SAN FRANCISCO.
Geography demonstrates the matchless position of San Francisco, as metropolis of the Pacific coast, and assures her supremacy perhaps forever. The Golden Gate, a strait six miles long by one wide, with an average depth of twenty-four fathoms—seven fathoms at the shallowest point—is her pathway to the Pacific. At her feet stretches her sheltered and peerless bay, fifty miles long by five wide, with Oakland as her Brooklyn just across it. Beyond, the Sacramento and the San Joaquin empty their floods, the drainage of the Sierra Nevadas, and afford channels for trade with much of the interior. Her system of bays—San Pablo, Suisun, and San Francisco proper—contain a superficial area of four hundred square miles, of which it is estimated, eight feet in depth pour in and out of the Golden Gate every twenty-four hours. On all that coast, for thousands of miles, she seems to be the only really great harbor; and then, besides, all enterprise and commerce have so centred here, that hereafter it will be difficult, if not impossible, to wrest supremacy from her. Until we reached Salt-Lake, New York everywhere ruled the country, and all business ideas turned that way; but from there on, the influence of Gotham ceased, and everything tended to "'Frisco," as many lovingly called her. This was her general name, indeed, for short, all over the Pacific coast; though the Nevadans spoke of her, as "the Bay" still. The city itself stands on a peninsula of shifting dunes or sand-hills, at the mouth of the harbor, much the same as if New York were built at Sandy Hook. It was a great mistake, that its founders did not locate it at Benicia, or Vallejo, or somewhere up that way, where it would have been out of the draft of the Golden Gate, had better wharfage, and been more easily defended. But, it seems, when the gold fever first broke out, in 1849, the early vessels all came consigned to Yerba Buena, as the little hamlet was then called; and as their charter-parties would not allow them to ascend the Bay farther, their cargoes were deposited on the nearest shore, and hence came San Francisco. It took a year or more then to hear from New York or London, and before further advices were received, so great was the rush of immigrants, the town was born and the city named. Benicia tried to change things afterwards; but 'Frisco had got the start, and kept it, in spite of her false location. Her military defences are Fort Point at the mouth of the Golden Gate, Fort San Josè farther up the harbor, and Alcatraz on an island square in the entrance, which with other works yet to be constructed would cross-fire and command all the approaches by water, thus rendering the city fairly impregnable.
From the first, she seems to have had a fight with the sand-hills, and she was still pluckily maintaining it. She had cut many of them down, and hurled them into the sea, to give her a better frontage. Her "made" land already extended out several blocks, and the work was still going on. With a great penchant for right-angles, as if Philadelphia was her model city, she was pushing her streets straight out, in all directions, no matter what obstacles intervened. One would have thought, that with an eye to economy, as well as the picturesque, she would have flanked some of her sand-hills by leading her streets around them; but no! she marched straight at and over them, with marvellous audacity and courage, like the Old Guard at Waterloo, or the Boys in Blue at Chattanooga. Some were inaccessible to carriages; still she pushed straight on, and left the inhabitants to clamber up to their eyrie-like residences, as best they could. Many of these hills were still shifting sand, and in places lofty fences had been erected as a protection against sand-drifts; just as our railroads East sometimes build fences, as a protection against snow-drifts. The sand seemed of the lightest and loosest character, and when the breeze rose filled the atmosphere at all exposed points. And yet, when properly irrigated, it really seemed to produce about everything abundantly. While inspecting one of the harbor forts, I saw a naked drift on one side of a sand-fence, and on the other a flower-garden of the most exquisite character, while just beyond was a vegetable and fruit-garden, that would have astonished people East. A little water had worked the miracle, and this a faithful wind-mill continued to pump up, from time to time as needed. Towards the south, the sand-hills seemed less of an obstruction, and thither the city was now drifting very rapidly. Real-estate there was constantly on the rise, and houses were springing up as if by magic in a night. The city-front, heretofore much confined, was now extending southward accordingly. It was about decided to build a sea-wall of solid granite, all along the front, two miles or more in length, at a cost of from two to three millions of dollars. This expenditure seemed large; but, it was maintained, was not too great for the vast and growing commerce of the city.
But a few years before, it was a common thing for ships to go East empty or in ballast, for want of a return cargo; but in 1867 San Francisco shipped grain alone to the amount of thirteen millions of dollars, and of manufactures about as much more. Here are some other statistics that are worth one's considering. In 1849, then called Yerba Buena, she numbered perhaps 1,000 souls, all told; in 1869, nearly 200,000. In 1868, 59,000 passengers arrived by sea, and only 25,000 departed, leaving a net gain of 34,000. The vessels which entered the bay that year, numbered 3,300, and measured over 1,000,000 tons. She exported 4,000,000 sacks of wheat that year, and half a million barrels of flour. Her total exports of all kinds were estimated at not less than $70,000,000, and her imports about the same. Her sales of real-estate aggregated $27,000,000, and of mining and other stocks $115,000,000, on which she paid over $5,000,000 of dividends. The cash value of her real and personal property was estimated at $200,000,000. She sent away six tons of gold, and forty tons of silver every month, and in all since 1849 had poured into the coffers of the world not less than $1,030,000,000.[15] Her net-work of far-reaching and gigantic enterprises already embraced the whole Pacific Coast, northward to Alaska and southward to Panama, while beyond she stretched out her invisible arms to Japan and China, and shook hands with the Orient.
One cloudless morning, after days of dismal drizzle, an enthusiastic Forty-Niner took me up Telegraph Hill, and bade me "view the landscape o'er!" I remembered when a school-boy reading Dana's "Two Years before the Mast," in which he speaks so contemptuously of Yerba Buena, and its Mexican Rip Van Winkles. What a change here since then! Off to the west rolled the blue Pacific, sea and sky meeting everywhere. Then came Fort Point, with its formidable batteries, commanding the Golden Gate; and then the old Presidio, with the stars and stripes waving over it. Farther inland were the stunted live-oaks and gleaming marbles of Lone Mountain Cemetery, with the Broderick Monument rising over all. Then came the live, busy, bustling, pushing city, with its quarter of a million of inhabitants nearly, soon to be a million, its wharves thronged with the ships of all nations, but with harbor-room to spare sufficient to float the navies of the world. Beyond, lay Oakland, loveliest of suburbs, smiling in verdure and beauty, with Mount Diabolo towering in the distance—his snow-crowned summit flashing in the sunlight. The Sacramento and Stockton boats, from the heart of California were already in. Past the Golden Gate, and up the noble bay, with boom of welcoming cannon, came the Hong Kong steamer fresh from Japan. The Panama steamer, with her fires banked and flag flying, was just ready to cast off. While off to the south, a long train of cars, from down the bay and San Josè, came thundering in. A hundred church spires pierced the sky; the smoke from numberless mills and factories, machine-shops and foundries, drifted over the harbor; the horse-car bells tinkled on every side—the last proofs of American progress—and all around us were the din and boom of Yankee energy, and thrift, and go-ahead-ative-ness, in place of the old Rip Van Winkleism. I don't wonder, that all good Pacific Coasters believe in San Francisco, and expect to go there when they die! Her hotels, her school-houses, her churches, her Bank of California, her Wells-Fargo Express, her Mission Woollen Mills, her lines of ocean steam-ships, and a hundred other things, all suggest great wealth and brains; and yet they are only the first fruits of nobler fortune yet to come. She is what Carlyle might call an undeniable fact, a substantial verity; and, in spite of her "heavy job of work," moves onward to empire with giant strides. She contained already fully a third of the population of the whole state of California, and was "lifting herself up like a young lion" in all enterprises—at all times and everywhere—on the Pacific slope.
