A Flight in Spring Part 6

Of course we saw Chinatown. We emerged from the Palace Hotel well on in the night, and did not return until almost a naughty hour in the morning; but we all felt well repaid for our trip. I think, though, really, the best part of it was the feeling of possible danger in the sights before us; and the spooky appearance of the dark, narrow streets, into which the moonbeams dropped, revealing to our excited gaze, gliding or stationary and wretched-looking Chinese, on every hand. Our guide was a strange specimen, a short, thickset man with a queer Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, and an Irish name, like Duffy or McCarthy, I forget which. It was droll beyond measure, to hear his description of the joss-house given in a sing-song, full of ludicrous blunders and clipped words. But despite of the comic in our guide, the joss-house itself was solemn enough, and provocative of thought. It was strange to see altar before altar, all covered with vases and lamps alight, and all manner of bronze bowls and incense burners. It was all so weirdly like what one sees in many Christian churches, and yet with a difference, for the dragons and monster forms were so strangely gruesome and grotesque, that it gave one almost an uncomfortable feeling. What did it all mean? Were we at times unconsciously heathen in our cults, or are they at times unconsciously Christian? The whole difficulty was summed up in one monosyllable, which escaped from a brother clergyman's lips standing near me, and that one word was an astonished and emphatic "Well!!!"

We are soon aroused from our reverie by the strident tones of our guide, who, taking his stand near a large stove in one corner, exclaims: "Now, ladies and gemmen, y' would s'pose that dis yere stove was for heating this buildin', but it ain't no such thing. 'Tis for sending things to dead Chinamen. They puts 'em on papers and burns 'em here, and then they thinks they have 'em." Again he would show us the acc.u.mulated ashes in the incense bowls, and tell us that it was kept to put under the bodies of the "dead corpses;" and so on, and so on, until you scarcely knew whether he himself knew or not what he was talking about. During all this harangue, a pale-faced celestial was seated behind a sort of counter in one corner, with a countenance bereft of all expression, except the suspicion thereon of a highbred scorn for us all, as a gaping crowd being led about among things of which none of us knew anything. This custodian, or priest, whatever he might have been, had a kind of jaunty cap on his head, and was comfortably smoking, in the most earthly manner, a well-flavored cigarette. We bought from him some joss-sticks as a peace offering, at double prices, and in a grand manner he bowed us out.

I had asked the guide to draw it mild in his exhibitions, and to omit all places, so to speak, off color. This he did. We saw a few restaurants, and a Chinese drug store, where we purchased some strange medicines which looked more _outre_ and picturesque in their material, than in any promise of possible effectiveness in their use. Among these was a dried toad neatly spread out upon wooden splints. This, we were a.s.sured, if boiled into a soup, was an infallible remedy for leanness.

Soup we knew was said to be fattening, but he who would drink such a concoction as this dried skin would promise, must be deeply enamored of obesity.

We also saw an opium den. This was horrible enough; but the smoker on exhibition was not so horrible to me as the still, silent figures, stowed away on bunks, in the loathsome darkness of the place. The "John," who was conveniently placed in a lighted place near the entrance, lay p.r.o.ne on the hard boards of his cubicle, bent flat on his side like the letter w, clutching his long, villanous-looking pipe in his hands. Near him was a cat, which we were a.s.sured also had contracted "the habit;" not that it too hit the pipe, but that it rejoiced in the heavy atmosphere. The impa.s.sive smoker, however, burst into a fit of most intense and humorous laughter, when one of us made an attempt to p.r.o.nounce some Chinese phrase which he was repeating for us. "Now," said our guide, "he is going to take the long draw." By this time the bit of opium was cooked sufficiently at the cocoanut-oil lamp, and with cheeks distended and eyes closed he sucked in the smoke, and exhaled it in a few moments in a large cloud. I had a lighted cigar in my own hands, and I could not but think that two kindred vices here confronted each other face to face, and my conscience was a bit disturbed; but at once rea.s.surance came to me in a sweet female voice, for one of our ladies said, "Oh, do smoke your cigar; the odor of it is so refreshing in this dreadful place." All over the bunks and floor were crawling black insects, large and small. The guide seeing me shrinking from them said, "Never mind them, they never leave here." By this time we were glad to depart and get into the purer air of the moonlit night.

