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Joseph de Vcusttr Damien was born in Belgium, on January S, lSIfl. He was educated
in the Roman Catholic Seminar]/ at Louvain, where there exists at the present da;/ an institu
tion for the supplying of missionaries to the lepers. Father Damien went out to the island of
Nolokai, Hawaii, where he ministered to the wants of the unfortunates separated by the terri
ble disease from the rest of the inhabited world. He himself fell a victim to the disease April
6, 1559, at the age offl years.
The best-born hero that ever may be.
The very bravest in peace or in war
Since that sad night in Gethsemane—
Horns of the nioon or the five-horned star?
Why, merely a Belgian monk, and the least,
The lowliest— merely a peasant-born priest.
And how did he fight? and where did he fall?
And whom did he conquer in the name of God?
The Cross I And he conquered more souls than all
Famed captains that ever fought fire-shod.
Now, lord of the sapphire-set sea and skies,
Far under his Southern gold Cross he lies.
Far under the fire-sown path of the sun
His ashes slow gather to ashes as
His great seas chorus and his warm tides run
To dulcet and liquid soft cadences.
And, glories to come or great deeds gone,
I'd rather be he than Napoleon.
Hear this! a Hawaiian doomed leper lay,
Lay prone in the sand, cast out and alone,
The Levites passing by the other May,
Their proud hearts hardened as a hard millstone.
This priest bore water, kneeled, prayed, and tore
His robes into shreds till he bound each sore.
He rests with his lepers, for whom he died;
The lorn outcasts in their cooped-up isle,
While Slander purses her lips in pride
And proud men gather their robes and smile.
They mock at his deeds in their daily talk,
Deriding his ways in their Christian (?) walk.
But the great wide, honest, the wise, big world,
Or sapphire splendors or midnight sun,
It is asking the while that proud lips are curled,
Why do not ye as that monk hath done?
Why do not ye, if so braver than he,
Some one brave deed that the world might see?
The Heights,
Oakland, Cal., August, 1896.
The Altruist
He was a lover of humanity and had
high faith in the great destiny of the Race.
He believed that the way to lift Man is to
get down, beside him, into the pit. He
had lofty ideais as to the dignity of labor,
and of the equality of all human beings.
He longed to meet his fellows upon a per
fectly equal footing; to watcli with his
lowly, brother, eye to eye; to talk with
him. as one man to another. He used to
meet with the workingmen's clubs on
Sunday nights and address them upon the
economic fallacies of the day. On these
occasions he always appeared in working
man's garb, and it was a source of regret
toliini that his hands were not stained
with the marks of toil. He endeavored,
always, to adapt his expression to that of
tire members of the clubs, so that they
would recognize the fact that his creed
proclaimed his oneness with them. It de
lighted him to feel that he was one with
them. It was well that the gulf could be
thus bridged, since they could never be
one- with him. "lam no better than the
least of you all," was what he endeavored
to make them feel.
He was calling upon one of the boys in
an evening class which be had established.
The lad, who worked in a machine-shop,
haJ. been struck on the head by a flying
bit of broken gearing. He bad received a
nasty cut and was in a high fever. The
Altruist sat by his bedside in the little
A stuffy tenement for over an hour, bathing
*T the hot head. He rejoiced at this oppor
tunity, to bs of service to his fellow-creature.
From time to time the boy's father tiptoed
in and out of the room. He had been out
of work for some weeks and thus had time
FATHER DAMIEN
OF
HAWAII
j to look after the patient, while the mother
in the next room finished some fine laun
dry work she had got to do. There were
oniy two rooms in the tenement, and the
steam from the living-room filled the
little dark bedroom, where were two beds.
The transom giving upon the hallway was
shut, as the noise of passers on the stair
ways made the half-delirious boy restless.
Presently the wife and mother came to
the bedroom door. She looked at her hus
band, and then whispered to him. He
turned to the Altruist. "Dinner's after
bein' reddy, sorr," he said, "an' Jimmy's
kern in from worruk an' must be atin' an'
1 off agin. Mebby yell be drawin' up wid
us. sorr?' 1
The haif-invitation was extended hesi
tatingly. The Altruist, in turn, hesitated.