Her faulty location, however, gives her a climate, that can scarcely be called inviting, notwithstanding all that Californians claim for their climate generally. It is true, the range of the thermometer there indicates but a moderate variation of temperature, with neither snow nor frost, usually. But her continual rains in winter, and cold winds and fogs in summer, must be very trying to average nerves and lungs. We found it raining on our arrival there in December, with the hills surrounding the bay already turning green; and it continued to rain and drizzle right along, pretty much all the time, until we departed for Arizona in February. Sometimes it would break away for an hour or two, and the sun would come out resplendently, as if meaning to shine forever; and then, suddenly, it would cloud over, and begin to drizzle and rain again, as if the whole heavens were only a gigantic sieve. Really, it did rain there sometimes the easiest of any place I ever saw—not excepting Fort Vancouver. Going out to drive, or on business, we got caught thus several times, and learned the wisdom of carrying stout umbrellas, or else wearing bang-up hats and water-proof coats, like true Californians. Once, for a fortnight nearly, it rained in torrents, with but little intermission, and then the whole interior became flooded—bridges were washed away, roads submerged, etc. In the midst of this, one night, we had a sharp passage of thunder and lightning—a phenomenon of rare occurrence on that coast—followed by a slight earthquake, and then it rained harder than ever. But at last, the winter rains came to an end, as all things must, and then we had indeed some superb weather, worthy of Italy or Paradise. Californians vowed their winter had been an unusual one; that their January was usually good, and their February very fine; but, of course, things must be reported as we found them. As a rule, nobody seemed to mind the perpetual drizzle, so to speak; but with slouched hats and light overcoats, or infrequent umbrellas, everybody tramped the streets, as business or pleasure called, and the general health of the city continued good. The few fair days we had in January and early February were as soft and balmy, as our May or June, and all 'Frisco made the most of them. The ladies literally swarmed along Montgomery street, resplendent in silks and jewelry, and all the drives about the city—especially the favorite one to the Cliff-House and sea-lions—were thronged with coaches and buggies. Meanwhile, the islands in the harbor and the surrounding hills and country, so dead and barren but a few weeks before, had now become superbly green, and the whole bay and city lay embosomed in emerald.
We left there the middle of February for Arizona, and did not get back until late in May. Then, when we returned we found the rains long gone, the vegetation fast turning to yellow—grain ripening in the fields—strawberries and peas on the table—and the summer winds and fogs in full vogue. At sunrise, it would be hot, even sultry, and you would see persons dressed in white linen. By nine or ten a. m., the wind would rise—a raw damp wind, sometimes with fog, sweeping in from the Pacific—and in the evening, you would see ladies going to the Opera with full winter furs on. How long this lasted, I cannot say; but this was the weather we experienced, as a rule, late in May and early in June. Heavy great-coats, doubtless, are never necessary there. And so, on the other hand, thin clothing is seldom wanted. Many indeed said, they wore the same clothing all seasons of the year, and seldom found it uncomfortable either way. The truth seemed to be, that for hardy persons the climate was excellent—the air bracing and stimulating—but invalids were better off in the interior. Consumptives could not stand the winds and fogs at all; and it was a mooted question, as to whether the large percentage of suicides just then, was not due in part to climatic influences. The really healthy, however, appeared plump and rosy, and the growing children promised well for the future. Had 'Frisco been built at Benicia, or about there, she would have escaped much of her climatic misery. Even across the bay, at Oakland, they have a much smoother climate. But she would "squat" on a sandspit, at the mouth of the Golden Gate, where there is a perpetual suck of wind and fog—from the ocean, into the bay, and up the valley of the Sacramento—and now must make the most of her situation.
Montgomery Street is the Broadway or Chestnut Street of San Francisco, and California her Wall Street. Her hotels, shops, and banking-houses are chiefly here, and many of them are very handsome edifices. The Occidental, Cosmopolitan, and Lick-House hotels, the new Mercantile Library, and Bank of California, are stately structures, that would do credit to any city. Their height, four and five stories, seemed a little reckless, considering the liability of the Coast to earthquakes; but the people made light of this, notwithstanding some of their best buildings showed ominous cracks "from turret to foundation stone." So long as they stood, everything was believed secure; and commerce surged and roared along the streets, as in New York and London. Brick, well strengthened by iron, seemed to be the chief building material in the business parts of the city, though stone was coming into use, obtained from an excellent quarry on Angel Island. The Bank of California had been constructed of this, and was much admired by everybody. The private residences, however, seemed chiefly frame, and were seldom more than two and a half stories high. Doubtless more heed is given to earthquakes here, though your true Californian would be slow to acknowledge this. Nevertheless, deep down in his heart—at "bed-rock," as he would say—his household gods are esteemed of more importance, than his commercial commodities. In the suburbs, Mansard roofs were fast coming into vogue, and everywhere there was a general breaking out of Bay-Window. Brown seemed to be the favorite color, doubtless to offset the summer sand-storms, and the general prevalence of bay-windows may also be due partly to these. Convenience and comfort—often elegance and luxury—appeared everywhere, and to an extent that was surprising, for a city so young and raw. Shade-trees were still rare, because only the native scrubby live-oaks, with deep penetrating roots, can survive the long and dry summers there. But shrubbery and flowers, prompted by plentiful irrigation, appeared on every side, and the air was always redolent of perfume. The most unpretending homes had their gems of flower-gardens, with evergreens, fuchsias, geraniums, pansies, and the variety and richness of their roses were a perpetual delight. A rill of water, with trickling side streams, made the barren sand-hills laugh with verdure and beauty, and gaunt wind-mills in every back-yard kept up the supply. The wind-mill California rises to the dignity of an institution, and is a godsend to the whole coast. In winter, of course, they are not needed. But throughout the long and rainless summer, when vegetation withers up and blows away, the steady sea-breeze keeps the wind-mills going, and these pump up water for a thousand irrigating purposes. The vegetable gardens about the city, and California farmers generally, all patronize them, more or less, and thus grow fruits and vegetables of exquisite character, and almost every variety, the year round. The markets and fruit-stands of San Francisco, groaning with apples, pears, peaches, plums, pomegranates, oranges, grapes, strawberries, etc., have already become world-renowned, and the Pacific Railroad now places them at our very doors.
Montgomery street repeats Broadway in all but its vista, but with something more perhaps of energy and dash. The representative New Yorker always has a trace of conservatism somewhere; but your true Californian laughs at precedent, and is embodied go-ahead-ativeness. In costume, he is careless, not to say reckless, insisting on comfort at all hazards, and running greatly to pockets. Stove-pipe hats are an abomination to him, and tight trowsers nowhere; but beneath his slouch-hat are a keen eye and nose, and his powers of locomotion are something prodigious. Cleaner-cut, more wide-awake, and energetic faces are nowhere to be seen. Few aged men appear, but most average from twenty-five to forty years. Resolute, alert, jaunty, bankrupt perhaps to-day, but to-morrow picking their flints and trying it again, such men mean business in all they undertake, and carry enterprise and empire in the palms of their hands. The proportion of ladies on Montgomery street, however, usually seemed small, and the quality inferior to that of the sterner sex. Given to jewelry and loud colors, and still louder manners, there was a fastness about them, that jarred upon one's Eastern sense, though some noble specimens of womanhood now and then appeared. Doubtless, the hotel and apartment-life of so many San Franciscans had something to do with this, as it is fatal to the more modest and domestic virtues; but it must be doubted, whether this will account for it entirely. Evidently, California is still "short" of women, at least of the worthier kind, and until she completes her supply will continue to over-estimate and spoil what she has. At least, this is the impression her Montgomery street dames make upon a stranger, and unfortunately there is much elsewhere to confirm it.