We walked back to our hotel, pa.s.sing by balconies lit with Chinese lanterns, restaurants aglow with lights, and numerous Chinese club houses where the celestials, by cooperation, evade certain prohibitory enactments, and in the privacy of their a.s.sociations, enjoy all their celestial delights.

We also visited a manufacturing jeweller's shop where a lot of goldsmiths were at work. The whole place had on it the mark of utter simplicity. The instruments of the craft were primitive, almost rude, in appearance. Each man was seated before his portion of the work bench, or at a small table, in the narrowest possible s.p.a.ce. An open dish containing some nut oil, and a bunch of vegetable fibre for wick, aflame at one end in a tiny light, this, a blowpipe, a few little files, and some lumps of wax was all; but behind this was a patient yellow man, capable of quick motion, but never of ign.o.ble hurry, to whom the present moment was an eternity of time and opportunity, of which he felt that himself, and all his work, were essential parts.

But, to our infinite amus.e.m.e.nt, behind all this was a busy little Chinese woman, who flitted from man to man and bench to bench, criticising, blaming, encouraging, and urging on everybody, with a tongue that never ceased, and eyes and motions as alert and rapid as a humming-bird. Her bright little eyes, her unceasing movement, her evident control of all, was absolutely exhilarating. Woman rules everywhere, or could, if she only would.

I must not omit the mention of a glorious trip out across the harbor, to a watering place full of villa residences, nestled at the water's edge, close under the towering mountains which encompa.s.s the whole great expanse. The coloring of the place, the forms of the mountains, and the tints upon the water, all suggest the Mediterranean and other foreign sh.o.r.es.

In the fragments of the days left us in San Francisco, most agreeable hours were spent in stores where Chinese and j.a.panese goods, in great profusion and splendid taste, were freely open to our view.

An agreeable treat was also given me in a visit to the Bohemian Club, where, through an introduction from a New York friend, I met some delightful and hospitable men. In the club were some capital pictures produced by California artists; among them, a great small painting of the redwoods seen at night, with a camp-fire in the foreground, most Rembrandt-like in effect. Another was full of sunshine and life. It was a group of boys undressing in the blue shade between two yellow sand dunes by the sea; while out in the ocean surf beyond, in the full light, were two or three, already in, having the full frolic of their free pleasure in the blue waters of the Pacific.

But we had yet to see other places, and soon San Francisco was left behind.

XIV

Departure for San Jose.--Palo Alto.--Advertiser.--Leland Stanford, Jr., University.

Our next point after leaving San Francisco was San Jose. On our flight thither, we stopped off for some four hours at Palo Alto, and took a lovely ride through the gorgeous Leland Stanford estate, and also some others; taking in besides, the wonderful Leland Stanford, Jr., University. It was all, it is true, but a glimpse, but a glorious one.

Are not our best impressions often but the result of supreme moments!

We see and feel in such moments, with an intenseness, which gives us our best conceptions and our most cherished memories. If we approach a scene with the imagination all wrought up, we are often apt to be disappointed; for, there is that in the ideal of all minds which never can be realized. But, as if to make up for this condition of our being, nature and art, each alike, sometimes come upon us unawares, with such unexpected beauty, that our ideal is accomplished for us, and even more than realized, before we know it. Then we submit ourselves to our surprise, and are satisfied.

Somewhat in this mood Palo Alto broke upon us. There were the rich lands in high cultivation, the spreading trees of various kinds, the vineyards, the olive yards, the orchards, the s.p.a.cious houses, the glowing gardens all abloom. The whole was a rich combination gratifying every sense.

