDITIONS TO MKXTCO.

Tilt' ^[cxic.'ins luivo a \v;iy of ilicir own of niaiiiftsf -
ill'.;' tlu-lr «lispl(.'asiU'o. Wliilc I uas with (u'iu'tal
])ia/ one day, a mrsHOJi^'cr fiom I'lcsidciit (Joiizalcz
caino witli tidliiLiS of a r('>'olutioii ou tlu! zocalo. I
]invc often oljsci'Vt'd that whcncvci' troulile approach* ■<!
(jrciioial Diaz was sure to he st-nt for. I noti<fd as 1
entered tlie liouse tliat day tliat the liorscs, liarnessed
to the carriaLif. stootl tied in tlie stahh- iv.idy foi- in-
stant use. In h'ss tliaii one minute from the time he
received n<»tice from tlie picsidiiit, with a hasty apol-
(>'>;v to nie. (leiKial Diaz was rollhi''- o\Y for the sei iic
of actioii. As I \\i»lked down the street fr.mi hi.->
lloUSe to m\- h(»tel. 1 foUlld tlie sidewalk stri'Wed witli
j^lass, the shops all closed, and mounted police j^itrol-
liii.;- the principal aveiuu-s. I'ltsently I nut (Jeiieial
Diaz returirin<:;. \\ho laU'^hiii'^K' took iiie into his car-

I'iaj^e and hatk to his house. The jioor felhtws in th
vicinitv of the Z(icalo. not likiii'j,- the sliaxc of ei'^ht

tell

cents on the dollar which the nu

•kel 1

Ijusuu-ss sui»-

iected them to, kiit^w of no other wav of manifcstin"
their displeasun; than ooiuoahout the streets in hands
of lift\' or one hundred, the mounted iiolice maivhiii"
after them hiaiidishiiij;' their drawn swon's, luit iiol
])reventin'4 the mob from hreakin^- lamps and windows.
It is iem,;rkal)l( how sotm Americans liviiiu' in
^fcKico Ih'coiiu' Mexican in many of their ways. The
sharp, ea;jer look of the typieal N'ankee is soon lost.
liis activity and energy subside, and In- sinks into the
con.stitutional repose of tie Latin race. J>etweeii
the slu!j;'j,ish I'^nnlishiiiaii tir the stolid (lerman and
tlie ^[exicail there is less ditfel'en* e in the outset, ItUl

ill

lie.se

and others los their iiative characteristic

sooner than tliev are aware.

Nor is it altoinctlier example by which this chan^
is wrought; they are forced to it in a ^rcat measmv
by <Tniiate and custom. If on the tabledand, thc\
mu.st niode)-ate their natural pace, ascend tliehts (•!'
stairs slowly and with measured tread, while in lower
latitudes tliev mast keep out of the sun. Tliev can

A VERY SLOW rKOl'LK.

733

transact no business duiiiiij; tluMiuiiiy ploasuro-liciiis
niul f'cast-chiNs tlic; Mc.vicaii el looses t<» absent liiiusi If;
wiiilo the native takes his siesta, the forei^iuT must
tiit and wait. .Vniid tlies(^ and siniihir new coiKntlons
tlic man becomes new; lie learns to take life easy, to
]»rocrastinate, to fail in his appointments, t«) s])eak
smooth Wiirds without meaning-, and finally, to become
projiclent in all the \ ices of the !M((xiean without «b-
S()rblnL>' a corresixtndiiiiL^ (juota of his virtues. Thouuh
the .^b'xicans have paid their money to brin;^' the
('hinaman to their door, thev lia\e never vet bou"ht
his pro\<'ib, wliieh atlirms that for' him who does
<"Ver\thin;:- in its jtroper time, one day is worth three,
liather. tlie ^bxican mi'«ht sav, if one dav is worth
nothing, what is the value (tf three ^

( )n tlie whole, after liavini'' s;nd manv fine words
about the AK\\i( ans, havini; tiiou;j,ht well oftliem and
become fjjreatly interested in them, working- in their
intei'ests as few amone; their own numixreN. rworketb
r must admit that tlicy are not exactlv what 1 wish
tlieywere; tliiy are not a humaji article of whi( li f
should be very proud were I a world-maker.

First of all, 1 would makt; them better-lookini;' on
the outside. What is tlie use of eumbel'ino; the earth
with such an ill-visa^cd race, all that iscKark and uejy
in the S[»amavd and Indian united'' Their fornis are
well i'noU!4li wliere devehijud by Work and hokhiijj
their heads elect, but their faces, in \duth ruddv and

b t.

tiabby oi' pale and smister, assume the aspect of dri^d
t'^bacco leaves.

On reachinjj; the city of ]\re\ieo, I took U]i my
Muarters at the hotel Iturbide, where 1 reniaiiu-il fbur
•iionths, ransackiirj; the city, and niakinj;' excursions
!M various directions.

I had letters of introduction, and beinij!; desirous of

> ein;j,' and l(•arnin^• all 1 could and makinn' the niost

'!" mv time amoni;- a notoriouslv slow, formal, and con-

•ntioual pet)j

)le, I at uni'e sent them out, rc(|Uesting

734

KXI'KOITIONs TO MEXICO.

tlio rc('i|tk'iit to iiaiiK! time and |>la('e for an intt-nlcw.
" I cannot sec why you want to maku tlie a<'(juuin-
tanco of tlu'so |)t.'o[tl('," sai«i Mor<.!;an, tlio American
minister, to mo one day. "If it is to be entertained
by tliem, you will be disai)|»ointed. Here am I these
tliree or four years re|tresentin«; tlit! qreat American
republic, and tliey ]tay not the sliLjIitest attention to
me. Asidt^ from otticial inter'coui'se with the ministei-
of forei;j,n relations, tiiere is nothing; between us.
When 1 «'anie, tlie chief otHcials called when I was
out and left their card ; I retuined the call when tiny
were out and left mv card, and that was the end of

it."

" Afv dear sir," I said, " it is th(^ last thiui; on earth
I desire — to be entertained b\' these or anv oilier'
jteople. I come to Mexico for a far ditfe!'ent |iur|tos('.
Still, if I am so let alone as to feel slighted, it will h(
for th(> lirst time in mv life."

The fact is, ^fr jNTorgan could not understand what
it was I wanted in ^lexico; nevertheless, he was al
wavs cordial and acconnnodatin«'\

For about two weeks my time was chieflv occuiiied
in making and riH-eiving calh. One of the first to
\ isit me was Ygna<'io M. vMtaniirano, one of thechii f
literaiy men in ^^exico, who boasts his j)ure A'/Art-
blood uncoMtaminated b\' anv I*]uvoi)ean inti'rmixturt ,
In form he is w» 11 j)ro[H)i'tioned, a little below medium
height, featuics clear-cut and of pronounced ty|M .
bright, black evi'S, and skin not verv tiark, intellii t.
brilliant, and tongue fluent of s])eech.

Ahamirano di\i(le(l the leading literary honors eC
the capital with Alfri'do Ciiavero, who was also (juitf
talented. Altamirano wrote for La fj'hrrtdil, Iji Iv-
jHihlica, and AY Dhtrio thl JI<ii/(ir ; any paper was glid
to oet an\tliiii"' from Chave''o, Tlies(> men showi d
uie every attention, and introduced uie to the Miem
bi'rs of the Sociedad de (nHxrrafia v Kstati'stica, at a
meeting called s[»ecially for that par[>ose.

Another very agreeable //7/(r(//no' was Irenco Pa/,

memV)ei
which ]
on the
honor t
reviewi
Most
Mexico
meut.
howi've
(iarci'a
fered ii?''
Lor res i
free an(
Senor 7
features
hold in
me to 1
wi'nt ou
I fom
and edit
niodi'st (
know hi
Indeei
seeming
I camiot
not the i
de.se rve.
and arist
with a li
other re I
sword of
<|uisiti()n
founding
time of
worksho]
great tlili
ranging,
I met

anoriLTma

LlTKllAllV MKX.

7:t.-.

iucmber c»f conorcss, and ])i(»prii't()r of La Pah'iit,
wliU'h luiH a (lailv, and an illustiatt-d wcrklv edition,
on tho front paufc of wliicli Scnor I*az <lid nie tlu'
lioiior to]>la('e my portrait, with a Ifio^rapliical notice,
ri'vifwing my books in tlu; otlier edition.

Most of tlie Icadinu; journals and journalists In
Mc^'xii'o aro under tlie inmiediatc i)iiv of the •••overn-
ment. There has aKva\s heen one notal>le exception,
however, in AV Monitor J!( inihliaint), of wliieh A'ieente
(iarci'a 'I'oires was [»ro|)rii'tor. The ^overmnent of-
fered !i?;)jO a month to this joui'nal ;is suhsidx', hut
Torres thought he could do Itetter ti» keep liims<'lf
free and independent. Ih- was a shrewd old I'ellow,
Senor Torrtiti, Leinj^ ahout seventy, with shar|>, uri/./.ly
features, and a man whose kind sei'viees I shall ever
hold in 'grateful remend)r;mee. ^for^an iiitrodudd
UK! to him. and besides olhriniL'' me his columns, lu;
went out of liis way to j^atl-'r material for me.

I found in !''raiieiM(; Sosa, author of several works,
and editor of /-'/ NdciotKil, a man of talents, of all'Mhle
modest demeanor, sut'h as makis a stranger wis] i tt*
know hiui further.

Indeed, I initso many, who treated me so eor-dially,
seeming ^> count it a })leasure to ser\t^ me, lliat whiiu
I eaimot pass them hy without mentioi>, I still have
not the space to dcvoto to them which their mci'its
deserve, ^riiere was N'iceiitc lliva l*alacio. of ati old
and aristocrati( familx, occupvin<j; a palatial residence,
with a line library, and many su[)i'rl) Maximilian and
other relics, such as the cliair (»f Hidalgct, and the
sword of Mina. llei'e were the archiNcs of till' In-
quisition, in iifty-four manuscript volumes, tVom tiie
founding of the institution in ^lexico in l."i7i>, to the
time of Inde})en(k'nce, say I S 1 4. His jiouse was a
workshop like niv librarv. tlie owner exercising
Lircat tliligenee,with men about him extracting, ar-
ranging, and condensing matei'ial for his use.

I uu't Amador Chimalpopoca, one of tlu' race of
aboriginal rulers, one uiLjht at the ro(^ms of the geo-

l!- i->

736

KXrKDITTONT^ TO MEXICO.

j»;v!i]>] ileal soricty. Native American iiitclli ^ciiec,
uMIity, ln'aiii jiower, Ljeiiius. or wliatever it may l)e
eallrd, is a})|>areuily no whit l)eliiii(l Hie European
ai-ti<-lc.

On anotlier orrasion I cneoimtered a mr.ii no les«
remarkal>lc In anotlii'r ilireet Ion, J. I']. llrrnandt'Z y
]).ivalos, wlio fi»r tliirty-one years liad Ixen collcciin"4"
from all ]>arts of tli»^ country, !^^cxico, ^fi; lioacan,
('li'iliualiua, Jalisco, Oajaca,, and elscwJic-.c, documents
relative to tlie war of Indt'|»cndenc(% and from tliat
time to tlie Fivncli war. He states that lie eo|>icd
evcrvtlihi''' iclatini'' to tlic sul>icct out of tlie IJildio-
teca National, and liad two copyists In the National
Archives for four vears. lie was a poor man holdiii"'
Some inferior government position with a small salai-y:
hut out of it he suppoitc-d his family and acliicNcd
this «i;rcat work, whiK; lilL^h otticials stole millions and
(hd nothlii''; — not a sinu;le self-<lcnvin'ji: or iiraiscworthv
act for tlii'ir country. Ilernande/ y ]);ivalos \n;is
often promised i;o\(riiment aid, hut jj,(»ver'nnient olli-
cials here, as elsewhere, are too prone to promisi" witli
no Intention of keepinir their word. In fact ]\Ie.\i-
c-ans, of ]\i'jf]\ or low deojreo, arc not ri'inarkahlo for
their reliahility. In 1870 this man had a little ci^ar
factory in tlie calle de Dontorihio, worth .^700, the
profits from which gave himself and family a fair
sujjport. Ho had already in his possession many
precious ])a])ers, when along came one mor(> valualde
than them all. It was ri'gaiding Hidalgo, and was
oli'ered to him for J^'J.")!). J^ut where was tlie money
to come from i lie felt that he could not let sh^) from
his grasp so ))riceless a treasure, hut this was a huge
amount for him to raise. H(^ tri(\l in vain to borrow
it ; Hidalgo's paper v.'as worth less in tlie market than
that of any pulque-seller. At last ho actuall}- sold out
his huslness in order to secure tliis document. Wliat
would l)icome of tlu' wise and wealthy of this world
were there no enthusiasts or fools 1 At this time,
1883, six large volumes of these documents had been

sri'KItsTiTION.

7:i7

]»ritit<Ml l>y TLiiuiikIcz v IMvalos, jhmI 700 suWrilKTs
ohtaiiK'd ; hut unluckily, a paper advcise to tlic
rlianictcr of the vii'i;iu oi' Guadalupe Hllppfd in, and
straightway tlie sul>scrii>tion list dropjicd down to
llfty. Men liavo Ixh'ii innnortali/cd, M'itli piles of
masonry erected to tlieir lion«)r, for far less heiirjifs lo
tlieh" countiT than those conferred hy tliis p.tov
cigarniaker

No small commotion this sanin virgin of (j}uadalui>e
lias made in Mexico first and last. .Tier shrine is at
a small town not far from Mexico city, (luadahqu-
I f idalgo, a place of som<! political fam(% the treaty
with the United States concluding the war of I84<)
and transfer of California, aujong other things, having
hocn done thiM-e. It was here, if we may helieve tlu;
holy men who have written volumes on the suhject,
that the virgin appeared to the poor Indian, Juan
J)iego, impruiting her imago in his hlaid^et, that the
al)origines of Ann-rica as well as the aristoci-atic for-
eigners might have her oHigy to worshij), and huild
lii-r a church on the spot of her ])reseiit a[)pearing.
The priests pret(Mide(l to Ix; incredulous at iirst, but
linally permitted the natives to have their own j»ar-
ti^ular virgin, as the latter were inclined to negleet
tlie deities of S[iain for those of !Mexic(^. It is not an
.ittrartivc place on a holiday for a [urson of retiiied
'irgans (»r sensitive nerves, as the crowds drawn thither
not of tlu! best behavior. Tlie gamblhig and
linking of the worshippers after church ser\ ice are
of a rather low order, the bets iH-inix small and the
di'iidv pulque. There was one highly respectable den
'f infamy, however, where tlu; suju-rior class, the upj)er
-trata of society, statesmen, militaiy ofhcers. and com-
mercial men, mi«>]it induh'-e in lai-Lfer stakes at tlie
tables representing the more ])opula!' European games,
'vith French wine and brandy. For everywhere in
Mexico, as in most other places, it is not vice itself
that is scourged so much as the manner of indulgence.
Any amount of wickedness is anywhere tolerated so

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738

EXPEDITIONS TO MEXICO.

that it be conventional. It is quite orthodox for tlie
common people of Mexico to get drunk on pulque,
while the upper strata may indulg;e without limit in
wine, so h)ng as they do not drink in bar-rooms or
tipi)le throughout the day. So with regard to
gambling, clieating, law-breaking, unl)eliet', licen-
tiousness, and all the crime and vices flesh is hen-
to — let them be done decently and in order, in
such a Avay as to avoid exposure or punishment, and
all is well.

General Cdrlos Pacheco, minister of Fomento, who
lost an arm and a leg in the war, is a man of sterling
worth, and highly respected throughout the republic.
Francisco de Garay, an engineer of great reputation
and ability, in a series of conversations gave me the
coloring for the several phases of ^Mexican histoi'v
during the present century, such as could not be
found in books.

I found in the prominent lawyer and statesman,
Francisco L. Vallarta, a most serviceable friend. Then
there were President Iglesias and his cabhiet whom
I entei-talned in San Francisco during their fliij^ht to
the United States, who were most cordial in their
ti'reetinijfs and attentions. Tiie venerable and learned
Prieto was of their nundier. I may also mention
Jose Maria Vigil, director of the Blblioteca National;
iVlberto Lombardf), one of the best families; Doctor
Ramon Fernandez, governor of the district General
Naranjo, acting secretary of war and navy; Juan
Toro, postmaster general ; Vicente E. Manero, archi-
tect and engineer; Feli[)e Gerardo Cazeneuve, pro-
prietor of AV Mumlano; Joaquin Garcia Icazl)alceta,
with a beautiful house and line library, whose works
were freely used and quoted by me In my Native
Itaces; Jose Ceballos, president of the senate; Jesus
Fuentes y Muniz, minister of the Hacienda; Luis
Siliceo; Juan Yndico, keeper of the archives of tlio
district of Mexico; Jesus Sanchez, diiector of the

CORTEZ AND DIAZ.

739

11!)

museum, and a host of others. Icazbaleeta is more
bibhographcr than writer; he cleans the pages of his
old books, restores lost and faded cuts with pen and
ink, and he even set up with his own hands ths type
for one of his reprints. Manuel Romero Rubio,
father-in-law of tlie late president, introduced me to
Porfirio Diaz, and ho to President Gonzalez. From
General Diaz, tlie foremost man in the republic, I
took a two weeks' dictation, employing two stenogra-
phers, and yielding 400 pages of manuscript. Natu-
rally, during this time, and subsequently, I became
well acquainted with the Diaz family, dining fre-
quently there, and with the father of the charming
wife of the president, whose home was one of the most
elegant in the capital.

Romero Rubio, tlien president of the senate, for-
merly minister of foreign affairs, and subsequently
minister under Diaz, is a fine specimen of a wealthy
and aristocratic Mexican; grave and somewhat dis-
tant in his demeanor, vet kind and cordial amonij:
friends, and punctilious in the performance of every
tluty, public and private.

Porfirio Diaz appears more American than Mexi-
can. In the hall of the municipality and district of
IVIexico are portraits of all the rulerti, regal and re-
publican, from Cor-tes to Diaz. And between the
first and the last are some points of resemblance.
Cortes made the first conquest, Diaz the last. The
former chose Oajaca as his hcjme; tlie latter was born
there. In this portrait of Coi-tes, tlie finest I haw
seen, tlie conqueror is n^proseiitcd as quite old, toward
the end of life, wlien the ju'itle of gratified ambition
luul been somewliat obliterated by the machinations
of enemies, the neglect of his sovereign, and the
jealousy of couitiers. Tliei'e is present less of the
strong man triunqfliant tlian of tlie strong man
humiliated. Diaz has had his triumphs; perhaps his
humiliations are yet tcj come. Few great men escape
them toward the end of their career; indec.l they

tjii

740

JIXl'EDITIONS TO MEXICO.

seem necessary, in the economy of politics, to termi-
nate the too ambitious man's efforts, whose preten-
tions otherwise would know no bounds.

The two great receptacles of knowledge, ancient
and modern, historical, scientific, and religious, in the
Mexican capital, and which make the heart of the
student, investigator, or collector, to quail before
them, are the Biblioteca Nacional, or national library,
and the Archivo General y Publico de la Nacion, or
national archives.

Tlic Biblioteca Nacional occupies a large building,
formerly a church, part of the walls of one portion of
it having been worked over until it has quite a
modern and imposing aspect. To enter tlie library,
as at this time arranged, you pass through a well-kept
garden to the door of the untouched poi-tion of tlio
antique, passmg which you find yourself in a largo
room, with irregular sides and angles, well filled wltli
books. At tables are usually ten or twenty per-
sons readiiiij: or wiitin-jj.

Thence through a small door in the wall you may
pass into the main building, or rather the main library
room, on either side of which are ranges of lessor
rooms; eacli holding one of the sections, or part of a
section, into which the library is divided. The volumes
nominally number 130,000, folios in vellum largolj'-
predominating, nine tenths of which are of no value
from any point of view. Throw out these, and the
many duplicates, and tho number is not so imposing.

Tlie sections, or princi[)al divisions, are eleven
namely, bibliograph}^ theology, philosophy, juris-
prudence, niatliematics, natural science and physics,
medical science, technology, philology and belles
lettres, history, and periodical literature.

Senor Vigil wrote out for me a very interesting
historical description of this instituticjii. The library
was formed, to a great extent, from the old libraries
of the university, the cathedral, and the several con-
vents of the city. The edifice was the ancient temple

BIBLIOTEOA NACIOX.VIi.

741

of San Augustin, and is still undergoing changes and
repairs to meet the prct^ent purpose. On the posts of
the fence surrounding tlie grounds are busts of notable
authors, Yeytia, Navarrete, Alzate, Pefia, Alainan,
and Clavijero; also Cardoso, Gongora, Pesado,
Couto, Najera, Ramirez, Tafle, Gosostiza, Gaspio ;
and tlie illustrious aboriginals, displaying features
fully as refined and intelligent as the others, Nczahual-
coyotl, Ixtlilxochitl, and Tezozoinoe. In the reading
room are statut's of persons whose names mark the
devolopnient of human thought, according to the esti-
mate hereabout : Confucius, Ysarias, llomer, Plato,
Aristotle, Cicero, Virgil, Saint Paul, Origen, Dante,
Alarcoii, Copernicus, Descartes, Cuvier, and Hum-
boldt.

The library is open from ten to five, and free;
aimual revenue for new books Jj^SOOO ; the attache's
are one director, two assistants, four book clerks, a
chief of workmen, a paloogtuifo, eight writers, 'a con-
serjo, gardener, porter, and three mozos.

All the work on the building, ornamentation, stat-
ues, and furniture, has been done by Mexican artisans
and artists. The labor of classifying and arranging
the books was long and severe. It Wi(3 found on
opening boxes which liad been packed and stored for
fifteen years, that there were many broken sets which
never could be completed.