The mingled odors of laundry and culinary
operations were oppressive— almost repul
sive to him. But who was he, to refuse the
invitation of a fellow-being? What his
brother fared upon, daily, must his dainty
stomach refuse? Should he turn from the
proffered cheer of any human creature,
when the world was crying out for per
sonal association, the giving of one's self,
in human sympathy and companionship,
as man to man?
So he accepted the invitation, and went
with his host to the other room. Ihere
was a dish of stewed beef and potatoes on
the oilcloth covered table. This, with dry
bread, made from rye. and tea, with no
milk, constituted the meal.
The Altruist felt a generous glow of good
fellowship pervading his being. He took
the proffered chair and the proffered plate
of beef and potatoes. The latter was de
testible to him, but he ate heartily, chat
ting the while with his host and hostess.
These humble folk were his brother and
Bister. This after all was life. No one
THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, AUGUST 11, 1895.
could fully understand it until he got down
among his fellows— came in contact, as it
were, with the great, beating, suffering
heart of the people. How he sympathized
with them. He exerted himself to be en
tertaining. He talked as animatedly, as
interestingly, as he would have tried to do
at the table of his richest acquaintance.
He owed it to the humble folk to give them
of his best as fr«ely as they had given
him of theirs. He was sorry he could
not wholly remove their sense of
constraint. They sat and listened to him,
but without eating. What a pity there
should be this terrible gulf between hu
man beings; that they should be embar
rassed in his presence. Even Jimmy, the
other boy, regarded him reservedly, with
an anxious air, as he allowed himself to be
helped to the last potato, the last bit of
meat in the dish. He did not care for
these. Nor did he want another slice of
bread, nor any more of the terrible tea,
but he ate in the efforj, to make them feel
at ease, to show them that lie did not de
spise their meager fare. But he felt, as he
had never felt before, the austere clannish
ness of the poor. Even at their own table
they would not really meet him half way.
When would they learn that the chasm
between them and their more prosperous
brethren was largely of their own making?
He was relieved when at last tho food
was all consumed and they left the table.
His entertainers had eaten almost nothing.
Would they never cease to be overawed by
him? Would they never understand that
he felt himself to be only their brother?
He went back to the sick boy, but he felt
depressed and discouraged. He would
have liked to give the father some money
and retire, released of responsibility. But
he would not degrade a fellow-creature
with the proffer of mere material aid. He
had let them enjoy the higher blessing of
giving. He had broken bread with them.
He would not insult their humanity by
'the offer of charity.
But he went away disheartened. He felt
that the problem was a bitter one. His
•heart yearned to help, but he seemed help
less. He would come next day and try
'again.
But on the next day he was very ill.
The bad air, the coarse, tinaccustomed
food, the strain upon his sympathies, had
combined to produce a serious gastric at
tack, and he was confined to his bed for a
fortnight.
When he recovered he went back to visit
his friends. They had gone. The man
had been out of work, they were back in
their rent and had been obliged to seek
other quarters.
Alas ! the difficulty of maintaining these
one-sided friendships with the suspicious
poor. Why had not this man, whom he so
longed to help, turned to him for aid?
Adeline Knapp.
A PIONEER OF YOSEMITE.
Life Story of the Man Who
First Wrote of the Great
Valley.
Forty Years of Lovinar Labor In
Popularizing California's Scenic
Wonder.
There is a little log cabin in the Yosemite
Valley with which i 3 associated the story
of an interesting pioneer life. In a cluster
of towering pines, and from a distance ap
parently at the very foot of the mighty
Yosemite fall, that cabin of unhewn logs
has stood for thirty years. Since 1892 it
has served the unromantic purpose of store
house for potatoes and apples, but soon it
may be occupied again by the man who
built it. That man is J. M. Hutchings,
who for forty years, as a writer and a lec
turer, has been identified with the Yo
semite.