Respect for the Sabbath seemed to be a growing virtue, but there was still room for much improvement. Many of the stores and shops on Montgomery and Kearney streets were open on Sunday, the same as other days; and it seemed to be the favorite day for pic-nics and excursions, to Oakland and San Mateo. Processions, with bands of music, were not infrequent, and at Hayes' Park in the Southern suburbs the whole Teuton element seemed to concentrate on that day, for a general saturnalia. On the other hand, there was a goodly array of well-filled churches, and their pastors preached with much fervency and power. The Jewish Synagogue is a magnificent structure, one of the finest in America, and deserves more than a passing notice. It is on Sutter street, in a fine location overlooking the city, and cost nearly half a million of dollars. The gilding and decoration generally inside, viewed from the organ-loft, are superb. But few of the large choir were Jews, and scarcely any could read the old Hebrew songs and chants in the original; so these were printed in English, as the Hebrew sounds, and thus they maintained the ancient custom of singing and chanting only in Hebrew! Their music, nevertheless, was grand and inspiring, and it would be well, for our Gentile churches, to emulate it. This was called the Progressive Synagogue. The congregation had recently shortened the ancient service from three hours to an hour and a half, by leaving out some of the long prayers—"vain repetitions," it is presumed—and the consequence was, a split in this most conservative of churches. The good old conservative brethren, of course, could not stand the abbreviation. They were fully persuaded, they could never get to Paradise, with only an hour and a half's service. So, they seceded, and set up for themselves. Very prosperous and wealthy are the Jews of San Francisco; and, indeed, all over the Pacific Coast, our Hebrew friends enjoy a degree of respectability, that few attain East. They number in their ranks many of the leading bankers, merchants, lawyers, etc., of San Francisco; and more than one of them sits upon the Bench, gracing his seat. Poor Thomas Starr King's church is a model in its way, and the congregation that assembles there one of the most cultivated and refined on the Pacific Coast. Their pastor, Dr. Stebbins, though not equal to his great predecessor, in some respects, is a man of marked thought and eloquence; and, by his broad Christian charity, was doing a noble work in San Francisco. So, Dr. Stone, formerly of Boston, was preaching to large audiences, and declaring "the whole counsel of God," without fear or favor. His church is plain but large and commodious, and was always thronged with attentive worshippers. Dr. Wadsworth, lately of Philadelphia, was not attracting the attention he did East; but his church was usually well-filled, and he was exerting an influence and power for good much needed. The Methodists, our modern ecclesiastical sharp-shooters, did not seem as live and aggressive, as they usually do elsewhere; but we were told they were a great and growing power on the Coast, for all that, and everybody bade them God speed. The Episcopalians, as a rule, I regret to say, appeared to make but little impression, and were perhaps unfortunate in their chief official. The Catholics, embracing most of the old Spanish population and much of the foreign element, were vigorous and aggressive, and made no concealment of the fact, that they were aiming at supremacy. In this cosmopolitan city, the Chinese, too, have their Temples, or Josh-Houses; but they were much neglected, and John Chinaman, indeed, religiously considered, seemed well on the road to philosophic indifference.
During the past decade, however, things on the whole had greatly improved, morally and religiously, as the population had become more fixed and settled; and all were hoping for a still greater improvement, with the completion of the Railroad, and the resumption of old family ties East. The drinking-saloons were being more carefully regulated. The gambling-hells, no longer permitted openly, were being more and more driven into obscurity and secrecy. Law and order were more rigidly enforced. The vigilance committees of former years still exerted their beneficent example. The Alta, Bulletin, and Times, then the three great papers of the city and Coast, all noble journals, were all open and pronounced in behalf of good morals and wholesome government; and it is not too much to say, that the prospect for the future was certainly very gratifying, not to say cheering. "Forty-Niners," (Bret Harte's Argonauts) and other early comers, declared themselves amazed, that they were getting on, as well as they did. "Yes," said one of the best of them, a man of great shrewdness and ability, "I grant, we Californians have been pretty rough customers, and have not as many religious people among us yet, as we ought to have; but then, what we have are iron-clad, you bet!" I suspect that is about so. A man, who is really religious in California, will likely be so anywhere. The severity of his temptations, if he resist them, will make him invulnerable; and all the "fiery darts of the wicked one," elsewhere, will fall harmless at his feet. Faithful Monitors are they, battling for Jesus; and in the end, we know, will come off more than conquerors. With all our hearts, let us bid them God speed!
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
SAN FRANCISCO (continued).
Here in San Francisco, our National greenbacks were no longer a legal tender, but everything was on a coin basis. Just as in New York, you sell gold and buy greenbacks, if you want a convenient medium of exchange, so here we had to sell greenbacks and buy gold. A dime was the smallest coin, and "two bits" (twenty-five cents) the usual gratuity. A newspaper cost a dime, or two for twenty-five cents—the change never being returned. Fruits and vegetables were cheap, but dry-goods, groceries, clothing, books, etc., about the same in gold, as East in greenbacks. The general cost of living, therefore, seemed to be about the same as in New York, plus the premium on gold. California and the Pacific slope generally had refused to adopt the National currency, and it was still a mooted question whether they had lost or gained by this. At first, they thought it a great gain to be rid of our paper dollars; but public opinion had changed greatly, and many were getting to think they had made a huge mistake, in not originally acquiescing in the national necessity. The prosperity of the East during the war, and the pending sluggishness of trade on the Coast (still continuing), were much commented on, as connected with this question of Coin vs. Greenbacks; but it was thought too late to remedy the matter now. This hostility to our Greenbacks did not seem to arise from a want of patriotism, so much as from a difference of opinion, as to the necessity or propriety of their using a paper currency, when they had all the gold and silver they wanted, and were exporting a surplus by every steamer. If there was a speck of Secession there at first, California afterwards behaved very nobly, especially when she came with her bullion by the many thousands to the rescue of the Sanitary Commission; and Starr King's memory was still treasured everywhere, as that of a martyr for the Union. The oncoming Pacific Railroad was constantly spoken of, as a new "bond of union," to link the Coast to the Atlantic States as with "hooks of steel;" and, evidently, nothing (unless it may be the Chinese Question) can disturb the repose of the Republic there, for long years to come. The people almost universally spoke lovingly and tenderly of the East, as their old "home," and thousands were awaiting the completion of the Railroad to go thither once again.
Their great passion, however, just then, was for territorial aggrandizement. Mr. Seward had just announced his purchase of Alaska, and of course, everybody was delighted, as they would have been if he had bought the North Pole, or even the tip end of it. Next they wanted British Columbia and the Sandwich Islands, and hoped before long also to possess Mexico and down to the Isthmus. The Sitka Ice Company, which for some years had supplied San Francisco and the Coast with their only good ice, was proof positive, that there was cold weather sometimes in Alaska; nevertheless, they claimed, the Sage of Auburn had certainly shown himself to be a great statesman, by going into this Real Estate business, however hyperborean the climate. It was soon alleged to be a region of fair fields and dimpled meadows, of luscious fruits and smiling flowers, of magnificent forests and inexhaustible mines, as well as of icebergs and walrusses; and straightway a steamer cleared for Sitka, with a full complement of passengers, expecting to locate a "city" there and sell "corner lots," start a Mining Company and "water" stock, or initiate some other California enterprise.
Christmas and New Year in San Francisco were observed very generally, and with even more spirit than in the East. The shops and stores had been groaning with gifts and good things for some time, and on Christmas Eve the whole city seems to pour itself into Montgomery street. Early in the evening, there was a scattering tooting of trumpets, chiefly by boys; but along toward midnight, a great procession of men and boys drifted together, and traversing Montgomery, Kearney, and adjacent streets, made the night hideous with every kind of horn, from a dime trumpet to a trombone. New Year was ushered in much the same way, though not quite so elaborately. On both of these winter holidays there happened to be superb weather, much like what we have East in May, with the sky clear, and the air crisp, and the whole city—with his wife and child—seemed to be abroad. The good old Knickerbocker custom of New Year calls was apparently everywhere accepted, and thoroughly enjoyed. Every kind of vehicle was in demand, and "stag" parties of four or five gentlemen—out calling on their lady friends—were constantly met, walking hilariously along, or driving like mad. Quite a number of army officers happened to be in San Francisco just then, and their uniforms of blue and brass made many a parlor gay. Of names known east, there were Generals Halleck, McDowell, Allen, Steele, Irvin Gregg, French, King, Fry, etc., and these with their brother officers were everywhere heartily welcomed. Indeed, army officers are nowhere more esteemed or better treated, than on the Pacific Coast, and all are usually delighted with their tour of duty there. In former years, many of them married magnificent ranches—encumbered, however, with native señoritas—and here and there we afterwards met them, living like grand seignors on their broad and baronial acres. Ranches leagues in extent, and maintaining thousands of cattle and sheep, are still common in California, and some of the best of these belong to ex-army officers. Their owners, however, do but little in the way of pure farming, and are always ready to give a quarter section or so to any stray emigrant, who will settle down and cultivate it—especially to old comrades.
