Saturday, Feb. 24. All the land grants in California are blindly defined; a mountain bluff, lagoon, river, or ravine serve as boundaries; and these not unfrequently comprehend double the leagues or acres contemplated in the instrument. No accurate surveys have been made; and the only legal restrictions falling within these vague limits, is in the shape of a provision that the excess shall revert to the public domain. This provision, which is inserted in most of the grants, will throw into the market, under an accurate survey, some of the best tracts in California. These will be seized upon by capitalists and speculators, and held at prices beyond the means of emigrants, unless some legislative provision shall extend peculiar privileges to actual settlers.
The lands which lie through the gold region are uninvaded by any private grants, except one on the Mariposa, owned by Col. Fremont; one on the Cosumes, owned by W. E. P. Hartnell, and the limited claims of Johnson on Bear river, and Capt. Sutter on the Americano. All the other lands stretching from Feather river on the north, to the river Reys on the south, covering five hundred miles along the slopes of the Sierra Nevada, belonging to the public domain, and should never become private property so long as it is for the interests of the United States to encourage mining in California. Any system of private proprietorship will result in monopoly and bloodshed. Let companies lease their sections, and private individuals pay their license; and let every regulation look more to the encouragement it extends, than the revenue it exacts.
Tuesday, Feb. 27. At an early hour this morning a huge floating mass, with her steep sides dark as night, was seen winding into the bay without sail, wind, or tide. Such a wizard phenomenon was never seen before on this coast, and might well alarm the natives, especially when the great guns of the fort rolled their thunder at her: and still she neared! heaving the still waters into cataracts at her side, and sending up her steep column of smoke, as if a young Etna were at work within. They who had witnessed such things in other parts of the world, shouted “The steamer! the steamer!” and instantly the echo came back with redoubled force from a hundred crowded balconies. The whole community was thrown into excitement, wonder, and gratulation; cheers and shouts of welcome rent the air; all liquors were free to brim the bumpers; and basket after basket of champagne went gratuitously into the streets, till their flying corks rose like musket-shot in a general feu de joie. The last distrust of good faith in the government vanished; and all saw the dawn of a higher destiny breaking over California. The enterprise of a Howland and Aspinwall blazed in this new aurora, and filled the whole horizon with light. The golden promise which had floated in doubt and earnest hope had been redeemed and the union of California with the glorious confederacy achieved. What now were oceans and an isthmus!—only a few waves and a narrow line of earth, unfelt under the conquering powers of steam. Such was the tumult of transport which hailed the first steamer; such her welcome to the el dorado of the West. No gold mine sprung in the Sierra ever roused half the wonder, hope, and general joy.
Monday, March 5. The scenery around Monterey and the locale of the town, arrest the first glance of the stranger. The wild waving background of forest-feathered cliffs, the green slopes, and the glimmering walls of the white dwellings, and the dash of the billows on the sparkling sands of the bay, fix and charm the eye. Nor does the enchantment fade by being familiarly approached; avenues of almost endless variety lead off through the circling steeps, and winding through long shadowy ravines, lose themselves in the vine-clad recesses of the distant hills. It is no wonder that California centred her taste, pride, and wealth here, till the Vandal irruption of gold-hunters broke into her peaceful domain. Now all eyes are turned to San Francisco, with her mud bottoms, her sand-hills, and her chill winds, which cut the stranger like hail driven through the summer solstice. Avarice may erect its shanty there, but contentment, and a love of the wild and beautiful, will construct its tabernacle among the flowers, the waving shades, and fragrant airs of Monterey. And even they who now drive the spade and drill in the mines, when their yellow pile shall fill the measure of their purposes, will come here to sprinkle these hills with the mansions and cottages of ease and refinement. Among these soaring crags the step of youth will still spring, and beauty garland her tresses with wild-flowers in the mirror of the mountain stream. Alas! that eyes so bright should be closed so soon, and that a step so light and free should lead but to that narrow house which holds no communion with the pulses which will still roll through nature’s great heart!
Wednesday, March 7. Emigrants, when the phrensy of the mines has passed, will be strongly attracted to los Angeles, the capital of the southern department. It stands inland from San Pedro about eight leagues, in the bosom of a broad fertile plain, and has a population of two thousand souls. The San Gabriel pours its sparkling tide through its green borders. The most delicious fruits of the tropical zone may flourish here. As yet, only the grape and fig have secured the attention of the cultivator; but the capacities of the soil and aptitudes of the climate are attested in the twenty thousand vines, which reel in one orchard, and which send through California a wine that need not blush in the presence of any rival from the hills of France or the sunny slopes of Italy. To these plains the more quiet emigrants will ere long gather, and convert their drills into pruning-hooks, and we shall have wines, figs, dates, almonds, olives, and raisins from California. The gold may give out, but these are secure while nature remains.
San Diego is another spot to which the tide of immigration must turn. It stands on the border line of Alta California, and opens on a land-locked bay of surpassing beauty. The climate is soft and mild the year round; the sky brilliant, and the atmosphere free of those mists which the cold currents throw on the northern sections of the coast. The sea-breeze cools the heat of summer, and the great ocean herself modulates into the same temperature the rough airs of winter. The seasons roll round, varied only by the fresh fruits and flowers that follow in their train. I would rather have a willow-wove hut at San Diego, with ground enough for a garden, than the whole peninsula of San Francisco, if I must live there. The one is a Vallambrosa, where only the zephyr stirs her light wing; the other a tempest-swept cave of Æolus, where the demons of storm shake their shivering victims. The lust of gold will people the one, but all that is lovely in the human heart spread its charm over the other. Before the eyes that fall on these pages are under death’s shadow, San Diego will have become the queen of the south in California encircled with vineyards and fields of golden grain and gathering into her bosom the flowing commerce of the Colorado and Gila.
