June 2nd.—It is astonishing how soon one gets accustomed to the rattle and rumble of the rail, and sleeps all the night through after a time, waking up only when a train stops at a station, just as a miller is roused by the cessation of the clock of the mill-wheel. We keep good hours, and so at 4.30 this morning I was looking out of the window at a sea of blue mountain ridges upon the west, which looked like the waves of the ocean, so varied in the serrated edges was the line of stony waves which seemed as if they were about to sweep down over the great stretch of prairie. We were passing through a new land of Goshen, at least that was the name which I detected on the station board, indicating a junction with another line, and early as was the hour the door of the hospitable restaurant was open, and gentlemen in front were to be seen drawing their hands across their lips as if they had been taking a refresher in the early morning. Close at hand the country was perfectly flat, covered with glorious crops nearly ripe for the sickle, and indeed cut and stacked in some places. Water appeared abundant; a river flowing west was visible at intervals, its course marked by a line of trees. Large black cranes stalked about in the meadow-like fields, and hares sat up on end to take a look at the train. The paucity of human beings, except at the rare stations, was remarkable; only when I say "rare," perhaps I am scarcely justified, as there were little wooden huts at intervals perhaps of ten or twelve miles, where a saloon announced itself, and a possible ticket-office.
On the east of the plain through which the line runs, the peaks of the Sierra Nevada were visible, but the journey was rather monotonous all the same, and we were glad when our train halted at Madera, about ninety miles from Goshen, where we were to get out and start on our expedition to the Yosemite Valley. Especial arrangements had been made for our conveyance, but I almost doubt now whether it would not have been better for us to have taken the ordinary carriage which leaves Madera every day, except Monday, for the Yosemite Valley, at 7.45, arriving at Clarke's or Bruce's in somewhat less than twelve hours, so as to bring daylight with it to the halting-place; a very desirable thing, as we soon found out. It was 8 o'clock before our party started from Madera, in two Kendal carriages with four horses each. In one was the Duke, Lady Green, Mr. Stephen, and myself, with Crockett on the box; in another were Sir Henry Green, Mr. Wright, Major Anderson, and Mr. Jerome. Our driver was a man with the impossible name of MacLenathan, a resolute, dry, taciturn man, with a good face, seamed with the exposure to sun and rain of many years on the box. But he told us he had deserted it lately, and had taken to the work of livery stable keeper, only coming out on this occasion as driver to do honour to the Duke. As it turned out, it was well his right and his left hand had not lost their cunning. The driver of the other carriage was a noted character, rejoicing in the name of "Buffalo Bill," and later on we had reason to feel very thankful to him also for the possession of great pluck and nerve. For some ten or twelve miles the route, which consists of mere wheel tracks over the prairie, runs over moderately undulating land. On the right there is a shoot or flume for carrying down timber from the upper part of the mountain ridge fifty miles away. The dust was troublesome, and the rapid motion of the four horses scarcely saved us from the roasting sun. The scenery was not interesting; indeed, the great object of attraction was the little Californian quail with his pretty crest, running across through the grass or jumping up upon a stump to have a look at the travellers. Stage stables were far apart, but the speed was fair, and it was astonishing to see the excellent condition in which the horses were at the end of their long canter, and what capital steeds were taken out of the stalls, in which they were feeding on barley-straw, to be put into the traces. I think the average length of the stages was about twelve miles. We lost about an hour at a little mining village where we halted for dinner, a place called Coarse Gold, as well as I recollect, consisting of the usual buildings, a few shanties, the store, the hotel, far better than might have been expected, and a sort of wigwam or one-storeyed house, in front of which were assembled a number of "Digger Indians," degraded specimens of a degraded tribe. They sat looking at the new arrivals in the most apathetic manner, just as they might regard so many flies. The men were dressed in a compromise of old Indian attire, leather leggings and deerskin jackets, with European clothing, caps, bad hats and trousers, and old boots, the women swathed ungracefully in what seemed to be pieces of blanket, their legs encased in folds of dirty cotton. One of these Diggers was very slightly dressed, and as it is intensely cold in the winter, we asked him whether he did not feel the effect of the frost and snow. He knew a little English, and made the most of it. "When your body is covered you do not