The great feature of San Francisco, of course, is her peerless bay. Yet noble as it is for purposes of commerce, it avails little for pleasure excursions; and 'Frisco, indeed, might be better off in this respect. A trip to Oakland is sometimes quite enjoyable, and the ride by railroad down the peninsula, skirting the bay, to San Josè, is always a delight. But the bay itself is fickle and morose in winter, and in summer must be raw and gusty. The suck of wind, from the Pacific into the interior, through the Golden Gate, as through a funnel, always keeps the bay more or less in a turmoil; and during the time we were there, it seemed quite neglected, except for business purposes. One day, in the middle of January, however, we had duties that took us to Alcatraz and Angel Island, and essayed the trip thither in a little sloop. On leaving the Occidental, the sky was overcast, and we had the usual drizzle of that winter; but before we reached Meigg's Wharf, it had thickened into a pouring rain, and as we crossed to Alcatraz squalls were churning the outer bay into foam in all directions. After an hour or two there, on that rocky fortress, the key of San Francisco, with the wind and rain dashing fitfully about us, we took advantage of a temporary lull to re-embark for Angel Island. We had hardly got off, however, before squall after squall came charging down upon us; and as we beat up the little strait between Angel Island and Socelito, the sloop careening and the waves breaking over us, it seemed at times as if we were in a fair way of going to the bottom. Just as we rounded the rocky point of the Island, before reaching the landing, a squall of unusual force struck us athwart the bows, wave after wave leaped aboard, and for awhile our gallant little craft quivered in the blast like a spent race-horse, as she struggled onward. An abrupt lee shore was on one side, the squall howling on the other; but we faced it out, and in a lull, that soon followed, shot by the landing (it being too rough to halt there), and weathering the next point dropped anchor in a little cove behind it, just in time to escape another squall even fiercer than the former. Had we been off either point, or out in the bay, when this last one struck us, no doubt we would have gone ashore or to Davy Jones' locker; and altogether, as our Captain said, it was a "nasty, dirty day," even for San Francisco. Returning, we had skies less treacherous and a smoother run; but were glad to reach the grateful welcome and spacious halls of the Occidental, best of hotels, again. It may be, that the bay was a little ruder that day, than usual; but it bears a bad name for sudden gusts and squalls, and San Franciscans give it a wide berth generally. Sometimes, in summer, it is afflicted by calms as well as squalls; we heard some amusing stories of parties becalmed there until late at night, unable to reach either shore; so that, altogether, however useful otherwise, it can hardly be regarded as adding much per se to the pleasures of a life in 'Frisco.
As an offset to this, however, all orthodox San Franciscans, swear by the Cliff-House and the sea-lions. To "go to the Cliff," is the right thing to do in San Francisco, and not to go to the Cliff-House is not to see or know California. In the summer, people drive there in the early morning, to breakfast and return before the sea-breeze rises, and then hundreds of gay equipages throng the well-kept road. Even in winter, at the right hour, you are always sure to meet many driving out or in. Of course, we went to the "Cliff"—wouldn't have missed going there for anything. Past Lone Mountain Cemetery, that picturesque city of the dead, the fine graveled road strikes straight through the sand-hills, for five or six miles, to the Pacific; and when you reach the overhanging bluff, on which the hotel perches like an eagle's nest, you have a grand view of the Golden Gate and the far-stretching sea beyond. On the very verge of the horizon hang the Farallones, pointing the way to Japan and China, and the white sails of vessels beating in or out the harbor dot the ocean far and near. Just in front of the hotel are several groups of high shelving rocks, among which the ocean moans and dashes ceaselessly, and here the seals or "sea-lions," as 'Frisco lovingly calls them, have a favorite rendezvous and home. The day we were there, there appeared to be a hundred or more of them, large and small, swimming about the rocks or clambering over them, while pelicans and gulls kept them company. Some were small, not larger than a half-grown sturgeon, while others again were huge unwieldy monsters, not unlike legless oxen, weighing perhaps a thousand pounds or more. "Ben Butler" was an immense, overgrown creature, as selfish and saucy, apparently, as he could well be; and another, called "Gen. Grant," was not much better. They kicked and cuffed the rest overboard quite indiscriminately, though now and then they were compelled to take a plunge themselves. Many contented themselves with merely gamboling around the water's edge; but others had somehow managed slimily to roll and climb forty or fifty feet up the rocks, and there lay sunning themselves in supreme felicity, like veteran politicians snug in office. Sometimes two or three would get to wrangling about the same position, as if one part of the rocks were softer than another, and then they would bark and howl at each other, and presently essay to fight in the most clumsy and ludicrous way. "Ben Butler," or "Gen. Grant," would usually settle the squabble, by a harsh bark, or by flopping the malcontents overboard, and then would resume his nap with becoming satisfaction. Uncouth, and yet half-human in their way, with a cry that sometimes startled you like a distant wail, we watched their movements from the piazza of the hotel with much interest, and must congratulate 'Frisco on having such a first-class "sensation." May her "sea-lions" long remain to her as a "lion" of the first water, and their numbers and renown never grow less! In former years, they were much shot at and annoyed, by thoughtless visitors. But subsequently the State took them under her protection, and now it was a penal offence to injure or disturb them. This is right, and California should be complimented, for thus trying to preserve and perpetuate this interesting colony of her original settlers.
Returning, we had a superb drive down the beach, with the surf thundering at our wheels; and thence, by a winding road over and through the hills, reached the city again. It was a glorious day in February, after a fortnight of perpetual drizzle—a June day for beauty, but toned by an October breeze—the sun flashing overhead like a shield of gold; the road, over and between the hills, gave us from time to time exquisite glimpses of the sea or bay and city; every sense seemed keyed to a new life and power of enjoyment; and the memory of that "drive to the Cliff," is something wonderfully clear and charming still. It would be surprising, if Californians did not brag considerably about it. They are not famed for modesty, and would be heathens, if they kept silence.
Californians are proverbial for their ups and downs, and we heard much of their varying fortunes. You will scarcely meet a leading citizen, who has not been down to "hard-pan" once or twice in his career, and everybody seems to enjoy telling about it. In former years, many had been rich in "feet" or "corner-lots," who yet had not enough "dust" to buy a "square-meal;" and men with Great Expectations, but small cash in hand, were still not infrequent. I ran foul of an old school-mate one day, who arrived in California originally as captain of an ox-team, which he had driven across the Plains. But now he was deep in mining-stocks, and twenty-vara lots, and was rated as a millionaire. I met another who for years lost all he invested in "feet." But luckily, at last, he went into Savage and Yellow Jacket, and now he owned handsome blocks on Montgomery and California streets, and lived like a prince at the Occidental. Another still, named O., an eccentric genius, came out to California early, and his uncle (already there) secured him a place in a dry-goods house. In a few months, the house failed, and O. fell back on his uncle's hands again. Then he was given a place in a silk-house, but in a short time this also failed. A fatality seemed to accompany the poor fellow. Wherever he went, the houses either failed, closed up, or burned out; and thus, time after time, he came back to his uncle, like a bad penny. Once he was reduced so low, he went to driving a dray, glad to get even that; and again, turned chiffonier, and eked out a precarious living by collecting the old bones, scraps of tin, sheet-iron, etc., that lay scattered about the suburbs. Finally, he wisely concluded he had "touched bottom," and that California was no place for him. So, his kind-hearted uncle bought him a ticket home by the "Golden City," and supposed when he bade him good-bye on her gang-way, that that would be the last he would see of O. in California. But a week or so afterwards, early one Sunday morning, he was roused up by some one rapping lustily at the door, and opening it lo! there was his hopeful nephew again—"large as life and twice as natural!" It seems, the ill-fated steamer, when two or three hundred miles down the Coast, had caught fire and been beached, with the loss of many lives; but O., strange to say, had escaped scot-free, and now was on hand again. He now tried two or three more situations, thinking his "luck" perhaps had turned, but failed in all of them or they soon failed; and finally set out for the East again, but this time across the Plains, driving a "bull-team." He got safely back to New York, and taking hold of his father's business—grain and flour—for a wonder, made it prosper. He pushed ahead with this swimmingly for awhile, until he had made fifty thousand dollars or so, when he concluded to go into a flour speculation on his own account. He did so, buying largely, when suddenly the bottom dropped out of the market, leaving O. penniless again, with a large deficit—he meanwhile, disappearing. Some years afterwards he turned up in Minnesota, where he had married a border maiden, and gone to farming, and at the last accounts was doing tolerably well again.
