What first struck me, among the many changes of a few months, was that the inhabitants generally were less eccentric in dress. When first I arrived, the people were most capricious in this respect; they wore, in fact, whatever pleased them, long hair and beards included; sobered down by circumstances, however, they had now quietly relapsed into the habits of ordinary mortals.
Places of rational amusement had sprung up, and replaced in a great measure the gambling saloons, whose fortunes were rather on the wane from over competition. There were clubs, reading-rooms, and a small theatre, called the Dramatic Museum. This last was sadly in want of actors, and as my time hung very heavily on my hands (I was awaiting the arrival of a vessel from England) I gave way to a vicious propensity that had long been my bane, and joined the company as a volunteer. For about a month, under an assumed name, I nightly “Used Up� and “Jeremy Diddlered� my Californian audiences, who never having fortunately seen Charles Matthews, did not, therefore, stone me to death for my presumptuous attempts to personate that unrivalled actor’s characters.
I became, at last, so used to seeing my “last appearance but one� displayed on the advertising posters, that I began to associate myself with the profession altogether, and to believe my name was Warren; and what with the excitement of acting in leading parts, and the pleasant parties, and picnics, with our troupe, I forgot all about Russian River Farm, and became a very slave to the buskin.
The dreadful experience of the place had made people so nervous respecting fire, that the sound of the fire-bell would cause every man to rush to his house, and get ready for the defence of his property; and as small fires on the outskirts of the town were of continual occurrence, there was scarcely a night but the deep-toned bell would keep the citizens on the alert. On these occasions the theatre would be deserted rapidly, whilst every other man would vociferate fire, but almost immediately the leading columns would return, with cries of “all over!� and “all out!� and the theatre would refill, and the performances proceed, until the “fire-bell� took them off again, which occasionally it would in ten minutes.
The market at this time was so overstocked with merchandise, that goods sold at auction at less than cost-price. Ready-made clothing, in particular, was cheaper in San Francisco than it was in New York or London. So that the storehouses being everywhere crammed with goods, great depression in trade existed. The city of San Francisco at this time was in debt, about a million of dollars, and the Treasury being empty, scrip was issued bearing the ruinous interest of thirty-six per cent. per annum. But this state of affairs was remedied by funding the debt, and issuing bonds payable in twenty years, bearing interest at ten per cent. The citizens cooperated in this movement, and submitted to a heavy tax, and thus, in spite of repeated conflagrations following on a state of apparently hopeless bankruptcy, the energy of the San Franciscans not only enabled the municipality to redeem annually a portion of their bonds, but placed the credit of the city on a firm and secure basis.
There were seven or eight churches already in San Francisco, all of different denominations—these were well attended on Sundays, but the price of pews was very exorbitant, reaching as high, sometimes, as ten pounds a month. Some of these churches were built entirely in a spirit of speculation, and on asking an acquaintance once what security he had for some money he had lent, he told me, so many shares in —— Church; and the same building was afterwards sold, I think, by auction, to satisfy its creditors. Now that ladies begin to flock into California so rapidly, the churches are crammed to overflowing on a Sunday. The Americans are rather strict observers of congregational worship, which has this drawback, however, that it here imposes the necessity of so many becoming hypocrites on the Sabbath, for as regards the amount of religious feeling that exists at this time, one can neither judge of it by the attendance or the absence of the people from public worship. But I will say this for them, that as a nation they are most charitable, and that they are true friends to one another in adversity; once your friend, the American will share all he has with you, and risk his life in defence of your honour and name—more, he will not even permit merited censure to be passed upon you in his presence, and however suspicious of others worldly contact may have made him, he will repose his confidence in you like a child. And so common are these friendships, that the true generosity which cements them forms a prominent feature of the American character; but whether it springs from deep religious feeling or not is a question I do not care to argue. A great portion of the working-classes of America are Methodists, or of somewhat similar persuasions; they have their camp-meetings, read their Bible very generally, are given to psalm-singing, and have the appearance of being a religious people.
I attended one of these camp-meetings. My old friend of the English Barque, who wished to “rip up the cook,â€� was officiating with “tears in his eyes.â€� There was a great deal of excited praying, but the greater proportion of the people seemed to have come out for any purpose but that of worship—in fact, the scene was very lively, and if it had not been for the weeping priest, it would have been a merry pic-nic.
* * * *
There are now seven daily papers at San Francisco, and each mining town of importance in the country publishes its weekly sheet. If the Americans were not thirsty people for news, warm party politicians, and all able to read, so great a number of periodicals could never be supported.
There is an independence about American journalism in strict accordance with the character of the institutions of the country, but which, in my opinion, detracts greatly from the value of the press. As, for instance, many journals of wide circulation, conducted by men of ability, enforce injudicious opinions that not only closely affect the vital interests of the state, but, to a great extent, the passions of the people. For this reason the American press has not so much weight with the highest class of Americans, and there is no leading journal of sufficient influence to direct and admonish them; or which, from its impartiality and justness, can give a healthy tone to the thousands of minnows that follow in its track—none, in fact, that occupies the position of the “Timesâ€� with us.