THE RUINS OF SAN FRANCISCO.
Towards the close of the 19th century the city of
San Francisco was totally engulfed by an earthquake.
Although the whole coast line must have been much
shaken, the accident seems to have been purely local
and even the city of Oakland escaped. Schwappelfurt,
the celebrated German geologist, has endeavored
to explain this singular fact by suggesting that there
are some things the earth cannot swallow—a statement
that should be received with some caution, as
exceeding the latitude of ordinary geological speculation.
Historians disagree in the exact date of the calamity.
Tulu Krish, the well-known New Zealander, whose
admirable speculations on the ruins of St. Paul as
seen from London Bridge have won for him the attentive
consideration of the scientific world, fixes the
occurrence in A. D. 1880. This, supposing the city
to have been actually founded in 1850, as asserted,
would give but thirty years for it to have assumed
the size and proportions it had evidently attained
at the time of its destruction. It is not our purpose,
however, to question the conclusions of the justly
famed Maorian philosopher. Our present business
lies with the excavations that are now being prosecuted
by order of the Hawaiian Government upon
the site of the lost city.
Every one is familiar with the story of its discovery.
For many years the bay of San Francisco had been
famed for the luscious quality of its oysters. It is
stated that a dredger one day raked up a large bell,
which prove to belong to the City Hall, and led to
the discovery of the cupola of that building. The
attention of the Government was at once directed to
the spot. The bay of San Francisco was speedily
drained by a system of patent syphons, and the city,
deeply imbedded in mud, brought to light after a
burial of many centuries. The City Hall, Post Office,
Mint and Custom House were readily recognized by
the large full-fed barnacles which adhered to their
walls. Shortly afterwards the first skeleton was discovered,
that of a broker, whose position in the upper
strata of mud nearer the surface, was supposed to
be owing to the exceeding buoyancy or inflation of
scrip which he had secured about his person while
endeavoring to escape. Many skeletons, supposed to
be those of females, encompassed in that peculiar steel
coop or cage, which seems to have been worn by the
women of that period, were also found in the upper
stratum. Alexis von Puffer, in his admirable work
on San Francisco, accounts for the position of these
unfortunate creatures, by asserting that the steel cage
was originally the frame of a parachute like garment
which distended the skirt, and in the submersion of
the city prevented them from sinking. “If anything,”
says Von Puffer, “could have been wanting to add
intensity to the horrible catastrophe which took place
as the waters first entered the city, it would have
been furnished in the forcible separation of the sexes
at this trying moment. Buoyed up by their peculiar
garments, the female population instantly ascended to
to the surface. As the drowning husband turned his
eyes above, what must have been his agony as he saw
his wife shooting upward, and knew that he was debarred
the privilege of perishing with her? To the
lasting honor of the male inhabitants, be it said that
but few seem to have availed themselves of their wives'
superior levity. Only one skeleton was found still
grasping the ankles of another in their upward journey
to the surface.”
For many years California had been subject to slight
earthquakes, more or less generally felt, but not of
sufficient importance to awaken anxiety or fear. Perhaps
the absorbing nature of the San Franciscans'
pursuits of gold getting, which metal seems to have
been valuable in those days, and actually used as a
medium of currency, rendered the inhabitants reckless
of all other matters. Everything tends to show
that the calamity was totally unlooked for. We quote
the graphic language of Schwappelfurt:
“The morning of the tremendous catastrophe probably
dawned upon the usual restless crowd of gold
getters intent upon their several avocations. The
streets were filled with the expanded figures of gaily-dressed
women, acknowledging with coy glances the
respectful salutations of beaux as they gracefully
raised their remarkable cylindrical head-coverings,
a model of which is still preserved in the Honolulu
Museum. The brokers had gathered at their respective
temples. The shopmen were exhibiting their
goods. The idlers, or `Bummers'—a term applied
to designate an aristocratic, privileged class who enjoyed
immunities from labor and from whom a majority
of the rulers are chosen—were listlessly regarding
the promenaders from the street corners or the
doors of their bibulous temples. A slight premonitory
thrill runs through the city. The busy life of
this restless microcosm is arrested. The shopkeeper
pauses as he elevates the goods to bring them into a
favorable light, and the glib professional recommendation
sticks on his tongue. In the drinking saloon
the glass is checked half way to the lips; on the
streets the promenaders pause. Another thrill and
the city begins to go down a few of the more persistent
topers tossing off their liquor at the same moment.
Beyond a terrible sensation of nausea, the
crowds who now throng the streets do not realize the
extent of the catastrophe. The waters of the bay
recede at first from the centre of depression, assuming
a concave shape, the outer edge of the circle towering
many thousand feet above the city. Another
convulsion, and the water instantly resumes its level.
The city is smoothly engulfed nine thousand feet below,
and the regular swell of the Pacific calmly rolls
over it. Terrible,” says Schwappelfurt, in conclusion,
“as the calamity must have been, in direct relation
to the individuals immediately concerned therein, we
cannot but admire its artistic management; the division
of the catastrophe into three periods, the completeness
of the cataclysms and the rare combination
of sincerity of intention with felicity of execution.”