Californians will spin you such "yarns" by the evening—half humorous, half pathetic—and it is upon such romantic histories, that the Golden State has advanced to empire.
But the day of her adventurers is passing away, and society there is fast settling down to its normal conditions. Fewer and still fewer of her people return East, to spend their hard-earned fortunes; and the generation now growing up there regard the Coast as their natural home, and love it dearly. Proud of the soil and enamored of the climate, they expect great things of the future, and surely all the world should wish them well. There are no better or braver men, than our citizens there generally, and the Pacific slope is safe in their hands and brains, beyond peradventure. "Who helps himself, God helps," is a wise old French maxim; and California believes in it, fully and thoroughly, from the Sierras to the sea.
[CHAPTER XIX.]
SAN FRANCISCO (Concluded).
The Chinese Question, we had an opportunity of looking into considerably, first and last, and here are some conclusions. Striking the orientals at Boisè City, in Idaho, we had followed them down the Columbia and the Coast to San Francisco, and here endeavored to learn all we could about them. We found them everywhere on the streets and in the houses, in pretty much all occupations except the very highest, and were constantly amazed at their general thrift and intelligence. Out of the hundred thousand or so on the Coast, perhaps half were massed in San Francisco and its suburbs; so here was the place to see and study John Chinaman in America, if anywhere. All wore the collarless Chinese blouse, looped across the breast, not buttoned—that of the poorer classes of coarse blue stuff, but of the richer of broadcloth. Otherwise, they dressed outwardly chiefly as Americans. Here and there a Chinese hat, such as you see in the tea-prints, appeared, but not often—the American felt-hat being the rule, stove-pipes never. A Chinaman with a stove-pipe hat on would truly be an anomaly, a violation of all the unities and proprieties at once. A good many still wore the Chinese shoe, wooden-soled, with cotton uppers; but the American boot and shoe were fast supplanting this, especially among the out-door classes, such as mechanics and laborers. Pig-tails were universal, generally hanging down, but often coiled around the head, under the hat, so as to be out of the way and attract less attention. In features, of course, they were all true Mongolians; but here and there were grand faces, worthy of humanity anywhere. Their food consists chiefly of fish and rice; but the wealthier classes indulge freely in poultry and beef, and the Chinese taste for these was constantly on the increase. The old stories of their dog and rat diet are evidently myths, at least here in America, and no doubt are equally so in China, except in very rare instances, among the poorest classes, and even then only under the direst necessity. Intelligent Californians laugh at such reports as antediluvian, and say their Chinese neighbors are only too glad to eat the very best, if they can only get it. Everybody gave them credit for sobriety, intelligence, and thrift, the three great master qualities of mankind, practically speaking; and without them the industry of the Pacific Coast, it was conceded, would soon come to a stand-still. All are expert at figures, all read and write their own tongue, and nearly all seemed intent on mastering English, as quickly and thoroughly as possible. When not at work or otherwise occupied, they were usually seen with a book in their hands, and seemed much given to reading and study. Their chief vices were gambling, and opium-smoking; but these did not seem to prevail to the extent we had heard, and appeared really less injurious, than the current vices of other races on the Coast, all things considered. The statistics of the city and Coast somehow were remarkably in their favor, showing a less percentage of vagrancy and crime among these heathens, than any other part of the population, notwithstanding the absurd prejudices and barbarous discriminations against them. Their quickness to learn all American ways, even when not able to speak our tongue, was very surprising. They engaged in all household duties, ran errands, worked at trades, performed all kinds of manual labor, and yet as a rule, their only dialect was a sort of chow-chow or "Pigeon English," of which the following is a good specimen. It is Longfellow's "Excelsior" done into Pigeon-English, and speaks for itself.
"TOPSIDE GALAH.
"That nightee teem he come chop chop,
One young man walkee, no can stop;
Colo maskee, icee maskee;
He got flag; chop b'long welly culio, see—
Topside Galah!
"He too muchee solly; one piecee eye,
Lookee sharp—so fashion—alla same mi;
He talkee largee, talkee stlong,
Too muchee culio; alla same gong—
Topside Galah!
"Inside any housee he can see light,
Any piecee loom got fire all light;
He look see plenty ice more high,
Inside he mouf he plenty cly—
Topside Galah!
"'No can walkee!' olo man speakee he;
'Bimeby lain come, no can see;
Hab got water, welly wide!
Maskee, mi must go topside—
Topside Galah!
"'Man-man,' one galo talkee he;
'What for you go topside look-see?'
'Nother teem,' he makee plenty cly;
Maskee, alla teem walkee plenty high—
Topside Galah!
"'Take care that spilum tlee, young man;
Take care that icee!' he no man-man;
That coolie chin-chin he good night;
He talkee, 'mi can go all light'—
Topside Galah!
"Joss pidgin man chop chop begin,
Morning teem that Joss chin-chin,
No see any man, he plenty fear,
Cause some man talkee, he can hear—
Topside Galah!
"Young man makee die: one largee dog see,
Too muchee bobbery, findee he;
Hand too muchee colo, inside can stop;
Alla same piecee flag, got culio chop—
Topside Galah!"
"Pigeon" is said to be the nearest approach a Chinaman can make to "business," and hence "Pigeon English" really means business English. Most of the above words are English, more or less distorted; a few, however, are Chinese Anglicised. They always use l for r—thus lice for "rice;" mi for "I," etc.; and abound in terminal "ee's." Chop-chop means "very fast;" maskee, "don't mind;" Topside Galah, "Excelsior, hurrah!" If you call on a lady, and inquire of her Chinese servant, "Missee have got?" He will reply, if she be up and about, "Missee hab got topside;" or, if she be still asleep, "Missee hab got, wakee sleepee." Not wishing to disturb her, you hand him your card, and go away with, "Maskee, maskee; no makee bobbery!"
