Chapter 3 ToC No.3

Sacramento-Fort Sutter-Nomadic Indians-Marysville-Shasta City-Adventure with a Bear-Weaverville-The Miners-The Rocky Mountains-Eureka-Return to San Francisco.

I spent a year at San Francisco, and, during that time, paid a visit to Sacramento, which is the second large city of California. The steamer took me there in a single day, and gave me an opportunity of admiring the river scenery. The city of Sacramento stands in the midst of a flat and fertile district, somewhat resembling the cultivated plains of France. The buildings, like those of San Francisco, are built partly of wood, or brick, and partly of stone.

Here commerce is less active, and the heat more oppressive, than in the city I had just left. The surrounding marshes infect the air with pestilential vapours, and when the river overflows its banks, the country all around becomes one immense sheet of water. The gold diggers at one time poured by thousands into this unhealthy district; but the mortality amongst them was so rapid that, after the first brief harvest, they were glad to leave it.

For those who wish to go direct to Marysville by land, there is a comfortable stage-coach; but the roads are bad, and the jolting is terrible. When we had traversed about twenty miles of the road, we came upon Fort Sutter, which is inhabited by a tribe of Indians. Looking out from the windows of a stage-coach, and seeing these wild bands spurring across the plains, one is forcibly impressed by the contrast between savage and civilized life. Their complexion is tawny, their eyes large and black, and their expression, when not indicative of discontent, is innocent and wondering as that of a child. Their hair is straight and abundant, and black as jet, and grows down within half an inch of the eyebrows. Their dress consists of skins and quaintly-embroidered stuffs; on their necks and arms they wear an abundance of necklaces and bracelets, made of shells, glass-beads, and buttons. Notwithstanding all this finery, they are far from cleanly in their habits. They dwell in little dome-shaped huts, built up with clay and boughs of trees, and entered by a small opening near the ground. Here they crowd together, men, women, children, and dogs, and feed upon the produce of the chase and the river. Amongst other fish, they catch an abundance of fine salmon, which they dry for winter consumption.

These Indians never eat fresh meat; but, when it is putrid, either boil or grill it. They grow a kind of grain which they shell out into wooden bowls, work into a paste, and bake as bread. With this, they likewise eat grasshoppers and various other insects.

The traveller who pursues the road to Marysville, is tolerably certain to meet with more than one troop of aborigines. They have been driven into these desert regions before the advancing footsteps of civilization, and, although many of them, drawn thither by curiosity and that love of gain so common to all mankind, have ended by embracing the habits and occupations of the new comers, many others have, nevertheless, remained in open warfare, and several American expeditions have already been undertaken against them.

After eight hours of travelling, in the course of which we had forded several rivers, and encountered the worst roads I ever remember to have traversed, we arrived at Marysville.

With the exception of some few brick houses, Marysville is constructed entirely of wood. Situated on the enchanting banks of the Yuba, this city resembles an immense market-place, and does in fact supply all the villages and diggings round about. The heat here, however, is even more overwhelming, and the fever still more fatal, than at Sacramento.

It was in this city, and at the very hotel where I alighted in company with the rest of my stage-coach companions, that I met with an adventure which very nearly cost me my life. We were dining in company with a lady and her husband. Just as we had finished, and were about to leave the house, we heard an extraordinary commotion in the room overhead. The master of the hotel, in answer to our enquiries, replied that it was only a party of gentlemen who had met to dine upstairs. Being by this time tolerably well used to American manners, we were by no means surprised, but merely hastened our preparations, in order to get away before these revellers became more uproarious. It was a fine night, and we were anxious to pursue our journey by moonlight. Already the sound of broken plates and glasses foretold a serious ending to the riot. We waited to pay our bill, and suffered for our honesty. At the very moment when the master of the hotel was counting out our change, the door upstairs flew open, and the staircase was all at once filled by a drunken and vociferating crowd. We endeavoured to escape; but the fight had already begun. The combatants were all armed with revolvers, and in another instant I found myself separated from my companions. All at once a shot was fired, a ball whistled past my ear, and a second shot took effect upon a stranger who fell wounded at my feet. Distracted with fear, I ran I knew not whither, and was met by my friends, who believed me to have been injured, and were hastening to my help. The assassin, it seemed, had singled out a gentleman who ran for shelter down the passage where I was standing. Pursued and fired at, he nevertheless effected his escape; but the first shot passed within an inch of my head, and the second lodged in the left shoulder of an unoffending bystander.