We saw in one of the gardens a beautiful piece of Greek art brought from Pompeii, a portion of a graceful curved peristyle of marble, once white and glistening, but now a rich fawn color, the result of time stretching back to the beginning of the Christian era or beyond. Every line of the fluting on the columns, and the carving on architrave and capital, was fresh as if of yesterday. It stood there like a dream of the far past, made visible to us here to-day, in a garden of roses in this enchanting West.

Another object also interested us. It was a superb living thing which might have served as a model for the sculptor of the Parthenon frieze.

It was the great blooded horse "Advertiser," for which some fabulous sum had been offered and refused. I forget who owned the creature, or what the sum was which was thus offered. It matters not. I remember only the graceful stallion led out from his stall for us to look at him. His glossy coat, his perfect form, his n.o.ble att.i.tude, his fiery eye, his strange look of intelligence--all these spoke of the art of Athens and the Greeks. The life and force, which could carve such a creature in marble, seemed to have place also in the superb living creature himself. I was struck particularly by his n.o.ble bearing, by the contour of his head, and also by a peculiar length of the upper lip, having a kind of quivering, prehensile property, not often seen in such animals. When he was led back into his stall, it seemed to me, that we sightseers, should have apologized to him for our intrusion.

We also saw in our short stay the famous Leland Stanford, Jr., University. The first sight of the structure is rather disappointing.

Its low elevation on the broad plain on which it stands, and a huge chimney for heating and engine purposes rising above it, give the whole place the aspect of a machine shop or railroad works; but on closer approach this impression vanishes. Then the spirit of the architect is understood. He had ample s.p.a.ce for his design, and so he laid out a vast, cloistered parallelogram of one story in height, all built of a warm-tinted yellowish stone, giving the richest shadows of blue and purple.

It was a delight to gaze down the perspective of these enclosing aisles, and then from the arches to look out on the fountains playing in the sunshine, to see the richness of flowers and trees and shrubs, all overarched by a sky of blue without a fleck of cloud.

How different it all seemed to the quads of Oxford, or the backs of Cambridge, where the yew, the beech, and the ivy give a sombre tone of the past, with which the weather-worn buildings and the clouded skies well accord; while the ever-verdant turf under foot, gives all a touch of a constant life that is ever new.

Here all was different. The court was asphalted, the flowers were as if in baskets, the trees were the product of untiring care. It was all the result of energy and art conquering nature and chaining it down to a definite work.

The whole University speaks of this forceful energy. It is the result of fortune ama.s.sed by untiring purpose and sleepless activity; but all the intense activity which it symbolizes has on it the touch of a tragedy, which lifts itself and its conception, into a far higher sphere than ordinary things. It is the crystallization of affections which shine out from grieved hearts. It is the memorial of an only son taken from boundless fortune and all that earth could promise--taken in the first flush of his beautiful manhood, from parents, whose whole life was centred in his being.

There is a touching pathos in the picture of this youth, as it looks down from the walls of the library, on the group of young students, men and women, gathered there to reap the benefit of the inst.i.tution which his fortune sustains, and ever will sustain. He was the sole heir to vast estates, to many commercial interests, to great enterprises. All that was his, is now devoted to the uses of those who teach and are taught, in the Leland Stanford, Jr., University.

One leaves the place with regret. One turns back longingly to take a last look at its quaint Spanish architecture, and one treasures up the memories of it all with greatest pleasure. One remembers the quiet of the marble mausoleum in the woods, where father and son rest side by side, waiting for the completion of the family group beyond the tomb.

One also calls to mind the beautiful museum which our time would only allow us to glance at; and also, the many picturesque homes springing up all about the University, the whole leaving an impression upon us which cannot soon be forgotten.

Our four hours in the luxuriant surroundings of Palo Alto and the University, every moment filled in with busy sightseeing, caused us to enjoy the rest of our further railroad ride to San Jose.

XV

Through Santa Clara Valley.--Arrival at San Jose.--Old Friends.-- Semi-tropical Climate.--An Excursion to the Stars.--The Lick Observatory.--Our Journey There.--Sunset on the Summit.--With the Great Telescope.--The Tomb of James Lick.--The Midnight Ride Down the Mountain.

