Having made a study for laying out a burial ground upon a site selected by your Board, I desire in the present paper to review some of the leading considerations by which I have been influenced.

Under the authority of the State, you have assumed the duty of meeting the demand of a large community for a place of burial of the dead. The ground has been selected with care; you propose to have it laid out with care; you propose to make a large expenditure upon it; it will be consecrated with solemn ceremonies; you are forbidden to make sales within it a matter of pecuniary profit to yourselves, or those who provide for the expenditures to be made upon it; and in all your doings, you will act under special privileges of the law, and be held to peculiar responsibilities before the law.

Plainly, something more is contemplated in this than providing a place where spaces of ground are to be held ready for sale to those who may have bodies of the dead in their houses, which they wish to put away; something more, also, than a place where monuments may be erected by individuals or families, over the remains of their dead. A heathen and savage people might want all this. What more does the [474]character of a religious, civilized and republican people require a place of burial to be? The answer is: “A place of our common grief, our common hopes and our common faith; a place wherein we may see and feel our sympathy one with another.” Hence, no place of burial is satisfactory to us, which does not exhibit, besides evidences of respect paid by individuals and families to the memory of their own dead, evidences also of respect paid by the community of the living to the community of the dead.

Your central purpose, then, is to prepare a place in which those feelings, sentiments and aspirations which religion and civilization make common to all in presence of the dead, may be expressed and excited independently of the promptings of individual affliction and individual memories.

Your ground will be well or ill laid out, accordingly as this purpose is fittingly accomplished.

The success of those who have undertaken a similar duty for communities in our Atlantic States, where solemn groves and sheltered glades abound, and where turf forms naturally over all the soil which is not shaded by foliage, is mainly due to a judicious selection of ground at the outset.

Ground similarly suitable for the purpose does not exist in the vicinity of San Francisco. Here, there is no Cypress Hill, or Laurel Hill, or Greenwood, or Spring Grove, to be appropriated.

You must then look to an entirely different way of accomplishing the end in view, and to entirely different measures from those made use of in the East; or you must undertake, as a preliminary duty, the formation, by art, of a groundwork similar to that which Nature offers ready-made, to those who look for it at the East.

I believe that you will find it best not to undertake the latter course, and for the following reasons:

With graves and monuments studding the ground, and paths approaching them at frequent intervals, an absolutely natural landscape in a burial-ground is of course out of the question; but as far as it is possible to harmonize the general purpose with a naturally picturesque landscape, this has usually been attempted to be done in the Eastern Cemeteries. In laying them out, a picturesque, natural style is had in view; and if the roads and walks in them do not follow what are called natural lines, and the trees and shrubs and plants in them do not stand and group in a natural, picturesque manner, it is because of a necessity, which is regretted, or through want of skill to accomplish what is intended.

This style of gardening originated in England, and has been carried to much higher perfection in that country than anywhere else in the world. The reason of this is that certain conditions, favorable for the [475]peculiar beauty sought for, are found in the British Islands in a degree exceeding that of any other part of the world. These consist, in part, of a steadily moist atmosphere, and of soils to which a remarkably large variety of plants is indigenous, and which are, at the same time, extremely hospitable to exotics. In France, Germany, or the Northern Atlantic States, with the same ideals in view, the soil must be deepened and the roots of trees and grasses induced to extend themselves vertically, to avoid the effects of the dry atmosphere and the parching of the surface of the ground. Even these expedients are often insufficient, and arrangements have to be made for artificially watering the surface, before even an approach to the beauty of the English lawns, formed in this style, can be secured. It is safe to say, that a certain degree of beauty and convenience in New York, will cost the gardener, following this style, four times as much labor as it would in England, while, as before asserted, its highest perfection is absolutely out of the question there.

The difference between the circumstances with which you have to deal, and those of the Eastern States, is even greater than between those of the East and of Great Britain. Scarcely anywhere in the world, except in actual deserts, is the indigenous vegetation so limited in variety as in the country about San Francisco. It is subject to long-continued rains and to flowing torrents of surface water, at one season; it becomes dry and powdery, withering vegetation, at another. To what extent it will prove kind to exotic trees, cannot yet be ascertained, as the trial of none has passed an adolescent period.

Prima facie—what is peculiarly fit and becoming for your purpose in England, and what is a little less fit and becoming for the same purpose on the Atlantic coast, is likely to be quite unfit and unbecoming for the same purpose here.

By a very abundant use of artificial means of watering the ground, it might be possible for you to follow after the same ideal that has been had in view by those who laid out the best Eastern Cemeteries. But the capital, the skill, and the constant expense for labor which would be required to secure even an approach to the beauty, convenience and fitness of these grounds for their purpose, would be incalculably larger in your case, and the result, after all, would be satisfactory as a triumph of art over difficulties, rather than for its intrinsic beauty and fitness.

A part of your ground is a plain surface, mainly level. It is as far as possible, therefore, from being suggestive of picturesque treatment. You will observe, that in the portion of the plan which I offer you covering this part of the ground, each road is carried from one end to the other in a straight line, and bordered by rows of trees forming an avenue. This is, under the circumstances, the simplest and most natural course; whereas, on the hill-sides, to secure ease of ascent and descent, and to avoid rocks and sharp declivities, it is more natural and easy to proceed [476]by curved and sinuous courses. The Cemeteries to which we are accustomed in the East, are laid out entirely in curved lines, and in proposing to you to depart from their fashion in this respect, I have not disregarded, without reason, certain considerations which are commonly supposed to demand an adherence to it.

Curved lines are said to be natural lines, straight lines to be artificial, that is, unnatural; and it being common to regard what is called nature, as if it were more directly the offspring of the great Creator, and therefore purer and better, more full of truth and beauty than any work of man can be, it is argued that in a Cemetery the gardener’s art should only appear as if used in an humble waiting on Nature. But, even if we were willing to carry out this principle, choosing only natural forms for our granite and marble and bronze, which we are not, we should be but following out a fallacy; for the brain and hand, the taste and judgment, and skill and genius of man, are also agents of the Creator—are as much agents of the Creator as the wind and rain, as blight and drought and heat, as the instinct of the birds or the coral insect. If man’s purpose be pure and good, his handiwork will manifest the love and beauty and truth of the Almighty, at least as truly as that of any of His soulless agents; and however much the beauty of trees, the seeds of which have been sown by birds and winds and floods of waters may manifest the love of God, this so-called natural beauty can be no more pure and beautiful, no more fitting and becoming to our purpose, than if the trees had been planted by the hand of man, and with a single purpose to manifest Christian tenderness and care in the presence of the dead.

It is for this purpose that marble is to be quarried, and carved and set up; for this purpose trees are to be planted and nursed and watered and trained. Why desire to conceal the fact of art with them, any more than with the marble? Why not make the trees obviously and avowedly subordinate and auxiliary to this purpose—the solemn purpose of waiting on the dead?

