M9-NRLF *B 31b S?t GIFT OF Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2008 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/ephebicoathotherOOmcadrich THE EPHEBIC OATH AND OTHER ESSAYS ^ > r^ THE EPHEBIC OATH AND OTHER ESSAYS BY n ALEXANDER McADIE DECORATIONS BY LUCIA K. MATHEWS FRONTISPIECE BY ARTHUR F. MATHEWS 'pl)ilopoU$ Series SAN FRANCISCO A. M. ROBERTSON MCMXII COPYRIGHT BY ALEXANDER MCADIE 1912 San'^Ff aitcisco TO M. R. B. M. 260135 CONTENTS PAGE The Ephebic Oath - 15 Infra Nubem 25 Thalassa, Thalassa! - 31 The Strength of the Hills - 41 The Lights Outside - 51 La Bocana _ . - 59 PREFATORY NOTE The essays Infra Nubem, The Lights Outside and La Bocana appeared orig- inally in the 'P^UofoUs magazine, and are here reprinted by the courtesy of the 111)110^0115 l^r ess. THEEPHEBICOATH «^T^v; V N his gently careless way, the Amateur Emigrant noted that in American cities, citizens new and old spurned the slow-paced fellow who possessed not coin of the realm ; and that art and song seemingly were of less importance than silver and gold. *' There is but one question in modem politics y he says, ^^ though it appears in many forms y and that is money,'' With the exasperating sagacity of the unprac- tical man and dreamer, he added * * There is but one political remedy — the people should grow wiser and better, IS '•*/ t EEPHEBICOATH And how? The word poHtics has to right- eous men or to those who take themselves as righteous, a meaning that savors of unhoU- ness. Yet the word means ** afFairs of the city''; and to be busily engaged with the affairs of the city should certainly be held praiseworthy and honorable. The soul of a city — essence of the place and people — can never easily die. Mortals pass quickly from the sun lit way; but the spirit of a community lives on forever. Athens, city of the violet crown, aside from its time-touched temples of enduring beauty, lives in the memory of men because of lofty-minded sons who walked and talked in "olive groves of Akademe". And it is the spirit of old Rome, the strife of proud patrician and persistent plebeian that is eternal as the hills. 16 THEEPHEBICOATH Of modern cities, some have souls and some are soulless. Mostly they are huge melting pots of the nations. Our home cities are too often crucibles where Mede, Elamite and Parthian are fused in one. But the re- ducing heat is the flame of business zeal, not the fire of civic righteousness. The new made citizen and native born alike boast of tall buildings, uncouth temples to the uncouth god of trade. Non-essentials are exalted and the youth are unaware that the true grandeur of a city is its contribution to time's long roll of noble lives and inspiring deeds. There is a breeze-swept city by the Western Gate quite unlike other cities of its size and age. A breeze-swept city where the inani- mate seems to mold the animate ; where skies 17 THEEPHEBICOAFH and winds and clouds are woven into the texture of one's daily life. Here, fogs like silver threaded scarfs trail their loose ends upon the waters, or wind themselves like bridal veils around the brown and russet hills. The city is not a swollen macropolis. Even in the crowded quarters, the air sweeps pure and free and there is no sense of misery and squalor. There is time to live. The day may be given over to work, but sweet sleep comes with the night. The breeze has the velvet touch that only sea air knows; and in the cheeks of the children are blooms fresher than the flowers. Fortunate indeed are the citizens of such a city. Yet stay. Something is wanting. Health and the zest of living are not all. To the very joy of being shall there not be added appreciation of the beauty of 18 THEEPHEBICOATH truth and the loveliness of service ? Are there no garlands for the time scarred altars of duty and sacrifice? Are these to be as unknown gods, ignorantly worshiped? Shall we not give the youth opportunity to prize and seek the ancient privilege of serving, serving not one but all ; serving not once but always ? Given such opportunity, the city youth responsive as only youth can be, and with that foreshadowing seriousness that youth alone can assume, will press forward to dedi- cate themselves, swearing the old Ephebic Oath. And this the oath : 19 OatI) To bring no disgrace to the City by dishonest aB . . . To