The gloom of the passage, and the male attire which I habitually wore, had aided to mislead the would-be murderer. After all, I had a narrow escape of it.

It may not be out of place, at this point, to describe my costume, and to explain the motives by which I was led to adopt it. I wore a gray felt hat, a travelling paletot, and Hessian boots, such as were then the fashion in California. To these boots were attached a pair of Mexican spurs, useful for the mule-riding which is so frequent a mode of transit in these parts. Besides all this, I wore doeskin gloves, a leather belt made to carry gold, and a poignard. This dress is not only picturesque, but necessary; for the country is savage and unsettled, and, in moments of danger, the woman who is thus attired can better escape or defend herself than if she were encumbered with the garments peculiar to her sex. Up to the present moment I had never ceased congratulating myself on the success of my charming disguise; but this adventure, I must confess, somewhat diminished my confidence in my own temerity.

As may be conjectured by the preceding anecdote, the Americans, when intoxicated, are the maddest and most dangerous of human beings. They drink little wine; but, during their orgies, are much given to brandy, whisky, gin, absinthe, and other strong liquors. Their blood once inflamed, even the most peaceable among them become quarrelsome and sanguinary, and commit murders which, in their reasonable moments, inspire even themselves with horror.

Shasta City is a small settlement lying towards the north of California, and consists of a single street of wooden houses situated at some little distance from Sierra-Névada. This town was formerly the market which supplied certain rich diggings of the neighbourhood, long since exhausted. Instead, however, of being consequently deserted, Shasta City still flourishes in virtue of its situation. It is a halting-place for stage-coaches, and a station for the sale or hire of mules, without which it would be impossible to traverse the dangerous bridle-paths of the Rocky Mountains. Passing through this city, we beheld one of those great social disasters so common to California. Even at the moment of our arrival a great fire broke out, and in less than an hour the greater part of the city was consumed. Still more melancholy was it, towards evening, to see the unhappy inhabitants wandering amid the smoking ruins in search of the friends and fortunes they had lost.

Leaving Shasta City, and turning towards the north, as if bound for Oregon, the traveller passes through a mountainous country infested with enormous tawny bears, one of which alarmed me as I never wish to be alarmed again. I was riding somewhat in the rear of my companions. My mule was jogging slowly on, and, what with the fatigue of perpetual travelling, and the extreme heat of the day, I was more than half asleep. All at once, about twenty feet in advance, I beheld a huge bear peeping out at me from a cleft in the rocks, and swaying his head to and fro with the most tranquil and self-possessed air imaginable. The reins fell from my hands; the colour rushed to my face; I was paralyzed with terror, and had no voice to cry for help. The bear, however, content with the impression he had made, amused himself by rolling over and over in the middle of the road, without taking any notice of either me or my mule. A turn in the road now luckily brought me in sight of my companions. Their presence gave me courage, and, unwilling to prolong this exciting téte-à-téte, I put spurs to my mule, galloped rapidly on, and in another moment was indulging in a glowing description of the dangers through which I had passed.

Not far from Weaverville, where it was our intention to halt, we came upon Trinity River, on the banks of which many bloody battles have been fought between the Indians and Americans. Kneeling on the backs of our mules, we forded the stream, and landed among the rich pastures which clothe the table-lands all round about the city. Weaverville is the most northerly city of California, and lies amid a circle of mountains, the summits of which are covered with perpetual snow. Grouped together at the feet of these pine-clad mountains, the pretty wooden houses of Weaverville have a certain tranquil and pastoral effect, not unlike many an Alpine village. The air here is pure, fevers are unknown, and the whole place presents a delightful contrast to the unhealthy activity of San Francisco and Sacramento. The transport of letters and gold is carried on by an express postal service; and the auriferous riches of the district attract a considerable influx of visitors.