We had seen a good deal of the Chinese generally, but on the evening of Dec. 31st were so fortunate as to meet most of their leading men together. The occasion was a grand banquet at the Occidental, given by the merchants of San Francisco, in honor of the sailing of the Colorado, the first steamer of the new monthly line to Hong-Kong. All the chief men of the city—merchants, lawyers, clergymen, politicians—were present, and among the rest some twenty or more Chinese merchants and bankers. The Governor of the State presided, and the military and civil dignitaries most eminent on the Coast were all there. The magnificent Dining-Room of the Occidental was handsomely decorated with festoons and flowers, and tastefully draped with the flags of all nations—chief among which, of course, were our own Stars and Stripes, and the Yellow-Dragon of the Flowery Empire. A peculiar feature was an infinity of bird-cages all about the room, from which hundreds of canaries and mockingbirds discoursed exquisite music the livelong evening. The creature comforts disposed of, there were eloquent addresses by everybody, and among the rest one by Mr. Fung Tang, a young Chinese merchant, who made one of the briefest and most sensible of them all. It was in fair English, and vastly better than the average of post-prandial discourses. This was the only set speech by a Chinaman, but the rest conversed freely in tolerable English, and in deportment were certainly perfect Chesterfields of courtesy and propriety. They were mostly large, dignified, fine-looking men, and two of them—Mr. Hop Kee, a leading tea-merchant, and Mr. Chy Lung, a noted silk-factor—had superb heads and faces, that would have attracted attention anywhere. They sat by themselves; but several San Franciscans of note shared their table, and everybody hob-nobbed with them, more or less, throughout the evening. These were the representatives of the great Chinese Emigration and Banking Companies, whose checks pass current on 'Change in San Francisco, for a hundred thousand dollars or more any day, and whose commercial integrity so far was unstained. There are five of these Companies in all, the Yung-Wo, the Sze-Yap, the Sam-Yap, the Yan-Wo, and the Ning-Yung. They contract with their countrymen in China to transport them to America, insure them constant work while here at fixed wages, and at the expiration of their contract return them to China again, dead or alive, if so desired. They each have a large and comfortable building in San Francisco, where they board and lodge their members, when they first arrive, or when sick, or out of work, or on a visit from the interior. Chinese beggars are rare on the Coast, and our public hospitals contain no Chinese patients, although John before landing has always to pay a "hospital-tax" of ten dollars. This is what it is called out there; but, of course, it is a robbery and swindle, which the Golden State ought promptly to repeal. These great Companies also act, as express-agents and bankers, all over the Coast. In all the chief towns and mining districts, wherever you enter a Chinese quarter or camp, you will find a representative of one or more of them, who will procure anything a Chinaman needs, from home or elsewhere; and faithfully remit to the Flowery Kingdom whatever he wants to send, even his own dead body. Both parties appear to keep their contracts well—a breach of faith being seldom recorded. Here, surely, is evidence of fine talent for organization and management—the best tests of human intellect and capacity—and a hint at the existence of sterling qualities, which the English-speaking nations are slow to credit other races with. Such gigantic schemes, such far-reaching plans, such harmonious workings, and exact results, imply a genius for affairs, that not even the Anglo-Saxon can afford to despise, and which all others may ponder with profit. A race that can plan and execute such things as these, must have some vigor and virility in it, whatever its other peculiarities.
Some days after the Banquet, we were driven out to the Mission Woolen Mills, where Donald McLennan, a Massachusetts Scotch-Yankee, was converting California wool into gold. The climate being so favorable to sheep, the wool-product of the coast was already large, and everywhere rapidly increasing. In 1867, California alone yielded ten million pounds, and the rest of the coast fully two millions more. Of this amount, about one-half was consumed on the Pacific Coast, and the balance exported to New York and Liverpool. The average price per pound in San Francisco was about seventeen cents, coin; but this was lower, than it had usually been.[16] There were several other Woolen Mills on the Coast; but the Mission-Mills were the largest, and had a great reputation for honest work. They were then doing a business of about a million dollars per year, coin, in cloths, cassimeres, blankets, flannels, shawls, etc., and the demand for their goods was constantly on the increase. Their work, on the whole, was of a superior character, and Californians were justly very proud of it. They were supplying all the Army blankets in use on the Coast, and what a contrast they were to the "shoddy" webs, issued to our Boys in Blue east during the war! The troops transferred from the east now threw their old Army blankets away, on arriving in San Francisco, and gladly furnished themselves with these Mission blankets, at their own expense, before leaving for the wilds of Washington and Arizona. Some extra specimens, intended for the Paris Exposition, as white as new-fallen snow and soft as satin, had the American and French coats of arms embroidered very handsomely on them. Another pair, meant for General Grant, were lustrous with the Stars and Stripes, and traditional eagle, and now no doubt help to furnish the White House. A pair sent to Gen. M. in the east, a noted connoisseur in blankets, he declared the finest he ever saw, and added, "My daughter would make one of them into an opera-cloak, they are so elegant, if she hadn't one already." I mention all these things thus particularly, in order to emphasize the fact, that out of the 450 persons then employed about these Mills, 350 were Chinamen. For the heavier work, Americans or Europeans were preferred; but the more delicate processes, we were assured, Chinamen learned more quickly and performed more deftly, besides never becoming drunk, or disorderly, or going on a "strike." We saw them at the looms, engaged in the most painstaking and superb pieces of workmanship, and they could not have been more attentive and exact, if they had been a part of the machinery itself. And yet, these one hundred Anglo-Saxons were paid $2,95 per day, coin, while the three hundred and fifty Chinamen received only $1,10 per day, coin, though the average work of each was about the same. Without this cheap labor of John Chinaman, these Mills would have had to close up; with it, they were run at a profit, and at the same time were a great blessing and credit to the Pacific Coast in every way. So, also, the Central Pacific Railroad was then being pushed through and over the Sierra Nevadas, by some ten thousand Chinamen, working for one dollar per day each, in coin, and finding themselves, when no other labor could be had for less than two dollars and a half per day, coin. It was simply a question with the Central directors, whether to build the road or not. Without John, it was useless to attempt it, as the expense would have bankrupted the company, even if other labor could have been had, which was problematical. With him, the road is already a fact accomplished; and in view of possible contingencies, nationally and politically, who shall say we have completed it an hour too soon? Here are practical results, not shadowy theories—of such a character, too, as should give one pause, however anti-Chinese, and ought to outweigh a world of prejudices.
Not long afterwards, we were invited to join a party of gentlemen, and make a tour of the Chinese quarter. Part were from the East, like ourselves, bent on information, and the rest Pacific-Coasters. We started early in the evening, escorted by two policemen, who were familiar with the ins and outs of Chinadom, and did not reach the Occidental again until long after midnight. We went first to the Chinese Theatre, an old hotel on the corner of Jackson and Dupont streets, that had recently been metamorphosed into an Oriental play-house. We found two or three hundred Chinese here, of both sexes, but mainly males, listening to a play, that required eighty weeks or months—our informants were not certain which—to complete its performance. Here was drama for you, surely, and devotion to it! It was a history of the Flowery Kingdom, by some Chinese Shakespeare—half-tragedy, half-comedy, like most human history—and altogether was a curious medley. The actors appeared to be of both sexes, but we were told were only men and boys. Their dresses were usually very rich, the finest of embroidered silks, and their acting quite surprised us. Their pantomime was excellent, their humor irresistible, and their love-passages a good reproduction of the grand passion, that in all ages "makes the world go round." But it is to be doubted, if the Anglo-Saxon ear will ever become quite reconciled to John's orchestra. This consisted of a rough drum, a rude banjo or guitar, and a sort of violin, over whose triple clamors a barbarous clarionet squeaked and squealed continually. Japanese music, as rendered by Risley's troupe of "Jugglers," is much similar to it; only John's orchestra is louder, and more hideous. Much of the play was pantomime, and other much opera; some, however, was common dialogue, and when this occurred, the clash and clang of the Chinese consonants was something fearful. Every word seemed to end in "ng," as Chang, Ling, Hong, Wung; and when the parts became animated, their voices roared and rumbled about the stage, like Chinese gongs in miniature. The general behavior of the audience was good; everybody, however, smoked—the majority cigars and cigarritos, a very few opium. Over the theatre was a Chinese lottery-office, on entering which the proprietor tendered you wine and cigars, like a genuine Californian. He himself was whiffing away at a cigarrito, and was as polite and politic, as a noted New York ex-M. C., in the same lucrative business. Several Chinamen dropped in to buy tickets, while we were there; and the business seemed to be conducted on the same principle, or rather want of principle, as among Anglo-Saxons elsewhere.