He came to the United States from Eng
land when a boy of 15, and when ten years
afterward California suddenly became the
goal of fortune-hunters Hutchings was
among those who crossed the plains in '49.
His mining experience was marked with
varying fortunes. But the failure of a San
Francisco bank with the loss of a large
part of his savings, at a time when he was
on the point of completing the purchase
of what are now valuable City properties,
was probably instrumental in removing
the chances of great wealth.
In 1853 when an effort was made to turn
Sunday, then the principal business day
among the miners, into a day of rest the
Placrville Herald published "The Miner's
Ten Commandments," written by Hutch
incs, and so great was their popularity
that nearly a hundred thousand copies of
them were sold in the following year.
It was not surprising then that their
author conceived the idea of publishing
the pioneer magazine of this coast
In 18.35 he began to collect material for
the first number, and in the early summer
of that year, accompanied by Thomas
Ayres as artist, he set out for the Yosemite
Valley, which a militia company of cav
alry from Mariposa had found in '51 while
in pursuit of a band of marauding Indians,
and where they reported there was "a
waterfall 1000 feet high." But no one
could be found who could give directions
how to reach the valley. None of those
who had been of the party that went there
to punish the Indians could remember the
way well enough to even venture a visit «n
their own account. •
Fortunately it was learned that a few
Yosemltes were living on the Fresno
ranch, near Hunt's store. They were the
remnants of a tribe which two years be
fore, by tne massacre of 300 of its braves,
had been almost annihilated in a midnight
attack conducted by the Monos, in revenge
for the theft of a band of horses that the
Monos themselves had stolen down near
Los Angeles. A few squaws escaped, but
the rest were carried away by the Monos.
Only eight bucks got away alive. Two of
these Hutchings and his 'two companions
secured as guides.
. They set out on foot, with one pack ani
mal and a horse to be used in case of acci
dent to one of the party. Trusting un
questioningly to the Indians to guide them
across pathless mountain meadows, over
talus-covered slopes, through what seemed
to be interminable brush and wilderness,
and across streams, they finally came in
sight of the valley on theafternoon of the
third day. After five days spent in look
ing and wondering and admiring and in
making sketches of some of the grander
features of that granite-enwalled scenic
wonder, with its towering cliffs and its
mighty waterfalls, they started back to
San Francisco, passing through Mariposa
on their way.
Then the editor, sick and short of matter
for that week's issue of the Mariposa Ga
zette, asked Mr. Hutchings to write a
description of the valley he had ju°,t
visited. It was that article, copied by all
the prominent journals of the time, that
first made the Yosemite known to the
public.
In July, 1856, the first number of Hutch
ings' California Magazine appeared, the
leading article being on the Yosemite, and
having illustrations from the sketches
made the summer before— the first pic
tures ever made of the valley. In 185.9-60
four consecutive numbers of the magazine
contained illustrated articles on that little
known galley.
After publishing the magazine for five
years the health of the proprietor became
so broken down in the work that his physi
cian said: "If you don't give it up and
leave the city you will have to leave the
world."
His magazine was sold to the Golden Era
Company, but ceased publication in '62, a
year after the change of proprietors.
Meanwnile the old pioneer had decided to
make the Yosemite his home, bat a grave
obstacle was suggested. Rumor had it
that in winter the valley was filled to half
its depth of some 3000 feet wiih snow that
slid over the precipitous walls.
No one had ever seen the valley in win
ter; so early in January of 'K2 he tried to
reach it and learn for himself whether it
would be possible to live there in that sea
son. But the heavy floods made traveling
impossible and he gave up the attempt
until March, when lie again started, ac
SfilSl^tap want the MW/^^f^
-^-^^^^MIfOMIIA BARIEIT, CAllFOßHift^^^^^^^
companied by Lamon, an old Yosemit*
•pioneer, ani Galen Clark, for many years
the guardian of the valley. Everything
was covered with snow to the depth of
from two to ten feet, totally obscnrine the
trails and making progress uncertain and
perilous and very fatiguing.