feel the cold," he said; "But your face is always uncovered, and yet you do not feel the cold there. An Indian's body is all face." And that was all the explanation he would vouchsafe to us. Somehow or another, what with delays at the stations, possibly caused by our being out of the regular running, and being an interpolation on the ordinary course of travel, and possibly owing to our reduced speed, for the carriages with four horses did not, it seems, go as fast as the public conveyance with six, it was getting dark as we approached the line of wooded hills, in a valley in which, many miles away, lay our halting-place for the night. The result of our delay in starting, concerning which the driver had been severe from time to time, was startlingly manifest as the coaches mounted the steep ascents of one of the most tortuous roads in the world. The spurs of the hills come down very sharply to the valley, and the road is carried round by a series of very severe gradients following the contour of the mountain-chain, so that at one time there is a deep gorge on your left, and then, as the road leaves that spur with the valley on that side and crosses to another spur, there is a great descent on the right, so that you are continually passing along by a series of precipices, to which, in our case, the fast gathering gloom imparted additional horror. Through the sighing of the wind in the trees aloft came the roar of the torrents down below. The drivers went along at a good steady canter, and from time to time, as we came round a sharp curve, I dare say the thought was in every one's mind, what would happen if one of the leaders fell, or if the driver slipped his hand in gathering up the reins to go round the corner. The scenery became more wild and formidable, so to speak, at every fresh turn. The colossal trees, which challenged admiration in the daytime, closed up in greater volume, darkening the narrow road completely, so that in an hour after entering upon the mountain-range it became as black as pitch. The lamps of Buffalo Bill in the leading carriage were some guide to our driver. He had none, and it was with anxiety, renewed every ten minutes or so, that we saw the lights in front describe a graceful curve, which showed that they were passing by one of the dips or cuts of the road. It needed skill and judgment for MacLenathan to conduct the carriage, because if he drove too close to that in front of us, the clouds of dust obscured the view, and if he dropped too far behind he lost the benefit of the lights. By enormous trunks of trees, by piles of timber, through deep cuttings in the rock, plashing over watercourses, descending swiftly into river-beds, and splashing through the fords over boulders, then climbing up steep hillsides, on and on, it seemed as though the night would never come to an end, and we inwardly, and audibly too, expressed our regret that we had not started a little earlier; but still there was an almost pleasurable excitement in holding on as we swept round one of these terrible gorges, and tried to look down into the gulf beneath. That last stage seemed interminable, but towards 9 o'clock at night the driver of the coach in front announced that we were getting "near at last"; and lucky it was, for his lights were giving out. "It is just as well that they did not," said our driver, "because it would be bad for you." "Why?" "Well," he said, "you would just have to get out and walk! I would not undertake to drive any one in the dark along such a road as this." Presently we heard the noise of rushing water, and gained the bank of a stream flowing with swiftness over a shingle bed. This we crossed, and in half an hour more, through the dark belt of trees in front, lights were discerned, and, crossing another stream and a bridge, our wearied horses were pulled up in front of the hotel, a large wooden building, on the steps of which were the landlord and his staff, and most of the inmates turned out to greet and inspect the travellers who had been long expected. "It is a bad country to go driving about in the dark," said Mr. Bruce, the landlord, a sentiment in which we thoroughly agreed. There was a supper in the common room, to which, albeit the fare was primitive enough, we did ample justice. Travellers have complained of the charges along the road, but, considering the distance which all articles have to be carried to the Valley, the heavy duties, and the shortness of the season, I do not think that any one with experience of Swiss inns would complain much; and if the traveller desires to drink claret, he must not be astonished if he pays eight or nine shillings a bottle for it. The ordinary fare, at hotel prices, is quite good enough for hungry people, and eggs, milk, and bread are abundant, and not dear. The bedrooms, sufficiently simple in all their appointments, are good enough to be welcome to tired people, for there is a fair bed to lie upon, and the sheets, as far as our experience went, were clean and fresh. Nor were the insect horrors, of which we may have some knowledge in parts of Europe, to be dreaded, not even mosquitoes at this time of year.