Next we explored the famous Barbary Coast, and witnessed scenes that Charles Dickens never dreamed of, with all his studies of the dens and slums of London and Paris. Here in narrow, noisome alleys are congregated the wretched Chinese women, that are imported by the ship-load, mainly for infamous purposes. As a class, they are small in stature, scarcely larger than an American girl of fourteen, and usually quite plain. Some venture on hoops and crinoline, but the greater part retain the Chinese wadded gown and trousers. Their chignons are purely Chinese—huge, unique, indescribable—and would excite the envy even of a Broadway belle. They may be seen on the street any day in San Francisco, bonnetless, fan in hand, hobbling along in their queer little shoes, perfect fac-similes of the figures you see on lacquered ware imported from the Orient. They are not more immodest, than those of our own race, who ply the same vocation in Philadelphia and New York; and their fellow-countrymen, it seemed, behaved decently well even here. But here is the great resort of sailors, miners, 'long-shoremen, and the floating population generally of San Francisco, and the brutality and bestiality of the Saxon and the Celt here all comes suddenly to the surface, as if we were fiends incarnate. Here are the St. Giles of London and the Five Points of New York, magnified and intensified (if possible), both crowded into one, and what a hideous example it is for Christendom to set to Heathendom! San Francisco owes it to herself, and to our boasted civilization, to cleanse this Augean stable—to obliterate, to stamp out this plague-spot—to purge it, if need be, by fire—and she has not a day to lose in doing it. It is the shameful spectacle, shocking alike to gods and men, of a strong race trampling a weaker one remorselessly in the mud; and justice will not sleep forever, confronted by such enormities.
The same evening we took a turn through the Chinese gambling-houses, but did not find them worse than similar institutions elsewhere. Indeed, they were rather more quiet and respectable, than the average of such "hells" in San Francisco. They were frequented solely by Chinamen, and though John is not averse to "fighting the tiger," he proposes to do it in his own dolce far niente way. They seemed to have only one game, which consisted in betting whether in diminishing steadily a given pile of perforated brass-coins, an odd or even number of them would at last be left. The banker with a little rod, drew the coins, two at a time, rapidly out of the pile towards himself, and when the game was ended all parties cheerfully paid up their losses or pocketed their gains. The stakes were small, seldom more than twenty-five or fifty cents each, and disputes infrequent. A rude idol or image of Josh, with a lamp constantly burning before it, appeared in all these dens, and indeed was universal throughout the Chinese quarter.
The Chinese New Year comes in February, and is an occasion of rare festivities. It began at midnight on the 4th that year, and was ushered in with a lavish discharge of fire-crackers and rockets, to which our usual Fourth of July bears about the same comparison as a minnow to a whale. The fusilade of crackers continued, more or less, for a day or two, until the whole Chinese quarter was littered with their remains. It takes them three days to celebrate this holiday, and during all this period there was a general suspension of business, and every Chinaman kept open house. Their leading merchants welcomed all "Melican" men who called upon them, and the Celestials themselves were constantly passing from house to house, exchanging the compliments of the season. I dropped in upon several, whom I had met at the Banquet, and now have lying before me the unique cards of Mr. Hop Kee, Mr. Chy Lung, Mr. Fung Tang, Messrs. Tung Fu and Co., Messrs. Kwoy Hing and Co., Messrs. Sun Chung Kee and Co., etc. Several of these understood and spoke English very well, and all bore themselves becomingly, like well-to-do gentlemen. Like the majority of their countrymen, many were small; but some were full-sized, athletic men, scarcely inferior, if at all, to our average American. Their residences were usually back of their stores, and here we everywhere found refreshments set out, and all invited to partake, with a truly Knickerbocker hospitality. Tea, sherry, champagne, cakes, sweetmeats, cigars, all were offered without stint, but never pressed unduly. For three days the whole Chinese quarter was thus given up to wholesale rejoicing, and hundreds of Americans flocked thither, to witness the festivity and fun. John everywhere appeared in his best bib and tucker, if not with a smile on his face, yet with a look of satisfaction and content; for this was the end of his debts, as well as the beginning of a new year. At this period, by Chinese custom or law, a general settlement takes place among them, a balance is struck between debtor and creditor, and everybody starts afresh. If unable to pay up, the debtor surrenders his assets for the equal benefit of his creditors, his debts are sponged out, and then with a new ledger and a clean conscience he "picks his flint and tries it again." This is the merciful, if not sensible, Bankrupt Law of the Chinese, in force among these heathen for thousands of years—"for a time whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary"—and its humane and wise provisions suggest, whether our Christian legislators, after all, may not have something to learn, even from Pagan codes.
The Chinese temple, synagogue, or "Josh-House," of which we had heard such conflicting reports, stands near the corner of Kearney and Pine streets, in the heart of the city. It is a simple structure of brick, two or three stories high, and would attract little or no attention, were it not for a plain marble slab over the entrance, with "Sze-Yap Asylum" carved upon it, in gilt letters, and the same repeated in Chinese characters. It was spoken of as a "Heathen Synagogue," a "Pagan Temple," etc., and we had heard much ado about it, from people of the William Nye school chiefly, long before reaching San Francisco. But, in reality, it appeared to be only an asylum or hospital, for the unemployed and infirm of the Sze-Yap Emigration Company; with a small "upper chamber," set apart for such religious services, as to them seemed meet. The other companies all have similar hospitals or asylums, but we visited only this one. The first room on the ground-floor seemed to be the business-room or council-chamber of the company, and this was adorned very richly with crimson and gold. Silk-hangings were on the walls, arm-chairs elaborately carved along the sides, and at the end on a raised platform stood a table and chair, as if ready for business. The room adjoining seemed to be the general smoking and lounging room of the members of the company. Here several Chinamen lay stretched out, on rude but comfortable lounges, two smoking opium, all the rest only cigarritos—taking their afternoon siesta. Back of this were the dining-room, kitchen, etc., but we did not penetrate thither. A winding stairs brought us to the second floor, and here was the place reserved for religious purposes,—an "upper chamber" perhaps twenty by thirty feet, or even less. Its walls and ceiling were hung with silk, and here and there were placards, inscribed with moral maxims from Confucius and other writers, much as we suspend the same on the walls of our Sunday-school rooms, with verses on them from our Sacred writings. These mottoes, of course, were in Chinese; but they were said to exhort John to virtue, fidelity, integrity, the veneration of ancestors, and especially to admonish the young men not to forget, that they are away from home, and to do nothing to prejudice the character of their country in the eyes of foreigners. A few gilded spears and battle-axes adorned either side, while overhead hung clusters of Chinese lanterns, unique and beautiful. Flowers were scattered about quite profusely, both natural and artificial—the latter perfect in their way. At the farther end of the room, in "a dim religious light," amid a barbaric array of bannerets and battle-axes, stood their sacred Josh—simply a Representative Chinaman, perhaps half life-size, with patient pensive eyes, long drooping moustaches, and an expression doubtless meant for sublime repose or philosophic indifference. Here all orthodox Chinamen in San Francisco, connected with the Sze-Yap company, were expected to come at least once a year, and propitiate the deity by burning a slip of paper before his image. There was also some praying to be done, but this was accomplished by putting printed prayers in a machine run by clock-work. Tithes there were none—at least worth mentioning. Altogether, this seemed to be a very easy and cheap religion; and yet, easy as it was, John did not seem to trouble himself much about it. The place looked much neglected, as if worshippers were scarce, and devotees infrequent. A priest or acolyte, who came in and trimmed the ever-burning lamp, without even a bow or genuflection to Josh, was the only person about the "Temple," while we were there. The dormitories and apartments for the sick and infirm, we were told, were on this same floor and above; but we did not visit them. This Josh-worship, such as it is, seemed to be general among the Chinese, except the handful gathered into the various Christian churches; but it did not appear to be more than a ceremony. The truth is, John is a very practical creature, and was already beginning to understand, that he is in a new land and among new ideas. Surely, our vigorous, aggressive California Christians stand in no danger from such Pagan "Temples," and our all-embracing nationality can well afford to tolerate them, as China in turn tolerates ours. The hospital and asylum part of them, we might well imitate; and as for the rest, is it not Emerson, who says:
"We are masters of the years,
Of the seven stars and golden spheres,
Of Cæsar's hand and Plato's brain,
Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakespeare's strain?"
Our own religion and civilization are too potent, or ought to be, to be affected by such a worship; and if its simple rites comfort or content John in his rough transition to the nineteenth century, let him practice them in peace. If treated wisely, it will not be long before he discards them forever.
