At one of the tables we observe two proprietors, as before described. One of them is a lank, cadaverous fellow, with a repulsive expression of low cunning, full of hypocrisy and deceit, taciturn in disposition, unengaging in manners, who was formerly a Baptist preacher in Connecticut. The other has a vinous, fat, and jolly countenance, is open-faced, enjoys a joke, is lively, laughs at his partner for being so melancholy, is affable and courteous to strangers, talks a great deal, as might be expected, since, before he came to California, he was considered one of the most promising young lawyers in Mississippi.
The proprietors of another table are two old gentlemen of “three score years and ten,� whose white hairs and wrinkled brows would seem to belong to a more honorable station in life than that assigned them by destiny. A third table is used by a couple of Spaniards, whose scowling brows and treacherous eyes indicate that they are better qualified for the transaction of infamous and atrocious deeds, than for fair dealing or magnanimous behaviour. A Jew and Jewess have command of the fourth table; the fifth is under the direction and management of a French gentleman and lady; a young American girl and her paramour have charge of the sixth; while the seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, and so on, are presided over by sundry sorts of wicked spirits, unworthy of being named. Octogenarians, youthful and middle-aged men, married and unmarried women, boys and girls, white and black, brown and copper-colored, the quarrelsome and the peaceable, all associate together; and, at times, as might be expected, fight, maim, and kill each other with the same indifference with which people generally pursue their daily occupations.
I neglected to mention before, that, in some conspicuous point of the principal houses of this character, there is generally erected a stage or platform, upon which a company of musicians perform at intervals of a quarter of an hour. This they are employed to do for the purpose of enticing unsuspecting strangers and passers-by.
Like those engaged in the liquor traffic, these gamblers are a public nuisance, a burden upon society. They do no sort of profitable manual or mental labor; yet the community grants them a license to abuse the public, and to debase themselves. Their occupation being a discreditable and dishonorable one, it robs them of that degree of happiness and respectability which naturally belongs to every industrious and upright man. Like a deadly contagion, they blast and destroy all with whom they come in contact.
Thousands of these swindlers live by their expertness in gambling and tricks of legerdemain. Dissipated, reckless, and restless, they rove from place to place, rarely acquiring decent habits or becoming permanent citizens. They are, nevertheless, great lovers and admirers of women; and most of them make it a special branch of their business to cultivate a due share of female acquaintance. But we will now bid adieu to the blacklegs, and return again to the street, merely stopping a minute or two, as we pass out, to listen to the enchanting strains of “Katy Darling,� or “Lilly Dale,� played by the brass band in attendance.
What is here called the plaza, or park, which occupies one square between Washington, Clay, Kearney and Brenham streets, now lies before us; but as it is nothing more nor less than a cow-pen, inclosed with unplaned plank, we will say but little about it. In the middle is planted a tall liberty-poll, near which is erected a rude rostrum for lynch-lawyers and noisy politicians. If there is a tree, or a bush, or a shrub, or a sprig of grass, or any thing else in or about it that is green, or that bears the slightest similitude to vegetation, nobody has ever yet seen it; and, as a pleasure-ground, it is used only by the four-footed denizens of the city. On the east side of this delectable public square is the California Exchange, before the steps of which are stationed from fifteen to twenty French peasants, who pursue no business save that of blacking boots. Most of them have acquired or adopted this ornamental occupation since they left La Belle France.
A few doors above the Exchange stands the City Hall, which was formerly the Jenny Lind Theatre—a very neat stone structure, but wholly unsuited for the purpose to which it is now applied. The parties who built it for a theatre soon ascertained that it was a bad speculation, and became considerably involved in debt; and, to save themselves, and make the best of a bad bargain, they bribed a majority of the aldermen to purchase it for a City Hall, at several thousand dollars above the original cost.
In this way a monstrous swindle was perpetrated upon the community, by fraudulently appropriating the public money to the use and benefit of private individuals. But the fraud could not be remedied; the city officers had been elected as the representatives of the citizens, whose rights and powers had been vested in them, and if they were so base as to prove recreant to their trust, the penalty had to be paid by their constituents. They consummated their corrupt bargain for the theatre, the properties were removed, and, after the expenditure of much time, labor, and money, in making alterations and additions, the building was converted into what now stands before us—the City Hall of San Francisco. The principals in this iniquitous transaction enriched themselves and their accomplices at the expense of the city treasury, suffering nothing except the denunciations and execrations of an abused and outraged public. This is a fair sample of the disposition that is made of the public funds throughout the State. Sheriffs, treasurers, and tax-collectors, in the majority of cases, are expected to decamp with all the money in their hands, or to embezzle a part of it; and it has passed into a proverb, that no honest man can be elected to a city, county, or state office in California.
Were we to remain an hour or two in this vicinity, we should probably see a police officer rolling “a perpetual hymn to the Deityâ€� on a wheelbarrow—for that, we believe, is Poe’s euphemism for a woman. Intoxication is quite common among the ladies of this particular section of San Francisco, and the wheelbarrow, or some other vehicle, must be employed to convey them to the station-house, on account of the total failure of their natural organs of locomotion.
On the north side of the Plaza are some of the best French eating-houses in the State. One of them, the Cafe du Commerce, which, translated into English, means Commercial Coffee-house, is quite famous for its choice gastronomy. A better dinner can be procured here than in an American house, because the French are better cooks, cleaner in their culinary arrangements and preparations, more polite and attentive to their guests, and less accustomed to adulterating their provisions. Dinner, without wine, costs two dollars for each person; but with it, from three to five dollars, according to quality and quantity consumed. The stranger cannot promise himself any thing very sumptuous or delicious in the way of eatables, even in the first-class hotels. He can get good wines and liquors, prime cigars and tobacco, and other accessory articles of superior quality; but the fare at best is very indifferent.