But, it may be said, grounds in the picturesque, natural style—aside from all questions of fitness—are intrinsically more beautiful. It is true, they are so, under favorable circumstances. But, even where circumstances of climate and soil are favorable, the requirements of a place of burial constitute circumstances which are never favorable to the beauty aimed at in that style; for example, the charm of grounds laid out in the natural style, depends in a great degree upon the breadth of shadow which can be secured in connection with a graceful modulation of surface, and a free sweep of outlines. But a cemetery necessarily contains a large number of very small divisions of the surface, each of which must, of necessity, be within a short distance of a roadway. The ground must therefore be much cut up, the groups of trees must be small; and if individual taste or caprice is at all indulged in the family lots, it must be [477]at a sacrifice of all breadth of effect. No plat of ground, of a hundred square feet, can be made a landscape by itself; no number of plats of ground, each planted by itself, and with a view limited by its boundaries, as family burial lots usually are, and each containing its monument of stone, can be made to constitute a landscape, or can be given a high degree of the beauty which the picturesque style of gardening seeks to produce. Even, where a piece of ground of great natural beauty is in the first place selected, this necessity of a cemetery makes it certain that its purely landscape beauty will be marred, rather than advanced, as the general result of what shall be done.

There may seem to be an exception to this rule, in cases where a large extent of ground having been appropriated, a portion of it having the greatest landscape beauty, is carefully preserved from the operation of the rule—only that which is less attractive being given up to graves. It will be obvious, that in these cases, the real burial-ground is treated as the stables and outhouses of a mansion usually are by an architect—as if honor to the dead were an entirely secondary or subordinate purpose. The result is a park or pleasure-ground, with a burial-place attached to it. The care of the dead is not expressed in the beauty of the park, however great the skill in gardening, or the truthfulness to nature may be, which is there displayed.

If, then, you desire to manifest respect for the remains of the dead, you will be likely to accomplish your purpose better, if you start with that purpose directly in view, and not with the purpose of first making a beautiful landscape, and then finding a place where your dead may be buried without great injury to its beauty. Not only marble, but trees and earth and everything else should be treated in such a manner as (consistently with the nature of these materials) will best serve your purpose.

There are certain social circumstances which affect the question of what that manner should be, and which I propose next to consider.

In the community for which you are to provide, as in all young and rapidly enlarging communities, yet in a degree exceeding any other of equal numbers, there will be an extraordinary proportion of single men, of travelers and temporary sojourners. Under these circumstances, associations of various kinds are sure to be numerous. Many of these associations will desire portions of ground distinctly set apart for their purpose, in each of which the names of all members, or of all who are buried by the association possessing it, may be inscribed on a common monument. Your ground should be so laid out that such divisions and monuments may be made to contribute to the general effect desired, showing forethought, order, and decorous regard by all these associations, to the common purpose of honoring the memory of all the dead, as well as the particular purpose of each. Large provision should be made for [478]single graves and for small family lots. Some of the former should be situated favorably for the commemoration, by prominent monuments, of citizens or travelers in whom the public may have especial interest. While these are so placed that they may be readily distinguished, and the monuments over them be conspicuous, it is not desirable that they should be very greatly isolated, nor that the monuments should not seem to group and associate in architectural harmony with all that surrounds them. A lonely grave suggests a dreary life and the absence of cordial affection, even when it is marked with stately honors.

The social peculiarities of the community last referred to enforce another reflection, which is perhaps the most important of all, to be kept in mind in constructing your plan.

In old communities, society has gradually become organized in such a way that there are always a large number of persons who have had the opportunity of educating their tastes in constructive activity, and who have had sufficient relief from the demands of ordinary commerce to acquire contemplative habits of mind. Many public interests fall to the care of this class, and they come, sometimes unconsciously to themselves, and without distinct recognition by others, to be the leaders of public opinion in all fields of common interest wherein the esthetic exercise of the judgment is of great importance. By their example, and by quiet persuasion in ordinary social intercourse, they direct the action of many men of greater energy and practical ability, but of less mature taste than themselves. In your community, this class of men will not only be small, but society will for a long time be very loosely organized, and the functions they perform in older communities will therefore be exercised but imperfectly. The consequence will be seen in the neglect of public opinion to act in such a way as to cause the exercise of a refined common sense in those parts of what is common property and common duty, which are matters of taste. The members of the community will be too much engrossed with their individual occupations to give much attention to these-at least, to actively interfere against what they feel to be bad—and their occupations will have unfitted them to originate and carry through, and maintain in operation, the proper remedies.

It follows, that in the organization of a public enterprise like yours, the probability of this general neglect and of individual eccentricity, working unchecked by public opinion, should be regarded and provided against. Questions of taste should, as far as possible, be deliberately and thoroughly considered by express determination at the outset. What is right and best should be resolved upon, and fixed and tied up in bylaws and otherwise, so that it cannot be afterward set aside through carelessness, forgetfulness, or individual bad taste. And your plan should be made complete, so as to leave little to the future; and in such a form [479]that no considerable deviation from it, or interference with it, by individuals will be easily overlooked or tolerated.

The peculiarities of your climate enforce the same duty. Nowhere else is the danger of dilapidation from the alternation of Summer drought and Winter torrents, of stormy winds, and of vermin, so great; nowhere is dilapidation so inappropriate and offensive, and therefore so much to be guarded against, as in a cemetery.

The principle of mutual assurance, of cooperative labor, of joint stock association, is at the basis of your enterprise. Every man who buys a lot in your ground becomes a stockholder, a participant in the assurance you offer against dilapidation, neglect and irreverence. The greater and more obvious you make this assurance, the larger the common advantages you offer; the more perfectly and completely you provide what the public really needs to have, the more surely will you succeed, and the higher will what you have to offer be valued.

Having due regard to the peculiar social and climatic circumstances which have been thus considered; and looking ten years ahead, thinking what San Francisco is to be, what its wealth is to be, how great will then be the difficulties of rapidly providing other suitable grounds, it must clearly be your true policy to make much more generous, substantial and in every way well-guarded arrangements in yours, than are customary. At the same time, a character of simplicity and of unity, and an orderly co-relation of parts, is essential to the solemnity and dignity which it should be your first object to secure and preserve.

Keeping these ideas in view, I have given much study to the question, what materials are available to be used to produce the desired results? Those pertaining to earth, soil, gravel and masonry need at present no especial remark. Of trees, there is but one, which is really known to thrive when fully mature on your soil; and there is no sufficient experience to dispel the apprehension that most trees of the temperate zone after they have been brought to a certain height, may become stunted, dwarfish, decrepit, and thus expressive of the very idea which you wish most carefully to avoid. I am assured, that this will certainly be the case with all by the intelligent gardener now superintending the Lone Mountain Cemetery. I am aware, that others express a directly contrary opinion with great confidence, and that there are trees near your site which look hopefully; but it still remains true, that while there is evidence that many trees suffer peculiarly, there is none, and in the nature of the case can be none, as yet, that any tree, after it has attained a certain age and height, will not suffer.

It is extremely improbable, however, that among the thousands of trees known to botanists, there are none which are not peculiarly adapted to resist the conditions, whatever they are, which have prevented [480]trees from growing spontaneously upon your ground. By forming your plan so that the effect you desire would be produced by bodies of foliage simple in form and color, and so, at the same time, that every practicable advantage would be secured for the trees upon which you would depend for this purpose, you would be able to confine your choice of trees to a small number of species, and thus be obliged to take only those with regard to which you have the strongest assurance of success.