Soon after dawn a thunderstorm broke over the valley, hail and torrents of rain, and the landlord congratulated us upon the cooling effect it would have on the air, and on the absence of dust, which is rather troublesome at times. It was necessary to make an early start in the morning, for it is a long journey to the Yosemite. For some years past the Valley has become a kind of American Chamouni, and if Americans swarm over Europe in search of the sublime and beautiful, they cannot be accused of neglecting altogether their own country. The first thing I saw, on walking out on the verandah of the hotel, was the stage-coach and six horses, with eight ladies and nine gentlemen, loading up for the Valley. They had arrived late the night before, a little in advance of us, and yet the ladies, bravely attired for the road, were all in their place in the char à bancs long before 7. Travellers frequently stay at Bruce's, and our host promises good sport to any one who will make it his headquarters; but I cannot speak with any confidence on that point myself; still I should think it a very pleasant quarter for a man who had nothing else to do, and who had an aptitude for climbing, to go about looking out big game. We heard talk of pheasants, but saw none: the bird which is called by that name not being entitled to it, according to ornithologists. In front of the hotel was laid out the skin of a cinnamon bear, which had been shot by an Austrian gentleman—"[Count Fritz Thumb]," the landlord called him—a few days previously, and which was to be sent after him as a trophy of his skill. "But," says Boniface, "it was not he shot him at all; it was 'is old Injun hunter." Grizzlies, he said, were rare, but they were to be found if you went up high enough, and as he spoke he pointed up to the mountains towering away in the distance in grand Alpine proportions. Deer were common enough, and there were some tame specimens of the ordinary black deer running about in the enclosure. We had an early start, but not quite so early as the Americans; and it was wonderful how well our four hardy horses did the first stage, six and twenty miles, including some very sharp ascents from the Hotel.
From time to time we got out and walked up the sharp bits, diverging to the right or left to gather the lovely flowers which grew on the roadside, or halting to admire the giant trees which clothed the mountain ridges. Pitiable ignorance! not to know the names of the plants or shrubs or wonderful bunches of blossoms, among which fluttered the most magnificently coloured butterflies. Woodpeckers of many different species uttered their quaint notes in jerky flight from tree to tree, or peered at the travellers from the shelter of the branches. Firs, pines, and spruces of enormous size, and trees to me unknown, formed a dense forest on each side of the road; but now and then we caught glimpses of the stupendous ranges of the alps beyond. It was lamentable to see the waste and wreck wrought in this wondrous wealth of timber—reckless, wicked waste. Charred trunks stood with leafless arms withered and black, or lay prone among the ferns in myriads. This was, we were told, the work of shepherds, who think nothing of setting fire to one of the finest trees in the world to warm themselves for an hour, and are delighted with a conflagration which may lay a hillside in ashes. And the Indians too are held to have their share in the destruction. There was enough of timber wasted and destroyed mile after mile to build a city. The nemesis must come; already the alarm has been sounded, and the State authorities here and elsewhere are trying to prevent the mischief. I have often had occasion to regret my ignorance of botany inter alia; but never did I feel it more than when I was walking up the road, on each side of which was a carpet of flowers, a maze of shrubs and plants—dense brushwood—to not one of which could I give a name. We arrived at the Halfway House at 12.35 as much pleased as the horses which brought us there so well at the respite, for it was an awful "pull up," and the coachman did his work at high pressure. In the course of our pilgrimage we had found a very pleasant divertissement. The Major, Mr. White, and Mr. Jerome had excellent voices, and from time to time they burst into song, giving with great effect the quaint negro melodies, which are now made familiar to us in London, from a very large répertoire; and so the afternoon passed in quiet enjoyment as we climbed the hills on foot or in the carriages—snatches of talk, exclamations of wonder and delight, and outbursts of the 'Golden Slipper,' 'O! that 'Possum,' 'The Ark,' 'John Brown,' 'Tramp, Tramp,' and other choruses.
