CHAPTER XXXII.—A False Friend Sent to Deceive the Southerners.
“Great men are the Fire Pillars in this dark pilgrimage of mankind; they stand as heavenly signs, ever living witnesses of what has been, prophetic tokens of what may still be—the revealed embodied Possibilities of human nature,” says Carlyle.
If conspicuousness or notoriety could mean greatness, we have our great men in California. But are they the Fire Pillars in our dark pilgrimage? Verily, no. They are upas trees, blighting life, spreading desolation, ruin, death upon all they overshadow. Only the cruelist irony could designate them as heavenly signs, for surely they march before us in the opposite direction from that in which heavenly Fire Pillars would be expected to stand.
And who are the most conspicuous in our State? The monied men, of course—the monopolists. They are our Fire Pillars! Unfortunate California! if thou art to follow such guides, thy fate shall be to grovel for money to the end of time, with not one thought beyond, or above, money-making, and not one aspiration higher than to accumulate millions greedily for rapacity's sake—without once remembering the misery that such rapacity has brought upon so many innocent people—the blight it has spread over so many lives. Thy ambition shall be to control the judiciary and utterly debauch the legislative branch of our Government; to contaminate the public press and private individual until thy children shall have lost all belief in honor, and justice, and good faith, and morality. Until honesty shall be made ridiculous and successful corruption shall be held up for admiration and praise.
And are not our “Fire Pillars” dragging us already in that direction? blinding us instead of guiding and enlightening? Yes, alluring, tempting, making rapacity and ill-gotten wealth appear justifiable, seen through the seductive glamour of Success!
The letter Mr. James Mechlin received one morning about the latter part of November, 1875, would seem so to indicate. He and Mr. Holman met often at the postoffice each winter since 1872, always hoping to get railroad news from Washington. These two gentlemen religiously went to the postoffice every day again this winter—particularly since the Mechlins had taken their temporary residence in town—and religiously they expected that good news would come at any time while Congress was in session—news that a bill to aid in the construction of the Texas Pacific Railroad had been passed. But days and days went by and no news came. This morning, however, Mr. Mechlin received two letters from his brother, the first he had got since he brought the wounded George to town.
One of these letters said that early in that month (November) Mr. C. C. had taken east from California in his special car ex-Senator Guller, for the purpose of being sent South to persuade the Southern people into believing that the Texas Pacific Railroad would be injurious to the South; that it was being built for the benefit of Northern interests, but that the Southern Pacific, of Mr. Huntington and associates, was truly the road for the South. Mr. Huntington instructed Senator Guller in all the fictions he was to spread in the South, and with that burden on his soul (if the old man has one), the hoary headed ex-Senator started from Washington about the 12th of November, 1875, on this errand to deceive, to betray. To betray cruelly, hiding under the cloak of friendship and good will, the worst, blackest, most perfidious intent. “He is going about the South making public speeches,” Mr. Mechlin said, “and using his influence to mislead Southern newspapers and Southern influential men; trying to convince all that the Texas Pacific will do the South great harm. The Southern people and Southern Press have fallen into the trap. They never doubted, never could doubt, the veracity of ex-Senator Guller, who had espoused their cause during the war of the rebellion, and had always held Southern sentiments. Who could believe that now, for money, he would go to deceive trusting friends? That, for money, he would cruelly mislead Southerners to their ruin? Who would believe that this old man, calling himself a friend, was the veriest, worst, most malignant Mephistopheles, holding in the heart so wicked a purpose, such an infamous design?”
In the second letter Mr. Lawrence Mechlin spoke of ex-Senator Guller being still at work in the South, and that his patron, Mr. Huntington, seemed to think that the old man was not telling as many fictions as he (Huntington) wished. But that what more false statements he desired, it did not appear, for in reality Dr. Guller had prevaricated and misrepresented all that he could within the limits of possible credibility.
“And now,” Mr. Mechlin's letter added, “old man Guller will soon return from his Southern trip. Let us hope that the old man will be well paid for his unsavory work. I cannot believe that in making his public speeches he does not occasionally feel a pang of regret, of remorse, when seeing the faces of those unfortunate, betrayed Southerners upturned to him, listening in the sincerity of their hearts to the atrocious concoctions which he is pouring upon their unsuspecting heads.”
Mr. James Mechlin read to Mr. Holman this portion of his brother's letter, and both looked at each other in dismay.