So much for the Chinese in San Francisco. Elsewhere, throughout California and Nevada, subsequently, we saw them at work in vineyards, on farms, in the mines, and their industry, fidelity, and skill were conceded substantially by everybody. This Chinese Problem, of course, has its embarrassments; but it is already looming into importance, and must be met. Already we have nearly a hundred thousand of these almond-eyed strangers on the Pacific Coast, and the number swells monthly. In spite of obstructions and discouragements, this yellow stream sets steadily in, and seems as irresistible as the tide, if not as inexhaustible. China, with her teeming population of four hundred millions of souls, or one-third of the human family, has already overflowed into all the countries adjacent to her, and now seeks further outlet here in America. To her, it is simply a question of increase and subsistence. And here, fortunately, from Alaska to the Isthmus, we have room enough and to spare, for all her surplus millions. With her, labor is a drug, the cheapest article she has, and so she exports it. With us, it is largely in demand, and everywhere rising in value. The Pacific slope, and the great internal basin of the continent, to-day absolutely need millions of cheap workers—men, who can deftly handle the pick-axe and the spade, the plow and the hoe, the shuttle and the loom, and, it is plain, must get them from Asia, or not get them at all; for the Atlantic slope, and our great West, stand ready to absorb all Europe can spare, and more. With John, their mines will be opened, their forests cleared, their fields irrigated and tilled, their railroads built, their cotton and woollen-mills erected and run, and in short every avenue of industry and trade made busy and prosperous. Without John, a vast expanse of matchless territory there must remain practically a wilderness and a desert, for long years to come. Is it wise, then, would it be humane and sensible—to turn aside from and reject these patient, industrious, orderly, frugal, labor-seeking, business-loving strangers, whom Providence just now seems to tender us, as a mighty means for subduing and civilizing the continent; or should we not, rather, accept them thankfully, as God's instruments for good, and make the most of their brain and muscle? The inexorable, all-prevailing law of supply and demand, it would seem, has already settled this question, or is in a fair way to settle it; and it but remains to consider, what we shall do with them.
In the first place, John nowhere aspires to vote, nor even to be a citizen. So far, his sole claim has been for the right to work, and to receive "a fair day's wages for a fair day's work." With the imperturbability of fate, he has settled down on this, and calmly awaits our answer, not doubting the result. If you object, that he persists in being a foreigner, all expecting some day to return to China, his answer is all immigrants to a new country are more or less of that mind; and, besides, as yet nothing has been done to induce him to Americanize himself. Their leading men said, no doubt many of their countrymen would bring their wives and children here, and settle down among us, if they could be sure of safety and protection; but that now California was "no place for a China woman—hardly safe for a Chinaman!" They said, they had found America very good for work, and "muchee" good for business; but they had to pay odious taxes, not exacted of other persons—were not permitted to testify in court, except for or against each other—were abused and maltreated from one end of the Coast to the other—were at the mercy of white ruffians, who might rob and even kill them, with impunity, unless Caucasians were present—and, in short, that as yet Chinamen here "had no rights that Melican men were bound to respect." Now, I say, let us change all this. Let us do justice, even to the poorest and humblest of God's children. Let us give John, too, "a fair start and an equal chance in the race of life," the same as every other human being on American soil; and we shall soon check the re-flow to the Flowery Kingdom, and build up an empire on the Pacific Coast, worthy of our matchless soil and climate there. Existing labor and skill might suffer somewhat at first, as in all industrial changes; but, in the end, they would become employers, and supply the brains to guide the Mongolian hand and foot. The first generation passed away, the next de-Chinaized, Americanized, and educated, would soon become absorbed in the national life, and known only as model artisans and workers. As the ocean receives all rains and rivers, and yet shows it not, so America receives the Saxon and the Celt, the Protestant and the Catholic, and can yet receive Sambo and John, and absorb them all. The school-house and the church, the newspaper and the telegraph, can be trusted to work out their logical results; and time, our sure ally, would shape and fashion even these into keen American citizens.
There were indications, that the Coast had fallen to thinking seriously of all this, and somehow meant to deal more justly with the Chinese hereafter. The anti-Chinese mobs in the cities and towns were passing away, and even among the mining-camps Vigilance Committees were beginning to execute rough justice on thieves and murderers, when their treatment of John became too flagrant and notorious.[17] Capital, always keen-sighted, was getting to see the necessity for their labor and skill, and the culture and conscience of the Coast were already on their side. Gov. Low, (since Minister to China, most fittingly) presided at the Occidental Banquet, and in his remarks there took strong ground in their favor. He said, among other good things:
"We must learn to treat the Chinese who come to live among us decently, and not oppress them by unfriendly legislation, nor allow them to be abused, robbed and murdered, without extending to them any adequate remedy.
"I am a strong believer in the strength of mind and muscle of the Anglo-Saxon race, which will win in the contest for supremacy with any people, without the aid of unequal and oppressive laws; and the man, who is afraid to take his chances on equal terms with his opponents, is a coward and unworthy the name of an American.
"Were I to sum up the whole duty imposed upon us, I should say, let us be honest, industrious and frugal, be persevering and progressive, and remember Raleigh's maxim, that 'Whoever commands the sea commands the trade of the world, and whoever commands the trade of the world commands the riches of the world, and consequently the world itself.'"
So, the pulpit, and the press, as a rule, omitted no opportunity to speak a kind word for them, and to denounce the barbarism, and absurdity, of existing statutes against them. In San Francisco, a public-school had been established for their benefit, and was crowded day and night with adult Chinamen striving to learn English. The public-school fund running short that year, (1867) the Chinese merchants promptly volunteered to eke out the appropriation, rather than have the Board of Education close the school. Since then the Rev. Dr. Gibson, (formerly a Methodist missionary to China, and a man of great energy and force), has started his Sunday-Schools, expecting to plant them all over the Coast, and there seems a marked uprising in John's behalf generally. True, Mr. Senator Casserly, himself a catholic foreigner and the negro-hating democracy, are just now essaying a crusade against them; but this is because the XVth Amendment has ended the "nigger," and they are sadly in want of political capital. Our churches have certainly, now and here, a noble opportunity for effective and valuable missionary work. Instead of having to go half round the globe, across the sea, into malarious regions, among Pagan influences, to seek out the lost sheep of the House of Israel, we here have the heathen at our back-door, and ought to unfurl the Banner of the Cross to them, in every town and from every hillside. The story of the Yankee, who gave a missionary-collector a quarter of a dollar, and when he was leaving called him back, and gave him a dollar more, "to send that quarter along," has it not some grains of truth in it? Here the whole dollar and a quarter may be made immediately effective, and our missionary money should be forthcoming without stint. Not only would we thus more readily and cheaply evangelize the Chinese on our shores, but their returning thousands in turn would evangelize their countrymen at home; and we would thus accomplish a hundredfold more for China, than our missionaries there now seem to be doing, judging by their statistics, all put together. And not only do our Chinese themselves call for this, but the harmony and purity of the national life demand it, and may our churches awake to their great responsibility. Here is their true field for instant and aggressive missionary work, and they should occupy it overwhelmingly.
From a full survey of this questio vexata, I must conclude, if "God made of one blood all the nations of men to dwell upon the earth," if we are children of a common Father, redeemed by a common Saviour, and bound for a common eternity; if the good old rule, "whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them," (which the Chinese had in a negative form a thousand years before the Sermon on the Mount), is not yet effete; if we believe with Thomas Jefferson, that "all men are created equal, and endowed by their Creator with the inalienable rights of life and liberty;" then, we are bound as a nation to accord justice and fair-play even to these poor Mongolians, yellow-skinned, pig-tailed, and heathen though they be. Now, as heretofore, and always, we shall find our reward as a people in right-doing. Right is always politic. Justice is never wrong. And let us as a nation do right, even to the humblest of God's creatures, and leave the consequences with Him, who holds in his hands the destinies alike of individuals and of races. This is not always an easy road; but the Republic has already travelled it so far, and so courageously, we can not now afford to depart from it. Justice, if the sky falls. But, we may be sure, it will not fall. Rather, it will stand all the firmer and broader, for the Justice done and Humanity saved.