retired from practice and went to Europe. My brother Hall’s motto was, “Ten millions or nothing.” He made himself, to my certain knowledge, two comfortable fortunes. Grand speculations to double my father’s fortune very soon made inroads in it, and the dear old gentleman to save a remnant returned to this country. As he expressed himself to me, “California must have a Circuit Judge of the United States. I will get our Democratic Congress to pass a bill to this effect, and will myself return to California as its United States Circuit Judge. I do not care to return to the practice of law when I reach San Francisco, where, I expect to find that, like the ‘fruit of the Dead Sea,’ my little competency will turn into ashes at the touch. Being on the Bench, I shall at least have a support”; all of which he carried out to the letter, and he died devoted to the people of the State of California.
Imagine me then, a well-fed man, with always an appreciative appetite, learning, on my arrival in San Francisco, that eggs, without which I could not breakfast, cost $2 apiece, a fowl $8, a turkey $16. One week’s mess bill for my breakfast and dinner alone was $225, and one visit to my doctor cost me $50. Gloom settled upon me, until my noble parent requested me to bring back to the office our first retainer (for I was then a member of my father and brother’s law firm). It was $4000 in gold ounces. I put it in a bag and lugged it to the office, and as I laid them ounce by ounce on my father’s desk, he danced a pirouette, for he was as jolly an old fellow as ever lived. I went to work at once in earnest; it struck me that in that country it was “root, pig, or die.”
My first purchase was a desk, which combined the qualities of bed and desk. How well I remember the rats playing hide-and-seek over me at night, and over the large barrel of English Brown Stout that I invested in and placed in the entry to console myself with. After six months’ hard work, I began to ease up, and feel rich. I built a small house for myself, the front entry 4 × 4, the back entry the same, one dining-room 12 × 14, and one bedroom, same dimensions. My furniture, just from Paris, was acajou and white and blue horsehair. My bed-quilt cost me $250; it was a lovely Chinese floss silk shawl. An Indian chief, calling to see me, found me in bed, and was so delighted with the blankets that he seized hold of them and exclaimed, “Quanto pesos?” (How much did they cost?)
My first row as a householder was with my neighbor, a Texan. I found my yard fence, if put up, would close up the windows and front door of his house. We had an interview. He, with strong adjectives, assured me that he would blow out my brains if I put up that fence. I asked him in reply, where he kept his private burying ground. All men then went armed day and night. For two years I slept with a revolver under my pillow. With a strong force of men the next day, I put up the fence, and the Texan moved out and sold his lot. As our firm was then making $100,000 a year, our senior partner, my father, asked me to entertain, for the firm, our distinguished European clients, as he himself had not the time to do so. His injunction to me was, “Be sure, my boy, that you always invite nice people.” I had heard that my dear old father had on more than one occasion gotten off a witticism on me as follows: Being told how well his son kept house, he replied, “Yes, he keeps everything but the Ten Commandments,” so I assured him if he would honor me with his presence I would have to meet him every respectable woman in the city, and I kept my word. Before we reached the turkey, my guests had so thoroughly dined that when it appeared, the handsomest woman in the room heaved a deep sigh and exclaimed, “Oh, that I might have some of it for lunch to-morrow!” Such dinners as I then gave, I have never seen surpassed anywhere. It is needless to say that my father was intensely gratified. We had, tempted by exaggerated accounts of the gold fields, French cooks who received $6000 a year as salary. The turkey, costly as it was at $16, always came on table with its feathered tail intact, and as eggs were so expensive, omelette soufflée was always the dish at dessert. Two years was the length of my stay in San Francisco.
On reaching New York in 1852, from California, I found great objection made to my return there as a married man, and gracefully yielded to circumstances. Though loath to give up my profession of the law, I was forced to make this sacrifice; so the moment I concluded to give up California and the legal profession, not wishing to be idle, I went to Washington and applied to the President for the position of Secretary of Legation in England. The Georgia, South Carolina, Virginia, and California delegations urged me for this appointment; Mr. Buchanan was going to England as Minister. He was a warm friend of my father’s, and, when approached, expressed not only willingness but gratification at having the son of an old friend as his Secretary of Legation, and I was to have had the position. But just at this time, my father, who had returned from Europe, wished to obtain from President Pierce the appointment of Circuit Judge of the United States for the State of California. He came to me and stated the case as follows: “My boy,” he said, “the President says he cannot give two appointments to one family. If you go to England as Buchanan’s Secretary, President Pierce cannot make me Circuit Judge of California.” “Enough said,” I replied, “I yield with pleasure. I will go abroad, but not in the diplomatic service.” Passing the winter in Washington, I soon learned how to ingratiate myself with the law-makers of our country. Good dinners and wine were always effective. And as I had the friendship of the California, New York and Southern delegations, I was dining out all the time, invited by one man or other who had an axe to grind. On these occasions, there was always a room prepared to receive a guest who had indulged too freely in strong waters. Men then drank in good earnest, a striking contrast to the days in which we now live, when really, at dinner, people only taste wine, but do not drink it. I was then placed on the Committee of Management for the Inaugural Ball, and did good service and learned much from my Washington winter.
An amusing incident I must here relate. Quietly breakfasting and chatting with a beautiful woman, then a bride, who had lived for years in Washington as a widow, she asked me if I was going to Corcoran’s ball that evening, and on my replying, “Yes, of course I was,” she requested me to accompany her husband and self, which I did. On entering Mr. Corcoran’s ball room with her on my arm, I noticed that the old gentleman bowed very stiffly to us; however, I paid no attention to this and went on dancing, and escorting through the rooms my fair partner, from whom I had no sooner been separated than my host slapped me on the shoulder with, “My dear young man, I know you did not know it, but the lady you have just had on your arm is not only not a guest of mine, but this morning I positively refused to send her an invitation to this ball.” Fortunately I had brought letters to this distinguished man, so seeing my annoyance, he patted me on the shoulder and said, “My boy, this is not an unusual occurrence in this city; but let it be a warning to you to take care hereafter whom you bring to a friend’s house.”
INTRODUCTION TO LONDON SPORTS.
CHAPTER III.
Introduction to London Sports—A Dog Fight in the Suburbs—Sporting Ladies—The Drawing of the Badger—My Host gets Gloriously Drunk—Visit to Her Majesty’s Kitchen—Dinner with the Chef of Windsor Castle—I taste Mantilla Sherry for the First Time—“A Shilling to Pay for the ‘Times.’”
After my marriage I took up my residence in Newport, buying a farm on Narragansett Bay and turning farmer in good earnest. I planted out 10,000 trees on that farm and then went to Europe to let them grow, expecting a forest on my return, but I found only one of them struggling for existence three years later. In London, I met a Californian, in with all the sporting world, on intimate terms with the champion prize-fighter of England, the Queen’s pages, Tattersall’s and others. He suggested that if I would defray the expense, he would show me London as no American had ever seen it. Agreeing to do this, I was taken to a swell tailor in Regent Street, to put me, as he expressed it, “in proper rig.” My first introduction to London life was dining out in the suburbs to see a dog-fight, and sup at
