One reason why there is such an excess of business men, is, because American and European strangers, who have been led into the mistaken opinion that trading is profitable in California, are continually arriving with heavy stocks of goods, and opening new shops or going into the old ones, just vacated by those who could no longer sustain themselves under the pressure of the times. In this way the humbug is eternally nourished. As soon as one simpleton sacrifices his effects and retires, “a sadder and a wiser man,â€� another fool steps in and takes his place. Question the New York, Baltimore and Boston shippers concerning the result of their ventures, and they will tell a doleful story. Ask the Liverpool, Bordeaux and Hamburg consignors to show the account sales of their factors, and they will anathematize the inquirer and California in the same breath. Now and then, it is true, when the markets are low, as they sometimes are, a shipment turns out lucrative beyond anticipation; but when such a thing occurs it is a mere matter of chance, and one gainful shipment occasions scores of unprofitable ones. Dependent as the State is upon importations for all that she consumes or requires for use, it must be expected that the markets will be very fluctuating and changeable,—at any rate, it is so. The price of any article does not remain the same two weeks at a time. There is almost always a superfluity of merchandise in market; the supply is generally double the demand, and many things are sold at less than prime cost. Yet, by the time this merchandise falls into the hands of the actual consumer, it usually costs him from one to four hundred per cent. more than he would have to pay for it in the Atlantic States. The consignee will probably sell it to a speculator—the speculator to a wholesale merchant—the wholesale merchant to a jobber—the jobber to a retailer—the retailer to a muleteer, and the muleteer to the final purchaser or consumer. Or the importer may sell it to the city grocer, whose onerous rent makes it necessary for him to re-sell at an extraordinary advance on invoice rates to defray expenses. Thus the charges accruing on it, after its arrival, render it very costly.
I might cite instances of the perfidy and dishonesty of California merchants; but it would be like taking an inventory of the exact number of blades of grass in a meadow in order to get at the weeds by subtraction,—it would be easier to reverse the task. It would require less time to tell of those who have been true to their trusts. I know one man in San Francisco who received a consignment of nearly twelve thousand dollars worth of merchandise from his brother in New York. He placed it in an auction house—had it sold for what it would bring—appropriated the proceeds to his own use, and wrote back to his brother that all the goods had been destroyed by fire. His brother heard of his unfaithfulness, came on to San Francisco and reasoned with him; but could neither bring him to terms nor find law that would compel the performance of a common obligation. The defrauded brother returned home without recovering a cent of his dues. Another New Yorker consigned twenty thousand dollars worth of merchandise to two different commission houses (ten thousand to each,) with limited instructions—that is, not to sell for less than a certain sum. The factors received the goods, hurried them through the market, put the funds in their pockets, and wrote to the consignor, informing him that his ventures had been consumed by fire, and sympathizing with him in his losses! Before long, however, the shipper was made acquainted with the villainy of his agents, and applied to the courts for redress; but this was only employing a rogue to catch a rouge. After a deal of expense and delay, the case was dismissed. A whole cargo of wares and merchandise, valued at a trifle less than three hundred thousand dollars, was intrusted to another man, who disposed of it and absconded with the money.
But why detail these swindling transactions? Volumes upon volumes might be filled with accounts of the crimes and short-comings of this wretched country; but their perusal would only be productive of abhorrence and disgust. If, reader, you would know California, you must go live there. It is impossible for me to give, or for you to receive a correct impression of it on paper,—like Thomas, the unbelieving disciple, you must see and feel before you can be convinced.
On the night of the 2d of November, 1852, Sacramento was almost entirely destroyed by fire. Twenty-two hundred buildings, with other property, valued at ten millions of dollars, were completely reduced to ashes. The wind was blowing very hard at the time the fire commenced, and the roaring of the flames, the rapidity with which they spread, the explosions of gunpowder, as house after house was blown up, formed a scene rarely excelled in terrific grandeur. Men, women and children ran to and fro in the greatest confusion, excited almost to frenzy, in the effort to save their lives and effects. Within six hours after the fire first broke out, more than nine-tenths of the city were swept into oblivion, and the people were left to sleep on the naked earth without any shelter but the clothing they had on. Happening, too, just at the commencement of the rainy season, this conflagration was peculiarly disastrous, as thousands were deprived not only of shelter, but also of the means of securing a comfortable living. Provisions at the time were scarcer than I ever knew them before, or have known them since; and the extraordinarily high prices which they commanded almost precluded the poorer classes from buying or using them at all. Flour sold at forty-two dollars per barrel, pork at fifty-five, and other eatables in about the same ratio. Farther in the interior the times were still harder. In some of the distant mining localities flour and pork sold as high as three dollars per pound—equal to five hundred and eighty-eight dollars per barrel; and could not be had in sufficient quantities even at these rates. Many then suffered the pangs of insatiable hunger; and I have seen children crying to their parents for bread, when there was none to give them.