Thursday, March 8. The town-hall, on which I have been at work for more than a year, is at last finished. It is built of a white stone, quarried from a neighboring hill, and which easily takes the shape you desire. The lower apartments are for schools; the hall over them—seventy feet by thirty—is for public assemblies. The front is ornamented with a portico, which you enter from the hall. It is not an edifice that would attract any attention among public buildings in the United States; but in California it is without a rival. It has been erected out of the slender proceeds of town lots, the labor of the convicts, taxes on liquor shops, and fines on gamblers. The scheme was regarded with incredulity by many; but the building is finished, and the citizens have assembled in it, and christened it after my name, which will now go down to posterity with the odor of gamblers, convicts, and tipplers. I leave it as an humble evidence of what may be accomplished by rigidly adhering to one purpose, and shrinking from no personal efforts necessary to its achievement. A prison has also been built, and mainly through the labor of the convicts. Many a joke the rogues have cracked while constructing their own cage; but they have worked so diligently I shall feel constrained to pardon out the less incorrigible. It is difficult here to discriminate between offences which flow from moral hardihood, and those which result, in a measure, from untoward circumstances. There is a wide difference in the turpitude of the two; and an alcalde under the Mexican law, has a large scope in which to exercise his sense of moral justice. Better to err a furlong with mercy than a fathom with cruelty. Unmerited punishment never yet reformed its subject; to suppose it, is a libel on the human soul.
Friday, March 9. There is one event in the recent history of California, which has carried with it decisive moral results. Till the intelligence of peace reached here, a bewildering expectation had been entertained by many, that Mexico would never consent to part with this portion of her domain. This idea, vague and groundless as it was, interfered with all permanent plans of action affecting individual capital and enterprise. To this state of uncertainty the news of peace, which reached here in August, gave an effectual quietus. The event was announced to the community by order of Gen. Mason, through a national salute from the fort; and hardly had the echoes died away among the hills, when its certainty sunk deep and firm into the convictions of all. The result was a revulsion of feeling towards Mexico, which no repentant action on her part could ever overcome. The native people felt that they had been sold, and expressed in no measured terms their indignation. They had no objections to the transfer of allegiance; but they scorned the barter, and denounced the treachery, as they termed it, which had put a price upon their heads. The old Spanish blood was up, and flaming, like the lake which rolls its tide of fire in the breast of Vesuvius. From that day to this, I have never heard one native citizen express for Mexico even that poor sentiment of regard with which pity sometimes softens an indignant contempt. The only regret was, that the American arms were withdrawn from that country, and that her national existence was not extinct. This feeling remains, and will still be felt in the various relations of society, when the native mass has been swallowed up in the emigrant tide, as a rivulet in the majesty of the mountain stream.
Sunday, March 11. What crowds are rushing out here for gold! what multitudes are leaving their distant homes for this glittering treasure! Can gold warrant the hazards of the enterprise? Can it compensate the toils and suffering which it imposes? Can it repair a shattered constitution, or bring back the exhilarating pulse and play of youth? Let the wrecks of those who have perished speak; let the broken hearts and hopes of thousands utter their admonition: their voices come surging over these pines, breaking from these cliffs, sighing in the winds, and knelling from the clouds. Your treasures you must resign at the dark portal of the grave; there the glittering heap, and the strong arms which wrenched it from the mine, lie down together; the spirit walketh alone through that troubled night; but a ray twinkles through its long aisle of darkness: follow that in meekness and faith, and it will lead you to the spirit-land. There dwell your kindred who adorned virtue with a spirit of contentment,—there the parent whose latest prayer was for you,—there the sister, who, in the hush of voices around, heard the sweet strains of an unseen harp, and was charmed away from the delusive dreams of earth, ere a hope of the heart had been broken, or sorrow had saddened a smile. What is wealth to such an inheritance? what the society of kings to such companionship? Plume your wing for heaven ere it droops in the death-dew of its dissolving strength.
Tuesday, March 20. The land titles in California ought to receive the most indulgent construction. But few of them have all the forms prescribed by legislative enactments, but they have official insignia sufficient to certify the intentions of the government. To disturb these grants would be alike impolitic and unjust; it would be to convert the lands which they cover to the public domain, and ultimately turn them over to speculators and foreign capitalists. Better let them remain as they are: they are now in good hands; they are held mostly by Californians,—a class of persons who part with them on reasonable terms. No Californian grinds the face of the poor, or refuses an emigrant a participation in his lands. I have seen them dispose of miles for a consideration less than would be required by Americans for as many acres. You are shut up to the shrewdness and sharpness of the Yankee on the one hand, and the liberality of the Californian on the other. Your choice lies between the two, and I have no hesitation in saying, give me the Californian. If he has a farm, and I have none, he will divide with me; but who ever heard of a Yankee splitting up his farm to accommodate emigrants? Why, he will not divide with his own sons till death has divided him from both. Yankees are good when mountains are to be levelled, lakes drained, and lightning converted into a vegetable manure; but as a landholder, deliver me from his map and maw. He wants not only all on this side of creation’s verge, but a leetle that laps over the other.