Far more important for history, if not, indeed, the
most hnpoi'tant collection on the continent, is the Ar-
rhivo de la Nac'ion. I found here in charge my old
friend Justino Kubio, under whose su])orintendence
nmch extensive cojn'ing (»f manuscripts and documents,
no where else existing, has been done in times past for
my library. It did not require the permission of the
secretary of foreign relations, so readily accorded to
nie, to enable me to visit and extract from these ar-
< 'hives at pleasure.

The national archives occupy eleven rooms in one
section of the palace, pretty solidly filled with mate-

742

EXFRRITIONS TO MEXICO

rials for history, mostly in docunientary form, though
there are some printed books. The first or main room
contains something over 3,000 volumes, relating to
land-titles and water-rights from 1534 to 1820.
Among the many points of interest in this collection
are 200 volumes relating to the Spanish nobility in
Mexico ; the branch of Merced, or concessions of lands
to private persons; a royal cedula branch, comprishig
227 volumes from 160i). Some rooms are filled en-
tirely with manuscripts. The section on history con-
tains nmcli material relating to California and the
internal provinces, from wliicli I have largeh' copied.
There are no less than 200 volumes on northern his-
tory alone, and 1,000 volumes of military reports to
viceroys, little from whicli has ever been published.

The founding of this institution may [frojierly date
from 1823, though it has a more extended history be-
fore than after that time, while for some tune subse-
<iuent't() the independence little attention was paid to it.

I believe it was the Count Hevillao-igcdo wlio, in
1790, conceivcid the idea of establishing in ]\Iexico a de-
pository similartothe Archives of the Indies in Spain.
Chapultepec was talked of as the place for it, and two
years later, through his minister, the Marques de Bj)
jamar, the king ordered the tiling done. It seems
that the govi^rnnient documents had been mostly de-
stroyed in the fire of 101)2, and fi)r a half century
tlicreaftcr few were saved.

Copious indices wer'c early made of the material,
thus adding greatly to its value. I notice some of
the headings, as tobacco, excise, duties, puhjue. ayun
tamiento, department of San Bias, of the Californias.
audiencia, mines, military, etc. T(» Kevillagigedo,
likewise, the; world is indebted for the important work
in 32 folio volumes, begun in 17S0, and entitled M(-
inorkts 'jxira la Jllstoria Inn'irrsdl de hi America i^ep^fi'-
irtonal, sent by the vicf^roy to Spain. For some time
after Bevillagigedo's rule, his successors paid little jit
tention to the archives, so that little more was doiu

ARCHIVO GENERAL Y PUBLICO.

743

until after independence had been acli'ievcd.

The first buil(Ung occupied by the archives was the
old Secretaria del Verreynato, later used by the iiiin-
istry of Relaciones. Part of the collection was depos-
ited hi the convent of Santo Domingo, whence many
were stolen.

Among those to fully appreciate the value of these
treasures, and the importance of having them pro[)eily
arranged and cared for, was Jose IVIariano do Salas,
who in 1840 printed in Mexico a Reglamento, setting
f(U"tli their value, not alone for the ])rotection of the
rights of property, butns a nucleus for a vast aniomit of
further information which might b secured and saved.

An inventory was ordered, and a schedule made of
material elsi'where existinu; that should be; lodu'cd
there. The latter included ministerial aflaii <, govern-
ment and war correspondcniee, etc. Ap])ropriations
Were made for annual expenses, the first oflicial
receiving $15UU, the second $1200, the third ^1000,
a secretary $300, a second $450, a third $400, and a
pt)rter, $;500. Salaries and expenses were modified
and changed from time to time. The material was
now divided into two parts, one' relating to aitair's
]>eforo the declaration of inde[)endence, and one sub-
si'quent thereto. Both e])(>ehs were then divided into
fonr parts corresponding to the four secretaries of
state, namely, memoirs, hnv, landed proptrty, and
war. Ivieh of these subjects were divideilinto sections,
the first external and internal government, the second
law and ecclesiastical, the third ]>roperty rights, and
the fourth war and maritime matteis. All these were
again di^•ided, and sul)divided, into afi'aU-s civil, com-
mercial, ]H)litical, and so on.

The office hours are from nine till three. Great
care is taken agauist theft ; no document may Ik^ re-
moved from its place witliout an order, and no
document must be left out of its jilace over night.

Of this institution I obtained (.Ih'ect and important
information, far more than I can print. I learn, for

ft' 1^

I i iiji ! 'y

744

FArEUlTlONiS 10 :4K\ltO.

instance, that to the 3000 volumes of land matters
there is an index of four volumes ; under the title of
gifts arc 27t) volumes; entails, 181 volumes; civil
code, 12'JI) volumes; Indians, 70 volume?; treasons,
182 volumes; intestates, 30'J volumes; drahiage, 44
volumes.

Uudur title of tlie Inquisition arc 213 volumes of
procesos against priests for temptation in the confes-
sional, for matrimonial deceits, blasphemies, heresies,
and upon genealogy and purity of blood. Under the
heading Jesuits, is a volume telUng of the extinction
of the order in Mexico, Under title of the religious
orders of California, is a volume on their foundation in
1793. Tlien there are the archives of the mint, of
the renta do tabaco, etc.

Out of 2&1 volumes of the national archives relating, to a great extent, to
what was once the northern frontier of the republic, l)ut now the ilomain of
the United States, I extract the following:

Historia Tonio XXI., Ivstahleciniiento y progreso <le la Antigua Califor-
nia. TonioXXII., Id., por cl Padre Fray Francisco I'ahm. Tonio XXIll.,
Xueva California por id. id. Tonio XXXL, Puerto do Xootka. Tonio
XXXVI., Enlrada a California del Padre Salvatierra do la Coin]>ania do
.Icsus. Tonio XLIV., ICxtraeto de la uavcgacion de^de el puorto do Kootka y
recoiiociniieiito de la Costa del Sur. Tonio LVIL, Expedieiite hi.storico de
las navcgacionea hechas a las Costas Septentrionales de Californias para
desculirir y dctcrniinar la e.xtensiou de aus distritos e ] las Adyacentcs.
Tonio LX] , Diario de la cxploracion del Alfcrcz Don .Juan I'crez a los I'uer-
tos de iSan Diego y Monterey, 1774, No. 7. Id., <K'l I'iloto 10 tehaii .Jose
Martinez al Puerto de Monterey, 1774, no. 8. Tonio LXIL, Id. de kn 11. R.
P.P. Fray Francisco Atauasio Domingucz y Fray Silvestro Velez de Esca-
lante para descuhrir el caniiuo de Santii Fe del Xucvo Mexico al de Monte-
rey en la California Septentrional, 177(5, No. 1. Tonio LXIIL, Exploracioii
liecha el afio de 1779 d las Costas de Californias por el Teniontc do Xavio Uou
Ignacio de Arteaga. Diario del mismo Artea^a, No. u.Sl. Tonio LXIV.,
Diario de navegacion del Tcniente do Xavio Don Fernando Bernardo de
Quirds y Miranda, 17711, No. 1. Diario del Piloto Don Jose Caniaclio, 1779,
No. 2. Id. de Don Juan Pautoja y Arteaga, 1779, No. 8. Id. de D. .fuan
Francisco de la Bodega y Cuadra, 1779, No. 4. Diario y uavcgacion del Al-
fercz do Fracata JJon Jose do Cafiizares, 1779, No. .'j. Tonio LXVIl., Expe-
dicute sobre liniites ilc las Costas Septentrionales de California eucargada al
(!apitan do Navio Don Juan do la Bodega y Cnadi'a, 1792, Nos. 24-"). Coii-
veneion cntre Espafia e Inglaterra solire la pcsca, navegacion y voi.ieri'ioi ii
el oceano Pacllieo y los ]\lares del Sur, '28th Oct. de 1790, y "xpedieute di'
liniites al liacer la entrega do Nootka, No. (J. Instruccion de 1 ts coniereiaii-
tcs propietarios a Mr Jn. Mares, Coniandante de los Bu((ues, ' La VcUz y la
Itigenia,' en Ingles y traducida al Espafiol. Tomo LXVIII., Oaipacion del

iiuerto de Nootka, 1790, estrccho de Fuca, Costas del Principe Cruillermo,
intrada de Cook 6 islas de Sandwich, 1791, No. 1. Tomo LXIX. Descidn-i-
niicnto en las costas Septentrionales de Californias desde los 48 ,;rados 2()'
liasta los 49 grados 50', No. 7. Diario e Iiiformes del Tcuiente de Fragata
Don Manuel Quiniper desde sn salida de San Bias a Nootka, 1791, No. 8,
con varies pianos de Fiica, Puerios do Clayucuat, San Lorenzo tie Nootka,

C'ALIFOIINIA MANUSCKllT MATKKIAL.

74.-.

Bucn.a Esperanza, BrnliH, San Jaime e islas do San Anie. Toino LX.\..
Llugada ild Coniatidantu de la Kxpodicion & Xootka y rcmisiou de su diarin
cnn los pUuKW, dil)uj()s y noticias t'sencialos de su coiiii^inn, 17!*-, Xi>. 1.
Fortilicacioii del rrosidio de ('alifornias, 1704, No. 4. JlceniKiciniienti) di' l.i
(Vista deade el Puerto de Bui'areli liaata el de Nootka pdrcl Teiiiente de
Xavio D. .laeinto C'aainafio. Tomo LXXI., Lista de Ins plaiKu <|\ie iiicluye
el diario del I'apitan de Navio don Francisco Juan de la Ciiadra, lirdio en su
viaje do Nootka. 1. Vista de las islas Manas, '2. Jsla do Sau I'.cnedicto, ;{.
I'".ntrada a Nootka, 4. I'lano del I'uerto de Nootka, ."t. Vista <lel estalil.^ci-
inieuto dcNooLka, Ci. liuliia il'! Xootka, 7. I'lauo d(! las ]»aliias de Nootka,
y ]{uena Esperanz.i, S. Carta de la eosta comiirendida cut re el grailo 40'' y cI
.')() Lat. Norte, etc. , etc. Nuevo Keeoiiociniiento de la Costa de California,
tlictanien de los Olicialcs do Marina (laliano, Valdcs, Ijcrnardo y .Salamanca
.sol)re ir liasta cd grado (10°, No. '2. liesultas del desculiriniicnto do la Costa
entre Sau Franeiseo y Fuca jior Don Francisco Kli/.a y el pilotii Juan Marti-
nez liayos, No. 8. Kxtracto de las navegacioiies licclias en la America Sep-
tentrional ]ior 1). Jacinto Caamano, Teuicnte dc Navio desde el puerto de Sau
l?las dc doude salio el l!0 de Mar/o de 170'2, No. 1 1. I'lamis de la ( 'osta do
la Nueva Cautahria, sus islas desdc; .'•'an Loniizo de Nootka a iJucareli y
I'uerto dc Biicareli. Tomo LXXIl., I'rovincia de .'alifornias. llostiincu
general (jue manitiesta el estado eu ipie se hallan losinievos estiiblecimientos
de la provincia y expresa los presidios, pueblos, iudiuy, etc., do t^uo ae coni-
pone, 1804, No. ],").

^'2^^ Californias, Minas de 1773, No, 1.

JUSTINO RUBU).

Mi'.xico, Novieuiliro 7 <le ISSS.

Anota.ciou de los asuntos jiriiuipalos contenidns en el raino do ' Californias, '
en el Archive general y pi'dilico di^ la Nacion.

California, Tomo 1., Informe solire el estado de las tineas que administra
I). Florcntino M.irtincz, \S'^'2, No. (i. Solirc salier si el sujicrintemleute dc
la easa de Moneda pagcJ una tianza de .S3.400, eon calidad ile rcintegro para
la hacienda piililiea. No. S. Que se paseii a la junta directi\ i <lcl fondo pia-
doso do Californias todos los titulos y docnmentos de su propjcilad No. 0.
Keglamento do la junta. No. 10. Tomo II., I'riuiera parti', Indice de los
doeunientos y expedientes relatives a las provincias de (California, 1777, No.
I. Segunda parte, minas ilel Ileal de Santa Ana, UKH, No. II. (iobcrna-
dor de la Nueva California Teniente Coronel .lose .roa((nin de Arrillaga, sf)l)re
su juraniento y posesiou y saea del Real Titulo para lo ]iolitico, afio de ISO"),
No. 10. Tomo 111., Id. para la ar.tigua California Hon Felipe ( Inycoehoa, sn
juraniento y posesion, ISO.'j, No. 'JO. Tomo VIll., Navcgacifiu de San Bias,
a la Costa Septentrional de California hasta el grado 01, 1770, No. 1 Diario
de navegacion de San Bias a Sn Diego ysn retoruo, 177S, No. '2, Viage i
la America Meridional desde el puerto de San ])iego de Acapulco y regreso
del Callao de Lima al puerto de San Bias por D. .luau Fran<'isco Bodega y
Cuadra, 1770, No. .S. (3cupacinii dc Nootka jior Martinez, 1S07, No. 4. Ar-
riho al puerto de San Francisco <le la Alta California de la fragata de S. M.
B. Racoon, 1814, No. ."). Diario dc navegacion de J). Estchan Jose ^Martinez
del viage que hizo a los pucrtos <lc San Fi'anciseo, San l>iego, y Monterey,
1770, No. (5. Tomo IX., Fnrtiiicacioii do los puertos de San Francisco. Mon-
terey, y San Diego, con artilleria y pertrechos, 1702, No. 'A. Iv-tragos cau-
sado.s por los tempfirales en las hateria.s dc San FVanciseo, 1700, No. 8. Tomo
XV., Dictiimen del R. P. F. Juan Agustin Morfi sohro el diario y derrotero
dc los ll.R. P.P. Domingucz y Veloz dc Escalaiite desde la Villa de Santa Fe
hasta Monterey y puerto de San Francisco, 18.")'2, No. 7. Proyecto remitido
eon Real drden .sobre poblar la costa de Montci-ey en la Nueva California.
1801, No. 8. Tomo XVIII., El jefe politico de Caiifornias acompanando un
l)lano para convertir en pueblos las misiones, 1 820, No. X\. I^asteri, 1 ). Luis,
informando sobre el o.stado actual del fondo piadoso de Californias y de cada
una de sus fineas, 1829, No. .'^4. Tomo XXL, Real orden de l,"? de Enero de
1779, parft que se aticada y favorezca u Don Autuuio du Ui>io y se iiilorniti

1 -li

f 1 ■ >:•

740

EXPKWTION.S TO MEXICO.

accrca (lei punto quo trivta sobrc ganailoM mo.strencos do Californiaa, ISOl,
No. <i. Kstragos quo fii Uiciuinliro ilo KS12 causarou Ioh tcnililurt's on laAlta
California, \S\'A, "So. l,"t. 'I'l.tiin XXN'l., UualoH ordenen li lu.s viruyi's kiiIjii!
el gobiorii') do la^ iiiisiimiM <]'• ( 'aliliirnias, 1747, No. 1. Tnuui XXXV., .So-
guiula uxpiMliciMii imr tieria a la .NiU'.va Caliloriiia, (n'lijiai'iou y jiolilaciiiii de
iSaii FraiiciscMi, (777, No. 1. ileal (Irdeii iiiiiiidaiulo tni'mai' iiilevn rrixlaiiiciiln
jiara S;iii ]»las y ( 'alifoniias. 1777, No. '_'. In^triiciidii dada al (•(Hiiaiidaiiti'
(If Ids miuvoH (•sliililuciiiiiiiitii.-i do t'alifiiriiias liasla 177.">, No. 4. ',>iariii dc
Martini:/, y i'antoja y Mt lu-es nnatidos jmr I'on Igii.ic-io Artcaga fiiLiido cl
jiiiiit.) do j^iirtiil.i Sun I'.iiis y (1 dc ti'iiiiii.n ,S,;ii l-'ii:., i, 17Sl', No. 7. I)iari.>
(111 navogai'iou <nio aralia de liaitr cl ra(|ui;liiit de S. M. id I'rincipo al inierto
dii Monteriy ;il cargo dti su C^ajiitan y I'doto |)on .loii- ( 'afii/aros, 1774, Xo.
N. l)iari() de navegacion de 1). .lost; t'afii/urcs, scguiido ( 'iqdlan y JMotii del
I'aqueliot. de >. M. S;in ( 'arlos, el lU.il .'aleii liai'cr viage a los puertos do
Monterey y San j'irgoonli eota Ooridiiital de la ( 'alilornia al itiando del
lapitan y iiiloto 1). Migiiol dol I'lno llrvaudo en ooiisorva al ])a((uoliot de S.
M. San Antoniii (alia>) el I'niiciiio liajo del eoniando dol allere/ de I'i'agata
y piiMiir ]iiloto do diclio hnijiic 1 ». .liian I'ito/, I7>>-, Xo. !>. Diai'io de navo-
gaeion did all'ero/. dc tragata l>. listolian .lose Marline/, 17!SIi, Xo. '.(, eonian-
dando ol p.inncliot dc S. .M. San Carlos (A) el l'iiili|iiiio y la fragata Xue-^lra
Scfiora de los Jtiuiedids (.\) Kavoi'ita del niando del segiindo jiiloto I). .In:ni
Hautista de Aguirre a los nnuvos ostaliloeiiiiiontos de San Francisco, Monlo-
rey, iMisenada del I'rincijMi en el caii.il de Santa IJ:irliara y San Diego, No.
!). IHario de viages a la eosla .Septentrional de ( 'alifornia, I7S-, No. 10.
|)iario de na\-egacion del scgnndo pdoto .Inan do I'antoja y Arriaga, 17S2, do
San lUas a San l)iego, IMano I, lOnsenada do la riiri.sinia Conceitciou; 'J,
EiLsenada Mesealtitan; S, Ensenada del J'rineipe; 4, l'e(|nena carta (jiie con-
tiene el canal dc Santa liarliara en la co.sta Sei)lcntrional do ('alilornia;
"), Puerto de San Diego, No. I'J. Saliila del pnerto de San Diegu para el do
San lUas, No. \'2. Diario de navegacioii de Don Kstcliau .Jcjsc .Martinez,
primer pilotn do la Heal Ai'niada y eapitan do la Iragata de S. M. nondirada
N'uestra Scnora del Ito.^ario (al la I'rineesa, de San llias a los pucrtos dc San
I'rancisco, canal de Santa llailiara, y plierto de >San Diego, 17S-, No. \',i.
Toino .\.\XVJ., 1 Hseuliriiiiientodel paraji; nomlirado X'ifiadoco en Califoi'iiias
y fundacion de cineo niisioncf jmr Ins padres Doininicos, 1777, Nos. 4 y 18.
So vnelve a pohlar el piisidio do J.,oreto y se ordena ipio las niisioues del
niisnio presiitio so I'odii/can ii plieldos, 1777, No. ."). Jlcglanicnto provisional
para las atcncioiies do San I51as y Calil'nrnias, 17S0. Tonio .XX.VIX., So rc-
niiten a la coiuandancia general diarlos y niapas do exploraciones, No. '2S.
Tonni XLl., Ivoniision de cxpdsitos a ('alilornia. 17'.l!l, No. .'{. ToinoXljlV.,
Traslacioii do la mision de San Francisco y extincioii do la de .Santa Cruz,
\S'2'.\, No. iS. Tomo Xl.i\l., .Monterey, jircsidio, incondio dc la mayor piirte
de el ]~S\), No. '2. Touio XLVIL. Navegacion licclia ]»or ol alfere/ dc navio
eomandaiite dc la I'rincosa dosde ol ]mcito de -Manila a las l^las Filiiiinas.
call.) lie .San J.i'.cas en Califomias \~H'A, No. 1. Diario de navegacion de Don
Jose Antonio Wizquez, primer piloto de .Manila li las islas Filipinas y a las
eosta.s lie Nneva J'.spana, 17fS0, No. '2. Esplanadas, (Jnardia, y Casa .Mata d';
Monterey, eiienta ile sii costo, 17'.l-, No. 5. I'laiio del pncrto de San Fran-
cisco por D. .lost' .l(iai|iiin do Arteaga ano de 17!'-, No. S. Diario i!c nave-
gacion del alfci'o/. dc Iragata y j)rimer piloto D. Jo.^e Camacho dcsdecl pucrto
de San lilasal Callao de Lima en la fi'agata XuestraSofiorade los Kenu'iliits (a)
Favorita, 17S1, No. !). Tomo XLVIll., J-^stragos eatisados en el ])residio do
Sau F^-aneisco j)or los tenipoiales de los ilias ]'A y IS de Enero, 1804, No. X
Xnevo estalilecunicnto de nn ranclio de ganatlo nienor en el presidio dc San
Francisco por ciienta de la Heal Hacit nda, 17i>7, No. 1'2. Tomo XLIX.,
J'oliladoros volimtarios j)ara la Villa de Branoifoite .Jose Tiuiotoo Vasijue/ y
otros; I'onsamiento del < ioliierno do l.i antigua California de trasladar a San
(^nintin el apostadero de San Bias, ISO!^, No. '2. luformes de los Kcligiosos
dc San Fernando sohre poblaeiou y auuieuto de la peniu»ula de California,
17!n!, No. 4.

Mk.mco, Nov. 10 de ISS.S.

QlKKIl I'LACKS. 747

The municipal arcliivcs, or the ardiivos of tiic tlis-
trict of Moxico, Juan Yndico keeper, consists of city
documcMits iiccunuil.'itfMl during: tin; })ast -JOO years.
Tlio greater porti(»n of wluit existed prior to lf)l)2
was at that tlmo burned.