A California conflagration is a scene of the most awful grandeur that the mind is capable of conceiving. When fire is once communicated to the buildings, especially if it be in the dry season, when the winds rage and every thing is crisped by the sun, it does not smoulder, but blazing high in the air, and spreading far and wide, it consumes every thing within its reach, and leaves nothing behind but cinders and desolation. No one of the present day, out of California, has ever seen such pyramids of flame. One of the most beautiful sights I ever beheld was during a large fire in San Francisco. It was a moonless night, and there was nothing visible in the dark concave of heaven, save a few twinkling stars. Others were concealed by the detached masses of floating vapor which obscured them. Soon after the conflagration commenced, the brilliant illumination attracted large flocks of brant from the neighboring marshes; and as they flew hither and thither, high over the flaming element, they shone and glistened as if they had been winged balls of fire darting through the air. Had their plumage been burnished gold, they could not have been more radiant.
Before taking our final leave of Sacramento, we must not fail to get a glimpse of the Three Cent Philosopher, a Mormon polygamist, who figures conspicuously in this city as an extortionate usurer. He was born in the State of New York, near the hallowed spot where Jo Smith received his apostolic diploma. The Three Cent Philosopher does not carry so small a purse as his common appellation might seem to indicate; he is the wealthiest man in the place, and is as tenacious of his property as of his life. It is supposed that he is worth very near half a million of dollars. Though he believes in polygamy, and practices it, yet he never lives with more than one spouse at a time; to have them all around him at once would be too expensive.
When his wife goes out shopping he gives her fifty cents, and if she happens to bring back one-tenth of the amount, he takes it from her and locks it up in his safe. When he travels on a steamboat he always takes deck passage, and carries food in his pockets to avoid the extra expense of dining at the table. While passing through the streets he keeps a vigilant lookout for stray nails, old horse-shoes, pieces of bagging and other refuse, which he picks up, lugs home and deposits in his repository of odds and ends. Instead of chairs, he sits on stools and boxes of his own make; and, in place of coffee, he drinks parched barley tea or watered milk. His disposition is quite as sweet as wormwood, and his household is usually a scene of as much calm and domestic bliss as a family of tomcats. He is in the habit of bickering with his family at least once every day, and when he does so he rouses the whole neighborhood with the noise of his oaths and imprecations. In all probability he is a lineal descendant of Ishmael, the son of Hagar, for his hand is against every man and every man’s hand is against him. He is at enmity with all the world and is despised by every body. If his neighbor looks at him, he curses him, and if an acquaintance says good-morning to him, he tells him to go to h—ll. He has never been known to entertain a charitable thought towards his fellow-men, nor to speak a good word concerning his nearest relations. To sum up all, he is the extract of ill-breeding, the essence of vulgarity, and the quintessence of meanness.
CHAPTER XII.
YUBA—THE MINER’S TENT.
My first experience in mining was obtained on the banks of the Yuba river, a small tributary of the Feather, which is itself a branch of the Sacramento. Our party, in a stage-coach, left Sacramento city early in the morning; we traveled due north until late in the afternoon, when we arrived at Marysville, a city containing eight or nine thousand inhabitants, and situated at the confluence of the Yuba and Feather rivers. It was in July, and the roads were four to six inches deep in dust, which seemed to be as fine as bolted flour, and was so volatile that it rose in a dense cloud as we passed through it. The heat of the sun was oppressive in the extreme, and by the time we got to the place mentioned above, our persons were so besmeared with dust and perspiration that it was no easy matter for a stranger to determine our natural color.
I could have made the trip by water, as there is steamboat communication between Sacramento and Marysville daily; but having sailed up the river as high as this place once before on a pleasure excursion, I preferred the land route for the sake of seeing the country. I was disappointed, however; for, as the distance between the two cities is a mere continuation of the Sacramento valley, I saw nothing materially different from the purlieus of the city I had left. The surface of the valley is remarkably level, and is sparsely timbered with scrubby oaks and other gnarled trees of uncommon form. Nor is there any thing of unusual interest to be seen in Marysville. Sacramento is its prototype, and it has been modeled after that city with scrupulous exactness. I never saw two places more alike.