fight for the ideals and sacred things y alone and with many , , , To desert no faltering comrade . . . To revere and obey the City laws and to incite respeB and reverence in those above us who are prone to annul or set them at naught . , , To strive unceasingly to quicken the pub- lic sense of civic duty , . , To transmit this City not less but better and more beautiful than it was transmitted to us , . . THEEPHEBICOAFH And so these, the youth of the breeze- swept city will make it the City their fathers longed to know, the city many have dreamed of. This is politics. Those who make good their oath shall be called politicians, care- takers of the city, citizens who face the light. INFRA NUB J > > J J o (3 fO INFRANUBEM OWLED and penitent, like a Friar of Orders Gray, the city kneels in summer afternoons on the lower steps of the altar hills. Beneath the cassock of fog — a loosely woven serge — are hopes, prayers, truth and gentleness. But also under that robe of gray lurk cunning, greed, pride and pretense. Like the merci- ful mantle of charity, the fog covers our many sins. We who love the city, know that the gray covering stretched overhead, while it dims the brightness of the sun, is at once our greatest asset and our richest blessing. Would you know something of this mantle ? Then climb the hills; for the city infra nubem — beneath the fog-— is also a city set upon 25 INFRA NUBEM hills. From some of the upper slopes study this wondrously wrought fabric. Seen from above it is no longer gray and forbidding, but white as driven snow; a coverlet that throws back into sunlit skies the genial warmth of summer days. Watch it come into being far beyond the Heads. The very soul of the sea, it rises like a spirit from the breast of waters. Through the broad Gate in a full-flowing tide, it veils the water and the land. Seen from below, a level sweep and monotone of drab; seen from above, a rufHed sea of light and shade, a billowing cradle for the imperi- ous winds. Inland it spreads, and spreading, rarer grows, a thin gray line, to die at last — if but the eye could see — upon the burnished wheat fields of the San Joaquin. And the sun, as it stands a moment on the 26 INFRA NUBEM water's rim, ere yet it bids our western coast *'good night'*, sees not a cowled and sad robed penitent, but a white-robed Youth, whose silken scarf waves loosely in the breeze. Lover of the City, is there no lesson in this two-fold aspedt of the fog? Seen in the hum- drum sweep of daily life, in the rush and routine of the business day, your fellow citi- zens are sombre-hued and unattractive. Seen from a higher vantage ground, fling they not back the genial warmth of their humanity, the sunlight of their truer selves? And when the page of history shall be turned, and all sad monotones of self are dimmed in the stretch of time, the summed- up efforts of all will shine resplendent to those who view us from afar. Then the his- 27 INFRA NUBEM torian of our time and place will write the judgment: " They wrought well who ah un- known and in their several ways built this fair city round whose bright breast is wreathed a silken scarf of love with golden threads of truth and justice inter- twined. IHALASA'THALASSA J ' } » ■> t ^b* 7araltone« IHALASA•THALASS^ lOUBTLESS when Athens was at its best, in the period of the Antonines, the citizen condudted his visiting friend up the broad steps to the propyla^a and thence to the Acro- poHs, the upper city. Before the portals of the temple of Minerva, the city temple, they would pause; for in the distance the blue waters of the i^gean sparkled. We can in fancy hear them voice the thoughts which must have risen, quoting in that plastic lan- guage some poet's line, telling the majesty, the mystery and compelling beauty of the sea. Our mother tongue was then but the jargon of an uncouth tribe almost unknown and hopelessly barbaric: theirs, the classic speech of centuries. 