Many of the trees which are most cultivated in your private gardens are not such as we should select to meet the conditions above indicated. The Eucalypti, for instance, when full grown in their native country, are noted for their inability to resist high winds. The forests composed of them are almost impassable, in many parts, from the number of prostrate trunks and uplifted roots. They have no tap root, and their radicals keep close to the surface. After they are full grown, therefore, shrubs and other plants cannot be expected to flourish near them. On the other hand, the cypress, commonly called in California the Italian Cypress, sends its roots directly downward, and has no laterals. It grows in the same isothermal zone with Oakland, and on exposed headlands; it also grows on the most arid mountains bordering the Arabian desert. The mature tree is simple and dignified in form, dark in color, and no tree in Europe is known to have more persistent vitality. Being an evergreen, and seeming more than any other tree to point toward heaven, it has always been regarded as typical of immortality. For this and other reasons, it was considered by the Persians and Hebrews of old, as it is by the Turks and Oriental Christians of the present day, more appropriate than any other tree for planting about graves. Thucydides mentions that the ashes of the Greeks who died for their country were preserved in Cypress; and Horace speaks of the custom among the Romans of dressing the bodies of the dead with Cypress before placing them in the tomb. It is the gopher-wood of Scripture, of which, according to the tradition of the Hebrews, the Ark was made; and it constituted the “exalted grove” of Mount Sion, spoken of in Ecclesiastes. Here, then, is a tree which seems peculiarly fitted by its associations, as well as its natural character, for your purpose. Experience in your private grounds confirms, so far as it goes, what analogy of circumstances would lead us to expect.

The form of the cypress being peculiarly upright, we naturally seek next for the relief and contrast which would be found in trees which bear horizontal masses of foliage. The Cedar of Lebanon and the Stone Pine of Italy possess this character in an eminent degree. I remember no picture of Turner’s in which the trees of Southern Europe could be appropriately introduced, in which the upright Cypress is not associated with the Stone Pine. Both the Stone Pine and the Cedar of Lebanon are indigenous in very dry and exposed situations. Another tree, the success of which with you is perhaps still more probable, having when mature, as [481]I am informed, the same general characteristics, its head growing in nearly horizontal strigræ, as if to present the least possible surface to the direct action of the wind, is the Cypress of Lower California and Mexico, (Cupressus Macrocarpa). It is common in your gardens, and the finest specimen I have seen stands within a quarter of a mile of your ground.

Four species of trees have thus been named which are extremely likely to flourish on at least a portion of your ground. In addition, there is the Evergreen Oak, of which there are a few specimens now growing naturally upon it, and which is still more likely to flourish. It appears to me, that many oaks have sprung up upon your ground, but that only very rarely has one survived or retained any vigor after the first year or two. When favored by accidents with shelter and moisture, as where an acorn has germinated below the bank edge of the arroya, and the young plant has escaped the browsing of cattle for a few years, the growth has been rapid, and vigor and sturdiness have been acquired to enable the seedling to resist the influence of the ocean gales, and grow into a tree of ordinary size. Its head is flattened, it is true, but it is umbrageous and healthy. Such trees, however, are confined to the prairie soil. On the leeward side of the hills, there are many more oaks than elsewhere, but they all appear stunted and unhealthy. I attribute this to the thinness of the soil, and to the lack of moisture in it during several months of the Summer. If it can be ameliorated in these respects, I have no doubt that coppices of oak and other trees and shrubs can be carried to a considerable distance up even the windward side of the hills. It is only required that the wind should be slightly broken, not that a perfect lee should be formed, to make the cultivation practicable of a very large variety of shrubs and herbaceous plants—as large, perhaps, as can be cultivated anywhere else in the world. This appears probable from the considerable variety of stunted indigenous plants at present forming with the oaks before mentioned, the thickets on the leeward side of the hills, and the perfectly healthy and luxuriant appearance of a large assortment of exotic shrubs, which are growing in partially sheltered gardens and nurseries within a mile of the ground. It is also confirmed by experience, in situations upon the Atlantic Coast where there are no indigenous trees and shrubs, especially at Newport and in the celebrated garden of the late Mr. Tudor, at Nahant, where the wind is sifted through double gratings of narrow boards, and within which, to the height of these gratings, but no higher, all trees and shrubs which can endure the temperature, are found to thrive.

Masses of shrubs and of the Evergreen Oak, under these circumstances, will naturally take the shape on their upper surface best calculated to resist the wind. What this is, may be seen wherever you can look over the natural groves of Oakland. It is similar to that of the lofty heads of the Cedar of Lebanon, the Stone Pine and the Monterey Cypress. [482]over the natural groves of Oakland. It is similar to that of the lofty heads of the Cedar of Lebanon, the Stone Pine and the Monterey Cypress. Such coppices will therefore supply the most agreeable form of foliage to be associated below as that of those trees is above, with the spires of the Italian Cypress.

With a judicious combination of the three forms of foliage which I have thus indicated, you have all that is necessary for the composition of an impressive scene possessing a very distinctive kind of beauty. It would be not only effective and appropriate in form and color, but its association and poetic suggestion would be in the highest degree fitting to your purpose. The brooding forms of the coppices and the canopy of the cedars would unite in the expression of a sheltering care extended over the place of the dead, the heaven-pointing spires of the immortal cypress would prompt the consolations of faith.

I have spoken thus far of general effects only. If we suppose that your association takes upon itself the duty of planting trees and belts of coppice along the borders of the roads and at all the more salient points, the owners of lots may be expected to complete the work, not only because shrubs, vines and low trees will form the most fitting accompaniment of monuments, and are alone suitable for producing independent local effects; but because they can be cultivated with simple means and with cheapness and confidence of success. It will be only necessary that you make sure that they have the opportunity of obtaining suitable plants in sufficient quantity, at moderate prices.

The views I have thus expressed have governed me in the study for a plan, which is herewith presented.

Explanation of the Plan.

The Cemetery is approached by a straight road from Oakland, at the end of which is a gateway flanked by lodges, and an enclosing wall. Immediately within the gate the road divides into three, the one to the left being appropriated to Roman Catholic funerals, the one in front to the Hebrew, and the one to the right to all others. By curves in these roads and planting on their borders, no part of the ground will be seen by any person entering the gate, except the division, Roman Catholic, Hebrew, or otherwise, wished to be visited.

Turning to the right at a short distance from the gate, the road opens upon a shaded oval court 200 feet in length, in the center of which [483]

[484]Cemetery being provided with a similar court and chapel, there will be no occasion for the occurrence of any delay of processions at the common entrance, while ample standing room for carriages is obtained at points secluded from the graves, yet within the enclosure of the Cemetery. The chapel is designed to be used in inclement weather during the performance of the greater part of the funeral service, in accordance with the custom which now prevails in the best cemeteries of England and the East. The whole court about it is proposed to be made use of for the same purpose upon extraordinary occasions, in order to avoid the necessity for a prolonged attendance of large crowds at any point among the graves, and thus to reduce the liability of plants and monuments to accidental injuries. The oval court thus forms a place of waiting and assemblage, or shaded open air vestibule to the burial-ground.

The chapel stands opposite the mouth of a long bay in the hills, and from its front three avenues are proposed: one extending to the base of the hill on the right, one to the base of the hill on the left, while the center one leads to the head of the bay. From these three avenues, branches extend to all parts of the ground, except that immediately to the right and left of the chapel, which is appropriated to single graves, and accessible by other avenues entered from the sides and rear of the chapel.