His companions would not continue and
urged him to return with them and await
the melting of the snows. But then his
purpose could not be attained, and he de
termined to keep on alone. For six days
he floundered wearily through the snow, the
crust on which continually broke letting
him down among snow-covered bushes
from which he would have to clamber up
to the surface. So great was the labor
that he averaged only about a mile's prog
ress a day. Getting free from the snow
on the afternoon of the ninth day he en
fered the valley and found comparatively
little snow there.
If they were to make their home in the
Yosemite some means of gaining a liveli
hood must be devised. Mrs. Hutchings
suggested that they keep a hotel. There
was a building in the valley already that
had been put up for hotel purposes several
years before, but it had not been patron
ized very much and was unfinished. It
had two large rooms twenty by sixty feet,
one above the other, but there were no
windows or partitions. The hotel, with its
possessory land claim, wa* purchased, and
in April, 1865, the family effects were
packed into the valley on mules for a dis
tance of fifty miles over a rough and
narrow trail that is now the Couiterville
road. It was then the only trail. The
four-horse wagon that had brought th»
things to Couiterville was taken apart and
carried into the valley on muleback.
Crockery, chairs, looking-glasses, every
thing had to be packed over the ziezaging
trails on mules. The first four-horse stage
that reached the valley was taken into the
Yosemite in parts on the backs of mules.
Partitions had to Le made for the big
rooms, for the women could not always be
asked to share the npstairs apartment and
the men the room below. The nearest
sawmill was forty miles away, and lumber
could not be packed over the winding
trails on mules. Cloth could be brought
in, and muslin was used for partitions. It
was not, however, a protection against re
markable silhouettes when the roomers
were careless in placing their lights when
retirine.
Two men were employed and worked all
the next winter in getting out lumber with
a handsaw, but the insignificant product
of their labor proved that", with the greatest
F. M. HUTCHINO3.
industry, enough lumber for building pur
poses could never be made by such means.
Hutchings went to San Francisco and
bought the machinery for a sawmill, and
hired a millwright to put up the plant.
But the wheel would not turn. Finally,
after much labor, Hutchings got it to go.
The great rainfall of the previous winter
had softened the earth so much that when
a heavy windstorm came fully 100 large
pines and cedars within an area of eleven
acres toppled over and were uprooted.
These supplied the logs from which was
made the lumber used for buildings.
The location of the hotel was such that
in winter, owing to the narrowness of the
valley and the great height of its walls, the
sun only raached it for two hours in the
day. Across the river there was a spot
that got the sun for over six hours a day ;
and "over there" Hutchings built his log
cabin in the fall of '65. and planted a small
orchard of five acies, principally apples,
but some pears. Now those apple trees
yield 100 barrels of fruit a year.
In September. 1865, Governor Low issued
a proclamation to the effect that Congress
! had given the Yosemite to California as a
\ public park, and he warned trespassers
! against settling there. Hutchings re
mained, relying upon pre-emption rights
for the validity of his claim, no Govern
ment survey of the valley having been
made at the time he purchased his claim
from the former occupant and took pos
session.
Late in the winter of 1865, having iust
returned from San Francisco, where he
had gone to publish the "Yosemite Alma
nac," he found awaiting him a notice from
the Yosemite Board of Commissioners to
the effect that he must secure a lease from
them of the property he was occupying or
they would lease the premises to some one
else. He appealed to the State Legislature
and was granted the quarter section he was
occupying and which he had put so many
improvements on.
But the action of the Legislature was
useless unless ratified by Congress, and
to Congress Hutchings appealed in '67 and
'68. But there were delays and disappoint
ments and no issue was reached.