31 IHALASATHALASSA With the Attic sunshine Ughting sea and land; and on every side evidence of peace, purity and permanence, it must have seemed to both Athenian and stranger that the sun shone more rarely there than elsewhere, that a prayer there whispered were worth a hun- dred offered at some other shrine. In our city we have no Acropolis though the hills rise as high and even higher. And we have no city temple with portals of rare beauty; but we have the sea, a greater sea than that from which the Greek ever drew strength and inspiration. And we lead the visiting stranger to Land*s End — our Erich- theum — and whether the day be bright or overcast, we bid him look and look again, while the very rocks re-echo in rude English 32 imiASSATHALASSA speech the call in Lowell's line, well worthy of the Greek, Aye to the Age' s drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea.'* On Mile Rock stands a temple of the Light. Above foaming crest and placid tide, it looks indifferently on each, deaf to the wooing of Poseidon, sing he ever so softly or storm in jealous rage. Just beyond are the Seal Rocks. Unknown to Cabrillo, unseen by Drake, these hesperian outposts were first sighted from the sea, one August afternoon in 1775 by Juan de Ayala, master of the paquebot San Carlos^ alias Toysan de Oro (Golden Fleece). The master had been commissioned to find the entrance to the Bay of San Francisco. 33 MLASA-THALASSA Since that lone vessel answering the summer wind, steered bravely through the Gate, how vast the company that has passed this way. Eyes dry and moist have scanned each pin- nacle and seam ; and many a traveller marked his journeying begun or his wandering ended as these Farallones in miniature came into view. Across the water Bonita juts out boldly. To the north a low-lying headland, Duxbury, is often mistaken for a dimmer headland farther west, the promontory of the King, la punta de los Reyes, Where else could be so fitting site for Temple of the Winds ? Here Sciron and Boreas, warders of the North, join hands and hold high revel. In vain the master of the southeast gale, cloaked Eurus, warns the invaders back. Tumultously they 34 THALASA'THALASSA meet and rout his cloudy squadrons hurrying from the south. For when the north wind blows, the spirit of a mighty land rides free and wild. No cloud nor shred of fog remains. Blue is the sky, the blue of steel, and clear the outlines of far hills, unseen before. And every tree bends low, making its obeisance, as boisterously the storm king passes. Once on a day in May, the north wind swept o'er cape and headland an hundred miles an hour or more. In the ensenada, this side the King's Point, anxious mariners held fast to extra anchors. Coaster, collier and liner were thankful for the shelter of that far reaching headland. Out beyond the roadstead one poor wayfarer of the deep, the ship WestgatCy was standing 35 THAIASA'THALASA in as the gale began. Loyally and fairly she had borne her burden over the wide stretch between Australia and California. Like a lady of the sea, joyously caressing the waves she pressed on. The headlands loomed up and the harbor was ahead. An hour more and she had made the entrance. Then as if to meanly show his ruffian strength, old Sciron struck her full in the face. From that wrath in deadly fear she fled for very life a thousand miles southward. Ten days later very timidly she approached the Gate and this time entered in and made the longed-for harbor. * * Thalassa, thalassa V So shouted the Ten Thousand as once again their eyes beheld the sea. We whose eyes scan an ocean vastly greater, know that the sea, seemingly imper- ious, strong and free, is in its turn servant of the 36 THALASSATHALASS^ blast and vassal of the storm. When the gale calls, crest flings itself on crest, striving in vain to outrun the w^hips of the wind. A greater ocean stirs it to restlessness; a sea above the sea disturbs its rest. Seldom the v^ater sleeps and even in its calmest mood, moans as if some memory of punishment still rankled. Though it binds the Nations, bringing men together; and draws to its uncertain keeping the bold, the wayward and the free, the ocean is itself in thrall, an unwilling captive of the unseen but insistent air. THE5TRENCTHO THEHILLS m 1^ THE-STRENCTH-OF THEHILU LTHOUGH we dwell near the water's edge, we are at heart and in essence a hill people. Our tribes are many. The trans- marini, name more restful than commuters, now outnumber the dwellers in Mesopotamia, even when these are reinforced by shekel scat- tering nomads, lightly called tourists. We are plainsmen only when we meet in the thor- oughfares of trade; and then we darken the level places like shadows of fast