A day or two after my arrival in the cajutal. I
stumbled hito a (jueer plac(>, which tlirew mo back hi
ima<ji,ination three huiuhed years or so, about as
elfectually as tlio actually occurrence wor.!!! have done.
Evervthing was apparently in tiio last stages (tf de-
cay, books, building, street, and people. It was
called the ])iblioteca Popular (k^l f) de Mayo. '^Fhe
building was a very old cliurch, aroun<l the sides of
which were rude shelves filled mostly witli old parch-
ment bound folios, made by foolisli priests, and not
wortli five dollars a ton foi- any practical use. On
the floor were placed rows of tal)les, seated at whicli
were representatives of the meagre middle class, en-
gaged for the most ))art in readhig newspa])ers.
Doubtless the folios of tlu; })riests, winch had been
flung out of churches and convents, uMed greatly to
the interest of the newspa})ers, ami facilitated tlie ac-
quisition of kno\vle<lge hi so far as it can l)e absorbed
from such surroundings. But befon^ these aspirants
for republican glory load up the intellect much mon^
heavily, I would reconnnentl tiiem to ])ut some
stronger boards in the floor, lest they fall through.
The edifice was erectcMl in 1087, anil of the 8,000
books probably 80 are worth shelf room.

Among other libraries of historic interest, I may
mention those of Basalio l^erez, Agi-eda, and San
Ikltifonso, the last named formerly the collection of
the cathedral.

The public library of Toluca, comprising some
8,000 volumes, is prolific in chronicles of the old
convents. Indeed, Mexico has nianv libraries con-
taining important historic data, notwithstanding th(!
chaflf the monks imbedded it in. In this sense th(>re
are many rare and valuable books throughout the

748

KXl'EDITIONS TO MEXICO.

republic; but of the class coinmonly called rare by
collectors and bibliogiaplicrs, valuable only as speci-
nions of early printinjj^, most of these have been car-
ried away. S(>nor Olajjfuibtd }>niited a book entitled
fnqfrcfiiorioi (Y'lchrcs y Jj'hroft liuroti. In it is a cJiapter
devoted to raie books In Mexico, which indecxl says
little exct'])t tliat thrre ar ; no raru books in Mexico.
We are sol)erly told, Jiowcver, that some one has re-
prhited tlie life of Junijii lo Serra, which is the foun-
dation of California liistoryl

In tlie beautiful and very rcliojious city of Puebla
is the Cole^io de Estado, witli a library of 20,000
volumes, the institution having the usual departments
of natural li'istory, diemistry, Latin, Greek, etc.
The buiklings, formerly a convent, are antique and
cover a large area, having among other attractions a
well shaded and watered gardon, with fountains and
gold fisli. Here are 200 students, male; the placo
could easily accommodate a thousand.

Another large building in another part of the city
is called the school of medicine, in which is a general
library of 2(5,000 volunu^s, but containhig, as moat of
them do, more theology than anything else.

On a cool, dry December evening, as the sun was
sinking behind tlic skirts of Popocatepetl, I found
myself standing upon the sunniiit of the hill of Cho-
lula, amidst the ])orcelain-p]anted graves, drooi)lng
pimi-s, and stunted rose-l)ushes, in front of the churcli
with its dilapklatcd wall and large open reservoir. It
is a rugged, uneven elevation, lising solitary some
two hundred feet above the plain, and is evidently
})artly the work of nature and partly of man. The
winding roadwaj', half of it paved smooth with stones
and half in form of broad steps, is bt)rdered by thrifty
grass, which also crops forth upon little benches, and
the thick shrubbery that covers the hillside is freely
sprinkled with the cactus and pepper-tree. Popoca-
tepetl, or Smoking Mountain, rises before me, and next
to it the scarcely less imposing peak of Iztaccihuatl,

THE HILL OF CHOT.UI.A,

749

Tho White Woman, rIio of tlie recumbent figure ;
while ill the opposite direction, over the glittcrinjj;
domes of distant Puobla, stands Orizaba, also wliitr-
crestcd, and winged by fleecy clouds.

At my feet lies the town of Cholula, witli its loiv;-
lines of mtersecting ditches, as CoHi's first saw tlu-iu,
marking the divisions of cornfields, and gardcn-patcJK s
lined with niaguoy. It is a miserable place, made up
of hovels, churolirs, and cornfiolds, one view of which
tells the story of life here — how tlie poor, in tho
small uncomfortable houses, pinch themselves to
sustain a costly service in tho greal \ Mnples, and add
to their splendor. If I mistake not, God would bo
better pleased with smaller churches, fewer priests,
and larger and more comfortal '• dwellings lor his
people.

The whole of this immense and ricli valley, alter-
nately the prey of contending armies since the advent
t)f Cortes, and now for the first time lenriiing tlio arts
of peace, is greatly given to religion, as it used to bo
even in the remote times of Toltec sway, when pil-
urims flocked from afar to the slirine of the Feathered
Serpent. Casting my eyes around over one of the
most beautiful scenes in Mexico, I count two score
villages marked by the tall, white towers of thrice as
many churches ; some indeed being nothing more than
hamlets with half a dozen ding}' little houses cringing
beside a great ding}' cliurch, some sheltered 1)y trees
and shrubbery, others standing solitary in the open
plain.

I thought Puel)la had houses of worship enough
for all, v/ith her sixty or seventy temples of every
iinagniablc style, high-domed and broad-spreading
edifices, about one for every thousand of the half-
naked and barefooted natives wlio are culled upon to
support them and their three hundred })riests. Tho
state prison is part churc'^ ; in the house of maternity
is a church ; the state college was once a convent
forming part of a church edifice ; -md the cathedral,

750

ILXPEDITIONS TO MEXICO.

There is
large belLs

though smaller than the one in Mexico, accounted
richer within.

But for all this, famous, squalid little Cholula, ac-
cording to the population, outdoes Pucbla.
the little church with its two towers and
on the historic hill, rusty without, but elaborately
gilded within, and the large church amidst the houses
below, near where the worshippers congregate to see
the bull-fight after service, and one to the right and
another to the left, and half a dozen more on every
side, the ' simultaneous ringing of whose bells at the
hour of blazing, tropical afterglow might lead one to
suppose the world to be on fire. This must indeed
have been a foul spot of Satan's to require such long
and elaborate cleansing ; for hereabout once stood no
less than four hundred heathen temples ; but I would
I'ather see restored and preserved some of those
architectural monuments, albeit in good truth tem-
ples of Satan, wliich capped this pyramid in aboriginal
times, than a thousand of the earth-bestrewed edifices
reared to his confoundhig at the cost of pinched
toilers.

As I thus stood, I fancied I could see marching
throuy;h the same lon<r white, radiatint; streets
the ancient processions with their dismal chant and
clang of instruments, coming liither from all direc-
tions to the sacrifice. I fancied I could see the
bodies of the victims tumbled over the steeps as
the blood-besmeared priests held aloft the palpitating
heait, while all tlie people raised their voices in loud
hosannas. And I could easily imagine the good god
Quetzalcoatl here taking leave of his peojilc, even as
did Christ, promising meantime to return with new
and celestial benefits.

In the Puebla state library, before mentioned, is a
volume of original letters of Morelos, and several
other volumes of valuable documents relating to the
days of independence, 1810-21. General documents
run from 1764 to 1858. There are two volumes of

RESULTS.

761

royal cddulas 1527 to 1818; also two volumes of
papers relating to the trial of the priest Mier, wlio
preached against the Guadalupe virgin.

There is a worm in Mexico that bons its hole
straight through the volume, going tlirougli a dozen
books standing on the sliolf without deviation; there
is anotlicr that takes a zig-zag course, one worm con-
fining its operations chiefly to one volume. On some
of my purcliases I found a tiling the ^Mexicans call a
gorgojo, wliich descends into books perpendicularly;
death was too mild a fate for sucli investigators.

All the while I was in Mexico I gatliered books,
took dictations, and wrote down my thoughts and ob-
servations. With some difliculty I succeeded in ob-
taining enough of the leading journals published in
Mexico since 1800 to make a continuous file of the
events of the day from the o})ening of tlie century to
the present time. These series of newspapers, each
taking up the thread where in another it was broken
oflT, proved of tlie greatest advantage to my work.

This expedition added to my library some 8,000
volumes. Three 3-ears later I made a second trip to
Mexico, cliiefly to verify certain statements and add
a few points prior to closing tlio last volume of ni}'
lUsiory of Mexico, 'Wq railwav being comj)leted, tlie
journey was notliing: and IxMng l)rirf and witliout
special significance, 1 vill intlict no further detail on
the reader.

CHAPTEll XXIX.

TOWARD THE END.

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
Still plea.setl to praise, yet not afraid to blame ;
Averse alike to Hatter, or otfend;
Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend.

I'opfi.

I had hoped to close ray library to general work,
and dismiss my assistants by January 1, 1887. I
had yet several years of work to do myself, in any
event, but I thought if I could get rid of the heavy
library outlay of one or two thousand dollars a
month, I should feel more inclined to take life easier,
with less nervous haste and strain in my work.

Several causes combined to prevent this. As is
usually the case, the completion of my history con-
sumed more time than I had anticipated, the neces-
sary rewriting and revision, not to mention numberless
delays growing out of the cares and vicissitudes of
business, being beyond calculation. The truth is, in
looking back upon my life and its labors, I cannot but
feel that I never have had a full and fair opportunity
to do my best, to do as good woik as I am capable of
doing, certainly not as finished work as I might do
with less of it and more time to devote to it, with
fewer cares, fewer interruptions. I have often won-
dered what I might do were I not forced to "write
history on horseback," as General Vallejo terms it.
On the other hand, I have had much to be thank-
ful for, and can only submit my work to the worM
for what it is worth. Again, it was found to be an
absolute necessity for the proper completion of my
historical series to provide a place for the many biog-

(762)

'CHRONICLES OF THE BUILDERS.'

753

rapliics of important personages, to which I have
elsewhere alluded.

Notwithstanding all that I had thus far done, there
was yet this one thing lacking to make my work all
that it should be. As the end of my labors was
drawing near, and I was looking forward to a period
of cessation, this thought forced itself more and more
upon my mind, giving me no rest. I did not desire
to do more. Some thought the histories already too
extended, not fully realizing the time and territory
covered. If they will consider each work separately,
they will at once see that this is not the case. Five
volumes devoted to hundreds of Native Races inhab-
iting one twelfth of the earth's surface, or three vol-
umes on the five republics of Central America for a
period of nearly four centuries, surely are not too
many in which to do the subject justice. And so
with the rest. The great trouble was to condense
without injury to the work.

During all my historical labors, particularly toward
the latter part of the term, the necessity was more
and more forced upon my mind, of some method
whereby the men who had made this country what
it is should receive fuller treatment.

The development and conditions here were pecu-
liar, and in their historical elucidation nmst be met in
the plainest, most practical, and fitting way. Within
the present half century a vast wilderness had been
transformed into fields of the foremost civilization, by
men many of whom were yet living. No such achieve-
ment since the world beoan had ever been done within
so short a time ; obviously none such could ever be
done again, the engendering conditions not being
present. Thousands of years were occupied in build-
ing Greece and Rome, and other thousands in car-
rying civilization to Germany and England; and all
midst fanatical wars and horrible human butcheries
such as should put to blush the face of man.

Among the various nations and at various epochs

Lit. Ind. 48

754

TOWARD THE END.

great men were evolved from the fierce frictions of
tlie times, soldiers, priests, and princes, some of them
conspicuous because of their good deeds, but more of
them by reason of their wickedness. Evil, in fact,
was apparently a more powerful factor than good in
all these kneadings and seasonings and polishing of
mankind. But in the develo])ment of our own thrice-
favored land, this westernmost America, there was
little else than good accomplished, and by good men.
There were no wars, except the war of mind over
matter, of civilization over savagism. There was no
physical bondage or intellectual coercion. Yet, turn-
ing to our towns and cities, our fruitful fields and or-
chards and gardens, with their thousands of happy
homes; our railways, irrigating canals; our mines,
manufactures, and commerce; our government and
our social condition, we find accomplished within
fifty years what elsewhere has taken other people
five, ten, or a hundred times as long to do.

True, we had a record of their experiences as a
foundation upon which to build our new experiences
in this fair wilderness; otherwise it could not have
been done. But for all that it was a great and good
thing to build here as we have built, thus making
proper avail of our high privileges. And are not the
men who have quietly and patientl}' wrought out this
grand accomplishment, each laboring after his own
fashion and for his own inuncdiate purposes— arc
they not as much entitled to prominence and praise
as Alexander or Napoleon? Is it not as interesting
to us, the str.dv of their characters? Is it not as
profitable for us to follow them in their good deeds
as to follow the others in their good and evil deeds i

It was therefore deemed absolutely essential, before
it could be said that a proper historical presentation of
the country and those who had made it, of the empire
and builders of empire, had been made, that the his-
tory have a biographical section, devoted primarily to
the men as the historical section proper is devoted

•CHRONICLES OF THE BUILDERS.'

iOU

primarily to the events. For it is as impossible to
stop the natural atitl proper flow of the narrative of
events with a too lengthy and elaborate analysis
of L-haracter, as it is to break into an entertaining
and instructive biography with a too lengthy narra-
tive of events.

At the same time, here was an opportunity to do
much better than simply to present a collection of
detached biograj>hies of the most influential and
prominent personages after the usual form, howso-
ever good and valual)le such a work would be in con-
nection with the history. But what would make it
tenfold more interesting and valuable would be to
take one each of the more important of these nun of
strencfth and influence, and after a thorouu'h charac-
tcr study, i)lace his portrait in artistic form and
colors in the midst of the wt)rk which lie has done,
and in company with kindred industries accom}>lislicd
b}' others, and round the whole throw a frame-woi k of
history. Here, then, are embalmed in the annals of
his own time and countrv the man and his dt eds,
th(>re to remain, the benefits and blessings conferred
during life thus being made perpetual.

In the text and foot-notes of the histor}' proper I
had interwoven much material of a biographical nature
■ — all that the narrative could carry without being
nuide to sutler thereby. But this was not enough.
The work which had been performed in the subjuga-
tion of this western wilderness was not that of any
potentate or general ; it was not a conquest or a colon-
ization. This I "st and fairest [)iecc of temperate zone,
unoccu[)ied by civilization, had seemingly been kept
back tor a s[H?cial j)urpose of progress. Then, when
all was ready, the great bt'lls of time were sountled,
and from every quarter of the world intelligent and
enerofetic youn<»' men came flocking in — the crv f>f
gold was rung out, the cry of American occupation
and intercommunication; and after some wild doings
incident to such an unprecedented huddling of hu-

I !

756

TOWARD THE END.

manity, this land of liitherto poor, brutisli men and
ferocious beasts found itself blooming serenely un-
der a new influence. Of the vast army who came
hither for gold many returned, and many, alasl laid
down their lives in tlie struggle. But some perse-
vered in their efforts and prospered, success coming out
of great tribulation. Others came later and accom-
plislied great things. Meanwhile all were gaining
experience, and constantly adding to their store of
practical knowledge. It was in this way that devel-
opment over tliis vast area came so rapidly about. It
was owing primarily to the original and ever-growing
intelligence of certain individuals, one working here,
one tlicre, until the whole ground was covered, and
each locality made to yield up some portion of its
natural wealth, while the arts and sciences of older
communities were applied toward increasing the pos-
sibilities of primeval nature.

Now, it seemed not exactly right or proper, in a
history of this country giving the full details of in-
dustrial and social development, to allow the events
to render subordinate to so large an extent the men
who had made the events. Had some Ca3sar or
Scipio crossed the Rocky mountains with an army,
taken possession of this land, and planted here tlii'
institutions of foreign culture, as a matter of cour^'
a history of this country would have dealt largely in
the characteristics and doings of tliosc men, military
and civil. The fact that in the subjugation of this
country there were engaged not one Csesar or Scipio,
Init several, and that their work was in building iiji
rather than tearing down, makes certainly not less
interesting or important a chronicle of the characteris-
tics and doings of these builders of the commonwealtli.

The importance of biography is not everywheir
fully appreciated. Every man of strength or intln-
enco in the community should have prepared duriii .;•
his lifetime his biography, for the benefit of those
now livinij, and of those wIjO shall come after him.

'CHRONICLES OF TIIE BUILDERS.'

757

Tho mail of energy and ability is a fiietor in the
affairs of liis country. No one can achieve hi<'h and
permanent success without benefiting others. L [)ou
tliG ovents and tictuahties wliich surround the indi-
vidual, and which he himself has made, he leaves his
inqu-ess, wliich is his life, his true being, the crystal-
lization of his thoughts, the material expression of his
feelings. Whether he be living «)r dead, there is the
man in the spot where he lived and moved, and where
he lel't himself, iiis true and material ey.ist'Micc, when
the innnaterial took its departure. He may soon be
forgotten, and his place filled by others, but his suc-
cessors, whether they know it or not, are continuing
the work which he began, and building on the founda-
tion which he had laid. A record of pers(Mial experi-
ences is of importance to the country as showing by
what means the man has accomplished cer'tain results,
thus enabling others to do likewise or better. "A
noble life ])ut fairly on record acts like an inspiration
to others," says Samuel Smiles. And again, "The
great lesson of biogi-aphy is to show what a man can
do and be at his best"; while Beecher would have
biography called the home aspect of history.

After securing all the comforts and luxuries of life
for himself and his family, for what does a man fur-
ther labor ? If of a miserly disposition, ho wt)rks for
the mere pleasure of accunmlating money. IJut if
intelligent and public-spirited, he continues his labors
for their general i)ene(icial effects, and for the interest
and pride he takes in them. Now, it is evident that
if those beneficial effects of a man's life can be doubled
or trebled, can indeed bo rendered perpetual, nothing
can be of more transcendent importance than to have
it done. This can be done only by writing out the
acts and experiences of a man's life in the form of a
l)iography, and placing that biography in histcry.

The advantages of history are manifold and obvious.
Without the recorded experiences of the race there
could be no accumulation of knowledge ; without a

lii

758

TOWARD THE END.

knowk'tlge of tlic past thcro could be no iiiipi ovcMiitMit
in the future. So with biograph}', wiiicli is but a part
of history. With a knowledge of the means by which
men become great and prosperous we may learn to
adoj)t their virtues and avoid their errors. There-
fore, not only should every man who has hel}>ed to
make history have his biography fully and carefully
prepared, but it should be placed in history. The
next question is, who has helped to make history?
Every man oif intelligence, wealth, and influence as-
sists in making history in a greater or less degree,
according to what he accomplishes He cannot help
dt'inLT this, for history is the reci rd of what men do.
Nor can it be delayed until \>c liave passed away,
for other reasons. No one can call up the facts and
intuitions of his life, the theory and practice of his
achievements, so well as the man liimself; no one can
arrange those facts, analyze the intuitions, elucidate
the benefits of what has been accom[)lished, and weave
the whole into an instructive and entertain inu; nari-a-
tive, except a writer possessed of ability, enthusiasm,
and experience. And granting that the most proper
place for the preservation of such a record is upon
the pages of history, the history of the place aiid times
during which the work was done, it cannot be de-
layed on that account, for the pages of the only his-
tory upon which it could be placed in a proper manner
will then be closed.

The reasons, then, why the lives and experiences
of certain men should be embalmed in history are:
First, for the benefit of the conununity and the world.
Without a preserved record of hun)an actions there can
be no progress, no civilization. Second, as a matter
of duty to one's family. In the building up of this
country each important personage has performed a
great work, not a tenth part of which, in significance
and extent, will ever otherwise be known to his de-
scendants, who will thereby be deprived of sonic
portion of that honest pride, high stimulant, and

bri

'ClIiiOiNlCLES OF THE BUILDERS.'

75S)

bright oxamplo which is their most valued heritage.
Third, it is a duty a mau owes to himseU'. All his
lit'o he has beeu working tor a jjurpose, and if wlieu
it is accomplished he permits to die the ways and
means by which he attained important results, halt'
his lite, to say tlie least, is lost. The wealth one has
acquired is not all nor the most important part of
life's work, but the abilities exercised, the lessons
acquired, and the nobleness of soul which has been
elevated and strengthened.

During the earlier part of the long period the liis-
tory was going into type, the movements of tlic family
were regulated to a great extent by my youngest )>oy,
Philip. Being naturally not very strong, and the
])enetratlng whids driving him from San Francisco,
we would visit the several springs and health districts
of the coast as fancy or interest dictated, never beini--
wholly out of reach of the ])nntcr.

I had long had in view a visit to Salt Lake City
and the Colorado region, so that when, in August
1884, the boy began to cough in accents so familiar
tliat there was no mistaklnL»" their siucnificancc;, we
picked him up — liis mother and I — and ])lanted our-
selves with the whole family at the Continental hotel
in the city of the saints, there remaining for six weeks.

There was much feeling existing at the time between
the Mormons and the gentiles, the government being
apparently in earnest in putting down polygamy, while
the Mormons were just as determined to maintain the
institution or die in the attempt. It was just upon
the border, in point of time, of the lo»ig season of
prosecution and ])ersccution, of litigations and im})ris-
onments which has not a parallel in the history of
American morals.

We were not there, however, to take part in any
controvers}'', to enter the fight either on the side of
Christ or Belial ; we had come simply to gather facts,
observe, &tudy, and meditate upon the strange social

'! li

7G0

TOWARD THE END.

problem. I should probably have known lonpr ere
this how to answer the question, What is Mormonisni i
but I did not. Nor would there be entire unanimity
among divines in answering tlie questions, What is
Methodism? or Mohannnedism? Very shallow ideas
the world has in relation to the dogmas it fights and
bleeds for, on one side or the other. There was fight-
ing enough for dogmas in Salt Lake City in the year
1884. There were few like Christ, few to love their
enemies, or turn the other cheek when one was
smitten.

We saw nmch of the leaders on both sides, were
entertained by gentiles and jVIormons, and entertained
theni in return ; we listened attentively, but said little ;
it was no wonder, therefore, that we were regarded
somewhat suspiciously by both sides. All this was ol
small consequence, however, beside tlie accomplish-
ment of our mission, wliich was fully done in every
particular. There was little the Mormons would not
do for us ; there was little we desired at the hands of
the gentiles.