Facing the chapel, at the distance of half a mile, upon the central avenue, is the general Receiving Tomb. Between these two points the central avenue is divided into four sections, each being separated from the other by a carrefour, in the center of which stands a public monument. From each carrefour roads diverge to the adjoining hills. From that nearest the chapel, minor avenues also radiate toward the mouth of the bay. Two of these latter intersect the avenues leading to the right and left, in front of the chapel. Intermediate points on these are connected by two other avenues parallel to the central avenue. The whole of the comparatively level portion of the ground lies within fifty feet of one of the avenues, and is divided into symmetrical sections by them, while the more uneven ground to the right and left is finally approached, and also divided into sections, by curved roads adapted to the topography. The avenues are everywhere bordered, and the level sections defined by rows of the Oriental Cypress, the trees standing uniformly ten feet apart. Midway between each alternate pair of these avenue trees is the entrance to a burial lot, and between each intermediate pair is the entrance to one or more lots in the rear. Except a few near the carre fours, all the lots adjoining the avenues or approached directly from them, are of large size and of a form symmetrical with, and architecturally related to, the rows of cypress. The number of this class of lots is nine hundred and eighty-five. They vary in size from one hundred and seventy square feet to two hundred and seven square feet. A monument placed on the central line [485]

of each of these lots, will stand also upon a line exactly dividing the space between two of the cypresses; and the shape of each lot is designed to admit of the planting of shrubbery on the rear and sides of a monument so placed, and of the graves in front of it, the masses of which shall also be symmetrical with the borders of the lot and with the cypress trees, between which the monument will be seen in front from the avenue, The boundaries of these lots are intended to be planted with hedges, by the Trustees, in order that uniformity, symmetry and neatness of arrangement may be still further secured; and also, that with the assistance of the rows of cypress, all the private ground may be screened from the wind, so that whatever is planted about the family graves may the more surely thrive, The hedge borders are also designed to give an appearance of greater seclusion and protection to the graves within the family lots than they would have if directly open to view from the carriage ways. Stone piers at the entrance to the family lots, being monumental in character, and calculated to harmonize with and support the monument within, are unobjectionable; nor need the clipping of the hedge-plants into architectural forms, at the same points, provided the form is not [486]fantastic, be objected to. The lots of a different form from those which have been described, near the ends of the avenues, are adapted to single graves, which it is desired to distinguish by a monument of some dignity. They may be used also as small family lots, being generally under one hundred square feet in size. Of this class of lots on the avenues, there are about five hundred.

On the more irregular surface of the Cemetery, where the roads follow curved lines, similar purposes to those which the hedges and rows of cypress are designed to meet on the level ground, are intended to be served by more picturesque belts of shrubs and coppice-wood, crossing the line of direction of the sea winds at frequent intervals. Each separate section of family lots will be surrounded and sheltered in by these belts, which will be broken only where it is necessary to give access to the lots within by walks from the carriage roads.

Numerous groups of graves will thus be formed on the slopes of the hills, to each of which a calm seclusion is secured. With a few unimportant exceptions, each lot will be symmetrical in form, will be entered at a point opposite its center, within, at most, one hundred feet of a carriage approach, and will be sheltered about with foliage. The plantations on the hill-sides, as well as the hedges and avenue trees in the valley, are intended to be planted, cultivated, watered and kept in order by the Trustees, without expense to the lot-holders, after the original price of the lot has been paid. The class of lots last described, entered from the curved roads, in the Protestant division of the Cemetery, will number about five thousand, varying in size from seventy to one hundred and twenty-five square feet.

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It is a fact of much significance with reference to the temper and spirit which ruled the loyal people of the United States during the war of the great rebellion, that a livelier susceptibility to the influence of art was apparent, and greater progress in the manifestations of artistic talent was made, than in any similar period before in the history of the country. The great dome of the Capitol was wholly constructed during the war, and the forces of the insurgents watched it rounding upward to completion for nearly a year before they were forced from their entrenchments on the opposite bank of the Potomac; Crawford’s great statue of Liberty was poised upon its summit in the year that President Lincoln proclaimed the emancipation of the slaves. Leutze’s frescoe of the peopling of the Pacific States, the finest work of the painter’s art in the Capitol; the noble front of the Treasury building with its long colonnade of massive monoliths; the exquisite hall of the Academy of Arts; the great park of New York, and many other works of which the nation may be proud, were brought to completion during the same period. Others were carried steadily [489]

on, among them our own Capitol; many more were begun, and it will be hereafter remembered that the first organization formed solely for the cultivation of the fine arts on the Pacific side of the Globe, was established in California while the people of the State were not only meeting the demands of the Government for sustaining its armies in the field but were voluntarily making liberal contributions for binding up the wounds and cheering the spirits of those who were stricken in the battles of liberty.

It was during one of the darkest hours, before Sherman had begun the march upon Atlanta or Grant his terrible movement through the Wilderness, when the paintings of Bierstadt and the photographs of Watkins, both productions of the War time, had given to the people on the Atlantic some idea of the sublimity of the Yo Semite, and of the stateliness of the neighboring Sequoia grove, that consideration was first given to the danger that such scenes might become private property and through the false taste, the caprice or the requirements of some industrial speculation of their holders; their value to posterity be injured. To secure them against this danger Congress passed an act providing that the premises should be segregated from the general domain of the public lands, and devoted forever to popular resort and recreation, under the administration of a Board of Commissioners, to serve without pecuniary compensation, to be appointed by the Executive of the State of California.

His Excellency the Governor in behalf of the State accepted the [490]trust proposed and appointed the required Commissioners; the territory has been surveyed and the Commissioners have in several visits to it, and with much deliberation, endeavored to qualify themselves to present to the Legislature a sufficient description of the property, and well considered advice as to its future management.

The Commissioners have deemed it best to confine their attention during the year which has elapsed since their appointment to this simple duty of preparing themselves to suggest the legislative action proper to be taken, and having completed it, propose to present their resignation, in order to render as easy as possible the pursuance of any policy of management, the adoption of which may be determined by the wisdom of the Legislature. The present report therefore is intended to embody as much as is practicable, the results of the labors of the Commission, which it also terminates.

As few members of the Legislature can have yet visited the ground, a short account of the leading qualities of its scenery may be pardoned.

The main feature of the Yo Semite is best indicated in one word as a chasm. It is a chasm nearly a mile in average width, however, and more than ten miles in length. The central and broader part of this chasm is occupied at the bottom by a series of groves of magnificent trees, and meadows of the most varied, luxuriant and exquisite herbage, through which meanders a broad stream of the clearest water, rippling over a pebbly bottom, and eddying among banks of ferns and rushes; sometimes narrowed into sparkling rapids and sometimes expanding into placid pools which reflect the wondrous heights on either side. The walls of the chasm are generally half a mile, sometimes nearly a mile in height above these meadows, and where most lofty are nearly perpendicular, sometimes over jutting. At frequent intervals, however, they are cleft, broken, terraced and sloped, and in these places, as well as everywhere upon the summit, they are overgrown by thick clusters of trees.

There is nothing strange or exotic in the character of the vegetation; most of the trees and plants, especially those of the meadow and waterside, are closely allied to and are not readily distinguished from those most common in the landscapes of the Eastern States or the midland counties of England. The stream is such a one as Shakespeare delighted in, and brings pleasing reminiscences to the traveller of the A von or the Upper Thames.