moving clouds. Yet the call of the hills is with us in our busiest hours and eager faces are lit by the soul's yearning for the freedom of the uplifted places, the sacred stillness of the heights. It matters not what origin we may 41 THE-STRENCTROF THEHILLS; boast, or whether our sires were pioneers or pobladores, a common creed unites us. Seek- ing strength we lift our eyes to the encircling hills; and never does the generous Mother withhold it from her worn and weary child- ren. In temples built of unhewn stone we worship, and with one impulse bow before the wide-spread altars of cloud and sky and hill, asking a rebirth of our better selves. The warm southern sky-line is filled by the San Bruno hills. From the twin peaks that glow in sunrise light, and whose tops are lost in the sunset fog, south to the Santa Cruz, ridge after ridge stretches in crumpled folds. Southeast beyond the still waters of the Bay loom the crests of Hamilton's long range. Running north these culminate seemingly a 42 THKTRENCTH-OF THPHILLS; stone's throw from the city but really thirty miles away in Diablo' s unyielding cone. A well-proportioned mountain it swells from the horizon and stands the most persistent feature of all our sky-line. Its name carries no suggestion of saintliness, yet on winter mornings the mountain wears a crown of white; and matchless in purity and grace, points us to heaven. In the north the hills of Sonoma and Marin hold the eye. Too often the full-flowing fog drifting inland, blots out the northern shore. Yet in the rifts, one may catch the gleam of sunlit peak, like fleeting smile upon a tear- stained face. Seen through filmy mist and frowning fog, the northern hills shine trans- figured. This is the rarest view of all. Those 43 THE-STRENCTHOF THEHILLS whose windows look unto the north, these see the promise of the hght beyond the dim- ness of the day. St. Helena can be seen only on a clear day in winter, such a day as follows a long period of rain and southeast wind. In between, like lurking dimples, are many monticellos crowd- ed with vineyards and orchards. 'Twixt north and south lies Tamalpais, friendliest of our hills. For as Israel loved one more than all his other sons, so we turn to this more than to all other peaks. Not the firstborn nor with the shaggy strength of the Sierra, it has yet a grace peculiarly its own. The summit shows above the fogs that wrap the mountain's breast and pour in living cas- cades round its feet. It guards the Gate, a 44 THE5TRENCTH-0F THEHILI stalwart sentinel. The clouds of winter hov- ering on its crest weave snowy wreaths that vanish with the sun's first ray. Deep in its canyons, the ever-living Sequoia make their home. Some were stripling trees when from the shores of Galilee came the message of goodwill to men. Now grown to stately strength they toss their branches high and court with proper modesty the all-searching scrutiny of the sun : or in the stillness of the night turn longing faces to the inquiring, constant stars. Those who know our hills well prize most the hours before sunrise, ere the slanting sun- beams have searched secluded depths. Then the wild flowers wet with dew hold up their heads and offer crystal stores as tribute to the 45 THESTRENCTHOF * THPHILLS morn. The air is sweet with the breath of bay and pine and lilac, and every canyon sheds abroad its fragrance. Nor are the evening hours without delight, when the retreating sun is followed by the enfolding night and darkness sweeps from human ken the monuments of day. Who then climbs the hills may look in quiet down upon the lesser constellations far outspread marking the homes of men. Our hills do not hedge us in: they free us, and allure to realms beyond the hori- zon line. Indifferent to men and tides they stand steadfast. In their presence, under their shadows, we gain strength and inspiration. The burden of the day grows lighter, the minor cares slip from us even as Pilgrim's 46 THE5TRENCTH-0F THEHILLS: pack fell from his shoulders. Worry, wound and the burn of righteous wrath give way to gentleness and kindlier thoughts with ever- widening charity for all. AUTHOR'S ACKNOWLEDGMENT It was my good fortune to know well Professor George Davidson, for thirty years in charge of the U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey on the Pacific ; and for several years Professor of Geography in the University of California. For more than fifty years he was a close student of Early Exploration on this Coast; and personally visited and identified most of the places mentioned in the narratives of the Early Explorers. He is my authority for statements made here. THELICHTSOVIID ^k^t 'prater ^ook Cro»« THELICHTSOVTSIDE HE lover of the City, climbing the hills about sunset on a day when the curtain of fog has been lifted, sees a stretch of water ex- tending westward in unbroken level save where the Islands of St. James, better known as the Farallones, rear their sharp heads. The glimmer of the sunlight upon the western waters is beautiful beyond expression; and if it should happen that the moon rising full, mellows the yet ruddy gold of departing day, the watcher may turn from the scene, forced like that lover of Athens in days long gone, to cry out ** Such beauty is akin to pain '' As the stars come out, sharp eyes can pick up beyond the Heads the steady beacon of 51 THELICHTSOVTSIDE the Lightship, old No. 70; and farther still, the intermittent beam from the revolving lens on the Farallones. On the right Bonita flashes brightly; and marking the channel are many kindly lights. Three hundred thirty-three years ago, an English gentleman buccaneer, sharer of spoils w^ith certain stay-at-homes influential at Court, turned a nevi^ furrow in this stretch, now so well guarded by light and buoy. Seeking a great river that should bear him to the Atlantic, Francis Drake drove the Golden Hind northward until the summer wind forced him back. Glad to get out of the wind, he rounded the point, now marked by a first-order light. Under the lee of Point Reyes he anchored, and named the white cliffs Nuova Albion. And so it hap- 52 THELICHTSOVTSIDE pens that the first New England lies on the northern shore of this stretch of waters, the Gulf of the Farallones. Drake remained a month taking over the sovereignty of the country and repairing his stout little ship, the only one left of the fleet of three with which he started from Plymouth. Leaving on a day in June, he sailed southwestward across this ensenada, and sighting the Farallones, sent a boat's crew ashore. He named these rocky outposts ' *The Islands of St. James.*' There on the stony shelves, as well as on the beach he had just left, the accents of our mother tongue broke the stillness ere yet Shakespeare had learned his letters or our English bible had been trans- lated. Not without some measure of surprise do most visitors to this western rim of the S3 THELICHTS'OVTSIDE continent learn that twenty-eight years before Jamestown was settled, and forty-one years before the Pilgrim Fathers landed on Plym- outh Rock, this distant stretch of water, these wild winds and drifting fogs re-echoed in vigorous English, song, jest, oath and perhaps a low voiced prayer for help and safety. Drake, however, was not the first European to behold these grim islets. Thirty-seven years earlier, the intrepid Cabrillo, steering north, traversed la Bahia de los Pinos; and though he missed the islands going north, he marked them as he sped south before the gale. Twenty-four years after Drake, Viscaino came, seeking the cabo de Mendocino. He worked his course slowly northward, taking advantage of the light winds of the early Fall. 54 THELIGHTSOVTSIDE Then the weather changed even as it does now and the first recorded southeast storm began. So hard did it blow, the small vessels, the Capitana San Diego and the Fragata Los Tres Reyes labored heavily, as well they might. On January 7th (old style), 1603, these voy- agers passed what they called the ** Puerto de San Francisco.'' And the narrative con- tinues : **The Fragata, concluding there was no necessity to seek a harbor, continued the voyage ; and the Capitana, thinking they were in company, did not show a light, so in the morning they were not in sight of each other, and the General returned with the Capitana to the puerto de San Francisco.'