Hutchings meanwhile was engaged ex
tensively in the East in giving illustrated
lectures upon the beauties and wonders of
the Yosemite in order to raise money to
press his claims. Nothing came of his
efforts until in 1874 the State Legislature
appropriated $60,000 to satisfy the ap
praised valuation of the few settlers'
claims. Hutchings' improvements, in
cluding eighteen buildings that formed
a little settlement about the hotel, to
gether with his twelve years' labor, were
fixed by the Commissioners' expert at
$41,000. When the payments were made
his share was cut down to $24,000, while
the shares of the other claimants were all
increased.
By that time the popularity of the valley
had been very thoroughly spread abroad.
From a total of 147 visitors for '64 the num
ber had increased to 2711 for the year '74.
And during the nine years from 55 to '64
only 653 people set foot in the valley. From
a pathless, unknown wild, to which there
was no recognizable trail when he, as one
of the first tourists, found his way into the
valley in '55, it had become, during his
long residence, a place of popular resort
for people from all over the world; roads
had been laid out by him through the val
ley and the Coulterville and the Big Oak
Flat roads had just been completed, mak
ing the valley accessible in conveyances.
Before that time better trails had been
made so that visitors might come in on
horseback, with a ride of only twenty-five
miles, after the stage road was built from
Big Oak Flat to Harding's, which then be
came the stage-line terminus.
Travel became so great that Hutchings
had 109 saddle animals for use on this trail
and in the valley at the time he surren
dered possession to the State.
After the winter of '7s the Commission
ers refused to lease Hutchings the cabin
HUTCHINGS' OLD CABIN, YOSEMITE VALLEY.
| and the small plat of ground surrounding
it, but leased it to another party, because
j of his pronounced objections to the de
! struction of the trees of the valley and the
; change of any of the natural features. But
| when Bernard became the lessee of the
I hotel property in '78 he offered Hutchings
the use or his old cabin, the occupancy of
which Hutchings resumed and continued
in until the present lessee of the Sentinel
Hotel took charge of the property, about
three years ago. Since then Hutchings
has been living in San Francisco, visiMng
the valley often and always hoping that
i he might some day return to live in
I the picturesque little cabin where
Ihe spent twenty-five winters; where
j he wrote his book, "In the Heart of the
j Sierras"; where he lived as guardian of the
valley from 1880 until 1884; where he was
visited by many prominent people from
all parts of the world, who were anxious
to see and talk with "the oldest in
habitant"; for that little cabin was lined
with curios of the valley, and it? pioneer
occupant was an encyclopedia of knowl-
I edge to those who wished to gain informa
! tion on the flora of that region, on the
i birds, on the glacial formations, on the
{ neighboring mountain regions and on the
I Indian legends.
For forty years he, more than any other
one man, has made the Yosemite known
to the world. He has written three books
lon the subject; he has furnished many
sketches of the valley for the periodical
press, including the first mention that was
ever made of it, and he has traveled over
the country for years lecturing on the sub
ject, sometimes before audiences of several
i thousand people.
The Legislature, always magnanimous in
• its treatment of the original settlers of the
■ Yosemite, passed the following resolution
; at tne last session :
Resolved by the Senate, the Assembly concurring :
That the use of the cabin erected in the Yo
semite Valley by J. M. Hutchings, and the or
chard adjoining of about five acres in extent,
| planted by him, be and the same are hereby
\ granted to said J. M. Hutchings for the term of
ten years.
A wrong impression has been current
that, in accordance with this resolution,
! adopted last March by the State Legisla
j ture, the old Yosemite settler was in pos-
I session of his reminiscent old cabin amid
I the pine trees. But the legislative action
must be ratified by the Board of Yosemite
Commissioners before the premises can be
occupied.
The Commissioners meet to-morrow and
will take action on the matter. That this de
j cision will be in accordance with the wishes
I of the membersof the Legislature represent-
I insr the various districts of the State can
I hardly be doubted. ,
And then when the lease of the present
j lessee of the Sentinel Hotel shall expire
next October, the old pioneer may be per
mitted to go back to spend his declining
years in the spot that has become a part of
| Ilia life and his constant love— the valley
| where his three children were born and
where one of them rests in the little grave-
I yard not far from the old cabin.
13