Banks of heartsease and beds of cowslips and daisies are frequent, and thickets of alder, dogwood and willow often fringe the shores. At several points streams of water flow into the chasm, descending at one leap from five hundred to fourteen hundred feet. One small stream falls, in three closely consecutive pitches, a distance of two thousand six hundred feet, which is more than fifteen times the height of the falls of [491]Niagara. In the spray of these falls superb rainbows are seen.

At certain points the walls of rock are ploughed in polished horizontal furrows, at others moraines of boulders and pebbles are found; both evincing the terrific force with which in past ages of the earth’s history a glacier has moved down the chasm from among the adjoining peaks of the Sierras. Beyond the lofty walls still loftier mountains rise, some crowned by forests, others in simple rounded cones of light, gray granite. The climate of the region is never dry like that of the lower parts of the state of California; even when, for several months, not a drop of rain has fallen twenty miles to the westward, and the country there is parched, and all vegetation withered, the Yo Semite continues to receive frequent soft showers, and to be dressed throughout in living green.

After midsummer a light, transparent haze generally pervades the atmosphere, giving an indescribable softness and exquisite dreamy charm to the scenery, like that produced by the Indian summer of the East. Clouds gathering at this season upon the snowy peaks which rise within forty miles on each side of the chasm to a height of over twelve thousand feet, sometimes roll down over the cliffs in the afternoon, and, under the influence of the rays of the setting sun, form the most gorgeous and magnificent thunder heads. The average elevation of the ground is greater than that of the highest peak of the White Mountains, or the Alleghenies, and the air is rare and bracing; yet, its temperature is never uncomfortably cool in summer, nor severe in winter.

Flowering shrubs of sweet fragrance and balmy herbs abound in the meadows, and there is everywhere a delicate odor of the prevailing foliage in the pines and cedars. The water of the streams is soft and limpid, as clear as crystal, abounds with trout and, except near its sources, is, during the heat of summer, of an agreeable temperature for bathing. In the lower part of the valley there are copious mineral springs, the water of one of which is regarded by the aboriginal inhabitants as having remarkable curative properties. A basin still exists to which weak and sickly persons were brought for bathing. The water has not been analyzed, but that it possesses highly tonic as well as other medical qualities can be readily seen. In the neighboring mountains there are also springs strongly charged with carbonic acid gas, and said to resemble in taste the Empire Springs of Saratoga.

The other district, associated with this by the act of Congress, consists of four sections of land, about thirty miles distant from it, on which stand in the midst of a forest composed of the usual trees and shrubs of the western slope of the Sierra Nevada, about six hundred mature trees of the giant Sequoia. Among them is one known through numerous paintings and photographs as the Grizzly Giant, which probably is the noblest tree in the world. Besides this, there are hundreds of such beauty and stateliness that, to one who moves among them in the [492]

reverent mood to which they so strongly incite the mind, it will not seem strange that intelligent travellers have declared that they would rather have passed by Niagara itself than have missed visiting this grove.

In the region intermediate between the two districts the scenery generally is of grand character, consisting of granite mountains and a forest composed mainly of coniferous trees of great size, yet often more perfect, vigorous and luxuriant than trees of half the size are ever found on the Atlantic side of the continent. It is not, however, in its grandeur or in its forest beauty that the attraction of this intermediate region consists, so much as in the more secluded charms of some of its glens, formed by mountain torrents fed from the snow banks of the higher Sierras.

[493]

These have worn deep and picturesque channels in the granite rocks, and in the moist shadows of their recesses grow tender plants of rare and peculiar loveliness. The broad parachute-like leaves of the peltate saxifrage, delicate ferns, soft mosses, and the most brilliant lichens abound, and in following up the ravines, cabinet pictures open at every turn, which, while composed of materials mainly new to the artist, constantly recall the most valued sketches of Calame in the Alps and Apennines.

The difference in the elevation of different parts of the district amounts to considerably more than a mile. Owing to this difference and the great variety of exposure and other circumstances, there is a larger number of species of plants within the district than probably can be found within a similar space anywhere else on the continent. Professor Torrey, who has given the received botanical names to several hundred plants of California, states that on the space of a few acres of meadow land he found about three hundred species, and that within sight of the trail usually followed by visitors, at least six hundred may be observed, most of them being small and delicate flowering plants.

By no statement of the elements of the scenery can any idea of [494]

[495] [496] [497] [498] [499] [500]that scenery be given, any more than a true impression can be conveyed of a human face by a measured account of its features. It is conceivable that anyone or all of the cliffs of the Yosemite might be changed in form and color, without lessening the enjoyment which is now obtained from the scenery. Nor is this enjoyment any more essentially derived from its meadows, its trees, streams, least of all can it be attributed to the cascades. These, indeed, are scarcely to be named among the elements of the scenery. They are mere incidents, of far less consequence any day of the summer than the imperceptible humidity of the atmosphere and the soil. The chasm remains when they are dry, and the scenery may be, and often is, more effective, by reason of some temporary condition of the air, of clouds, of moonlight, or of sunlight through mist or smoke, in the season when the cascades attract the least attention, than when their volume of water is largest and their roar like constant thunder.

There are falls of water elsewhere finer, there are more stupendous rocks, more beetling cliffs, there are deeper and more awful chasms, there may be as beautiful streams, as lovely meadows, there are larger trees. It is in no scene or scenes the charm consists, but in the miles of scenery where cliffs of awful height and rocks of vast magnitude and of varied and exquisite coloring, are banked and fringed and draped and shadowed by the tender foliage of noble and lovely trees and bushes, reflected from the most placid pools, and associated with the most tranquil meadows, the most playful streams, and every variety of soft and peaceful pastoral beauty.

This union of the deepest sublimity with the deepest beauty of nature, not in one feature or another, not in one part or one scene or another, not any landscape that can be framed b)l. itself, but all around and wherever the visitor goes, constitutes the Yo Semite the greatest glory of nature.

No photograph or series of photographs, no paintings ever prepare a visitor so that he is not taken by surprise, for could the scenes be faithfully represented the visitor is affected not only by that upon which his eye is at any moment fixed, but by all that with which on every side it is associated, and of which it is seen only as an inherent part. For the same reason no description, no measurements, no comparisons are of much value. Indeed the attention called by these to points in some definite way remarkable, by fixing the mind on mere matters of wonder or curiosity prevent the true and far more extraordinary character of the scenery from being appreciated.

It is the will of the Nation as embodied in the act of Congress that this scenery shall never be private property, but that like certain defensive points upon our coast it shall be held solely for public purposes.

Two classes of considerations may be assumed to have influenced the action of Congress. The first and less important is the direct and [501]obvious pecuniary advantage which comes to a commonwealth from the fact that it possesses objects which cannot be taken out of its domain that are attractive to travellers and the enjoyment of which is open to all. To illustrate this it is simply necessary to refer to certain cantons of the Republic of Switzerland, a commonwealth of the most industrious and frugal people in Europe. The results of all the ingenuity and labor of this people applied to the resources of wealth which they hold in common with the people of other lands has become of insignificant value compared with that which they derive from the price which travellers gladly pay for being allowed to share with them the enjoyment of the natural scenery of their mountains. These travellers alone have caused hundreds of the best inns in the world to be established and maintained among them, have given the farmers their best and almost the only market they have for their surplus products, have spread a network of rail roads and superb carriage roads, steamboat routes and telegraphic lines over the country, have contributed directly and indirectly for many years the larger part of the state revenues, and all this without the exportation or abstraction from the country of anything of the slightest value to the people.