Notwithstanding the large mass of material, printed
matter, manuscripts, journals, dictations, and special
investigations which had been sent to me, there were
still gaps in my work that I wanted filled. John
Taylor, who was present and severely wounded at the
assassinatlt)n of Joseph Smith, was at this time presi-
dent of the church, and W^ilford Woodruff, one of the
twelve apostles and possible successor of Taylor, had
charge of the historian's office.

For these people had had a historian's office and an
historian from near the bciiinniui; of their existence as
a religious sect. The acts of the apostles, and the do-
ings of president and people from the beghmlng, had
been mhiutely written down and preserved. And, in-
deed, far back of the history of their present organi-
zation they went — back to babel and the origin of
things. The book of Mormon comprises largely their
history, as the bible is the history of the Jews. Some

UTAH AND COLORADO.

761

of tlio babol-builders, after the jjjmiul soattorinn;, found
tlieir way to America, aiul were tlie al>origii»es of tliis
continent, amoni^ wlioni lonjj; lay liiiklen the metal
plates eventually found by Joseph Smith.

Mr Woodruff had an elaborately written journal in
some twenty maimseript volumes, if I niiiember
ri<'htlv, ivivin*' a liistorv of the church and the doiii'jjs
of its members from tlie days of Nauvoo to date.
Never before had such work been done for any peo-
ple, not even the chiklrcn of Israel; for there was
not one important incident or individual herein
omitted. Mr Woodruff and Mr Kichartis gave up
most of their time to me during this visit. Besides
my labors with them, I took many lengthy dictations
from others. I met freciuently George Q. Camion,
first counsellor; Joseph F. Smith, niiphew of Joseph
Smith; Brigham Young, eldest son of the s(!coiid
president; I^Foses Thatcher, W. B. Preston, William
Jennings, Feramorz Little, Heber J. Grant, H. S.
Eldridge, Erastus Snow, C. W. Penrose, John 11.
Park, and a hundred others.

While I was laborously engaged in this office dur-
ing most of my time in Salt Lake Cit}^ Mrs Ban-
croft saw many of the Moi'mon women, making their
acquaintance, winning their friendship, and taking
dictations from them. PfJygamy wdth them was a
sncred institution, a state not to be lightly entered,
but only after tlue pre])aration, prayer, and holy liv-
ing; a cross, perlia[)S, but one which only the blessed
might bear. Hovering in sjiace all round the revolv-
ing cai'th were myi'iads of disemlxxlitxl spirits, for
w^hom it pleased God that men should manufacture
flesh. Nor with the men was ])o]ygamy the product
of sensuality; your true sensualist will have many
women but no wife.

From Utah we went to Colorado, stopping at
Canon City, Leadvillc, Pueblo, Colorado Si)rirgs, and
other points of historic interest and imjiortanc . We
were everywhere received with tiie utmost cordiality.

; i

^11

:c,-2

TOWARD THE END.

It would 1)0 difficult to find anywhere ploasantcr poo-
])lo, or a more intelliu;ent or ri;lined society than at
Denver. I sliidl never forget tlic kindness (»f Doctor
Bancroft, <ifovi'rnorhi Pitkin, C^rant, and lioutt, and
judujes Stone, Bennett, IJcck, and Helm.

Colorado was at this time in a very prosperous con-
dition, and the people were justly ]»roud of their state,
of its history, its resources, and its possihilitics. By
supj)lying myself pretty freely with help in the form,
f stenoi^raphers and statisticians, I secured the ex-
])erienccs of several hundred of those who had had
the most to dt) in luakinin' the eaily history of tliis
rej^ion. AmouL;" the manuscripts thus resultiuij; was
one which nmst ever constitute the corner-stones of
Coloratio history. Nearly two months were occu)»ied
in writing it, and the work on it was done in this way:
Taking a full file of the liocky Mointfaiii Kcirs, the
first journal ])ul)lished in the country and still running,
I sat down hefore it with a stcaiographer and its first
editor, who, while I questioned and commented, told
the history of the state, turning over the leaves of the
newspaper to refresh his memory, and give him the
desired information.

Judge Stone's ideas and experiences form a very
hiteresting historical manuscript. He assured me
that the topography of Colorado was in his mind's
eye as clear as if seen at one view from the corner of
a cloud ; and I found his knowledge of political and
commercial affairs, and the resources and industries
of the state no less lucid and interesting.

While my family were at Denver, enjojang the
•onerous hosjntality of tlio good people of the place, I
Knit a fortnight at Cheyenne, mnno; through files of
i wspapers, and writing out the experiences of the
1 'ominent men. In this and subsequent labors in re-
Lition to the history of Wyoming I was greatly
assisted by John Slaughter, territorial librarian, A.
S. Mercer, of the Lire Stock Joimml, John W. Ho\'t,
J. M. Carey, J. R. Whitehead, F. J. Stanton, E.^S.

WYOMING AND NEW MIIXICO.

763

N. Morji^an torritorbl seen tarv, A. T. UabVitt, Tlios.
Sturi^^is,' W. AV. O.rlctt, uu.' oilicrs. Tli.ii at
liaraiiiio were S. W. Downey and T. ][. Ifayf'ord;
at Lander, N. Baldwin and ] [. G. Nickerson ; not to
mention the coinniandini^ ofHcerH of tlie militiiry ;it
forts Kussell, Steele, Laramie;, !^[eKinney, and

I'iU't of tlio winter of lfi8-l-5 I spent in Xew
^Mexico, wla^'e I liad interviews with most of the
leadinjij: men, and ohtained a laiLjo mass of mattirial
which was an ahsoluto necessity to my work. At
Santa Fu I I'xamined the archives tliorou^ldy, and
engaj^ed Samuel Ellison, the keeper, to «;'o tlirough
tliem and miiko extracts from some, and coni[)lete
copies of all of the important pa]>ers and manuseri[>ts.
After a time, liowever, findinij the task to<> slow and
irksonK! for him, l»eniijj an old man and somewhat
avi'rs«; to lahor, he finally consented, contraiy to the
I'egulations, hut greatly to my satisfaction, to send to
mo in San Franc-lsco hi liundles, hy ex})ress, a portion
at a time, of such matcsrlal that I wanted copied, that
1 nnght liave tht; work done hi my lihrary.

I cannot re frani from mention nig, simong those who
rendered mo valuahlo assistance at Santa Fc, the
names of C. B. Havward, W. Ct. Bitch, Francis
])owns, Archhishop Lamy, Defouri, Prince, Thayer,
Fisko, Phillips, and the Chaves; at All)U({uer({uo and
Taos, the Armijos and the Valdez ; and at Las
Cruces, Cunnilfe and Van Patten.

I cannot mention in this volume a hundredth part
of the journeys made, the people seen, and the work
done in connection with the lahors of ov(U' a (|iiart(;r
of a century, collecting material and writing histoiy,
but enough has been presented to give the reader
some faint conception of the time, labor, and money
necessary for such an historical undertaking.

Referring once more to niv method of writing his-

; !:li

764

TOWARD THE KND.

tory, wliicli originated wholly with mo, and grew out
of the necessities of the case, I would remark on the
general shyness of the wise men of the east at first
to sec any good in it, or ever admit that work so done
could properly be placed in the category of history ;
then, finally, to sec them come round, and not t)nly
neknowledLje its advantaLjes, and assert that it was
the oidy feasible way to accomplish certain results,
but to adoi>t the system themselves, ajiply it to im-
portant work, and give it out as of their own hiventiou,
or at least to take good care not to give the credit
where It properly belonged.

The men of Harvard particularly, always slow to
acknow]('<lLie the existence of anv iiood thiiiu: outside
of .heir own coterie, least of all to admit tliat a San
Francisco bookseller could teach them how to write
history, were puzzled how they might sometime apply
tliis system to important work and send it forth ;is
their own. They did it cleverly enough, for them,
wlien the occasion arose, but they did not decei\e
many. They were obliged to modify my method
somewhat, therebv almost spoilinii- it; for tlu'v were
not prepared to spend the necessary time and money
to give ten or twenty assistants t(>n or twenty years
schooling. So thtn' adopted a middle course, which
was neitlier one thing nor tlio other, neither the old-
fashioned individual wav, where no work of anv kind
is admitted unless performed by the historian in per-
son, therebv reducing the })ossibilities of liis })erforni-
ancc to a mlninmm, nor the modern scientific method,
as the Sncremento /iVt'or(/-('?i/o?i at once pronounced it,
where the assistance of others is utilized to a com-
mon-sense extent.

Some ten years after the publication of my Nat ire
lidccs, began to a[*pear in Boston what the prospectus
called "History by a new method." With two ex-
ci ptions the opening line of the })rospectus might be
accepted; it was not history, nor was the method
new. It was by Justin Winsor, of the Harvard univer-

HATvV.VTvD lIYrOCIlISY.

76S

sity library, and was called Narrative and Critical
Jlisfori/ of .[yncrica.

Croat stress is placed upon the method, whicli is
called the "cooperative." That is to say, one man
actin'ji: as editor, <'ives to twenty or fiftv men each a
topic on American history for lum t<> write u]>, tlm
int(Mition bi'ing that all the topics given out shall be
n)ade to cover the entire range of Anu^rican history.
As these monographs are finished and IuukUmI in they
are printed, each under the name of the writer, aiul
sent forth in volumes which are dignified by the name
of history.

"The magnitude of the undertaknig," the pros-
pectus goes on to say, "the dignity of the subject,
and the acknowledged ability of the writers employed,
give the work a strong claim upon public attention:
yet, without undervalunig tliese considerations, it will
1)0 found that they are overshadowed l)y the sur[)ass-
ing value of the method employed in its construction.
The inductive method of l^acou, and the coujparative
method in the ai)plied sciences, are cxamj)les of pos-
sibilities contained in a true method; they have revo-
lutionized modern civilization. It is claimed for this
work that it embodies a true method for historical in-
vestiuation.which nmst prove far-reaching in Its results.
.... Adherence to tliis method of investigation will
gradually tend to bring history into line with thi;
sciences, instead of leaving it as a subject for debate
among rival historians. We shall have less of sju'c-
ula^ion and theory, and more of verifiable facts. The
temj>tation to warp the truth will be lessened by in-
creased danger of detection. The practical \alue of
this is ap}»arent, when we consider lu)w often our
course is determined by precedent. Wiien the supe-
riority of the cooperative method is fully understood,
the individual historian, if he ventures forth at all,
will be read for entertahnnent rather than profit."

Aafain: "The great advantage of this method in
historical research must be apparent. The outcome

1 1

7GG

TOWARD THE EXD.

of conflicting statements when they arc brought to-
gether, analyzed, and compared, must be a closer ap-
proach to tlie truth. History as heretofore written
has failed to accomplish these results, for two reasons:
First, the labor and special knowledge required to
secure all relevant evidence have been beyond the
powers of any individual however able. The coopera-
tion of specialists is needed for this work just as in
the writing of a cyclopedia. The subject covers too
much ground for the researches of a single individual.
To fully possess tlio field an army must bo organ iz(>d
and act under competent leadership. The day is not
far distant whon the attem])t to write a history or a
cyclopedia single-handed will be regarded as equally
futile. Individuals may philosophize on historv in
the future as they have in tlie past with excellent
results, but tlie presentatioii of the facts, with a
complete ajialysis and digest of the evidence collected,
nmst be made by the coo[)eration of many minds.
Second, in attempting to deduce correct conclusions,
the individual can only report an event as it app(>ars
to liim from his point of observation. In other
words, he can give but a one-sided, partial view of the
matter. A synthesis of o])inion is what is needed to
secure a complete presentation of the case. Therefore
many witnesses must be summoned to testify In-
depend(Mitly, and this is manifestly impossil)le und(>r
the ol<l method, where the reader is not permitted to
iud'/o of the relative merits of conflictin<jf statements,
upon which the writer bases his views, but must
accept or reject as a whole his author's dictum."

This is hideed high ]iraise of my metjiod coming from
such a ^;our('e, and all tlie more significant not being
intend(!(l, — all the more sijuificant In coming from a
quarter wh(;re this kind of work Avas not long since
ridicul(>d as ** machine-made history," and from those
who W(>re endeavoring to secure to themselves tin*
crecht justly belonging to another. True, they claim
that by permitting the several writers to speak for

COorERATIVE HISTORY-WRITING.

767

tl?emsolvcs i.nd intlcpcndently, instead of having their
work recast and made symmetrical by one master
mind, that the}' have invented a new system ; but it
is the same system as my own, though on a some-
what different plan, in my opinion not nearly so good
a one, and one that will not produce the same results.

But tlio strangest part of it all to mo is, tliat mou
who can expatiate so well and so learnedly on the
benefits of this system, should understand it so little
as not to know wlien tliey tliemsclves were or wer<^
not applying it. They speak of the advantages of
what they kindly call the cooperative method. But
surely any one can see that there Is no cooperation in
their work. Eacli one working alone, in his own
closet, after his own fashion, presents in his own way
and words, his ideas of some previously selected to[>ic
or eplst)de of American history ; and because these
several essays arc printed in one volume, or series of
volumes bearing a connnon title, the labor is called
cooperative, each laborer seeming to think that while
workino" entirelv alone, he has been ureatlv assisted
by tlie others, likewise working alone, and that the
•general work is ixreatlv benefited therebv.

Cooperati(»n, one would think it scarcely necessary
to sav, is where all the workmen contribute of tlieir
intelligence and skill to one grand result, not to a
s«!rics of results. An arcliitect mav build a house,
utilising the labc^r of a Imndred artisans, all cooperat-
ing to Olio end; it makes ({U(>er work of it when eacli
of tlu* artisans constructs a section of a building after
his own fancv, exnectinL!" a svnunetrieal e<lilice to
come out of it. In historical ellbrts, as in any other
kind of labor, coo[H.'ration is where several [tersons
unite to labor as one man, for the accom})lislinient of
a single work. Writing me Sept(Mjd)er 21, LSSG,
A. W. Tourgee says: "J tried to j;ct an article into
nn eastern magazine, on Cooperative Historical W(»rk,
compaiing your system, wliieh is homogeneous and
comprehensible, with Justin Winsor's hotch-i)ot,

708

TOWAJID THE END.

every mouthful of wliioh is a surprise, but wliicli
leaves no uniformity of impression or coherence of
tliought; but I found the idea was sacrilegious iu
this latitude."

CHAPTER XXX.

BUKNET) OUT!

Mi'rntyy. " What's liest for us to do tlicn to got safe across?"
('l)'tmti. "I'll toll you. Ycm must all strip before you get in, and leavi^
all those ctieuiuhraiiees on shore; and even then the Ixiat will searee liold
you all. An<l you take care, Mercury, that no s.iui is admitted that is not
in light marching order, and who has not left all his eneuiuhrancos, as I say,
liehind. Just stand at the gang-way and overhaul thoni, and dou't let tlicni
got in till they've stripped.' Liiri'iii.

Hin'c was a pretty liow-do-you-do ! Wliile I wa.s
buviini; farms and building liouses in San Dic<>o, and
droaiiiing of a short period of ri'pose on this eartli
before being called upon to make once more an inte-
ijral part of it, in tlie twinklinof of an eve I was
struck down, as if by a thunderbolt from heaven.

For twenty years past I had Ijeciii more tlian ordi-
narily interested in this southern extrcMnity of tju;
state, with its soft sunshine and beautiful liay, the
only break iu the California coast-Hm^ south of San
Francisco tliat could l)e ])roperly called a liai'bor, and
I had chipped in from time to time a, few thousands
for lots and blocks, until satisfied tliat I had enouL!,]i,
when the threat connnercial metropolis of tlu^ soutli
should arise; upon tlie spot, to ru'in all my cliildren.

Many times lu-forc! this I had temporarily sou;j,]it,
shelter for myself and family from the cold winds and
fog-s of San Francisco, often in th(! Napa country, and
many times in the Ojai valley, and elsi'where. Tlicn
I wondered if there was not some ])lace more accessi-
ble to my work, which would answer the purpost; as
well.

Ever since 1 850 I liad i)een gazing on the high hills
back of Oakland and Berkel(;y, wondering what was
on the other side; and one day I said I will go and

Lit. iNn. 49. U'W)

ilii

770

BURNED OUT I

see. So I mounted a horse, and wound round by
San Pablo and througli the hills until I came to
Walnut creek, and beyond there to Ignacio valley,
near tlic base of Monte ])iablo, where 1 bought land,
and planted it in trees and vines.

It was a broad and beautiful patch of earth, flat as
possible, and covered with large scattering oaks, look-
ing like many other parts of primeval California, only
that the trees were larger, indicating unusual dep h
and strenL'th of soil. The sun rises over the Devil's
mountain, and the cool southwest wind comes over
the higli Oakland hills fresh from the ocean, tlui in-
frequent dry, hot, north winds alone taking atlvau-
tage of the open country toward Martinez. It went
against the grain to grub up tlie venerable oaks; but
oak trees and fruit trees do not aii.Iiate, and Bartlett
pears are better than acorns, so all were cleared away
except a group left for building sites and shelter of
stock.

For the most part it was a perfect climate, the heat
of sunnner seldom being enervatini;, and but little
frost in winter; but I was growing querulous over
California airs, and said I "anted them quieter and
softer than those which followed me even here, car-
I'vino; their thick focf-banks to the summit of tlu*
hiixhest westerlv hills, and scattering them in fine iit
mists filled witli sunshine over the valleys below. So
we took the train, my wife and I, and started south,
stopping at Pasadena, Riverside, and elsewhere, all
of whirl 1 were too settled, too civilized for us. Then
we came to San Diego, native enough for any one,
tlie cobbley country around looking so diy antl barren
and forbidding that a week of exploration in every
direction was passed, setting out from our hotel in
the early morning and driving till night before we
found a place in which were s» - mingly united all the
requisite possibilities. There we were satisfied to
rest, and then we made our purchase.

Spring valley it was called, from a large perpetual

THE HELtX FARMS.

771

Spring nature had forniod there; and it was the most
attractive of any spot within ten nules of the future nie-
troiKjHs. Tlic nominal proprietor \vus C^iptain Tl. K.
Porter, who wrote fcr the pnpers, drove two liumhh^
mustangs to town with eggs and hutter, and was of
an easy and amiable disposition ; but the true owner
was his most excellent wife, under whose management
the farm and husband barely made (snds nieet.

YA aguaje de San Jorge tlie place had been named
by the early Mexicans, and l)y the first Americjuis
tl'.e St George water-hole. In connnon with the
country thereabout it had l)een used as a sheep range,
the springs serving as a herding point and watering

4)]ace, an old Mexican camping there with his famil}'.
Che padres also liere raised vi.'getahles and fruit for the
mission. Not long after the year 18(50 a San Diego
lawyer, Judge Ensworth, who was in ill health, ob-
tained a possessory claini, and spent a portion of his
time at this charming spot. He walled up the spa-
cious springs, and purchasing from Captain Bogcit
a portion of the lately broken up coal ship, Clarlsm
Andrews, with difficulty had it hauled over to the
ground, and used it in the erection of an adobe house.

Upon the death of Ensworth, Porter purchased the
place and moved his family there from San Pedro in
18G5. Around him subsequently settled Burbnk,
Campbell, and Crosby, from whom I purchased land,
which with the Porter place made up a tract of five
hundred acres and m(»re. The place I called the
Helix Farms, and entered in my book of life to spend
my latter days there. I then returned north.

Keep at hard work too long an old horse and he
becomes worthless, but if care be taken to lighten liis
burdens as strength and endurance fail, he will
perform much good service during his latter days. I
was now reaching the period when I felt it absolutely
necessary to turn myself out to grass or succumb
entirely.

I was born on a 'arm; my earliest recollections

i! lil

BURNED OUT I

were of farm life; my diildhoocl homo had hecn there,
and if there were any rist and reeupiration for me on
earth I was sure it would be under Hl\e conditions.
My work was nearly done. I had no furtlier dt^sirc
to mino'le with tlie affairs of the world. I was eon-
tent with what I had accomplished; or at least all I
could do I had done, and I was sure +hat in no way
could I better become young again than in spcniUng
nmeh time with my little (mes, in teachinL;' tliem Jiow
to work and bo useful, as my devoted parents had
taught me.

it was on the 30th of April, 1880, that I was
standing on the ste|)s of the Florence hotel, at San
Diego, when my wife drove up in her phaetcm and
handed me a telegram. "They said it was im[)or-
tant," she remarked, and vyvd me earnestly as 1
opened and read it. "What is it r' she askrd. "Is
it bad?" "About as bad as can be," I replied. It
was from Mr N. J. Stone, manager of the History
(le[)artment of the business, and it I'ead, "Store burn-
ing. Jjittle hope of saving it." Half an hour lat(M'
came another despatch, saying that nothing was saved
bat the account books.

The full effect of this calamity flashed through my
bra HI on the instant: mv beautiful building, its lofts
filled to overflowing with costly merchandise, all gone,
the rf>sults of thirty years of labor and economy, of
headaches and heart-aches, eaten up by fire in an
hour 1 I say the full eilect of it was upon me ; yet
the blow — though it felled me, seemed to strike softly,
as if coming from a gloved hand, I w;is so powerk-ss
to oppose it. 1 continued the duties of the day
as usual. I was then building for my wife a sunnner
residence overlooking the charming bay; but many
days of sorrow antl anguish were in store for me by
reason of this infernal fire.

In this same hotel, seven months before, I had read
of the Crocker fire, a similar catastrophe hajjpening
to a house of like business to ours. And I then

WIIOLKSALK DEf^TRUCTlOX.

