When they reached the gallows, a rope was placed around the prisoner's neck, and even then, except for a slight paleness, there was no change in his appearance. Amid the breathless silence of the whole a.s.semblage Stuart, standing under the gallows, said, "I die reconciled. My sentence is just." His crimes had been many, and he seemed to accept his death as the proper and almost welcome result of his deeds. He was a man of intellect, and, hardened criminal though he was, the instinct of expiation a.s.serted itself in his breast.

In July, 1851, a Spanish woman was tried and condemned by an impromptu vigilance committee for killing an American who, she declared, had insulted her. Being sentenced to be hanged forthwith, she carefully arranged her dress, neatly coiled her hair, and walked quietly and firmly to the gallows. There she made a short speech, saying that she would do the same thing again if she were permitted to live, and were insulted in the same way. Then she bade the crowd farewell, adjusted the noose with her own hands, and so pa.s.sed bravely away.

A few years later at Moquelumne Hill, a young Welshman, scarcely more than a boy, met death in a very similar manner, and for a similar offence. On the scaffold he turned to one of the by-standers, and said, "Did you ever know anything bad of me before this affair occurred?" The answer was, "No, Jack." "Well," said the youth, "tell those Camp Saco fellows that I would do the same thing again and be hung rather than put up with an insult."

Men like these died for a point of honor, as much as did Alexander Hamilton.

But far higher was the heroism of those who suffered or died for others, and not for themselves. No event, not even the discovery of gold, stirred California more profoundly than did the death of James King. In 1856, King, the editor of the "Bulletin," was waging single-handed a vigorous warfare against the political corruption then rife in California, and especially against the supineness of the city officials in respect to gambling and prost.i.tution. He had given out that he would not accept a challenge to a duel, but he was well aware of the risk that he ran. San Francisco, even at that time, indulged in an easy toleration of vice, and only some striking, some terrible event could have aroused the conscience of the public.

Among the city officials whose hatred Mr. King had incurred was James Casey, a typical New York politician, and a former convict, yet not wholly a bad man. The two men, King and Casey, really represented two stages of morality, two kinds of government. Their personal conflict was in a condensed form the clashing of the higher and the lower ideals. Casey, meeting King on the street, called upon him to "draw and defend himself"; but King, being without a weapon, calmly folded his arms and faced his enemy. Casey fired, and King fell to the ground, mortally wounded.

"It was expedient that one man should die for the people"; and the death of King did far more than his life could have done to purify the political and social atmosphere of California. On the day following the murder, a Vigilance Committee was organized, and an Executive Committee, consisting chiefly of those who had managed the first Vigilance Committee in 1851, was chosen as the practical ruler of the city. It was supported by a band of three thousand men, distributed in companies, armed, officered and well drilled. For two months and a half the Executive Committee remained in office, exercising its power with marked judgment and moderation. Four men were hung, many more were banished, and the city was purged. Having accomplished its work the Committee disbanded, but its members and sympathizers secured control of the munic.i.p.al government through the ordinary legal channels, and for twenty years administered the affairs of the city with honesty and economy.

The task in 1851 had been mainly to rid the city of Australian convicts; in 1856 it was to correct the political abuses introduced by professional politicians from the East, especially from New York; and in each case the task was successfully accomplished, without unnecessary bloodshed, and even with mercy.

Nor was Casey's end without pathos, and even dignity. On the scaffold he was thinking not of himself, but of the old mother whom he had left in New York. "Gentlemen," he said, "I stand before you as a man about to come into the presence of G.o.d, and I declare before Him that I am no murderer!

I have an aged mother whom I wish not to hear that I am guilty of murder.

I am not. My early education taught me to repay an injury, and I have done nothing more. The 'Alta California,' 'Chronicle,' 'Globe,' and other papers in the city connect my name with murder and a.s.sa.s.sination. I am no murderer. Let no newspaper in its weekly or monthly editions dare publish to the world that I am one. Let it not get to the ears of my mother that I am. O G.o.d, I appeal for mercy for my past sins, which are many. O Lord Jesus, unto thee I resign my spirit. O mother, mother, mother!"

The sinking of the steamer, "Central America," off the coast of Georgia, in 1857, is an event now almost forgotten, and yet it deserves to be remembered forever. The steamer was on her way from Aspinwall to New York, with pa.s.sengers and gold from San Francisco, when she sprang a leak and began to sink. The women and children, fifty-three in all, were taken off to a small brig which happened to come in sight, leaving on board, without boats or rafts, five hundred men, all of whom went down, and of whom all but eighty were drowned. Though many were armed, and nearly all were rough in appearance, they were content that the women and children should be saved first; and if here and there a grumble was heard, it received little encouragement. Never did so many men face death near at hand more quietly or decorously.[45]

And yet the critic tells us about the "perverse romanticism" of Mr. Bret Harte's California tales!