* Perhaps it was not easy to display a light during the storm. But on all the face of the 55 THELICHTSOVTSIDE waters there was not a single light ; no friend- ly gleam to tell of human sympathy in the dark. We who look through the Gate, now so well lit, and mark the steady beam of the lightship, the flicker from the Farallones, the flash from Point Reyes and the kindly signals from Bonita and Mile Rock, may well do silent homage to the memory of those daring souls who sailed these seas, ere yet there was a City within the Gate, or welcoming lights outside. LA BOCAN A ERUSALEM has a Golden Gate which is kept walled by the Turks lest the Giaour come some day and passing through, conquer and take possession of the City; for so does the old prophecy run. Our Golden Gate lies open, all unwalled, save where the hills come down to meet the waters. Through it believer and unbeliever pass unchallenged. Alike they enter and depart; and all bear testimony to the beauty of the scene. From the west one does not readily per- ceive the entrance to the Bay of San Francisco. The landfall is peculiar; and the Marin hills in friendly fashion lean over and seem to join the crests of the southern peninsula, while a 59 LA BOCAN A background of Contra Costa hills makes a continuous sky line. The early exptorers failed to discover the Bay from without and never entered in. Spaniard and Englishman sailed by, ignorant of w^hat w^as within ; and their lookouts saw no sign. From the east the vision is one of unob- scured splendor. Seen from the Berkeley hills, la Bocana de la Ensenada de los Faral- lones^ the Gate of the Gulf of the Farallones, deserves all the praise we lavish on it. For sixty-four years it has borne its present name. On his" survey sheet in 1848, Fremont marked the word Chrysopylae, Gates of Gold. And yet four score years before the pathfinder came others who also were impressed by what they saw. Portola, Crespi, and Cos- 60 LABOCANA tanso sought a grand estero, the Port of Mon- terey. They came to it, but did not recognize it, and wandered on. The Bay of Monterey, as they saw it, did not meet the description given by Viscaino. Working north and drenched by the early rains, they made camp near where Montara now is. Two days travel would have brought them to the Gate. The Sergeant and some soldiers, sent to hunt, worked slowly eastward and saw from the high ground the southern portion of the inner bay. The General, the Captain and the pious Padre saw from the heights above the camp the outer reaches from Point Pedro to Bolinas. The expedition returned. Two years later another company toiled north, and on a day in March, Don Pedro Pages, Padre Crespi and twelve soldiers reached the eastern shore 61 LA BOCAN A and pitched camp at el arroyo del Bosque, the Oakland estuary. Next day they climbed the hills near Berkeley; and clear and distind:, the Gate came in view, in line with Alcatraz and the far distant Farallon rocks known for more than two centuries. These, the first white men who ever saw the Golden Gate, called it not inaptly, La Bocana. Seen at the close of day, the tide throws back a shimmering flood of light. Prone are we then to liken it to gold; but *tis scant and dubious honor to the glorious hues. More fitting did we call it Gate of Light. Between us and the lightship, the Heads, stern faced and sombre, frown upon a far flung line of scurrying foam. There the bar breaks, and sullen waters moan as they spend their strength. Nearing the cliffs, the ruffian 62 LA BOCAN A billows beat their foaming crests in vain against the unyielding face of Lobos. Joyously we watch their rout. Around Bonita*s feet they sw^irl, snarling like angry tigers at the white tower that warns the careless seaman not to swing too near that treacherous front. Within the Gate the stately ships dread neither gale nor shoal. They sail to pleasant moorings through well-guarded depths. The anchors hold, there is no straining at the chains. The wayward wanderers of the sea are at home. So may that greater voyage end in peace for all who come and go this way. RETURN TO the circulation desk of any University of California Library or to the NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY BIdg. 400, Richmond Field Station University of California Richmond, CA 94804-4698 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS • 2-month loans may be renewed by calling (510)642-6753 • 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books to NRLF • Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW H AN 2 1 2001 Ht ^hf4etr ^£B J ^. f^m- '^nt;^ Cn,-. (.,. 12,000(11/95) YB 53194 260135 / \