After leaving Palo Alto, our journey revealed to us an ideal Californian landscape. We pa.s.sed through the lovely Santa Clara Valley.

Rich cultivation met our eye on every side, interspersed with fine forest trees, all hemmed in by the ranges of the surrounding mountains.

These vast ma.s.ses enclosed the whole view with their ever-varying outlines, soft and purple in the distance, while the foreground of orchards, with their rich herbage, was all of the deepest green. It was a picture to take away with one as, indeed, that of a happy valley. But in this connection the word valley must not be construed in any limited sense. It was a vast champaign of almost boundless extent, which the fairy-like coloring of the mountains, softened by their great distance, enclosed, as it were, with banks of unmoving clouds. Through this delightful country we sped on rapidly, until at the evening hour, we reached San Jose, and once more, came to our night anchorage in the station.

We had had a full day of it, and, as if by mutual consent, we separated into various groups to wander at will through the strange streets of the pretty place. It was pleasant to look at the rose-covered cottages and the well-kept lawns, seen by the glitter of the electric light; as also it was pleasant to stroll through the busy streets with the shops all aglow, and the people lounging about in happy leisure.

I wandered off, all alone, to hunt up some friends who had moved to San Jose from distant Illinois, years and years ago. I found the street and number in a drug-store directory, and strolled on and on under the deep shadows of the overarching trees, losing myself once or twice, but after some inquiry, I was soon piloted to the place and rang the bell.

There is always a little trepidation in such an adventure. Will one be remembered? Will the friends be much changed? Will one be welcome? But soon all doubts vanished when my good friend, Mrs. G----, stood in the doorway, lamp in hand. Yes, she was changed; but the years had made her look more and more like her dear mother, whose face I could never forget. Instantly my name was spoken and I was at home. The whole house was rather topsy-turvy; carpets all up, and everything in that state of desolation which house cleaning involves. But what did that matter? We had a long and good talk over all the past. I was told how, when they came to San Jose in the early days, they had first to go to New York, then take a steamer to the Isthmus, to cross that, and then once more embark on the Pacific for San Francisco, and from thence come here by team. I was shown the pictures of the five lovely girls and the boy, a man grown--all Californians--and I saw that happiness and prosperity, which rejoiced me much, had come to these my friends.

The evening hours lengthened out while our chat went on, until I had to retrace my steps once more under the overarching trees to the "Lucania," after promising that I should dine with the family on the coming Sunday. This I did, and saw them all, and enjoyed the hour to the fullest. The Chinese man-servant, cook and butler in one, was noiseless perfection in his attendance, and the works of his art which he placed before us, were well worthy of our attention; while California claret, of tenderest texture, helped to whet our appet.i.tes and loosen our tongues.

But we must return to the Sat.u.r.day which intervened before that dinner.

The morning was spent in a drive through the town--through the garden would better describe it, for it was all a garden, with rose-embowered roofs or stately mansions framed in by towering palms and stately growths of other graceful trees. It is strange to see the effect which this semi-tropical climate produces on familiar plants. The sweet geranium towers up until it becomes almost a tree, covering the whole ends of houses with its perfumed leaves, and the English lavender emerges from its island modesty, and stands up on this American soil with all the self-a.s.sertion of an independent shrub. In one of the parks we saw the little English daisy, but that was the same "wee crimson-tipped flower" that it ever was. It brought tears to the eyes of some of our party, as the springs of home memories welled up within the breast. What volumes do blossoms ever speak to us! A bunch of red primroses, discovered once by chance among the myriad common yellow blooms which gladdened the woods all about us, stands out forever in our memory, as a sudden revelation of beauty--and all for us who found it--which no subsequent possession of far greater worth, has ever yet excelled.

But the friends, the flowers, the fruits, and the foliage of San Jose, charming as they all were, could not detain us. We were bound for the stars; and at noon or thereabouts, a happy party of us took pa.s.sage in a large brake, with four horses, for the Lick Observatory on Mount Hamilton. We were armed with an introduction to Professor Schaeberle, the astronomer in charge, and the electric wire had flashed also our coming, beforehand.