One incident more, and this brief record of California heroism, which might be extended indefinitely, shall close. Charles Fairfax, the tenth Baron of that name,[46] whose family have lived for many years in Virginia, was attacked without warning by a cowardly a.s.sa.s.sin, named Lee.

This man stabbed Fairfax twice, and he was raising his arm for a third thrust when his victim covered him with a pistol. Lee, seeing the pistol, dropped his knife, stepped back, and threw up his hands, exclaiming, "I am unarmed!"

"Shoot the d.a.m.ned scoundrel!" cried a friend of Fairfax who stood by.

Fairfax, holding the pistol, with the blood streaming from his wounds, said: "You are an a.s.sa.s.sin! You have murdered me! Your life is in my hands!" And then, after a moment, gazing on him, he added, "But for the sake of your poor sick wife and of your children, I will spare you." He then unc.o.c.ked the pistol, and fell fainting in the arms of his friend.

All California rang with the n.o.bility of the deed.

CHAPTER VII

PIONEER LAW AND LAWLESSNESS

California certainly contained what Borthwick describes as "the elite of the most desperate and consummate scoundrels from every part of the world"; but they were in a very small minority, and the rather common idea that the miners were a ma.s.s of brutal and ignorant men is a wild misconception. An English writer once remarked, somewhat hysterically, "Bret Harte had to deal with countries and communities of an almost unexampled laxity, a laxity pa.s.sing the laxity of savages, the laxity of civilized men grown savage."

Far more accurate is the observation of that eminent critic, Mr.

Watts-Dunton: "Bret Harte's characters are amenable to no laws except the improvised laws of the camp, and the final arbiter is either the six-shooter or the rope of Judge Lynch. And yet underlying this apparent lawlessness there is that deep law-abiding-ness which the late Grant Allen despised as being the Anglo-Saxon characteristic."

The almost spontaneous manner in which mining laws came into existence, and the ready obedience which the miners yielded to them, show how correct is the view taken by Mr. Watts-Dunton. What const.i.tuted ownership of a claim; how it must be proved; how many square feet a claim might include; how long and by what means t.i.tle to a claim could be preserved without working it; when a "find" should become the property of the individual discoverer, and when it should accrue to the partnership of which he was a member,--all these matters and many more were regulated by a code quickly formed, and universally respected. Thus a lump of gold weighing half an ounce or more, if observed before it was thrown into the cradle, belonged to the finder, and not to the partnership.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SACRAMENTO CITY IN 1852]

In the main, mining rules were the same throughout the State, but they varied somewhat according to the peculiar circ.u.mstances of each "diggings"; and the custom was for the miners to hold a meeting, when they became sufficiently numerous at any point, and make such laws as they deemed expedient. If any controversy arose under them it was settled by the Alcalde.

In respect to this office, again, the miners showed the same instinct for law and order, and the same practical readiness to make use of such means as were at hand.[47] The Alcalde (Al Cadi) was originally a Spanish official, corresponding in many respects with our Justice of the Peace.

But in the mining camps, the Alcalde, usually an American, was often given, by a kind of tacit agreement, very full, almost despotic powers, combining the authority of a Magistrate with that of a Selectman and Chief of Police.

The first Alcalde of Marysville was the young lawyer already mentioned, Stephen J. Field, and he administered affairs with such firmness that the town, although harboring many desperate persons,--this was in 1850,--gamblers, thieves and cut-throats, was as orderly as a New England village. He caused the streets and sidewalks to be kept clean and in repair; he employed men to grade the banks of the river so as to facilitate landing, and he did many other things for the good of the community, but really with no authority except that of common consent.

Sitting as a judge, he did not hesitate to sentence some criminals to be flogged. There was no law for it; but it was the only punishment that was both adequate and practicable, for the town contained no prison or "lock-up."

And yet, so far as was possible, Alcalde Field observed the ancient forms with true Anglo-Saxon scrupulosity. "In civil cases," he relates, "I always called a jury if the parties desired one; and in criminal cases when the offence was of a high grade I went through the form of calling a grand jury, and having an indictment found; and in all cases I appointed an attorney to represent the people, and also one to represent the accused, when that was necessary."

Spanish and Mexicans, as well as Americans, reaped the benefit of the change in government. Property, real estate especially, rose in value at once, and justice was administered as it never had been administered before. An entry in the diary of the Reverend Walter Colton, Chaplain in the United States Navy, and Alcalde of Monterey, whose book has already been cited, runs as follows:--

"_September 4, 1849._ I empanelled to-day the first jury ever summoned in California. One third were Californians, one third Mexicans, one third Americans. The trial was conducted in three languages and lasted six hours. The result was very satisfactory. The inhabitants who witnessed the trial said it was what they liked,--that there could be no bribery in it,--that the opinion of twelve honest men should set the case forever at rest. And so it did.... If there is anything on earth for which I would die, beside religion, it is the right of trial by jury."