The Government of the adjoining Kingdom of Bavaria undertook years ago to secure some measure of a similar source of wealth by procuring with large expenditure, artificial objects of attraction to travellers. The most beautiful garden in the natural style on the Continent of Europe was first formed for this purpose, magnificent buildings were erected, renowned artists were drawn by liberal rewards from other countries, and millions of dollars were spent in the purchase of ancient and modern works of art. The attempt thus made to secure by a vast investment of capital the advantages which Switzerland possessed by nature in its natural scenery has been so far successful that a large part if not the greater part of the profits of the Rail Roads, of the agriculture and of the commerce of the kingdom is now derived from the foreigners who have been thus attracted to Munich its capital.

That when it shall have become more accessible the Yosemite will prove an attraction of a similar character and a similar source of wealth to the whole community, not only of California but of the United States, there can be no doubt. It is a significant fact that visitors have already come from Europe expressly to see it, and that a member of the Alpine Club of London having seen it in summer was not content with a single visit but returned again and spent several months in it during the inclement season of the year for the express purpose of enjoying its Winter aspect. Other foreigners and visitors from the Atlantic States have done the same, while as yet no Californian has shown a similar interest in it.

The first class of considerations referred to then as likely to have influenced the action of Congress is that of the direct pecuniary advantage [502]to the commonwealth which under proper administration will grow out of the possession of the Yosemite, advantages which, as will hereafter be shown, might easily be lost or greatly restricted without such action.

A more important class of considerations, however, remain to be stated. These are considerations of a political duty of grave importance to which seldom if ever before has proper respect been paid by any Government in the world but the grounds of which rest on the same eternal base, of equity and benevolence with all other duties of a republican government. It is the main duty of government, if it is not the sole duty of government, to provide means of protection for all its citizens in the pursuit of happiness against the obstacles, otherwise insurmountable, which the selfishness of individuals or combinations of individuals is liable to interpose to that pursuit.

It is a scientific fact that the occasional contemplation of natural scenes of an impressive character, particularly if this contemplation occurs in connection with relief from ordinary cares, change of air and change of habits, is favorable to the health and vigor of men and especially to the health and vigor of their intellect beyond any other conditions which can be offered them, that it not only gives pleasure for the time being but increases the subsequent capacity for happiness and the means of securing happiness. The want of such occasional recreation where men and women are habitually pressed by their business or household cares often results in a class of disorders the characteristic quality of which is mental disability, sometimes taking the severe forms of softening of the brain, paralysis, palsey, monomania, or insanity, but more frequently of mental and nervous excitability, moroseness, melancholy, or irascibility, incapacitating the subject for the proper exercise of the intellectual and moral forces.

It is well established that where circumstances favor the use of such means of recreation as have been indicated, the reverse of this is true. For instance, it is a universal custom with the heads of the important departments of the British Government to spend a certain period of every year on their parks and shooting grounds, or in travelling among the Alps or other mountain regions. This custom is followed by the leading lawyers, bankers, merchants and the wealthy classes generally of the Empire, among whom the average period of active business life is much greater than with the most nearly corresponding classes in our own or any other country where the same practice is not equally well established. For instance, Lord Brougham, still an active legislator, is eighty eight years old. Lord Palmers ton the Prime Minister is eighty two, Earl Russell, Secretary of Foreign affairs, is 74, and there is a corresponding prolongation of vigor among the men of business of the largest and most trying responsibility in England, as compared with those of our own country, which physicians unite in asserting is due in a very essential part to the [503]advantage they have possessed for obtaining occasional relief from their habitual cares, and for enjoying reinvigorating recreation.

But in this country at least it is not those who have the most important responsibilities in state affairs or in commerce, who suffer most from lack of recreation; women suffer more than men, and the agricultural class is more largely represented in our insane asylums than the professional, and for this, and other reasons, it is these classes to which the opportunity for such recreation is the greatest blessing.

If we analyze the operation of scenes of beauty upon the mind, and consider the intimate relation of the mind upon the nervous system and the whole physical economy, the action and reaction which constantly occurs between bodily and mental conditions, the reinvigoration which results from such scenes is readily comprehended. Few persons can see such scenery as that of the Yosemite and not be impressed by it in some slight degree. All not alike, all not perhaps consciously, and amongst all who are consciously impressed by it, few can give the least expression to that of which they are conscious. But there can be no doubt that all have this susceptibility, though with some it is much more dull and confused than with others.

The power of scenery to affect men is, in a large way, proportionate to the degree of their civilization and to the degree in which their taste has been cultivated. Among a thousand savages there will be a much smaller number who will show the least sign of being so affected than among a thousand persons taken from a civilized community. This is only one of the many channels in which a similar distinction between civilized and savage men is to be generally observed. The whole body of the susceptibilities of civilized men and with their susceptibilities their powers, are on the whole enlarged. But as with the bodily powers, if one group of muscles is developed by exercise exclusively, and all others neglected, the result is general feebleness, so it is with the mental faculties. And men who exercise those faculties or susceptibilities of the mind which are called in play by beautiful scenery so little that they seem to be inert with them, are either in a diseased condition from excessive devotion of the mind to a limited range of interests, or their whole minds are in a savage state; that is, a state of low development. The latter class need to be drawn out generally; the former need relief from their habitual matters of interest and to be drawn out in those parts of their mental nature which have been habitually left idle and inert.

But there is a special reason why the reinvigoration of those parts which are stirred into conscious activity by natural scenery is more effective upon the general development and health than that of any other, which is this: The severe and excessive exercise of the mind which leads to the greatest fatigue and is the most wearing upon the whole constitution is almost entirely caused by application to the removal of something [504]to be apprehended in the future, or to interests beyond those of the moment, or of the individual; to the laying up of wealth, to the preparation of something, to accomplishing something in the mind of another, and especially to small and petty details which are uninteresting in themselves and which engage the attention at all only because of the bearing they have on some general end of more importance which is seen ahead.

In the interest which natural scenery inspires there is the strongest contrast to this. It is for itself and at the moment it is enjoyed. The attention is aroused and the mind occupied without purpose, without a continuation of the common process of relating the present action, thought or perception to some future end. There is little else that has this quality so purely. There are few enjoyments with which regard for something outside and beyond the enjoyment of the moment can ordinarily be so little mixed. The pleasures of the table are irresistably associated with the care of hunger and the repair of the bodily waste. In all social pleasures and all pleasures which are usually enjoyed in association with the social pleasure, the care for the opinion of others, or the good of others largely mingles. In the pleasures of literature, the laying up of ideas and self-improvement are purposes which cannot be kept out of view. This, however, is in very slight degree, if at all, the case with the enjoyment of the emotions caused by natural scenery. It therefore results that the enjoyment of scenery employs the mind without fatigue and yet exercises it, tranquilizes it and yet enlivens it; and thus, through the influence of the mind over the body, gives the effect of refreshing rest and reinvigoration to the whole system.