It was near 4 o'clock when the driver, who had been silent for some time, looking round at us occasionally as one who would say, "Wait a little till I surprise you," suddenly pulling up, said, "Now, here you are. This is Fascination Point! Won't you get down a bit?" And, lo! there indeed lay before us a scene of indescribable grandeur. I know nothing like the effect produced by Yosemite Valley when seen for the first time from this point. It has a characteristic which no other similar view I am acquainted with possesses. You take in at one glance stupendous mountain-ranges, all but perpendicular, beyond which you see the snowy crests of the great Sierra, the profound valley between them, a long vista of extraordinary magnificence, of cascades and precipitous waterfalls, and far down below a silvery river rushing through a forest composed of the noblest trees in the world, with patches of emerald-green sward and bright meadows.
I see that by a slip of the pen I have miscalled the place from which we got our first view of the wondrous scene. But I have a right to change the name for my own use. What the driver said was "Inspiration Point." I prefer my mistake, for the view inspires you with no feeling save that of wonder and delight. These sublime scenes appear to be beyond the reach of poetry. Niagara and the Yosemite have not yet found a laureate. The peculiar and unique feature of the valley seems to me to be the height and boldness of the cliffs which spring out from the mountain-sides like sentinels to watch and ward over the secrets of the gorge; next to that is the number and height of the waterfalls; but it is only by degrees and by comparison that the mind takes in the fact that the cliffs are not hundreds, but thousands of feet high—that these bright, flashing, fleecy cataracts fall for thousands of feet—that the rent which has been torn in the heart of the mountains, till it is closed by the awful granite portals beyond which no mortal may pass, extends for miles. I thought as I gazed that it were pity to descend, lest a nearer view might destroy the effect of that coup d'œil; but the driver had regulated the period for rapture. He whipped us up to our places by word of mouth, and the carriages renewed their course, now striking by bold zigzags down into the valley for our destination, which was still six miles away. I shall not attempt to describe my own feelings, far less can I pretend to tell what others, probably far more susceptible of the beauty and grandeur of what we beheld than I am, may have felt at the succession of the awe-inspiring revelations of the tremendous grandeur of the Valley which came upon us. What is the use of rolling off a catalogue of names and figures?—even the brush of the painter, charged with the truest colours and guided by the finest hand and eye, could never do justice—that is, could never give a just idea of these cliffs and waterfalls. "El Capitan! Oh, that's the name, is it? Three thousand three hundred feet high!" And then you try to take in what that means. "And it's 3500 feet down to the Valley? Dear me!" "And that is the Cathedral Rock? And those two peaks are the Spires? I don't exactly see the resemblance; do you?"
There was a sort of wail of delight from us all as we came on the "Bridal Veil Fall"; and I do not think any one cared to know that it was just 60 short of 1000 feet high! Surely one of the most graceful, lovely chutes d'eau on earth, lost though it be from view behind the rocks at the close of its feathery flight! But there was no stopping to look at anything; relentless Fate drove us down and on, till the wheels rolled more evenly, and at last we came to the bed of the valley—some 1800 yards broad, opening out here and there yet wider—and we rejoiced in the sight of the bright clear water of the Merced, child of innumerable icy mothers, flashing, sparkling, dashing and brawling, like a myriad Lodores, between her banks decked with flowers and covered with forest trees.
Suddenly there dashed out of a glade two cavaliers, and made full tilt at the leading carriage. "To arms!" Not a bit of it! Nor banditti or Injuns—of whom we had met one or two riding sullenly along to the hunting-grounds—no, only two hotel touts armed with cards of self-commendation, and not apparently in much rivalry, for when told that we had engaged our hotel, they galloped off to waylay other travellers, of whose coming they were apprized by our driver. Our hotel, I may say by the way, gave us full contentment. The site was admirable, commanding a full and near view of the Fall of Falls—the Yosemite—which had so fascinated our eyes that we could scarce divert them to any other object—not "Widow's Tears," or "Virgin's Tears," nor the "Three Brothers," not anything but the Yosemite! And so, when our rooms were pointed out, we made off to the spot where the fine cloudlike vapour rising above the tree-tops indicated the basin into which the waters sought rest after their troubled leap.