773

tliouojht, "tliis iiii;_(]it as well liavc lucn Ilaiici-oft.
but liow tUtKieiit tlu' nsult to mc ajid liuiidicds of
otlic'is." As La Rochot'oucauld says : "Nous avous
tous jissez dc force pour supporter Ics maux daiitrui."
Wo arc all stionir cuough to endun; tlio misfortunes
of'otlu'rs. And now it was indeed Bancroft, and idl
tlioir fine estaMislnnent, tlie Itiri^cst juid finest, in
western America, swe})t awjiy in tlie midst of a
desperate strug^Lde to ]»ropei-]y place my histories ujiou
the market. Twenty vohmies had been issui-d, and
the firm was still >5-()0,000 )»e]iind on the enter|Mise.
But it was oaiiiiii'''. ^Davliiiht shone as tln'oU''h a
tunnel in the distanci^ ; the last month's business had
been the most encouraginsi; of all; when suddenly,
oiHce, stock, pa])ers, correspondence, ]»rinting-]»ri'sses,
tvi>e and plates, and the vast book-biiuk'ry, fiile<l \\ 1th
sheets and Ixtoks in every stage of binding, wt're
V)lotted out, as if seized by Satan and hurled into the
jaws of hell. There was not a book left; there was
n(»t a volume of history saved; nine volumes of
histor}' plates were destroyed, besides a dozen other
volumes of plates; tw(t car loads of histojy paper had
just come in, and 12,000 bound volumes were uv-
voured by the flames. There was the enter])iise left,
and a dozen volumes of the history plates in the
library basement, and that was all.

1'he loss thus in a moment, of over half a million
of dollars, above all that any ])ollcies of insurance
would cover, was not the worst of it. Our facilities
for work were gont;, machini'ry ilestroyed, and business
coimcctions suvldenly snap[)ed ; at -'.oon with one of
the largest stocks in Ameiica, at night with nothing
to sell I I went down to tln^ train, st()Wed myself away
in a sleeper, and came to San Francisco, knowing 1
had to face the brunt of it, and endure the loiig-<lrawn
agony of the catastro[)he. My daughter was with
me. Friends and sympathizers met me at Martinez.
It was Sunday when 1 arrivotl and wi-nt to my
city quarters. I kept my room until Tuesday ;

774

BURNED OUT I

then pulled myself toi^etlier and went down among
tlie boys, who, poor fellows, W(!re ready to cry when
they saw me enter the miscuuhle rooms on Geary
street, to which they had been forced to fly with their
))ooks. I really felt more for them than for myself,
as many of tliein had been dependent on the business
for a livelihood for a quarter of a century, and they
had wives and little ones to feed. And my poor
wifel I felt for her, from whom I was forced to part
so abrujttly. But most touchiiii:^ of all was the sym-
pathy of the children. Paul said, "l^ipa shall have
my chicken-money to help build his store," as he
turned his face frpin his motlier to hide his tears.
At another time, looking at a new shot-gun, he said,
"I am glad we have that gun, for now papa will not
have to buy one." Little Philip would work all dav
aiul all niglit, and another bantling persisted in going
about gathering nails in an old tin can for two davs
for his father.

It is such testimonials as these that touch the
strong man to the quick, and not the formal letteis
of sym])atliy and condolence that he gets.

It takes time to get accustomed to tlie new ord< r
of things. I wander about the city and note the
many changes of late; I admire the new style of
architecture, and note the lavish expt>nditurc of the
bii; bonanza men arid others in the innnediate vicinity
of my still smoking ruins, and I feel sad to think
that I have no longer a stake in this proud and
wealthy city. For my ground nmst go. It is heavily
mortgaged for money with which to print and pub-
lish my history. Seventeen years ago I gathered it
up piece by jjiece, as I could get it, and pay for it,
paying for one piece $0,000, and for the one of like
dimensions and equal value adjoining $12,000, thus
buying sev(!n lots in order to make up one of tlie
size I wanted. And now it must all <>'t) into the
caj)aci()us maw of some one not fv)olish enough to
write and publish history.

A UVING DEATH.

775

It makes one's heart sore thus to walk al>out old
fiiiniliar haunts and feel one's self a thin*; of the past.
Neither the streets nor the sunshhie have the saiii(>
si;jfnlficanco as formerly. They are not my streets;
it is not my sunshine; I am an hiterloper here; I am
the L^host of a dead man stalking about the i)laces
formerly frequented while living.

Deatli is nothing, however. Every silent stab of
tlie inuumeral)le incidents that every day arise brings
its death pang. To die once is to get (»tl'chea)»ly ; tt»
die Hfty times a day even, one may become somewhat
accustomed to, and so endure it without flinchnig.
]3ut tlie wife and little one's; ah! there's the rub;
all through my life of toil and self-abnegation I had
looked forward to the proud position in wliicli I miglit
leavi! them, ])roudor by far than any secured by nioiu-y
alone, for I m'lglit easier liave made ten millions than
have ct)llected this librurv and written this historv.
I nmst come down in my pretensions, however, there
is no lielp for it.

For thirty years I have had a bookstore in tliis
town, and tlie first and finest one here, or within two
thousand miles of the place. Whenever I walked
the streets, or met an acquaintance, or wanted money,
or heard the bells ring for church, or drove into the
park, or drew to my breast my child ; whenever I
went home at night, or down to business inthemoi'ii-
ing, or out to my library, or over to my farm, I had
this bookstore. And now I have it not. I have
none. I never shall have one a<'ain. It is I wlio
should have been destroyed, and not this hive of in-
dustry which provided food for five hundred mouths.

I drop into a system of rigid economy in personal
expenses, though I well know that the little I can
save in this way will make no difference. But there
nmst have been a comfort in stintinu: mvself, and
making my body feel the plnchings of poverty that
my soul f 'It.

For days and weeks I studiously avoid passing by

776

BURNED OUT I

tlio rharrod remains of inv ho lately proud ostahlish-
mont. I nuvor liked looliliinj on a corpse, and hero
was my own corpse, my own smoulderinjj; remains, my
dead hojH's and aspirations, all tlie fine ]>lans and i>ur-
]M)ses of my life lyin<^ here a heap of ashes, anil I
could not hear to look upon them.

Half of the time dur'in>jj those dnvs I was sick in
hed with nervous prostration. Dav after dav and far
into the night I lay there with an a})pi'oximate state-
ment of the condition of my finances in my hand, liold-
in'jf it befon^ mv eves until I could not seethe figures.
It seemed as lonu^ as I had it, and held it where I
could see it, that I was thus meeting the issues which
I nuist ])ri'S('ntly tight out as soon ns I could stand on
my legs. It was the long and lingering suspi'nso
that ]Mled up the agony; if I was to he hangcil, and
could know it at once, face it, and have it over, I
could nerve myself for the emergency; but to keep
myself neiA'i'd to meet whatever might come, not
kn(»\ving what that would be, required all my forti-
tude and all my strength.

So far as the mere loss of money was concerned,
or that I should bo lield in less csteom by my fellow-
men, I cared nothing for that. I never loved money;
few and sim[)l(! were my wants; I desired to be held
only in siu-li esteem as I deserved, and that estima-
tion most men have in the community, themselves or
their enemies to the contrary notwithstanding.

A sense of obligation in regard to the duties of
life rests to a greater or less degree u})on most men.
Wo do iSi like to see wrong-doing triumph, or tlie
innocent made to suffer; we do not like to see pecu-
lation in office, bribery among ofl[icials, or the greed
of monopolists eating up a comnmnity; we do not
like to see the young squander their inheritance, or
women and preachers gambling in stocks. Somewliat
similarly, we do not like to see an old estal)lis]ied
business, a credit and almost a necessity to the com-
munity, which year after year lives and grows, giving

AN IXOri'OllTl'Ni: TIME.

777

RUppoi-t to scores of families, Inroino oHlitrrated.

Thd'e arc pcrsoiis, pai'ticiilarly niiiniiM- woiiicii, wlic
si'Ciii nl»l(^ to oiuhui- no end of life's l)ulletiii;j^^s and
never know it. Tliey do not soeni to reall/e tliat
their lot is so much Larder than tlirt of others, never
haxin;^- tasted the suiu'i'ior joys. Fromhirth to d( ath
theirs is the u'olden mean of sorrow, their- wnt s Ik iny
so well distrllmted by a kind lieavenly fatlier, that
without some i^n-at woo to rouse them they never an-
awan; of their eurrent misery.

hat a blessui^;" your library was not burned,
the old-womanish men wt>uld say. "It was jtrovichii-
t'lal that you had moved It." Blessing! There was
no l)lessin<r about it. It was altoj^i'ther a curse; a
cursed and contemptible dispensation of providence,
if that is the orthodox term for bad luck. And of a
truth I should have felt relieved if the libiarv had
o'ono too, and so brought my illustrions career to a
dose. I felt with Shylock, as well take my history
as take from me the means of completiiii;- my history
I could curse mv fate; but with more show of reasoK
curse the management which, uidcnown to me, hail
cranuned full to overtlowniii' ei^ht laroe floors witli
])reci()US merchandise in order to take advanta^i' of
low fi'ei!j;hts, at the same tunc cuttinjr down the vol-
ume of insurance, so that when the match Avas applied
in the basement of the furniture store adjohnn;.:. and
a two-hours' blajce left only a heap of ashes, tht' old
business should be killed as tlead as possii)!c. Oh!
there was plenty to curse about in those days, but
hard to see anv yood come of it.

The business had not been very popuittr of late; it
had not been conducted upon the U!(»st liberal or
high-mhided basis; it had many competitors and con-
sc^quently many enemies; hence thousands were made
ha[)py by its fall. I do not know how we all could
have oone to work to confer the pfreatest pleasure
upon the greatest number so cifectually as in bui uing
up our establishment. Yet aome were kind enough

778

BURNED OUT !

to say that it was a public calamity; that there was
nothing now in the country which might properly be
called a bookstore, as compared with what ours was,
and all that.

We knew better than others what such words sic--
niried; that mercantile houses like ours, as it lately
stood, could not be built, any more than mountains
could bo made, or systems of knowledge evcjlved, in a
(lay. I had been thirty y(.;ars in tliis work of crea-
tion; I had not another thirty years to devote to a
similar work; therefore I knew I never should
have another such a bookstore.

But there were other things hi the world besides
bookstores; if I could get rest from severe strain I
would be satisfied: but I could do anythiiijjf now Ijut
rest. To be or not to be was the question. Should 1
make a struggle to recu})erate my fortunes, or sjjould
I lay down my weary bones and drift as comfortably as
I might into the regions of the unconscious. Were I
to consider myself alone ; had I no work to do aft'ect-
ing others, otlier ])ersons, other prhiciples than the
best preservation of self, I could tell quickly what I
would do. I would choose some sunny hillside and
there follow with my eyes tlie rising and setting of
the sun, until the evening should come when I might
uo down with it.

The qu(>stion was not what I would like to do, but
what ouulit I to <lo. To be influenced bv what would
make me the most luip])y or miserable was putting it
upon ratlier a low plane. One man's hap})iness or
misery for a few yea is is a small matter; small to his
fellow-men, who arc thinking of themselves, sniall to his
maker, who has set u[) the universe, apparently upon
the principle of the greatest misery to the greatest
number; and need not be of surpassing solicitude to
iiimself, if he stops thinking about hims(>lf, his hap[)i-
ness or misery, and goes about his business in tlie
spirit of doing in the best manner he can the thing
which most of all requires next to be done.

WHAT SHALL I TRY TO DO?

779

To be or not to be, tliat was the question. Beinj^
dead, were it not better to bo buried ? I was tired,
as I said ; I could easily sink out of sight, an<l lie at
rest beside my sei)ulc]ired hopes. This would be the
easiest way t)ut of tlie difficulty. But I Jiad never
been accustomed to the easiest wav, or to regard mv
pleasure as tlie first consideration in life. To do as
best I was able, every day and every liour, the tliiiiijj
nearest me to be done, whether I liked it or not— that
had been the unwritten code by wliicli I had regulated
my con(kict; and all, wliether I would or not, and all
without knowing- it, I could now no more deviate from
that course than I could cliaiiLje mv nature. J*]xeent
in moments of deepest depression, and tlieii for only a
moment, did T tlihik of such a thing as giving up. To
face the detail of going over tlie dead i)usiness t<> save
wliat could l)c saved sickened me bevond measure, ])ut
I had to swallow the dose. I ofiered togive the- rem-
nant t)f tlie bushiess to anv one wlio would assume the
res])ons'il)ility, and save me the trouble and annoyance
of cleaning it up; but no one would take it, and I was
therefore compolleil to do it myself.

I say there were other things than myself to be
considered; indeed, myself was but a small part of it.
There was the history, and the men engaged on it,
and the ])ledges which had been made to the i)ublic
and to sul)sc -ibers. "Ah, ves," thev would sav, "this
might have 'mvmi expecteil, and so we are left with a
broken S! t oi books on our hands." There was the
business, and a large body of creditors that must be
paid. There was mv familv, and all who should come
after me; if I .should fail myself .md others now, who
would ever after rise up and retrieve! our fallen for-
tunes ? No; I could do now a hundred times more
than any one of them could probably do at any time
hereaftei", and I would try to do it. though the effort
should grind me to powder. Then, too, it was not in
the power of man so const'tuted and so disciplined as
I had been to sit down beside the business I had us-

780

BURNED OUT!

tablisliod in my boyliood, and labored to ,su^staln and
build up all throui^hout my lit'o, and see tlio li^ht of it
go out, become utterly extinguislied, making no effort
to save it.

After all, tlie burning of gunpowder is but the sud-
den eliange of a solid into a gas, tliough the effect is
sometimes terril)le ; the burning of a bookstore is but
the ehanghig of merchandise into smoke and ashes,
but a thousand hearts and niin<ls and lives may be af-
fected or wholly changed thereby. S«> I set about
considerino' as coollv as I could the position i>f thin<>s,
what mi<>ht be done, what miijjht not be done, ai.d
what it were best to try to do.

The situation must be consideivd from several rjoints
of view. Building and business being both cut eff,
I had not a dollar of income in the world. I did not
deem it ])ossible to rterect tlm storc\the former build-
ing being heavily mortgaged. I offered tlu; lot for
sale, but no one would buy at a fiir price. It took
two months to ascertain whether the l)usiness was
solvent or not ; for although most of the account- books
had bi-en saved, there were goods and in\oices in tran-
sit, and new statements of accounts Jiad to bo obtained
from every (juaiter.

Until the state of the l)usines8 could be definitely
known, I could make no calculations about anything.
I miglit have to sell all I had to pay the debts of the
firm. Above all, it minht be utterlv bcvond the (luts-
tion to continue the publication of the history. This
would be indeed the greatest calamity that could
bel'all ; for in that event, without liattering myself
that the woi'ld at large would regard the matter in
a serious light, to me, and to those more inmuHhately
interested in and dependent u[ton me. all would be
lost, not only j)rt)j)erty and life, but that for which
life and pro])erty had been givi'U. A half-finished
work would be comparatively valueless; and not
only would no one take up tlie broken tlireads and
continue the several narratives, i)Ut there would be

RE-ADJUSTMENTS.

:si

little hope of tlio woi'k ever bcinsTf noain attciii))tc(l
hy any one on tlie extensive and tliorouiji'h jiltin I hud
marked out. It is true that nuich of" the work that
I had accomplished would be useful in the hands
of another, w'hether working in conjunction with or
under the direction of some society or government,
or in a private capacity; the question was, however,
would any govern ment or individual undertake it •
The collected materials would never diminisli in im-
portance, but rather increase in value as time passed
by, and the indices, prepared at such a large expen-
diture of time and labor, would always be regarded
of jirimary necessity, as the only means by which vast
stores of knowledge could be reached.

As I have before remarked, it is a matter worthy
of some thought how tiie great libraries of the future
are to i)e made, wlien th(! rai"e and valuahle books
wliicl; constitutt' tlie choicest feature of all thi' more
important collections cannot l)e obtained. Of some
of the appar(Mitly essential early works, it is only at
wide intervals that a copy can now l)e obtained. As
time goes by the intervals will become wider, and the
books impossible ti) obtain will increase in numher,
until even large; collections will be made up of books
which ar(> now easily obtained. Some of these will
in time become scarce; and so it will continue, until
in a hundred years, wIkmi America will have fifty fine
libraries for evtuy one which now exists, compara-
tively few of the hooks which foi'm the basis of the
best libraries to-day will he found in them.

J;)Ut to return to mv affairs so o-reatlv disarrangi^d
by this unfoi'tunate fire. I ke[>t the old store lot, for
the reason befoi-e intimated, becaiise I could not sell
it, buyei's seeming to think it a special imposition if
they could not profit by the fire. When, finally, I
saw that I need not sell it, the savings banks sending
me word that if I wanted to rebuild to come around
and get the money, I saw in it a hundred thousaml
dollars better for me than any offer I cijuld get for

782

BURNED OUT!

the lot. Then I determined to go on and rebuild,
and at once started out to do so.

Then there was the library work to be considered.
While comparatively speaking I was near the end, so
near that I could beoin to think of retiring to farm
life, and a vovaije of several vears around the world
as an educating cxj)edition for my children, yet I had
niucli to do, and this fire added a hundretl fold to
that, even should it be proved possible to complete
tlie work at all. I had tliem make out for me at tlie U-
b " a schedule showing tlie exact condition of the
wo what had been done, what remained to be done,
what plates had been destroyed and wliat remained,
and an estimate of the probable time and expense it
would require to complete the history. Two years
and twelve thousand dollars were the time and money
estimated, but both time and money were nearly
doubled before the end came.

It was interesting to observe the diverse attitudes
assumed b}" different persons after the fire, the actions
of various persons, friends and enemies, in the busi-
ness and out of it. I wii enumerate some of them
by classes and individuals. First, and by far the
largest class, to the honor of humanitv be it said, were
honest and hearty sympathizers, of high and low
degree, who regarded our business as a useful one, its
objects in the main praiseworthy, and its loss a public
calamity. Another class, large enough, but not so
large as the other, was our enemies, mostly business
competitors, who had long been envious of us, and
were now delighted at our discomfiture. As I have
said before, few fires, of a private nature, ever occurred
which made more people happy.

A singular phenomenon was a shoal of business
sharks which sailed in around us, seeking something
to devour. It is useless citing examples, but I was
surprised beyond expression to find among the com-
mercial and industrial ranks, doing busuiess with every

TRUE AND FALSE FRIENDS.

783

claim to honesty and respectability, those scarcely
inferior to highway robi)ers; real estate sharpeis,
swindling contractors, and lawyers, hunting for some
loop-lidle to get a finger in — men who by rights
should be within the walls of a penitentiary. It
was then that I first learned that there were busi-
ness men in our midst whose pnnciples and practices
were worse than those of any three-carde montc men,
or other cheats; who lived and did business only to
get the better of people by some catch, trick, swindle,
or other indirection.

Bedt jf all were the true and noble fellows of our
own establishment, who stood by us regardless of any
consequences to themselves. All were not of tliis
true stamp, however; there were some from whom we
expected most, for whom we had done the most, but
who now returned us only evil, sliowhig bad hearts —
but let them ])ass. It is a matter for self-ct)ngratula-
tion rather than regret, the discovery of a traitor in
tlie camp, of an unprincipled person in a position of
trust and confidence, one held in high esteem, not to
say afiectionate regard, — to find him out, to know him
that he might be avoided. It is not tin; open enemy
that does us serious injury, but the treacherous friend.
And in truth I liavc encountered few such during my
life, either in the business or out of it, few compara-
tively. JMost young men, if ever they have once felt
the impressions of true nobility and Integrity, will not
depart from tiiem. Some forget themselves and fall
into evil ways, but these are few. There is no higher
or nobler work, no more pleasing sight, than to watch
and assist the unfolding of true nobleness of chara-ter
in young men of good impulses. And while! tlure
are so many of inferior ability seeking situations, and
so many situations waithig for competent persons, it
seems a pity the standard of excellence and intelli-
gence is not raised.

There were in the ranks of the old business in-
stances of loyalty and devotion which will remain

784

BURNED OUT I

graven on my heart forever — men who, regardless of
tlieir own interests, stood by the wreck, determined
at any personal hazard, any self-sacrifice, to lend tlielr
aid as long as hope remained. I noticed with pride
that most of the heads of departments thus remain-
ing had begun tlieir business career with nie in the
original house of H. H. Bancroft and Company, and
had been in full accord with me and my historical
work from first to last; and I swore to myself that if
the business survived, these men t^hould never regret
their course, and I do not think they ever have. Nor
should my assistants at the library be forgotten, sev-
eral of whom, besides quite a number at the store,
voluntarily cut down their salary in order to make
as light as possible the burden of completing my
work.

In inanv varied moods were we met by different
persons with whom we had deahugs. We did not
propose to fail, or compromise, or ask an extension,
as long as we had a dollar wherewith to pay our dcl)ts;
but there v/as no usedisgui.ung the fact that the busi-
ness had received a severe blow, and miglit not sur-
vive it. Among the publishers and manufacturers of
the eastern United States are men of every breadth
of mind and size of soul. Durimjr this memorable
year we took an inventory of them, sizing them up
at about tlu^ir value. Nearly all of tliem extended
to us their sympathy, some of which was heart-felt.
Quite a number went further, and nianifestcd a dis-
position to help us regain our feet; but this amounted
to little, practically, though the feelings which prompted
kind acts are n(.'ver to be despised.

There was a man in Massachusetts, with whom we
had no intiuKite ni;([uaintance, and on whom we had
no special claim. We had bought goods from him as
from others; but ho was not like some others of his
locality, wholly given to gain, with blootlless instincts
and cold worship of wealth. He met us openly,
frankly, with something more than machine-made

BUSINESS MORALS.

78S

sympathy, and asked to share with us our loss. Never
will we forget the courtesy and kindness of this man,
or the firm he represents, the minds and hearts of
whose members are so far above the millions they
command, ennobling themselves, their families, and
whatsoever merchandise their fingers touch.