At first no one quite knew what laws were in force in California. The territory became a part of the United States by means of the treaty with Mexico which was proclaimed on July 4, 1848, but California was not admitted as a State until 1850, and in the mean time it was a question whether the laws of Mexico still prevailed, or the common law, or what. In this situation the Alcaldes usually fell back upon common sense and the laws of the State from which they happened to come.

Others had recourse to an older dispensation. Thus, on one occasion the Alcalde of Santa Cruz had before him a man who was found guilty of shaving the hair from the tail of a fine American horse, and the sentence of the court was that the criminal should have his own head shaved. The young attorney who represented the defendant thereupon sprang to his feet, and, with great indignation, demanded to be told what law or authority there was for so unusual a punishment. "I base that judgment," said the Alcalde with solemnity, "on the oldest law in the world, on the law of Moses. Go home, young man, and read your Bible."

In another case a Spaniard was suing for a divorce from his wife on the ground of infidelity; but the Alcalde, an American, refused it, inasmuch as the man was unable to swear that he had been faithful himself. "Is that United States law?" asked the suitor in nave amazement. "I don't know about that," replied the Alcalde; "but it is the law by which I am governed,--the law of the Bible, and a good law too."

The Alcalde of Placerville very properly refused to marry a certain man and woman, because the woman was already married to a man who had been absent for three months. But another Alcalde who happened to be present intervened. "Any man in California," he declared, "who has a wife, and so fine looking a wife as I see here before me, and who remains absent from her for three months, must be insane, Mr. Alcalde, or dead; and in either case the lady is free to marry again. I am Alcalde of Santa Cruz, and will with great pleasure make you man and wife. Step forward, madam, step forward; I feel sure you will get through this trying occasion without fainting, if you make the effort, and do not give way to your natural shyness. Step forward, my dear sir, by the side of your blushing bride, and I will make you a happy man."

One other case that was tried in an Alcalde's court is so ill.u.s.trative of California life that the Reader will perhaps pardon its insertion at length.

"Bill Liddle, conductor of a mule train of eight large American mules, had just started from Sacramento for a mining camp far in the interior. He was obliged to pa.s.s a dangerous trail about two miles long, cut in the side of a steep cliff overhanging the river. The trail was only wide enough for a loaded mule to walk on. In the lead was 'Old Kate,' a heavy, square-built, bay mule. Bill always said that she understood English, and he always spoke to her as if that were the fact, and we were often forced to laugh at the wonderful intelligence she showed in understanding and obeying him.

Sometimes she broke into the stable, unlatching the door, went to the bin where the barley was kept in sacks, raised the cover, took out a sack, set it up on one end, ripped the sewing as neatly as Bill could, and then helped herself to the contents. On such occasions Bill would shake his head, and exclaim, 'I wonder who Kate is! Oh, I wish I knew, for of course she is some famous woman condemned to live on earth as a mule!'

"The train had advanced about a quarter of a mile on the trail just described, Bill riding behind, when he was startled by hearing a loud bray from Kate, and all the mules stopped. Ahead was a return train of fifteen Californian mules, approaching on a jog trot. The two trains could not pa.s.s, and there was not s.p.a.ce for Bill's large and loaded mules to turn around. Bill raised himself in his saddle and furiously called on the other conductor to stop. He did so, but refused to turn his mules around, although Bill explained to him the necessity. At last, after much talk, the other conductor started up his mules, shouting and cracking his whip and urging them on. Meanwhile Old Kate stood in the centre of the trail, her fore-legs well apart, her nose dropped lower than usual, and her long, heavy ears thrown forward as if aimed at the head mule of the other train, while her large bright eyes were fixed on his motions. Seeing the danger, Bill called out, 'Kate, old girl, go for them; pitch them all, and the driver with them, to h.e.l.l!' Thereupon Kate gave an unearthly bray, dropped on her knees with her head stretched out close along the rocks, her neck and lower jaw rubbing the trail, and received the leading mule across her neck. In a second more that mule was thrown into the air, and fell into the river far below.

"Two or three times the conductor of the other train made a similar attempt, urging his mules forward, and did not stop until five of his mules had gone into the river. Then he said, 'Well, I will go back, but when we get out of this trail you and I will settle accounts.' Bill drew his revolver and his knife, made sure that they were all right, and as soon as they emerged from the cliff rode up to the other conductor with his revolver in his hand, and said, 'Shall we settle this business here, or shall we go before the Alcalde of the next diggings?' The man looked at him for a moment in silence, and then said, 'd.a.m.n me if you don't look like that she-devil of a mule of yours that threw my mules down the cliff.