We sojourned for some time in this peaceful locality, which seemed as if it had never been visited by adversity or sorrow. Strolling one day in the outskirts of the town, I came upon a desolate-looking spot, in the midst of which stood two black crosses, such as are seen in the French cemeteries. They occupied the very spot upon which the foundations of a building were yet visible. Naturally curious, I hastened to enquire the history of these funereal emblems, and heard in reply the following narrative:-

During the first or second year which followed the discovery of gold in California, there existed no form of regular government. Those miners, therefore, who first penetrated into the regions of Weaverville, were obliged, in a measure, to take the law into their own hands, and protect themselves and their property. Here they lived in a state of the most complete independence, subject to no taxation, and relying for safety upon their own courage and fire-arms. Soon the American Government recognized the necessity of organizing a political jurisdiction for the greater safety of those masses which were crowding, day by day, to the gold-fields of the new State. A system of taxation was forthwith imposed upon all the cities of California, and, amongst other measures, it was decreed that every digger should purchase the right of exercising his vocation. These new laws met, of course, with much opposition, and the sheriff who was despatched from San Francisco to Weaverville, found his office by no means safe or pleasant.

Amongst some of the first gold-seekers who penetrated to these mountainous districts, was an Irishman, who had here built his house, and established himself and family. Being summoned to open his door, in order that the sheriff might take an inventory of his goods, he declared himself ready to defend his domestic liberties with his life, and refused to admit any law-officer whatever, without some more convincing guarantee of his authority. Exasperated by this resistance, the sheriff, who was a man of savage temper and indomitable energy, and who had served in many an expedition against the Indians, replied only by a shot from his revolver. The unhappy gold-digger fell dead across the threshold of his door, and his wife, in trying to defend him, shared his fate. Henceforth, the new taxes were raised and paid without opposition. As for the Irishman's house, it was razed to the ground, and those two black crosses serve to perpetuate the spot where the victims were buried.

The greater proportion of Californian gold-diggers is Irish; and, at a distance of about three miles from Weaverville, there lies a little town called Sidney, which is exclusively colonized by these people.

During my stay in this district, I took advantage of an opportunity to visit some Indian prisoners, who had not long since been taken, and who were kept upon a piece of waste ground at some little distance from the city. Here they had built themselves huts, and dwelt as they might have dwelt in their native forests. They had been captured during an expedition which was lately undertaken to avenge the murder of an American merchant, and were here expiating the crimes of others. Amongst them was one man so old and decrepit, that it seemed as if he could scarcely live from one day to another. Turning slowly towards me, he uncovered his chest, and displayed a large and deep wound, from which the ball had not yet been extracted. Some few steps farther on lay a young Indian woman. A thick blanket was wrapped about the upper part of her body, and she wore a petticoat of fine matting, beyond which her lovely little feet alone were visible. Her wrist was broken by a pistol shot. Prostrate and motionless, she lay like a dead creature. Her face alone glowed with a kind of savage heroism, and her great black glittering eyes met mine steadily and coldly, as if she were insensible to pain.

Two savage dogs, of the species called coyotes, had followed the prisoners into captivity. These dogs live, like the Indians, in wild and wandering bands. They have short legs, smooth tan-coloured skins, and muzzles fringed like that of the fox. They abound in the desert country round about Oregon, and, unless impelled by hunger, rarely venture in the neighbourhood of the towns. Timid by nature, they fly at sight of man. Amongst the prisoners I observed several women, who were attending to their children, and cooking their food, after the manner of civilized nations. The men of these nomadic tribes leave all household matters to the women.

The children were playing happily together amid their sorrowful elders. The heads of two of the number had been lately shaved, in token of mourning. Their faces had also been blackened, according to the Indian custom, and I was told that their parents had been killed in the late attack. In this part of California it is only the women who are tattooed, and the men never shave their heads, excepting for the loss of a near relative.

We gave these Indian prisoners some game, a couple of gray squirrels, and three doves, all of which, in California, are accounted delicious dainties. Our offerings were received with good will, and the women, in return, presented us with some necklaces of shells.

Weaverville is the centre of a great mining district, and its commerce chiefly consists of provisions, household utensils, and tools used in the diggings. The land thereabouts is of a reddish hue and of a particularly auriferous quality. There are few spots which do not yield some profit to the pickaxe and cradle of the miner. Provided with these, he unearths and washes the nuggets. The first blow of the pickaxe, and the washing of the first cradleful furnishes him with an estimate of his harvest for the day; since he has only to measure his gains by the speed of his labour. It was attempted, at an immense cost of money and time, to turn the course of Trinity river, and convey a canal through the heart of the diggings; but the project was too gigantic, and the works were at length abandoned for want of capital.