Our way lay through the usual gathering of stores, hotels, livery stables for the horses and ponies needed for the excursions, and curiosity dealers' shops, to the village street, as it may be termed, shadowed by fine trees, under which reposed some Indians—one of whom, an Amazon in yellow toga, went riding full gallop past us, her hair falling in a black mat on her shoulders, sitting low, in Melton style, regardless of poultry, children, and boulders, and vanishing in a cloud of dust under the trees. Then we turned to the left and crossed the river by a rustic bridge; and as I looked down into the dancing waters certain shadow-like objects flew up against the current. "Trout?" asked I. "Yes, they're trout. They take 'em—when they dew—five pounds weight. The Injuns catch 'em. We don't understand it as well." A short walk, with eyes ever up-turned, and we come out to a moraine, and, clambering up over a mass of trunks of trees and decaying timber, the Falls were before us—I cannot write more—no adjective will do. "Two thousand six hundred and thirty-four feet, mind!" says the voice. "I don't care," thought we, "it's the most beautiful and wonderful water-jump ever seen by human eye." "It only remains," as they say, to state that there is first, falling over a sheet of granite straight as a wall, a considerable river, which in the plunge comes down at once 1600 feet. There, in a basin of rock, it collects its scattered forces, under cover of eternal spray and cloud, and then takes another header of 434 feet to a barrier of granite, against which it rages for a mad moment, till it swells over and escapes from control by another spring of 600 feet sheer down—and now it is free, and rushes past at our feet, a joyous flashing stream.
We returned through the meadows from the Falls, and as I was walking in advance of the party a snake wriggled across the path, which I struck at instinctively with my stick, and was lucky enough to kill at the first blow. I exhibited the carcass, or whatever a snake's dead body may be, in triumph to my companions. Further on our way we fell in with an old Frenchman who was carrying a basket of fruit from his little garden to the inn. With all the courtesy of his country, he offered to Lady Green the choicest in his little corbeille. He came from Lorraine very long ago to prospect in the States, almost the earliest of the pioneers, but he was still strong and active, and he pointed with great satisfaction up to a white flag planted on a dizzy height above, which he said he had placed with his own hands. The chief livery stable keeper is a German named Stegman. The first ascent of the Dome was made by a young Scotchman named Anderson, from Montrose; so with Indians, Americans, Mexicans, Europeans, there is a very liberal representation of the nations of the world, in the season, in the valley. Mr. Hutchinson, the Conservator of the Valley—one with all the enthusiasm of the American character in everything pertaining to the country, aggravated in this instance by an intense admiration for the valley over which he is appointed to watch—joined us at dinner in the little inn. Full of information, bubbling over with anecdote and illustration, and replete with all kinds of knowledge concentrated upon the one object—the Valley—the Valley—and nothing but the Valley. He knows its history since the time it was first discovered, and its natural history and geological formation, and all about the Indians who lived there and their traditions. It so happened that the Commissioners of the State of California, who are bound to visit the public domains, were also at the hotel, and so we had quite an unofficial and ceremonious meeting; and presently, as we stood in front of the hotel gazing up on the peaks, lighted up by the stars, and listening to the thunder of the waterfall, a startling report burst out on the night, and in another instant the echoes repeated from rock to rock were crashing through the Valley with the roar of heaven's artillery. It was the first gun of a salute ordered by the Commissioners to be fired in honour of the Duke's arrival. The effect was very fine, but I doubt whether I did not feel full of resentment at the outburst, very much as the owls and night-hawks might have been expected to feel, if one could judge from their cries. However, even a salute and echoes must come to an end, and as we were to get up early to start for the Mirror Lake, we turned in to bed at an early hour; not, however, to sleep, because the indefatigable and numerous company in the public room, off which were our bedrooms, were in high spirits, and the song and the dance, to the accompaniment of an invalid piano, for some time asserted their sway.