Men who are rich enough and who are sufficiently free from anxiety with regard to their wealth can and do provide places of this needed recreation for themselves. They have done so from the earliest periods known in the history of the world, for the great men of the Babylonians, the Persians and the Hebrews, had their rural retreats, as large and as luxurious as those of the aristocracy of Europe at present.

There are in the islands of Great Britain and Ireland more than one thousand private parks and notable grounds devoted to luxury and recreation. The value of these grounds amounts to many millions of dollars and the cost of their annual maintenance is greater than that of the national schools; their only advantage to the commonwealth is obtained through the recreation they afford to their owners (except as these extend hospitality to others) and these owners with their families number less than one in six thousand of the whole population.

The enjoyment of the choicest natural scenes in the country and the means of recreation connected with them is thus a monopoly, in a very peculiar manner, of a very few, very rich people. The great mass of society, including those to whom it would be of the greatest benefit, is [505]excluded from it. In the nature of the case private parks can never be used by the mass of the people in any country nor by any considerable number even of the rich, except by the favor of a few, and in dependence on them.

Thus without means are taken by government to withhold them from the grasp of individuals, all places favorable in scenery to the recreation of the mind and body will be closed against the great body of the people. For the same reason that the water of rivers should be guarded against private appropriation and the use of it for the purpose of navigation and otherwise protected against obstructions, portions of natural scenery may therefore properly be guarded and cared for by government. To simply reserve them from monopoly by individuals, however, it will be obvious, is not all that is necessary. It is necessary that they should be laid open to the use of the body of the people.

The establishment by government of great public grounds for the free enjoyment of the people under certain circumstances, is thus justified and enforced as a political duty.

Such a provision, however, having regard to the whole people of a State, has never before been made and the reason it has not is evident.

It has always been the conviction of the governing classes of the old world that it is necessary that the large mass of all human communities should spend their lives in almost constant labor and that the power of enjoying beauty either of nature or of art in any high degree, requires a cultivation of certain faculties, which is impossible to these humble toilers. Hence it is thought better, so far as the recreations of the masses of a nation receive attention from their rulers, to provide artificial pleasures for them, such as theatres, parades, and promenades where they will be amused by the equipages of the rich and the animation of crowds.

It is unquestionably true that excessive and persistent devotion to sordid interests cramp and distort the power of appreciating natural beauty and destroy the love of it which the Almighty has implanted in every human being, and which is so intimately and mysteriously associated with the moral perceptions and intuitions, but it is not true that exemption from toil, much leisure, much study, much wealth are necessary to the exercise of the esthetic and contemplative faculties. It is the folly of laws which have permitted and favored the monopoly by priveleged classes of many of the means supplied in nature for the gratification, exercise and education of the esthetic faculties that has caused the appearance of dullness and weakness and disease of these faculties in the mass of the subjects of kings. And it is against a limitation of the means of such education to the rich that the wise legislation of free governments must be directed. By such legislation the anticipation of the revered Downing may be realized. [506]

The dread of the ignorant exclusive, who has no faith in the refinement of a republic, will stand abashed in the next century, before a whole people whose system of voluntary education embraces (combined with perfect individual freedom), not only common schools of rudimentary knowledge, but common enjoyments for all classes in the higher realms of art, letters, science, social recreations and enjoyments. Were our legislators but wise enough to understand, today, the destinies of the New World, the gentility of Sir Philip Sidney, made universal, would be not half so much a miracle fifty years hence in America, as the idea of a whole nation of laboring men reading and writing, was, in his day, in England.

It was in accordance with these views of the destiny of the New World and the duty of a Republican Government that Congress enacted that the Yosemite should be held, guarded and managed for the free use of the whole body of the people forever, and that the care of it, and the hospitality of admitting strangers from all parts of the world to visit it and enjoy it freely, should be a duty of dignity and be committed only to a sovereign State.

The trust having been accepted, it will be the duty of the legislature, to define the responsibilities, the rights and the powers of the Commissioners, whom by the Act of Congress, it will be the duty of the Executive of the State to appoint. These must be determined by a consideration of the purposes to which the ground is to be devoted and must be simply commensurate with those purposes.

The main duty with which the Commissioners should be charged should be to give every advantage practicable to the mass of the people to benefit by that which is peculiar to this ground and which has caused Congress to treat it differently from other parts of the public domain. This peculiarity consists wholly in its natural scenery.

The first point to be kept in mind then is the preservation and maintenance as exactly as is possible of the natural scenery; the restriction, that is to say, within the narrowest limits consistent with the necessary accommodation of visitors, of all artificial constructions and the prevention of all constructions markedly inharmonious with the scenery or which would unnecessarily obscure, distort or detract from the dignity of the scenery.

In addition to the more immediate and obvious arrangements by which this duty is enforced, there are two considerations which should not escape attention.

First; the value of the district in its present condition as a museum of natural science and the danger-indeed the certainty-that without care many of the species of plants now flourishing upon it will be lost and many interesting objects be defaced or obscured if not destroyed. To illustrate these dangers, it may be stated that numbers of the native plants of large districts of the Atlantic States have almost wholly disappeared [507]and that most of the common weeds of the farms are of foreign origin, having choked out the native vegetation. Many of the finer specimens of the most important tree in the scenery of the Yosemite have been already destroyed and the proclamation of the Governor, issued after the passage of the Act of Congress, forbidding the destruction of trees in the district, alone prevented the establishment of a saw mill within it. Notwithstanding the proclamation many fine trees have been felled and others girdled within the year. Indians and others have set fire to the forests and herbage and numbers of trees have been killed by these fires; the giant tree before referred to as probably the noblest tree now standing on the earth has been burned completely through the bark near the ground for a distance of more than one hundred feet of its circumference; not only have trees been cut, hacked, barked and fired in prominent positions, but rocks in the midst of the most picturesque natural scenery have been broken, painted and discolored, by fires built against them. In travelling to the Yosemite and within a few miles of the nearest point at which it can be approached by a wheeled vehicle, the Commissioners saw other picturesque rocks stencilled over with advertisements of patent medicines and found the walls of the Bower Cave, one of the most beautiful natural objects in the State, already so much broken and scratched by thoughtless visitors that it is evident that unless the practice should be prevented not many years will pass before its natural charm will be quite destroyed.