The southern mines are much poorer than those of the north, and, consequently, enjoy a smaller share of popularity. There are two seasons favorable to the work; the one begins in November, during the rainy season, and the other after the melting of the winter snows in April or May. Were there more water in California, a larger amount of gold would be found, and the diggers would suffer fewer miseries during times of drought.

The profits of a gold-digger vary with the soil on which he works. Some gain five piastres per diem, others ten, twelve, and upwards. Some there are who, having chanced upon an unusually auriferous spot, make fortunes rapidly; but those of whom we hear nothing are the unlucky thousands, who, having abandoned their homes and families in the hope of gain, arrive too late, and find only those lands which have been exhausted by others. For such as these, despair and starvation alone remain.

A travelling gold-digger presents a somewhat eccentric appearance. He wears great leather boots, which reach considerably above his knees, a coarse woollen shirt, and a felt hat beaten out of shape. To the left of his belt hangs a bowie-knife, to the right a revolver. On his shoulder he carries his pickaxe, on his back his bedding, and round his neck his saucepan and miner's cradle.

Leaving Weaverville for Eureka, which lies still farther to the north of California, we crossed a long chain of mountains, passable only by mules. We frequently rode beside abysses so frightful that we dared not look at them, and pursued sandy paths all seamed with serpent tracks. In the midst of these vast solitudes, we came now and then upon a party of muleteers. The tinkling music of the mule-bells, the crackling of the dry leaves under foot, and the mysterious vapours by which we were surrounded, all combined to add to the poetry of this strange and solemn scene. In a church I have often vainly striven to pray; but amid a nature such as this, prayer comes unbidden.

In consequence of the snow which had lately fallen, our journey was more than usually tedious and difficult. We frequently beheld the foot-tracks of the gray bear. Now and then we passed the carcasses of animals which had been devoured, and came, more than once, upon fresh blood-stains in the snow.

A few miles farther on, being quite overpowered by fatigue, we halted at a hut which had been built by some Americans, amid the regions of perpetual snow. We took them, at first, for brigands; but they were simply inn-keepers, who sold us cutlets of bear ham for their weight in gold. I had already tasted this dish at San Francisco, and found it on both occasions delicious.

In the heart of these Oregon mountains lie table-lands, which in summer are covered with the richest vegetation. They are, for the most part, cultivated by emigrants from the interior of the United States. The gathering together of these and other emigrant labourers, renders Eureka still more important as a place of business, than either Weaverville or Shasta City. It is a stopping-place, where travellers pause to lay in stores of provision, and to make such purchases as are necessary for the pursuit of either mining or agriculture. In proportion, however, as the European and American population increased, it became more and more incumbent upon the Eurekans, to watch over their own personal safety. Driven from their hunting-grounds, and forced to take refuge in the mountains, the Indians cherished a profound hatred towards these new comers, and Eureka became the scene of a harassing nocturnal warfare. When I arrived at Eureka, the outrages which had lately taken place were the theme of every tongue. Whole farms had been burnt, and whole families massacred in the immediate neighbourhood of the city.

Eureka is but fifteen miles from Oregon, and we arrived there in the month of November, A.D. 1853.

The houses, and even the chief hotel, are here built of wood. As usual, wherever there are gold-diggings in the neighbourhood, there are gaming-houses in the city. At the restaurant La Fayette, which is the best conducted of these establishments, an excellent French dinner may be had. For all this, and despite the general tendency towards material comforts, it was difficult in 1853 to surround one's self with many of the luxuries of life. Everybody, for instance, slept upon straw-beds, and mattresses were unknown.

The frosts this winter were so severe, that scarcely a day passed but I saw three or four frozen corpses brought into the town. As for our bread and meat, we had to cut it with an axe and hammer.

The mines of Eureka are also highly productive; but here, as elsewhere, the want of water is often sorely felt.

After staying in the city for twelve weeks, and having, by that time, disposed of our merchandise to considerable advantage, my sister and I returned to San Francisco. This fatiguing journey had tried us both severely, and we now entertained serious thoughts of establishing ourselves in business, and making our home in that city.

* * *