It was a merry party that rattled out of San Jose and looked down on the orchards on either hand as we whirled by. Our ascent was gradual at first, but soon the magnificent, winding roadway, which cost Santa Clara County nearly $100,000 to construct, took us up, and up, ever extending our view, and giving us fresh vistas of surprise, as we dashed by curves and grades which made the nervous among us more nervous still. But there was little to fear with such good drivers and well-trained animals. They knew their business, and were as careful of themselves as if we were not in existence. The ever-increasing panorama of the mountains was full of interest. The great, swelling foothills were yielding and soft-looking in their brown outline, dotted over by huge, woolly-looking, dark green live-oaks and other trees. The whole effect was like a gigantic piece of old Flemish tapestry. If some giant hors.e.m.e.n with winding horns and bounding dogs of like vast scale, and a stag with antlers touching the mountain-tops, and a castle like Walhalla were in our vision, the thing would have been the ancient tapestry, indeed, in true Californian proportions. It was all beautiful as it was, the mossy brown of the mountains, and the dark green of the trees, and over all a cloudless sky, and in our lungs the clear, pure air, full of elation and vigorous life.

Of course in such a mountain drive we changed horses frequently, and at Smith Creek we made a long halt for supper. It seemed that that much-desired meal would never arrive, and the fear that we would miss the sunset view from the summit, added to our impatience. It so happened that there was a rush of visitors that day, and we had to wait our turn while the limited domestic force in this isolated spot, renewed their labors in cooking and serving another meal.

The perfect imperturbability of our host was a thing to admire. No amount of muttered discontent moved him a particle. He did not show impatience even, when we lined up at the dining-room door; by this action, and the rush which it intimated, suggesting that we felt he might come some game upon us, and let some more favored ones in first.

When we did make the rush, and saw the well-filled tables, and saw also the patient wife and daughter, neither of them over-robust, who had to do all the work, no "help" wishing to stay up there, we almost felt ashamed of ourselves for our grumbling.

We soon got through our eating, and once more were _en route_ for the summit. We got there before sunset all right, and were received in most hospitable fashion by Professor Schaeberle, who showed us through the long halls and into the library, where transparencies and photographs of eclipses and double stars, and various other celestial phenomena charmed us, until at last it was announced that the royal presence of the sun was about to sink to its rest, in the distant west.

Then all were soon out on the grand terrace, and as we watched the great, round orb vanish from our sight, a silence fell upon us all, the cause of which it would be hard to put into words. We had seen the great mystery of life move on a point. We thought, perhaps, of the angel trumpeter, who some day will say so that all will hear, "Time shall be no more!" We thought, perhaps, of that day when we should close our eyes upon the earthly sun forever, and days for us should be at an end.

As the darkness settled down, so solemnly and grandly on the mountains, we retraced our steps to the Observatory, and followed our kind guide through its many mysteries.

We first looked through some of the smaller telescopes. In one of these, while the glow was still in the heavens, we saw Venus, the evening star, in all its beauty. The earth currents, through which we had to look, gave the glowing planet a purplish tinge and a sort of vibratory motion, which quite suggested the floating movements of the G.o.ddess, as she figures in Virgil's verse.

We saw all sorts of instruments, of the most delicate and yet simple character, for recording seismic disturbances of any kind, or, as we might call them in plainer speech, earthquakes. It is most interesting to note how a gla.s.s disk, a little lamp-black, a spring or two, a bit of clockwork, and a tracing-pen, will do the work automatically, and record the direction, the duration, and the time of any seismic disturbance at any hour of day or night. The brain which contrived all this cunning machinery, can go to rest and take its needed sleep, but the wires and traps set to catch the shakes of the old globe, are always wide awake, animated ever by the intelligence of the brain which sleeps, and can sleep in peace; for, when the brain wakes, it will find that the machine has faithfully recorded every quiver of this old, trembling world. Professor Schaeberle told me, with quiet humor, that earthquakes of some kind were always going on, but so slight that machinery alone could detect them.