Second; it is important that it should be remembered that in permitting the sacrifice of anything that would be of the slightest value to future visitors to the convenience, bad taste, playfulness, carelessness, or wanton destructiveness of present visitors, we probably yield in each case the interest of uncounted millions to the selfishness of a few individuals. It is an important fact that as civilization advances, the interest of men in natural scenes of sublimity and beauty increases. Where a century ago one traveller came to enjoy the scenery of the Alps, thousands come now and where even forty years ago one small inn accommodated the visitors to the White Hills of New Hampshire, half a dozen grand hotels, each accommodating hundreds are now overcrowded every Summer. In the early part of the present century the summer visitors to the Highlands of Scotland did not give business enough to support a single inn, a single stage coach or a single guide. They now give business to several Rail Road trains, scores of steamboats and thousands of men and horses every day. It is but sixteen years since the Yosemite was first seen by a white man, several visitors have since made a journey of several thousand miles at large cost to see it, and notwithstanding the difficulties which now interpose, hundreds resort to it annually. Before many years, if proper facilities are offered, these hundreds will become thousands and in a century the whole number of visitors will be counted by millions. An injury to the scenery so slight that it may be unheeded by any visitor now, will be one [508]of deplorable magnitude when its effect upon each visitor’s enjoyment is multiplied by these millions. But again, the slight harm which the few hundred visitors of this year might do, if no care were taken to prevent it, would not be slight, if it should be repeated by millions. At some time, therefore, laws to prevent an unjust use by individuals of that which is not individual but public property, must be made and rigidly enforced. The principle of justice involved is the same now that it will be then; such laws as this principle demands will be more easily enforced, and there will be less hardship in their action, if the abuses they are designed to prevent are never allowed to become customary but are checked while they are yet of unimportant consequence. It should, then, be made the duty of the Commission to prevent a wanton or careless disregard on the part of anyone entering the Yosemite or the Grove, of the rights of posterity as well as of cotemporary visitors, and the Commission should be clothed with proper authority and given t}1e necessary means for this purpose.

This duty of preservation is the first which falls upon the State under the Act of Congress, because the millions who are hereafter to benefit by the Act have the largest interest in it, and the largest interest should be first and most strenuously guarded.

Next to this, and for a similar reason preceding all other duties of the State in regard to this trust, is that of aiding to make this appropriation of Congress available as soon and as generally as may be economically practicable to those whom it is designed to benefit. Had Congress not thought best to depart from the usual method of dealing with the public lands in this case, it would have been practicable for one man to have bought the whole, to have appropriated it wholly to his individual pleasure or to have refused admittance to any who were unable to pay a certain price as admission fee, or as a charge for the entertainment which he would have had a monopoly of supplying. The result would have been a rich man’s park, and for the present, so far as the great body of the people are concerned, it is not, and as long as the present arrangements continue, it will remain, practically, the property only of the rich.

A man travelling from Stockton to the Yosemite or the Mariposa Grove is commonly three or four days on the road at an expense of from thirty to forty dollars, and arrives in the majority of cases quite overcome with the fatigue and unaccustomed hardships of the journey. Few persons, especially few women, are able to enjoy or profit by the scenery and air for days afterwards. Meantime they remain at an expense of from $3 to $12. per day for themselves, their guide and horses, and many leave before they have recovered from their first exhaustion and return home jaded and ill. The distance is not over one hundred miles, and with such roads and public conveyances as are found elsewhere in the State the trip might be made easily and comfortably in one day and at a cost of ten or [509]twelve dollars. With similar facilities of transportation, the provisions and all the necessities of camping could also be supplied at moderate rates. To realize the advantages which are offered the people of the State in this gift of the Nation, therefor, the first necessity is a road from the termination of the present roads leading towards the district. At present there is no communication with it except by means of a very poor trail for a distance of nearly forty miles from the Yo Semite and twenty from the Mariposa Grove.

Besides the advantages which such a road would have in reducing the expense, time and fatigue of a visit to the tract to the whole public at once, it would also serve the important purpose of making it practicable to convey timber and other articles necessary for the accommodation of visitors into the Yo Semite from without, and thus the necessity, or the temptation, to cut down its groves and to prepare its surface for tillage would be avoided. Until a road is made it must be very difficult to prevent this. The Commissioners propose also in laying out a road to the Mariposa Grove that it shall be carried completely around it, so as to offer a barrier of bare ground to the approach of fires, which nearly every year sweep upon it from the adjoining country, and which during the last year alone have caused injuries, exemption from which it will be thought before many years would have been cheaply obtained at ten times the cost of the road.

Within the Yosemite the Commissioners propose to cause to be constructed a double trail, which, on the completion of our approach road, may be easily made suitable for the passage of a single vehicle, and which shall enable visitors to make a complete circuit of all the broader parts of the valley and to cross the meadows at certain points, reaching all the finer points of view to which it can be carried without great expense. When carriages are introduced it is proposed that they shall be driven for the most part up one side and down the other of the valley, suitable resting places and turnouts for passing being provided at frequent intervals. The object of this arrangement is to reduce the necessity for artificial construction within the narrowest practicable limits, destroying as it must the natural conditions of the ground and presenting an unpleasant object to the eye in the midst of the scenery. The trail or narrow road could also be kept more in the shade, could take a more picturesque course, would be less dusty, and could be much more cheaply kept in repair. From this trail a few paths would also need to be formed, leading to points of view which would only be accessible to persons on foot. Several small bridges would also be required.

The Commission also propose the construction of five cabins at points in the valley conveniently near to those most frequented by visitors, especially near the foot of the cascades, but at the same time near to convenient camping places. These cabins would be let to tenants with [510]the condition that they should have constantly open one comfortable room as a free resting place for visitors, with the proper private accommodations for women, and that they should keep constantly on hand in another room a supply of certain simple necessities for camping parties, including tents, cooking utensils and provisions; the tents and utensils to be let, and the provisions to be sold at rates to be limited by the terms of the contract.

The Commissioners ask and recommend that sums be appropriated for these and other purposes named below as follows:

For the expense already incurred in the survey and transfer of the Yosemite and Mariposa Big Tree Grove from the United States to the State of California	$2,000
For the construction of 30 miles more or less of double trail & foot paths	3,000
For the construction of Bridges	1,600
For the construction and finishing five cabins, closets, stairways, railings &c	2,000
Salary of Superintendent (2 years)	2400
For surveys, advertising, & incidentals	1000
For aid in the construction of a road	25,000
	$37,000

The Commissioners trust that after this amount shall have been expended the further necessary expenses for the management of the domain will be defrayed by the proceeds of rents and licenses which will be collected upon it.

The Yosemite yet remains to be considered as a field of study for science and art. Already students of science and artists have been attracted to it from the Atlantic States and a number of artists have at heavy expense spent the Summer in sketching the scenery. That legislation should, when practicable within certain limits, give encouragement to the pursuit of science and art has been fully recognized as a duty by this State. The pursuit of science and of art, while it tends more than any other human pursuit to the benefit of the commonwealth and the advancement of civilization, does not correspondingly put money into the hands of the pursuers. Their means are generally extremely limited. They are likely by the nature of their studies to be the best counsellors which can be had in respect to certain of the duties which will fall upon the proposed Commission, and it is right that they should if possible be honorably represented in the constitution of the Commission.

Congress has provided that the Executive shall appoint eight Commissioners, and that they shall give their services gratuitously. It is but just that the State should defray the travelling expenses necessarily incurred in the discharge of their duty. It is proposed that the allowance [511]for this purpose shall be limited in amount to four hundred dollars per annum, for each Commissioner, or so much thereof as shall have been actually expended in travelling to and from the ground and while upon it. It is also proposed that of the eight Commissioners to be appointed by the Executive, four shall be appointed annually and that these four shall be students of Natural Science or Landscape Artists. It is advised also that in order that it may be in the power of the Governor when he sees fit to offer the slight consideration presented in the sum of $400 proposed to be allowed each Commissioner for travelling expenses as an inducement to men of scientific note and zealous artists to visit the State, that he shall not necessarily be restricted in these appointments to citizens of the State. The Yosemite being a trust from the whole nation, it seems eminently proper that so much liberality in its management should be authorized.