Maojnanimitv, however, cuts no very ijroat fi'j;ure
in business ethics. It seems that the jjood u'old of
commercial morals must have a reasonable alloy to
make it wear. A certain amount of cold-blooded cal-
culation, not to say dowjiriglit meanness, is essential
to business success. It will not do for a man of af-
fairs, if he would achieve any marked success, to allow
any feelings of liumanity, benevolence, or kindness of
heart to stand in his way. Religion he may bend to
his purpose, but must not permit himself to be bent
by it. The easiest and most economical way, as a
rule, in matters of public opinion and policy is to drift
with the tide. The most successful men, in any (H-
rection, are not the best men. They may l)e best for
civilization, l)ut civilization is not the highest or holiest
good, nor does it seem to be conducive to the greatest
happiness. Civilization is not best served by the best
men. Take from progress and the highest and keen-
est intellectual refinement the rascalities attending
their development, and the development would be far
less than it is.

The publishers and book-sellers of New York and
Boston as business men are very like other business
men, rather above than below the avera<j:e. A certain
amount of intelligence, or even learning, may be rul)])ed
off from the outside of books, coming hi life contact
with them as book-men do. Yet by the more success-
ful, books are handled as others handle bales of drv
goods or barrels of groceries. A true lover of books
is not usually found among the more prominent book-
sellers, to whom their merchandise is like the mer-
chandise of any dealer to him. There is some little
business courtesy among the eastern booksellers, but

Lit. Imd. 50.

786

BURNED OUT!

this does not amount to much; if one treads upon the
toes of another, the oflended one strikes back if he is
able, if not, he submits to the inevitable. At the
same time the spirit of clannishness is not wholly ab-
sent, as instanced by the way they all look upon any
attempt at book-publishing outside of their circle, or
rather, beyond the limits of their western horizon.
Like some of the machine-made presidents and pro-
fessors of eastern colleges and universities, they seem
to think that all learning and literature, book-making
and book-selling, should by rights be confined to the
eastern sea-board. But all of them as they grow
older will learn better ; or at least the rising genera-
tion should learn, though some of these seem more
ready to adopt their father's vices than to emulate his
virtues.

More pertinent than these antiquated ideas is the
fact that the west lacks business intercourse and con-
nections, the channels of trade radiating for the most
part from the east. But this is being rapidly over-
come. Chicago is fairly in the field in the publication
of miscellaneous books, and to-day San Francisco is
sending more law-books of her own manufacture east
than she receives from that quarter. And in the
near future there will be on this western sea-board
more than one Mount Hamilton, telling the world of
new stars.

As a rule, the eastern publishers of books stand
high in the community as men of morals, honesty, in-
tegrity, religion, and respectability. And as a rule
they deserve it, as I have said. There are some
among them, however, who cannot be placed so high,
notably some of the educational book-publishers, who
do not hesitate to resort to any and every kind of
bribery and corruption to get their books adopted.
Many will not do this, but many again will. Surely
there should not be anything so very damaging to
business morals in the printing and placing in use
books for school-children. But seldom do business

REMEMBERED KINDNESS.

787

and politics meet except to the injury of both. Fair
and honest dealing asks no aid from politics, and when
office-holders begin to handle the business man's money,
he may bid farewell to honesty and integrity.

On the whole, we considered ourselves very fairly
treated, both at the west and at the east, in the ad-
justment of difficulties arising from the fire. The in-
surance companies were entitled to every praise, paying
their losses promptly before they were due. New
friendships were made, and old friendships widened
and cemented anew. I was specially gratified by the
confidence moneyed men seemed to repose in me,
granting me all the accommodations I desired, and
thus enabling me quickly to recuperate my fortunes,
as I will more fully narrate in the next and final
chapter.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE HISTORY COMPANY AND THE BANCROFT COMPANY.

'Nihil infelicius eat cui niliil unquam cvenit advcrsi, non licuit euiin illi
seexpcriri.' Snifni.

Prosperity inspires an elevation of mind even in the mean-spirited, so
that they show a eettain degree of liigh-niindedness and chivalry in the lofty
position in which fortune has placed tiiem; hut tlie man who possesses real
lortitude and magnanimity will siiow it hy tiie dignity of his behavior under
losses, and in the most adverse fortune. riutarrh.

As the goods arrived which wore in transit at thi*
time of the fire, they were put Into a store in the
Gmnd hotel, on Market street, of whicli we took a
lease for a year. Orders came in and customers
called, making their purchases, though hi a limited
way. Considering the crippled condition of the busi-
ness and the general prostration of its affairs, the
result was more favorable than might have been
expected. In due time after the fire I was able to
ascertain that with close collections, and making
the most of everything, the business was not only
solvent, but had a margin of one hundred thousand
dollars of resources above liabilities. To bring about
this happy state of things, however, the utmost care
and watchfulness, with the best of management were
necessary ; for while returns from resources were slow
and precarious, the liabilities were certain and defined.

A number of fragmentary concerns sprang up,
thrown off from the parent institution in the whirl of
the great convulsion. Our law department was
united with the business of Sumner Whitney, and
a large and successful law-book publishing house was
thus established under the able management of good
men from both houses, who were less inclined, how-
ever, to yield proper credit to those who had laid the

THK HISTORY IJUILDING.

789

foundation for them to build ui)(>n, than to vote them-
selves large salaries, and derive all the ])ersonal profit
therefrom possible. The history department was
sejj^regated from the old business, antl reorganized and
incorporated under the name of The History Com-
pany.

The bare fact of k)ss of property, — not being able
to count myself worth as nmch as formerly by so
many thousand, — as I have before intimated, never
gave mo a moment's pang or uneasiness. All through
the whole of It the main question, and the only ques-
tion, was, could the publishing business i)ay its debts?
If the Market street lot, the library, my farms, and
all other property had to be sacrificed to liquidate the
indebtedness of the business, tliereby arresting the
l)ublication of the history, and sending me forth
empty-handed to earn my bread, — I frankly admit that
I could not face this possibility without flinclung.
But when it was ascertained that the old business
was solvent, and would pay its debts without the fur-
ther sacrifice of my resources, I wrote my wife, who
was still in San Diego attending to affairs there, that
she need have no fear of the future, for if I lived we
would yet have enough and to spare, without con-
sidering what might happen in southern California.

Buying an additional lot, so as to make a width of
one hundred feet on Stevenson street, having still
seventy-five feet frontage on Market street, in some-
thing over a year I had completed on the old site a
strong and beautiful edifice, a feature of Market street,
and of the city, which I called The History Building.
Its architecture was oriijjlnal and artistic, the struc-
ture monumental, and it was s • uimed in considera-
tion of my historical efforts.

I had seen from the first that it would be necessary
as soon as possible, if I expected to get another start in
the world, to secure some steady income, both at San
Diego and San Francisco. In the former place, prop-
erty was so rapidly increasing in value, with increased

790 THE JIIS'IOUY COMPANY AND THE BANCROFT CO'

taxation and street assessments, that unless it could
bo made productive a portion of it would have to be
sold. Some of it, tlic outside lands, were sold, and
with the proceeds, and what I could scrape together
in San Jf rancisco, we managed to erect a business
building there, which brought in good returns. Then
there was the ground-rent from a hundred lots or so,
which helped materially. No money which I had
ever handled gave me half the pleasure as that which
I was able to send to my wife at this time; for
although it lessened and made more difficult my
chances of success in San Francisco, it removed my
family further every day from possible want, and thus
gave me renewed strength for the battle.

Up to this time the publication and sale of my
historical series had been conducted as one of the
departments of the general business, under the man-
agement of Nathan J. Stone. As this business had
assumed large proportions, somet'^iaes interfering
with the other departments, not ah > being in har-
mony with them or with the gene: .management, it
was finally thought best to organize an independent
company, having for its object prunarily the publica-
tions of my books, together with general book-pub-
lishing, and acting at the same time as an agency for
strictly first-class eastern subscription publications.

It may be not out of place to give here some
account of the manner in which the publication and
sale of this historical scries was conducted, with a
brief biography of the man who managed it; for if
there had been anything unusual in gathering the
material and writing these histories, the method by
which they were published and placed in the hands
of readers was no less remarkable.

Ordinarily, for a commercial man formally to an-
nounce to the world that he was about to write and
publish a series of several histories, which with pre-
liminary and supplemental works would number in
all thirty-nine volumes, would be regarded, to say the

METHOD OF I'UIILU'ATIOX.

7!) I

least, as a somcwliat visioiuiry proposition. Tliose
best capaljlo of apprcciatinj^ tlio amount of time,
money, labor, and steadfastness of purpose involved,
would say that such an one had no conception of what
he was undertaking, did not know in fact what he
was talking about, and the chances were a hundred
to one he would never complete the work.

Still further out of the way would it seem for the
publishers of the series to bring forward a pros-
pectus and invite subscriptions beforehand for the
whole thirty-nine volumes at once. Such a proceed-
ing had never been heard of since publishing began.
It could not bo done. Why not adopt the usual
course, announce the first work of the series and take
subscriptions therefor ? Tliis done, publish the second;
and so on. People will not subscribe for so large a
work so far in advance of its completion, with all the
attendant uncertainties. So said those of widest ex-
perience, and who were supposed to be the best ca])a-
ble of judging.

We well knew that no New York or London pub-
lisher would undertake the enterprise on such terms.
We also knew that no book, or series of books, ha<l
ever been written as these had been. We did not
know that the publication and sale could be success-
fully effected on this basis, but we determined to try,
and for the following reasons :

First, properly to place this work before men of
discrimination and taste in such a way as to make
them fully understand it, its inception and execution,
the ground it covers with every how and wliy, re-
quired strong men of no common ability, and sucli
men must receive adequate compensation for superior
intelliiience and eneri^v. To sell a section of tlie work
would by no means pay them for their time and
labor.

Secondly, when once the patron should understand
the nature and scope of the woik, how it was origi-
nated and how executed, as a rule, if he desired anv of

792 THE HISTORY COMPANY AND THE BANCROFT COMPANY.

it, ho would want it all. As is now well known, any
one section of the series, though complete in itself, is
but one of a number, all of which are requisite to the
completion of the plan.

Thirdly, considering the outlay of time and money
on each section, a subscription to only one volume, or
one set of volumes, would in no way compensate or
1 »ring a fair return to the publisher. Throughout the
scries are constant references and cross-references, by
means of which repetitions, otherwise necessary for
the proper understanding of each several part, are
saved, thus makhig the history of Mexico of value to
California, and vice versa, so that if the citizen of
Oregon places upon his shelves the history of
Colorado, the Coloradan should reciprocate.

When a book is published, clearly the purpose is
that it should be circulated. Publishing signifies
sending forth. Print and stack up in your basement
a steamboat load of books, and until they are sent out
they are not published. And they must be sent out
to bona fide subscribers, and placed in the hands of
those who value them sufficiently to invest money in
them. To print and present does not answer the pur-
pose ; neither individual wealth nor tlie authority of
government can give a book influence, or cause it to
be regarded as of intrinsic value. It nmst be worth
buying in the first place, and must then be bought,
to make it valued.

In the matter of patronage, I would never allow
myself to be placed in the attitude of a mendicant. I
had devoted myself to this work voluntarily, not
through hope of gain, or from any n»otive of patri-
otism or philanthropy, or because of any idea of
superior ability, or a desire for fame, but simply
because it gave me j)leasure to do a good work well.
Naturally, and very properly, if I migJit be permitted
to accomplish a meritorious work, I would like the
approbation of my fellow-men ; if I should be able to
confer a benefit on the country, it would be pleasant

NATHAN J. STONE.

79»

to sec it recognized ; but to trade upon this sentiment,
or allow others to do so, .vould be most repugnant to
me

Therefore, it was my great desire that if ever the
work should be placed before tlie public for sale, it
should be done in sucli a manner as to conunand and
retain for it the respect and approbation of tlie best
men. It would be so easy for an incompetent or in-
judicious person to bring the work into disfavor, in
failing to make its origin, its plan, and ])urp()se, prop-
erly understood. In due time fortune directed to the
publishers the man of all others best fitted to tlie
task.

Nathan Jonas Stone was born in Webster, Mer-
rimac county, New Hampshire, June 11, 1843, which
spot was likewise the birtli -place of his fatlier, Peter
Stone. Both of his grandfathers were captains in the
army, one servhig in the revolutionary war, and the
other in the war of 1 8 1 2.

Mr. Stone's early life was spent on a farm, working
during summer, and attending school or teaching in
winter. No better training can be devised for making
strong and self-reliant men ; no better place was ever
seen for laying the foundations of firm principles, and
knitting tlie finer webs of character, than a New
England country home.

In 1803, being then twenty years of age, Mr.
Stone came to California by the way of Panamd,, ar-
riving in San Francisco on the 18th of August, with
just ten cents in his pocket. Investing liis capital in
Bartlett pears, he seated himself on tlie end of a log,
near the wliarf where he had landed, and ate tlnin.
Thus fortified for wliatever fate miglit ]jave in store,
he set out to find work. He knew not a soul
in the city, having thus cast himself adrift upon the
tide of liis own native resources, in a stranije countrv.
at this early age, with cool indifi'erence parting from
his last penny, well knowing tliat tliere was no such
thing as starvation in store for a boy of Jiis metal.

794 THE HISTORY COMPANY AND THE BANCROFT COMPANY.

Times were very dull, and easy places with good
pay were not abundant. Nor did he even search for
one ; but after walking about for the greater part of
the day, making his first tour of observation in the
country, about five o'clock he saw posted on Kearny
street a notice of workmen wanted, and was about
making inquiries concerning the same, when he was
accosted by a man driving a milk-wagon, who asked
him if he was looking for employment. Stone replied
that he was ; whereupon the man engaged him on the
spot, at forty dollars a month and board. Three
months afterward he was oftered and accepted the
superintendence of the industrial school farm, acting
later as teacher and deputy superintendent.

In 1867, he entered the house of H. H. Bancroft
and company, acting as manager first of the subscrip-
tion department, and then of the wholesale department.
In 1872, he became interested in the awakening of
civilization in Japan, and opened business on his own
account in Yokohama, where his transactions soon
reached a million of dollars a year, importing general
merchandise and exporting the products of the coun-
try. He placed a printing-press in the mikado's
palace, which led to the establishment of a printing-
bureau, and the cutting outa'^id casting into type of the
Japanese characters.

Obliged by ill-health to abandon business, he re-
turned to San Francisco in 1878 completely prostrated ;
but after a summer at his old home, he recuperated,
his health still further improving during a four years'
residence at Santa liosa, California.

Mr Stone had followed me in my historical efforts
with great interest from the first. He had watched
the gradual accunmlation of material, and the long
labor of its utilization. He believed thoroughly in
the work, its plan, the methods by which it was
wrought out, and the great and lasting good which
would accrue to the country from its publication. He
was finally induced to accept the important responsi-

GEORGE H. MORRISON.

7f»

bility of placing the work before the world, of assum-
ing the general management of its publication and
sale, and devoting his life thereto. No one could
have been better fitted for this arduous task than he.
With native ability were united broad experience and
a keen insight into men and things. Self-reliant, yet
laborious in his efforts, bold, yet cautious, careful in
speech, of tireless energy, and ever jealous for the
reputation of the work, he entered the field determined
upon success. A plan was devised wholly unique in
the annals of book-publishing, no less original, no less
difficult of execution than were the methods by which
alone it was made possible for the author to write the
work in the first place. And with unflinching faith
and loyalty, Mr Stone stood by the proposition until
was wrought out of it the most complete success.

Among the most active and efficient members of
The History Company is George Howard Morrison,
a native of Maine, having been born at Calais No-
vember 8, 1845. His ancestors were of that Scotch-
Irish mixture, with a tincture of English, which
produces strong men, mentally and physically. On
the father's side the line of sturdy Scotch farmers and
manufacturers, with a plentiful intermixture of law-
yers and doctors, may be traced back for generations;
the mother brought to the alliance the Irish name
of McCuddinjj and the English Sinclair. Georcje w as
one of nine children. Owing to failures in business
their father was unable to carry out his desi-^ni of
giving them a liberal education, but in New England
there is always open the village school, which nuiny
a prominent American has made suffice. It certainly
speaks volumes for tlie self-reliance and enterpris(^ of
the boy George, when we find him in 1851), at the
age of fourteen, alone, without a friend or an ac-
quaintance in the country, applying for a situation
at the office of a prominent lawyer in Sacramento.

"What can you do?" asked the lawyer.

796 THE HISTORY COMPANY AND THE BANCROFT COMPANY.

"Anything that any boy can do who is no bigger
or abler than I am," was the reply.

The lawyer was pleased, took the lad to his home,
gave him a place in his office, and initiated him in the
mysteries of" the law. There he remained, until the
growing importance of the silver development drew him
to Nevada, where he made and lost several fortunes.
Entering politics, he was made assessor of Virginia
City in 18G6, represented Storey county in the legis-
loture in 1873, and was chief clerk of the assembly,
introducing a bill which greatly enlarged the useful-
ness of the state orphan asylum, in 1870 Mr Mor-
rison married Mary E. Howard, the most estimable
and accomplished daughter of John S. Howard, type-
founder of Boston, four children, Mildred, Lillie,
George, and Helen, being the fruits of this union.

Mr Morrison was one of the first subscribers to the
history, in which he became deeply interested, finally
joining his fate with that of The History Company,
of which he is secretary, and of The Bancroft Com-
pany, in both of which com})anies he is a director.

As The History Building drew near completion,
the proposition arose to move the business back into
its old quarters ; but it had become so crippled in its
resources and reduced in its condition, that I did not
feel like assuming the labor, risk, and responsibility
of the nocessar}'^ increased expenses.

I had long been anxious to get out of business
rather than go deeper into it. The thought lay
heavy upon me of taking again upon my already
well-burdened shoulders the care and responsibility
of a wide-spread business, with endless detail and
scant capital; I did not care for the money should
it succeed; I wanted nothing further now than to
get myself away from everything of the kind.

Yet there was my old business which I had estab-
lished in my boyhood, and worked out day by day and
year by year into magnificent and successful propor-
tions; for there had never been a year since its foun-

IN NEW AND ELECUNT QUARTERS.

797

dation that it had not grown and Houriahed, and that
as a rule in ever-increasing proportions. I had for
it an affection outside of any mercenary interest.
Through good and evil times it had stood bravely by
me, by my family, my history, my associates, and
employes, and I could not desert it now. I could
not see it die or go to the dogs without an effort to
save it; for I felt that such would be its fate if it
neglected the opportunity to go back to its old l(Kal-
ity, and regain somewhat of its old power and pres-
tige. The country was rapidly going forward. There
must soon be a first-class bookstore in San Francisco.
There was none such now, and if ours did not step to
the front and assume that position, some other one
would. Immediately after the fire the remarks were
common, "It is a public loss"; "We have nowhere,
now, to go for our books"; "Your store was not
appreciated until it was gone."

My family were now all well provided for, through
the rise of real estate in San Diego. What I had be-
sides need not affect them one way or the other. I
felt that I had the right to risk it in a good cause —
every dollar of it, and my life in addition, if I so
chose. After all, it was chiefly a question of health
and endurance. I determined to try it; once more I
would adventure, and succeed or sink all.

So I laid my plans accordingly, and in company
with W. B. Bancroft, Mr Colley, and Mr Dorland, all
formerly connected with the original house of II, H.
Bancroft and Company, I organized and incorporated
The Bancroft Company, and moved the old business
back upon the old site, but into new and elegant
quarters. Behold the new creation I Once more
we had a bookstore, one second to none in all this
western world — an establishment which was a daily
pride and pleasure, not so widely spread as the old
one, but in many respects better conditioned. Above
all, we were determined to popularize it, and place it
in many respects upon a higher plane than ever it
had before enjoyed. And we succeeded.

798 THE HISTORY COMPANY AND THE BANC£lOFT COMPANY.

The management of The Bancroft Company was
placed in the hands of my nephew, W. B. Bancroft,
who had been well instructed in the business, and had
ever been loyal to it. At the time of the fire he was
at the head of the manufactory, having under him
two or three hundred men. Husbanding his influence
and resources, he started a printing-office on his own
account, and was on the broad road to success when
he was invited to unite his manufactory with the old
business under the new name, and assume the man-
agement, which he finally consented to do. Thus
he, with the others, passed through the fiery furnace
unscathed, and with them deserved the success which
he achieved. No small portion of his success as a
manufacturer has been due to the devoted efforts of
James A. Pariser, the able and efficient superin-
tendent of the printing department. Thus, with
fresh blood, good brains, and ample capital, there was
no reason apparent why the new business should not
in time far outstrip the old, and on its centennial in
1956 stand unapproached by any similar institution
in the new and grandest of empires on the shores of
the Pacific.

INDEX.

Abernethy, Mrs, mention of, 542;
material furnished by, 550.

Adam, L., reviews 'Native Races,'
300.

Adams, C. F., meeting with Ban-
croft, etc., 338.

Alaska, material for Hist, of, 551-61,
G21-3.

Alcantara, Emperor Dom. P. de, vis-
its to Bancroft's library, etc., 187G,
628-9.

Alemauy, Archbishop J. S., archives
furnished by, 472-4.

Allen, A., dictation of, 534.

Altamirano, Y. M., appearance, etc.,
of, 7:m.

Alvarado, J. B., biog., etc., of, 407-8;
Vallcjo's negotiations with, 408-J2;
material furnished by, etc., 408-27.

Amador County, Cal., name, 524.

Amador, J., dictation, etc., of, 524.

Amat, Bishop, meeting with Ban-
croft, etc. , 496-7.

American Antiquarian Society, Ban-
croft hon. member of, 361.

American Etlinological Society, Ban-
croft hon. member of, 362.

Ames, J. G., meeting with Bancroft,
etc., 351-2.

Anderson, A. C, manuscript, etc.,
of, 5.14-8.

Anderson, J., reviews 'Native Races,'
351.

Andrade, D. J. M., library of, 185-91.

Andree, Dr. K., reviews 'Natirc
Races,' 358.

Applegatc, J., character, etc., of,
546-7.

Aiipleton, D. & Co., contract with
ftincroft, .^6.