Are you and she any blood relation that you know of?' Not at all offended, Bill answered, 'I can't say positively that we are, but one thing I can say: I would rather be full brother to a mule that would act as Kate did to-day, than a forty-second cousin to a man that would act as you did.'

'Well,' said the other, 'put up your revolver, and let us settle matters before the Alcalde.'

"The mule-drivers found the Alcalde working in the bottom of a shaft which he was sinking. They asked him to come up, but he said that was unnecessary, as he could hear and settle the case where he was.

Accordingly, he turned a bucket upside down, sat down on it, and lit a cigar, leaning his back against the wall of the shaft. The two conductors then kissed a Bible which the Alcalde had sent for, and swore to tell the truth; and they gave their testimony from the top of the shaft, the driver of the unloaded mules asking for six hundred dollars damages, five hundred dollars for his mules and one hundred dollars for the pack saddles lost with them. When they had finished, the Alcalde said, 'I know the trail well, and I find for the defendant, and order the plaintiff to pay the costs of court, which are only one ounce.' Thereupon the Alcalde arose, turned up his bucket and began to shovel the earth into it. As he worked on, he told the plaintiff to go to the store kept by one Meyer not far off, and weigh out the ounce of dust and leave it there for him. This was done without hesitation. Bill went along, treated the plaintiff to a drink, and paid for a bottle of the best brandy that Meyer had, to be given in the evening to the Alcalde and his partner as they returned from work."[48]

California magistrates were somewhat informal for several years. On one occasion, during a long argument by counsel, the Alcalde interrupted with the remark that the point in question was a difficult one, and he would like to consult an authority; whereupon, the clerk, understanding what was meant, produced a demijohn and gla.s.ses from a receptacle beneath the bench, and judge and counsel refreshed themselves. A characteristic story is told of Judge Searls, a San Francisco magistrate who had several times fined for contempt of court a lawyer named Francis J. Dunn. Dunn was a very able but dissipated and eccentric man, and apt to be late, and on one such occasion the judge fined him fifty dollars. "I did not know that I was late, your Honor," said Mr. Dunn, with mock contrition; "I have no watch, and I shall never be able to get one if I have to pay the fines which your Honor imposes upon me." Then, after a pause of reflection, he looked up and said: "Will your Honor _lend_ me fifty dollars so that I can pay this last fine?" "Mr. Clerk," said the judge, leaning over the bench, "remit that fine: the State can afford to lose the money better than I can."

But informality is not inconsistent with justice. The Pioneers did not like to have men, though they were judges, take themselves too seriously; but the great majority of them were law-abiding, intelligent, industrious and kind-hearted. It was, as has been said already, a picked and sifted population. The number of professional men and of well-educated men was extraordinary. They were a magnanimous people. As the Reverend Dr.

Bushnell remarked, "With all the violence and savage wrongs and dark vices that have heretofore abounded among the Pioneers, they seldom do a mean thing."

An example of this magnanimity was the action of California in regard to the State debt amounting to five million dollars. It was illegal, having been contracted in violation of the State Const.i.tution, and the money had been spent chiefly in enriching those corrupt politicians and their friends who obtained possession of the California government in the first years. But the Pioneers were too generous and too proud of the good name of their State to stand upon their legal rights. They were as anxious to pay this unjust debt as Pennsylvania and Mississippi had been in former years to repudiate their just debts. The matter was put to popular vote, and the bonds were paid.

Stephen J. Field remarked in his old age, "I shall never forget the n.o.ble and generous people that I found in California, in all ranks of life."

Another Pioneer, Dr. J. D. B. Stillman, wrote, "There are more intelligence and generous good feeling here than in any other country that I have ever seen."[49] "The finest body of men ever gathered together in the world's history," is the declaration of another Pioneer,[50] and even this extreme statement is borne out by the contemporary records.

That there was a minority equally remarkable for its bad qualities, is also unquestionable. Moreover, many men who at home would have been cla.s.sed as good citizens gave way in California to their avarice or other bad pa.s.sions. Whatever depravity there was in a man's heart showed itself without fear and without restraint. The very Pioneer, Dr. Stillman, who has just been quoted to the effect that California had, on the whole, the best population in the world, gives us also the other side of the picture: "Last night I saw a man lying on the wet ground, unknown, unconscious, uncared for, and dying. Money is the all-absorbing object. There are men who would hang their heads at home at the mention of their heartless avarice. What can be expected from strangers when a man's own friends abandon him because he sickens and becomes an enc.u.mbrance!"