Arce, F., mention of, 523,

Argiielln meets Cerruti, etc., 404.

ArgUello, Seflora, mention of, 405-6.

Amaz, J. de, dictation of, 496-7, 528.

script, etc., of, 533.
'Atlantic Monthly,' reviews 'Native

Races,' 350.
Authors, mention of various, 308-10;

characteristics, etc., of, 664-82.
Authorship, miseries of, .346-7.
.\very, B. P., mention of, 313.
A Vila, J., dictation of, 526: courtesy

of, 527.
Xvila, Senora, 528-9.

Bacon, J. M., dictation of, 546.

Ballon, J., mention of, 541.

Bancroft, A., mcnti(m of, 48, 50;
character, 49; death of, 55.

Bancroft, A. A., ancestry of, 47-8;
extract from '(.ioldon Wedding,'
48; life in old and new Granville,
49-50; boys' work in the oldin
time, 50; courtship and marriage,
5'J; his own account of his wooing,
(iO; removal to Missouri, 62-77; in
California, 125.

Bancroft, C, business ventures of,
126.

Bancroft, G., meeting with H. H.
Bancroft, M5.

Bancroft, II. H., works of, appro,
ciated, 12-15; ancestry and rcla
tives, 47-.'>r>; boyhood, G.'$-104,
character, 73-7; education, 90- 104;
early career, 109-37; voyage to
Cal., 1852, 121; at Crescent City,
18.").'}-5, l.'$7-40; homeward trip,
1855, 142-7; return to Cal., 1856,
147; firm cstabld by, 147-8; first
marriage, 1.j1-4; business affairs,
155-05, 2.10-1; death of wife, 158-
61; inception of liter, work, 166-
74; books collected by, 173-97,
347, .351-.1, 478-.'J0l, 618-40, 70*2-
63; library, 198-276, 562-91; liter,
projects, 1222-9; ill-health, 226-8;

(7991

800

INDEX.

preparation of material, 231-43,
51^^14; assistants, 245-77, 3()o-7«,
513; scope of work, 278-9, 286-8;
despondency, 280-3; liter, efforts,
287-05; 'History of the Pacific
.States,' 295, 581-91, 790-5; 'Native
Races,' 295-325, 509-70, 575; re-
views, etc., of M'orks, 3 1 6- '25, 338,
341-'2, 350-1, 357-04; eastern tour,
1874, 3'JO-W, 1870,400-5; meeting,
etc., with IJliss, 329-31; with Pal-
frey, 33'2-3; with Gray, 3IM 5;
■with Lowell, 335; with Phillips,
.130-7; with Whittier, 337-8; with
Adams, 338; with Parkman, .338;
witli Emerson, 339; with liowells,
339; with Holmes, 339-40; with
Iliggiuson, 341; with fr. Bancroft,
345, 401; with Draper, .345-(J;
with Nordhoff, 340; with Porter,
.348; with King, .348-9; with Spof-
ford, 351-2, 401; with Ames, 351-
2; with Sargent, 35'2-3; agreement
with Longmans & Co., 354; corres-
pondence with Lubbock, 355; with
Spencer, .350, 302; with (iilman,
350; with Latlaam, 350; with Lucky,
350-7; with Helps, 357; with Daw-
kins, 359; with Tylor, .359-00;
manuscripts procured by, etc.,
.38:1-443, 401-5, 487-501, 0'28^-49,
739, 701-2; negotiations, etc., with
Vallcjo, 383-443; with Castro, 415-
20; second marriage, 450-00; visit
to l'"remont, etc., 40O-1; to Sutter,
401-5; trip to Southern Cal., 1874,
478-508; archives collected by,
468-83, 493-529, 543-4, 538, 0'28,
701-2, 730, 740-7, 703, meeting,
etc., with Hayes, 478-84, 509-13;
with Ubach, 485: with Pico, 490-2;
with Amat, 490-7; with Taylor,
497-503; with Vila, .503-4; with
Oonzalez, .505; M'ith Romo, 505-8;
northern trip, 1878, 530-49; meet-
ing with Elliott, 532-3; with Rich-
ards, 5.32; with Tod, 5.36; with
McKinlay, 530-7; with 'Tolmie,
537; with Finlayson, 537-8; with
Anderson, 538; with llelmcken,
5.38-9; with Evans, 542; with
Brown, .544; fire in 1873, 572-3;
newspaper collection of, 574-.'5;
Drapers letter to, 579; Holmes',
579-80; literary method, 592-617,
C8'2-9; retires from business, 608-
10; correspondence with Swan,
620-1; with Gonzalez, 624-5; with
Brioso, 625; with Cuadra, 626;
•with Barrios, 626; with Dwver,

632-7; with Taylor, 637-9; with
Pratt, 6.37-8; Richards' visit to,
639-40; correspondence with Sand-
ers, 641-2; trip to Mex., 1883-4,
700-51; 1887, 751; meeting with
Diaz, 73'2, 739; with Morgan, 734;
with Altamirano, 734; with Paz,
7.34-5; with Torres, 735; with Sosa,
735; with Palacio, 735; with Her-
nandez y Diivalos, 730; with Garay,
738; with Iglesias, 738; with leaz-
balceta, 738-9; 'Chronicles of the
Kings,' 753; trip to Utah, Col. and
New Mex., 1884-5, 759-03: invest-
ments ill San Diego, 709-71, 789-
90; farm at Wahuit Creek, 770;
fire in 1880, 77'2-t; effect of fire,
etc., 775-87; business re-organi-
zation, 788-97.

Bancroft, K., education, .320, 458;
liter, labors of, •t.")8-9; trip to
Southern Cal., 478, 484; to Mex.,
700.

Bancroft, Mrs., nee Howe, see Howe,
L. D.

Bancroft, Mrs., nee Ketchum, see
Ketchum, E.

Bancroft, 'Mrs., nee Grilling, see
Griffing, M.

Bancroft, .T., mention of, 47.

Bancroft, M., mention of, 112.

Bancroft, N., mention of, 47.

Bancroft, R., mention of, 47.

Bancroft, S., mention of, 47; char-
acter, 48.

Bancroft, S. W., mention of, 47.

Bancroft, W. B., mention of, 202;
manager of The Bancroft Co., 790-
7.

Bancroft Company, organization of
The, 790.

Bandini, Gen., material furnished by,
488-90.

Bandini, Sefiora, mention of, 488.

B;vrientos, M., biog., '270.

Barnes, J. C, relations with Ban-
croft, 140-7.

Barrios, J. R., correspondence with
Bancroft, C'20.

Barroeta, Dr, mention of, 702.

Biites, A., biog., 207.

Begbie, Sir M. B., courtesy, etc., of,
530-1.

Benson, W. H., at Bancroft's Library,
272, 688.

Biblioteca Nacional, Mexico, descript.
of, 740-0.

71anchet, Father, mention of, 54.3.

Blerzy, H., reviews 'Native Races,'
360.

INDEX

801

Bliss, P. C, character, etc., of, .128-
.'{0; rt'latidiis witli Bancroft, etc.,
'SM '.i, ;{3'J, ;{4'J 50; book-collection
of, -Ml.

Bhixonic, I., material furniaheil l)y,

cti.\, ()5S-(;(>.

B()kk('l(3ii, Major, material furnished

by. 040.
Bnnilla, Sofiora, courtesy f)f, 5'_'8.
Hootli, information furnished by, 541.
Bo.s(|nctti, career of, 'J"JO-l.
Bot, Fatlier, courtesy of, .VJO.
Bott'Uo, N., dictation of, .')"_'7.
Bowman, A., mention of, 273; in

Bancroft's employ, 540 1.
Brady, information furnished by, 554.
Brewer, I'rofes.sor, mention of, .S28.
Brigi^s, L. H., material furnished by,

540.
Brioso, Minister, correspondence with

Bancroft, C25.
British Columbia, material for hist.

of, 530-40, .540.
Brockhaus, F. A., publishei's 'Native

Races, ' 3G0.
Brown, J., agent for 'Native Races,'

3.54 5.
Brown, .J. H., material furnished by,

544, SiiO.
Brown Valley, mining in, 1852, 126.
Browne, .T. R., mention of, 313.
Browne, R., reviews ' Native Racc>hi',

323-4.
Bryant, W. C, letter to Banoioft,

351.
Buckingham, ^V., material furnished

by, 5."t5.
Buffalo Historical Society, Bancroft

hon. member of, 'Ml.
Burgos, bookstores of, 184.
Butler, J. L., materi . furnished by,

540.

California, condition of, 1856, S-il;
develiipmeut, etc., of, 0-11; litera-
ture in, 1'2-41, 173-4; effect of cli-
mate, 24-7; migration to, 57 8;
overtrading in. 124; niining in, 124-
7; credit of, 146-7; effect of civil
war on, 154-5; material for hist,
of, 38.3-443, 468 520, 618-20, 631,
647-0, 744-6; archives of, 4(;8-S3.

'California Inter Pocula,' mention of,
6,50 2.

'California Pastoral', mention of,
650.

Camping, do.script. of, 69.3-5.

C'arlrle, Thomas, quotation from, 36.

Lit. Ind. 51

Carr, W. .T., mention of, 272.

Carrillo, P., paper.s, etc., of, .525.

Cassidy, Father, material furnished
by, 4-M.

Castro, M., material obtained from,
etc., 415 26, 430.

Ca/uiu^uve, F. (!., mention of, 738.

(.'el)allos, J., mention of, 7.'i8.

Central America, material for hist,
of, 62.3-31.

Cerruti, E., biog., etc., of, 3(i5-76; in
Bancroft's employ, 365 76, 31s;{-444;
negotiations, etc., with (Jen. Val-
lejo, .383-05; 'Kamblings' MS.,
400 5; intercourse with ( iov. Alva-
rado, 410-1.3, 417 27; with Castro,
416 24; with Vallejo, 428-30; death
of, 444 5.

Chadwick, Gov. S. F., mention of,
542.

Charles, W., material furni.shud by,
535.

Chimalpopoca, A., meeting with
Bancroft, etc., 7.35-6.

Cholula, deseript. of, 748-50.

' Chronicles of the Builders, ' plan pre-
sented, 751^9.

Church, .1. A., reviews, 'Native
Races', .351.

Clarke, Airs. S. A., mention of, .545.

Clarke, Kev. .1. F., mention of, 33(S.

Climate, effect of on liter, work, 24-7.

Cohen, Miss, information furnislied
by, 554.

Coleman, H.
by, 353.

Colemai;, W.
by, ittiO.

CoUey, ci nuection with The Bancroft
Co., 706.

Colorado, material for hist, of, 761-2.

Comapa'.a, F.'uiier, meeting witii Ban-
croft, ttc , 406.

Cnmpton, P. N., dictatiim of, 53.3-4.

Cook, Ca})t., in Alaska, 1758, 5.57.

Co )k(!, W. B., i)artncrship witli
Kci.:.y, 18.52, 1.34 .5, 141.

Copperthwaite, T. M., biog., 269-70.

(,'orl)aley, K. C, mention of, 628.

Corona, It. V., mention of, 275.

Coronel, I., papers of, 510, 525.

(.'osmos, A. (Ic, men Jon of, 535.

Coutts, C. .1., iufoi'mation furnished
by, 485, 400.

('rane, Dr, kiinluess of, 527.

Crease, .lustice, mention of, 548.

Crescent City, deseript. of, 1853, 136-
40.

Crowell & Fairficdd, Bancroft's con-
nection with, 1853-4, 137-8, 140.

R., material coUcctcil
T., material furnished

INDEX.

Ciiadra, ProHident, corrcapomlcnce

of. Ci.'5-6.
C'lishing, C, sale of library, 194.

Damon, S. E., material furnished

by, m.
Daiiii C, courtesy of, r>28.
Davidson, G., anecdote of, .114.
Dawkina, W. B., eorrespoiidence with

Bancroft, .S,50.
Deady, M. P., ilietation of, 546.
Deans, J., dictation of, 5'M.
Dempster, material furnished by,

etc., Cjy-ei.

Denny, A., information furnished by,
541.

Derby, G. H., mention of, 80, 90,
111; character, etc., 11 :< H, 117-lS;
business ventures, 117 10; death
of, l',i'2; estiite, 13;i-5.

Derby, J. C, mention of, 347.

Derby, Mrs., marriage of, SS; decease
of husband, 1852, MVJ-H; relations
with Bancroft, 14H (5.

Deschamps, remarks on the Andra-
do collection, 189-90.

Diaz, President P., Bancroft's meet-
ing with, 732, 730; manuscript of,
739; career, etc., of, 730 40.

Dil)blee, nuiterial furnished by, 528.

Dominguez, D., material furnished
by, 528.

Dorland.T. A. C, connection with The
Bancroft Co., 79(5.

Douglas, J. D., material furnished
by, 534.

Douglas, Lady, mention of, 5.S0, 534.

Dowell, B. F.. mention of, 548.

Downey, Oov., mention of, 480.

Draper, Dr, meeting witli Bancroft,
etc., 345-(), 570.

Dr/l'reek, mining on, 1852, 126-7.

Dwyer, J., correspondence with Ban-
croft, 632-7.

Earhart, R. P., material furnished
by, .543.

Education, discussion on, 104-5.

Egan, J., kindness of, 527.

Eldridge, biog., 276.

Elliott, Minister, meeting with Ban-
croft, etc., 530-3.

Ellison, S., material fumisheilby, 7()3.

Elwyn, T., material furnished by,
533.

Kmcrson, R. W., meeting witli Ban«

croft, 339.
Estudillo, ,1. M., dictation of, 526.
Ktlioline. <J(>v.. courtesy of, ()23.
Evans, E., material furnished by,

.542, 620.
E/quer, I., dictation of, ,528.

Pages, rJov. P., works of, 442.
Fall, .r. (_'., mention of, 125.
Farrelly, Fatlier, nuiterial furnished

by, .-.28.
Farwell, S., material furni.shed by,

535.
Fernandez, ('apt., nu^tition of, 406.
Fernandez, |)r U., ineiitinn of, 7.'<8.
Field, .Iiulge, meeting with Bancroft,

4(il.
Ficrro, F., mention of, 426.
Fiulayson, R., manuscript of, 5'M,

5:57 8.
Fislier, W. M., at Bancroft's library,

235- G; biog., 2(;i-3.
Fitch, Mrs, material furnished by,

4:?9.
Fitzximons, Fatlier, information fur-
nished by, 020.
Florcs, J. M., meeting with Cerruti,

etc., 40t-5.
Ford, manuscript of, 648.
Foster, J., intormation furnished by,

485.
Foster, S. r., mention of, 40:V-6.
Fremont, tien. J. t'., nteeting with

JJancroft, 4(i0-l; negotiations with

Marriott, etc., (i42-5.
Friinont, Mrs, nu^cting with Ban-
croft, 460-1 ; correspondence with

Marriott, 643-4.
Frisl)ie, <len., material promised by,

4:57.

Fuentcs y Mufiiz, .1., mention of, 738.
Ful'-,r, F., ability, etc., of, 237-8;
biog., 259-Gl.

Galan, Gov., at Bancroft's library,

273, 563-4.
'(ialaxy', review of ' Native Races ',

351.
Galindo, C, mention of, 4,34.
(Jalindo, E., dict<ation of, ,524.
tJiiray, F. de, meeting with liancroft,

etc., 738.
Garcfa, I., dictation of, 528.
<Jilttiau, D. ('., proposes removal of

library, 320-1; review of 'Native

INDEX.

808

Rnccs', 321-3; corrcHpondenco with

HiiinTol't, .'<")().
(;iliiii>ur, .1, 11., in BiinoroftH employ,

'2TJ:, 587-8.
*()1(iIiih', ri'view of 'Native Raceti',

(idilkin, meeting with Bancroft, etc.,
;{4li, ;{49.

Golilxchmiilt, A., at Bancroft's li-
brary, 235, 5«:{. 571-5.

Gomez, A., tnaterial collectuil by,

5-j:i-4.

Gomez, V. P., liiog., 274; at Ban-
croft's lilirary, 274 5.

Gonzalez, Father, uieuting with Ban-
croft, 505.

C'oiizalez, President, correspondence
with Bancroft, t»24-5.

Gonzalez, It., dictation of, 528.

<:o(h1, Itev., manuscrii)t of, if'M.

Granville, Ohio, settlement of, 50 -U;
descript. of, 80-7.

Gray, Dr. A., meeting witli Ban-
croft, 328, ;i:m.

Grillin, G. B., hiog., 273.

Grilling, M., character, etc., of, 45(>-
8; marriage with H. H. Biincroft,
457-GO, liter, laliors, 458-1); jour-
nal, 4t)l; arrival in San Francisco,
4()5-(i; trip to Northern Cal., 1878,
530-41); material obtained by, 535-
6; trip to Utah, etc., 1884-5, 759-^;{.

Greenbaum, courtesy of, 557.

G rover, iSenator, dictation of, 545.

Hale, E. E., correspondence with

Bancroft, etc., lUO.
Ilaller, information furnished by, 541.
llamilten, (piotation from, (i!S4.
Hancock, S., manuscript of, 540.
Hansford, Mrs A. J. manuscript of,541
Harcoiirt, T. A., biog., 2(i4-5.
Harris, courtesy of, 530.
Hartnell, W., papers of, 430-1; biog.,

430-1.
Harvey, Mrs, mention of, 542.
Hawes, Father, kindness of, 524.
Hawthorne, Dr J.«C, mention of, 543.
Hawthorne, N., mention of, 14.
Hayes, Judge B., Bancroft's visit to,
"478-84; Collection, etc., of, 478-!S4,

500-12, .527, 571-2; correspondence

with Bancroft, 510-12.
Hcber, 11., library of, 177.
Helmcken, l)r, material furnished by,

533; appearance, etc., of, 538-0.
Heljts, Sir A., correspondence with

Bancroft, 357.

Hernandez y Davalos, J. E., collec*
tion, etc., of, TMi-l.

Ilibben, T. N., courte-y of, 5.30.

Higginson, T. W., corrc-ipondoncii
with Bancroft, etc., 341-2.

Hill, N. D., material furiiislied by, 540

[lill, information funiishcd by, 541.

Hills, (>., material furnished by, 535.

Hillyer, E., character, etc., of, I'S-l).

History Building, erection, etc., of
The, 789, 7!)«.

History ( 'omjKiny, organization of 'I hi ■,
78!) !)0.

' History of the Pacific States,' appre-
ciation of the, 12-b">; iiiccjition of
Work, l(i(>-74; books collected for,
]I7:M)7, 347, 351-;(, 478-.-)(il, C.l.s Ki,
702-(>3; jtreparation of ni.itcriMl,
231-43, 581-5; scope of work, 27.N-
1), 2S() S; iiitrod. to, 2S8, 201 ; nuiue
of work, 315 Hi; niaiuis<'i'ipts jiro-
cured for, .3S3-443, 4(>1 5, 4S7 IM),
494 .")(}!, 028-40, 730, 701-2; ar-
chives, 408-83, 40.3 ,520, 513 4,
558, (i28, 701-2, 730, 740-7, 7C.:{;
printing and publication, 5S(i '.M,

?ja-3.

Holmes, O. W., correspoiulciicc with

Bancroft, etc., .330 40, .")70 SO.
Hopkins, 11. ("., cnstodinn of (',il.

archives, 400.
Hiirton, information furnished liy,5ll.
Houghton, H. O., & Co., publish.

' Jsative Kaces,' 3;!(i.
Howard, Col, courtesy of, 4!)5.
Howe, ('., biog., etc., of. 51, "4-5.
Howe, E., mention of, 5-4.
Howe, J., biog., 54.
Howe, L. 1)., biog., etc., of, 50, 50-04.
Howells, meeting Mitii Bancrol't, etc,

330, :M0-50.
Hudson's Bay company, employes of,

531.
Hunt, partner.-:liip with Bancroft &

Co., 18.50, MO.

Icazbalceta, J. G., library, etc., of,

7:«-o.

Iglcsias, President, i ting with

IJiincroft, 738.
'Independent,' reviews, '\itive

ll;ices, ' 302.
Index, plan of, 23S-40; rosiilta from,

241; a universal index, 213.
Innokcntie, Bishop, courtesy of, (i .'.i.

Jackson, E., mention of, 358.

INDEX.

Jansfinns, A., dictation of, fi2S.
Jciiiiisori, ('. U., iiiuiilioii of, 4.sy,
Jiihiistuiie, M., iiiiirriii^^o of, I("J7.
JmitM, ('. ('., jiiii., rt'viow.-i 'Native

it.iins. •;«;■>'.

JoiiriialiHiii, iiilliiL'iiix>, t'tc, of, .'tl -10.
Juarez, ('a)it. C, material jiroiui.scd
liy, 4:{7-8.

Kaslicrariif, Father, information fur-

ni-liiMl liy, iVil.
Ki'llog, iMins, information l>y, 't'A,
Kell}', in J{aneroft'M emiiloy, 512.
Kinij), A., I)iog., 'J()7 8.
KiMiny, (r. L., cliaraeti^r, etc., of,

117 IS; voyage to Cal., IS.VJ, 11!)-

'Jl; partnor.'liip witii Coiike, l."i4-.">,

Itl; with lianoroft, 147 -.S, lot.
Ki'tihiini, E., marriage of, l.")l-4.
Kin^, C, charaeter of, 31^; mci'ting

with Hane'roft, etc., lU.S-'.l; ri'vie\vs

'Naiive J taeoM, '.'!.")(), correspondence

with Bancroft, .T)()-l.
Kliukofstrom, M., mention of, (i'Jl.
Knight, \V. 11., 'Hand liook Alnia-

iKn;, 17.'1; connection with Bancroft's

tirm, 17;«, 'il.S-llt.
' Kolnische Zcitung,' reviews 'Native

Races,' :US.
Kra.szew.ski, M., dictation of, .TJG.

'La lU'pulpli(iiip Francaise,' reviews

'Native itacus,';{i;'>.
L.lluidio, hiog., 'J7.J.
l-:uy, llcv-., at Crescent City, l.">8.
Lam;, (icii. J., material fiirnislied hy,

r.n, 17.
Laiisdale, ^I., information fnrnished

hy, oil.
Larkin, A., mention of, 4:{().
Larkiu, 11., mention of, 'Jl'.i.
Liirkin, T. 0., hiog., 4;{5; documents,

etc., of, 4l>."»-0.
La'.ham, iJr, correspondence with

Bancroft, ^50.
Lawson, .7. S., manuscript of, .'540.
' l.,e Temps,' reviews 'Native llaces,'

Xi).
Locky, W. E. H., correspondence

wiili Bancroft, IJuii.
Lcfevre, 11., corresp(mdence of, 0-7.
Leva.siicf, Capt., in Alaska. 17ti8, .")7.
Library, tlie Bancroft, descri])t. of,

lOS o4-t; plans and cuts, lOS, -JOO-

1 , •_•(»:;-,■), '2i)l, I'Oi), -21 1 ; statr, lU.") 70.
Literature, evolntiou of, •!— 8; in Cal.,

12-41; effect of climate on, :24-7;

<if wealth, 2T-TO; of journalism,

:tl-40.
Lomliurdo, A., inontioii of, 738.
London, i>ook collections of, l.Sl-,T
Long, T. II., in Baiicrofi's employ,

r.:ti.

L<ingfcllow, H. W., correspoudenco
with iJancroft, etc., ,'<.'ll> 8.

Longmans & Co., agents for 'Native
Races, ' ;C>4.

Lon.-n/ana, A., dictation of, 528.

Lovejoy, A. Ij., dictation of, "illj.

Lowell, .1. R., meeting witli Bancroft,
etc., .'tHu.

Lidihock, Sir.!., 'Native Races ' dedi-
cated to, '.i'M.

Luhiensky, Count, mention of, 399.

Lugo, J., jiapers of, 525.

l.iitke, Ailmiral, cowrtesy of, 6'J3.

Madrid, bookstores of, 184.

Maisonneuvo et Cie, pui)lish 'Native
Races, '.Stk).

Malarin, .L, n.intion of, G47-8.

Manero, V. K., mention of, 738.

Manuscripts, Geu. Valiojo's, ;188 -433;
Capt. Fernandez', 400; ( iov. Alva-
raclo's 408-27; Castro's 415 20;
Pico's 420, 525; I'.studillo'.s, 427,
520; Thompson's, t;'l»- 'lartiieU's,
430-1; J. de J Vy,.jo's, 43.3-5;
Larkin's, 435-0; Ci, t. Juarez', 4.')7-
8; (leu, Nutter's 401-5, 521; (!en.
Bandini's, 4.87-1)0; Warner's, 4'.l4-5,
525; Judge Sepiilveda's, 495; W'id-
ney's, 495; \' ihkls', 490-7, 528;
Arna/', 490-7, 528; Taylor's, 498-9;
iSanta Barbara mission, 500-8;
Judge JIaycs', 478-84, 509-12;
Guerra's, 517-22; Galindo's, 524;
Amador's, 524; Coronel's, 525; Re-
quena's, .525; CarriUo's, .525; Lugo 'a,
525; Wilson's, 5'JO; Vega'.s, 520;
Perez', 520; Vejar's, 520; White's,
520; Romero's, 52(i; Foster's, 520;
Avila's, 520; Kras/cwski's, .520;
Osuma's, 520; Botello's, 5*27; Valle's,
527-8; Onl's, 528; Jansenns', 528;
Lorenzana's, 528; (ionzalez', 52h;
Nidever's, 528; (Jarcia's, 528;
Escpier's, 528; iSproat's, 533; Pem-
hertou's, 533; Asli's, 533; Comp-
ton's, 534; Mnir's, .5.34; Allen's, 534;
Deans', .5;i4; Aiulerson's, 5.'!4-8; Tol-
mie's, 5.34; Finlayson's, 5:54, 5;>7 8;
McKiiday's, 5'M; Cliarles', 5.';5;
(rood's, 5;iO; Tod's, 53()-7; McKni-
lay's 536-7j Swan's, 540; Bokke-

iNi>i;\.

8o:i

Inn's, .Vlft; I.nwsoi.'s, MO; Parker's,

541 : liiiiii.'M, "»tH, .")47; (imvcr's, 54.5;

^(!.siiiitli s, 54ti; Moris', r)4(>; l^ovo-

Jd/'h, ri4li; IJiioim's, r>-Ki; Kmits', ")♦(>;

ju..gu lii'iuly's, ")t(); .luclj^i)Stn>iig's,

tiU'r, Kins', ,">47; Kviiiifi', (WO; I'nw-

ors". (I'Jl; Oslo's, GJ7-'^; Fonl's, (US;

Deiiipstrr's, (il'iO; Bliixonio's, (>(i();

("oliMiuiH,, (■(()(); Dill/', 7.'U); Wood-

ruU's. 7i>l; lliclianls', 701; Stone's,

7(i-'.
Marriage, reniurks on, 440-56.
Marriott, <ir., I'orrcsjKiiidenco with

tiie Kri'inoiit's, 04.'t .").
Marvin, I'".., lourtesy of, altO.
Martinez, M. K., mention of, '275-0.
Mas.saeliiisetts Historical Soeiety,

ISiineroft, lion. niiMulier of, .'{(il.
Mast, C. L., niaturiul furnished liy,

04'2.
Maximilian, Emperor, library, etc.,

of, 1«8.
Mayer, B., mention nf, 'M'i; meeting

with Baneroft, 4()1.
Mc.Vuley, L., material fnrninlied by,

(i:<l.
Mclntyre, information furnished hy,

;").")4; mummy jiresented hy, 5.")";
McKay, material furnished by, ri.")4.
McKiiday, A., manuscript, etc., of,

i-):{4 7.
McKinncy, clerk, courtesy of, i>'24.

Mclhi <, diary of, iV_*7.

Mexico, libraries, etc., of, IS.") 91,
701 :{, 7!!."), 740-."!; material for
hist, of, 0"_'7 .S, 7(KI-.">I; deserijit.
sketch of, 7<K)-.')3; staging in, 707-
10; treasure trains, 71 1 ; liacicnd.as,
711; agricult., 711 12; gambling,
etc., 7-4 ."); marriage, 7-r>-(»; nian-
ufact., 7-7 S; trallic, etc., 7-8-;il;
superstition, 7.'$7.

Mexico, Citj', deseript. of, 712-33;
libraries of, 740-7.

Minor, DrT., meniion of, MO.

Minto, J., information furnislied by,

r)45.

Minto, Mrs, information furnishfd
by, -.4,-^.

Mitropolski, Father, material fur-
nished by, r»r)4.

iloney, u»e and abuse of, 1(M)-.'1.

Montana, material for hist, ol. Oil 'J.

Montard, Father, material furnished
by. 'mI.

Morgan, Minister, Bancroft's meeting

with. 7:u.

Mora. Bishop, material furnished by,
5-O-0.

Moreno, Scftora, matcri.il furnishod

by, 5'-'0-7.
Mormonism, 031-40, 7'>!t 01.
-Morrison, (i. If., biog.. I'Xt 6.
.Morton, .Mrs L., material furnished

by, r,4S. _
Nbiss, S. \V., dilatation of, ."iJO,
Muir, M., dictation of, 't'M.
Murray, K. F., emidoyed by .Tudgo

Hayes, 510 12; by Hancroft, 5i:t

'JH; material collected by, 513-'J3,

rc's.

Mut, Father, eonrtuay of, 5*27.

Naranjo, 0-en,, mention of, 7^^.

' Nation, "reviews ' Native Races,' 351.

'Native Kaces of tlie I'ai'itic States,'
plan of tlie, '2".t5 ;{0I; elaboration,
30'2 4; contents, 303; work on tlie,
304 5; ])ublicatioii, .'iOO 'Jli; reviews,
etc., 31(i •2.">, X\H, 341 '2, .TiO I,
3.")7-()4; cuts, .^(iO; tyjic, etc., i>C>'.)-
70; coiimletion of, 570 HI.

Xeiiios, W., at Bancroft's library,
•SAH, -243, '2'.K), .')05, .kS7; biog., 251-
5.

Nesinith, J. W., manuscript, etc., of,
540.

New Mexico, material for hist, of,
<>'28, 703.

Newkirk, E. P., biog., L'(l(i-!».

Niile»er, dictation of, .")"2S.

Norilholl', ('., mention of, l'2; meeting
with Bancr.ift, 340.

'North Ainiiican Review,' on Ban-
croft's Work". 338.

Northwest coast, material for hist, of,
0'2o 1.

Nutchuks, legend of the, 555-().

Oak, H. L., editor of the 'Occident,'
■21!); Bancroft's librarian, •2'20-4,
•2-2\\. 'SM, •2:t8, •24.3, 41.3. 42 1 5, VM,
474 7, 513 14, .")():{, 571, .'iN7, O-4'.t;
biog., 24(; 51, C.'.IO 1; trip to south-
ern' Cal., 478 ,")08.

Oak, O., at Bancroft's library, 23.5

Oca, Bishop 1. .M. (Ic, library of, 701.

Ogden, P. .S., mention of, ,'',37.

O'Keefe, Father, mention of, 505.

Olaguibel, Seflor, 'Impresioncs (Vle-
I bre9,'748.

01 vera. A., meeting with Bancroft,
etc., 492-3.

Olvera, L'., collection of, 529,

Old, Mrs, dictation of, ,V28.

806

INDEX.

Oref;<in, material fur lii.it. of, 541-51,

CtlO-tiM.
Ortoga, Sofior, library of, 701.
Osio, inanuisuript «>f, G47- 8.
Osiinia, J., (liotation of, 5*2(5.
'Ovorland ;\loiithly,' reviews, etc., of

Biiucroft's works, 314-15, 319-24.

I'ach«''co, <"!en. C, mention of, 738.
I'.ilacio, V. U., library, etc., of, 735.
I'alfrey, J. <!., meeting witii Bancroft,

etc., .S:i'_>-3,
Palinor, (1., mention (if, 132.
Talincr, H., acath of, \:V2.
P.ilnior, (Ion. J., dictation of, 54I>-0.
I'alnier, Mr.-', ni'o lUncroft, see Ban-
croft, E.
T'llou, Fatl.cr F., works of, 411, 441.
I'arkcr, ('apt., dictation of, 541.
Tarknian, K., rcview.s Bancroft's

works, etc., .^1S.
Pariscr, .lanios A., mention of, 708.
I'arrisli, niissiimary labors of, 545.
Pavlcif, information fiirui.shud by.

654 5.
Pa/, I , mention r.f, 7.'U-5.
IVatlitld, .1. .1., bioy., '2(i5-7.
Pciid)i'rt(iii, J. I)., material furnished

by, 533.
Pcralla, F.. Ccrruti's meeting with,

etc. , 400- 1 .
Pei-ez, A., dictation of, 52G.
Petniir. 1., biof.'., 270-2; trip to Alaska,

5."i|-(il ; material procured liy, 553-i)I.
Pettii,'rove, material furni.slied by,

540.
Phelps, S., Tncntiim of, 50-1.
Piiil.idelpliia iS'iiniisinatic Society,

Bancroft lion, mendier of, .301,
Pliini[)s, W. , meeliiii;and correspond-

eiico witli Bancroft, etc., 330-7.
Pico, A., ]>leasaiitrv, 4!tO 3.
I'ico, C, material fiirnisbtd by, 528.
Pico, J. ih' .1., courtesy of, 528.
Pico, J. 1!., material furni.shed by,

42t).
Pico, M. I., courtesy of. .'28.
I'ico, P., dictation of, 525.
I'lna, M., at Bancrofts library, 275.
I'iirut, A. L., material furnished by,

021 2, 027; biog., 022.
Pinto, 11., collection of, .V2!).
IMuniiner, material furnished by, 540.

oinerov.

mention of. 139-41.

' PopubirTiibiiuals,' preparation, etc., ; San V

Powell, Major, mcoting with Ban-
croft, 4(il.

I'owcrs, .S., manuscript of, 021.

Pratt, <r., character, etc., of, 48.

Pratt, C)., correspondence, etc., with
Bancroft, 037-8.

Prieto, meeting witli Bancroft, 73S.

Pryor, P., kindntrss of, 527.

Pni'bla, (,'ity, libraries, etc., of, 74S-
51.

[{ailroads. overlaml, efiect of, on liusi-

ness, 104-").
Ramirez, ,1. F., sale of library, l'.>4

G.
Read, E., agent for ' Native Races,'

.■i.-)3 4.
'Record Union.' article on Bancroft's

coliectiiin, 310.
Rccjuena, M.. jiapers of, 525.
R<'\illa (iigedo. Count, collection

made by, 742 3.
'Revue Ihitannicjue,' on 'Nati\c

Races," 300.
'Revue Litteraire et Politicpie,' on

'Native Races," 300.
Riclianls, F. 1)., visit to Bancroft,

etc., 1880, 030 1.
Rielianls, (lov., mention of, 530;

mceliug witli Bani'roft, etc., 532.
Rico, F., MU'iitiou of, 523.
Ripley. <!., mention of, 34().
Rivas, A. iM.. mati'rial furni.died by,

020.
Roliinsrtn, A., mention of, 48!).
liolison. .1., material furnished li\',

535.
RoUius, H. (J,, mention of, 471.
RiiiiuTo, .1. .M., dictation of, 520.
Homo. F.ithcr, ap]iearance of, 505;

iiiectiug with liaiicroft, '){)'> S;

materi.i! furuislied l>v. ."i05 S, 5b")-

18.
Rosborougli, .1. IV, mention of, .")4S.
Roscoc, F. .)., matcM'ial furnished l)y,

535.
Ross, .1. E., dictation of, 547.
Ronsscl, Father, euurtesy of, .528.
Ruliio, .1., mention of, 741.
Riibio, .M. R., I'iiaracter, etc., of,

730.

Salas, .1. M. de, mention of, 743.

[)f tlie. 0.55-03.

Pnr'er. Prehideiit, meeting with Ban- Siu F
vroft, 348.

40S. 473.

ernando (.'ollege, arclnve^i at.

aiicisco, descript. of, 1852, 121-

indp:x.

807

San Tiiiis Potosi, state library of,

7(12 ;<.

Siiiiulu^z, J., mention f)f, I'.iS it.
Sjinik'rs, W. F., (.'oiTospoiuionce with

Hiunn.ft, tin '2.
Sai<j;iiit, Sfiiator A. A., mention of,

:&2.

iSiivaKf, T., 'liog., 2r>r)-9; Bancroft's
assistant. 470 ;{, .VJIM); niutcriul
(•uli,.rt.(l l)y, -.•_':!-<).

Sawyer, ('. H., mention of, 435.

Seliiefiier. A., courtcsj' of, (i'2l '2.

' .Srriliuers Montiily,' reviews ' Native
ltaces.;UI-2.

Seudiier. meeting witli Bancroft, etc.,

.s:«).

.^ei,'liers. Bishop, material furnished
liy, r).">7.

."^elva, ('., material furnislied Ky, (!'_'.">.

Se[inl\eda. Judge, mention ot, 4S'.>,
inaniis(Tii>t of. 40").

Serra, h'atlier .)., mention of, 441;
ski.teh of ."^an Uiego mission. 4.S().

Siiaslinikof, l"';ither J., material fur-
nished liy, .">")7 '.•.

Short, <len. J'., mention of, 4.S1.

Silieeo, L., mention of. 7.'i'S.

Simi>son, S. L., mention of, 274.

.^laden, t'ol, material furnislied l>y,

Smith, O., mention of. ,">.'");).
Solier.'ini's, in Banerolt s eiiiiiloy, 41.")

2:{.

Society of Califoniia I'ioiieers. ma-
terial funiishecl liy, ()|<».

Sola, (!ov. 1'. \'. de, mention of, 442.

.*<osa, K., mention of, 7''f").

Spaulding, Itev. II. II., «orks of, ").")!.

Spencer, 11.. corres|)iindcuce with
Bancroft. ;C)('i. ;i('.2.

Spencer, \V. (1., material fui-nishcd
l.y, .")!(>.

.*<p(iirord. meeting with Bancroft, etc.,
:!.")! -2. 1(11.

Sproat, '■. M.. mauusciiiit of, ."It,'!,

Sipiier, K. (i.. lil.rary oi. ISCi 4; col-
lection purchased hy Bancroft, (W.l

:ii.

S-iOotchetnces, legend of the, ,').").") (i.

Stanton. K. M., mention of, 4l>!l.

Stafeifk. informal iuu fiii-nislicd liv.
,-).".4.

Stcarn«, .Mrs, mention of, 4Ss.

Stevens. II., library of, IIW; mate-
rials procured liy, I '.Hi.

Stew.irt, (I. W'.. malcrial furnished
hy. (i:il.

Stone, iludge, marmscript of, 7l)2.

iStuuu, N. J., niuuagur uf [)ubli.->liiug

<lcp,artmpnt, 5SG-7, 700, 70.'! .">;

l.iog., 70:{-4.
Strong, .ludgo \V., mention of, ")I2;

dictation of, .">4t).
Stuart, <i., material furnisin'd hy. (III.
Sutter. <icn. .1. .\.. Bancrofts vi>it

to, 4()l ."); manuscrijit furni>lud hy.

4(1").
Swan, Judge .1. (I,, material fur-
nislied hy, r)4(); correspondence

with Bancroft, (120-1.

T.'ims, S., 'mention of, 4:«().

Taylor, DrA. S.. liamroft's visit ti>.

407 ")0I{; cnllectiou an<l \V(prks ..f,

40S ,-)()().
Taylor, fl., eorri-;]iondcncc with llan-

croft, etc., (i:i7 0. 7(10.
Tiiompson, materials fui'iii-lied 1p\,

420.
Tiior'.iton, .1. Kf., nu'Ution of. "i4."i.
'Times' (Lomlon), reviews 'Native

Itaces ', ;i."i'S.
Tocl, .1., nianuscriiit, etc., of, .'illd 7.
T'olmie, W. F.. maniiscTipt of, .");!4.
Toluca, lihraiy of, 747.
Toro, .1., mention of, 7.')S.
Toi'res. \'. (i.. journal, etc., of, 7.'1").
Tourgce, A. \\ ., imulion of, 7(17 s.
Trevi'tt. M.. marriage of, l,"i(.
Trcvett, Mrs. in'e Bancroft, see Ban-
croft, .M.
Trunran. .Majoi-, lucnlinn of, 4S0.
Tiiriier, I.., iufiirmatioM furni lied hy,

.").")7.
Tutliill, F., • llistorv '<{ «'alifnrM'.i ",

:tii.

Tylor, ]•]. B.. i-orrc>|ii>ndi net wilh
'Bancroft. ;!.")0 (10.

I'liaeli, Father, cullection, etc., uf,

IS.").

Utah, material for hist, of, (IXl 41,
7oO (II.

Vald.'s, R., dii'tatiou of, 400 7. .■i2.S.
\ allart.i. F. B., Mieiiliou of, 7.'tS.
Valle. I. del, (hctatioli, etc., of, ."27 S.
\alic|n. I., hi. ■!.'.. 110 -2.
Valhjo. .1. ,1' .1., dictation, el •.. of.
i:!;i .".

Vallejo, (ien. M. de '!., hi..u. etr,, of,
."(7(1 S2: Bah.i-ofl's ni L'ol 1,1 f loll ■<,
etc, witii, 'Mli 00; 'lli.aunadu

808

INDEX.

California' iV[S., 390-8, 428-43;
tour of, 40.">-((; iiegotiatiouM, eto.,
witli Alvarailo, 40S |-J; 'Recuenlos
Historiuos' Ms., 413; correspdu-
ilence witli Baiu-roft. 4It> 17, 4'J9-
32, 43(!"43; iiitercourso witli Cer-
riiti, 4'_'S-3!).

Vallujo, .Major S., mcntioH of, 387-8.

Vc'^/a, Con. P., iiKitorial furnislied
l»y, (V27-8.

Vuga, v. dictation of, u'iO.

N\jar, P., dictation, etc., of, 526.

Vcnianiinof, J., conrtcsy of, (523.

Victor, Mrs F. F., nee Fuller, see

Fuller, F.
Vigil, J. M., mention of, 738, 740.

Mia, Father J., Bancroft's vi.sit to,

503-4.
Villarasa, Father, material furnished

liy, G2ti 7.
Vowel, A. W., material furnislied

by, 533.

Walden, J., catalogue prepared liv

ISl, l!)(i-7.
\N':(ldo, 1)., mention of, 544-5.

Walker, J , relation.s with liaucroft,
3l'7.

Warner, C. D., introduction to Ban-
croft, etc., 328, 303.

Warner, J. ,T., *Rominisccnccs', 494-5.

AVatts, F., inarriage of, 155.

Watts, .Judge .). S., mention of, 15,").

\\ elcli, C, at Bancroft's library, 272.

West, Capt, mention of, 40<j.

Whitaker, J., mention of, 181; hooks
purdiased hy, 190 2; correspon-
dence with Bancroft, 19,5-7.

White K., material furnished by, 543.

White M., dictation of, ,52(j.

Whittier, .T. (}., meeting with Biin-
croft, etc., .337-8.

Whynipet, F., mention of, 313.

AV^idney, R. M., manuscript of, 495.

A\'ilghtnee, legend of, 55().

Willey, l)r H. S., courtesy <,f. «48.

^Vil.sou, B. 1)., dictation of, 52(i.

Winsor, .J., 'Narrative and Critical
History of America'. 7(;4"8.

W^oodruti; W., material furnished
by, 7liO I.

Wyoming, material for hist, of, 762-.3.

■^'esler, information furnished by, 541,
Yudico, J., mention of, 738.

Zakharof, information furnished by,

554.
Zaldo, 11. de, mention of, 399.