George Horatio Derby, American historian, California State Senator, United States Surveyor General for California, and trustee of the University of California," photographer unkown, pre 1861. Larger.
The natural sciences claim the attention of all of us eager to know our world better and ready to fathom our place within it. Sometimes, however, we're really just eager to imagine our place above it.
A graduate of West Point, George Horatio Derby traveled west as part of the Army Topographical Engineers. Distance from his native Massachusettes perhaps encouraged his humorous perspective on American self-importance, a perspective captured in a tongue-in-cheek treatise on astronomy.
The term Astronomy is derived from two Latin words,—Astra, a star, and onomy, a science; and literally means the science of the stars. . . .
By the wondrous discoveries of the improved telescopes of modern times, we ascertain that upward of several hundred millions of stars exist, that are invisible to the naked eye—the nearest of which is millions of millions of miles from the Earth; and as we have every reason to suppose that every one of this inconceivable number of worlds is peopled like our own, a consideration of this fact—and that we are undoubtedly as superior to these beings as we are to the rest of mankind—is calculated to fill the mind of the American with a due sense of his own importance in the scale of animated creation.
George Horatio Derby was one of California's first humorists. His pieces—many written for the San Diego Herald in the 1850's—were republished throughout the United States.
"Yours respectively, John P Squibob. Note—This autograph may be relied on as authentic, as it was written by one of Mr. Squibob's most intimate friends," frontispiece, Phoenixiana; or Sketches and Burlesques, 1903. Larger.
Californians are used to premium prices for water-front property. But in the eyes of gold rush writer George Horatio Derby, Benicia took that idea way too far.
After graduating West Point, Derby served in California, where he also published humorous sketches based on his observations. Under the pseudonym "Squibob," Derby tells just how precious is land in California's one-time capitol.
How pretty is the map of Benicia! We went to see that, too. It's all laid off in squares and streets, for ever so far, and you can see the pegs stuck in the ground at every corner, only they are not exactly in a line, sometimes; and there is Aspinwall's wharf, where they are building a steamer of iron that looks like a large pan, and Semple Slip, all divided on the map by lines and dots into little dots of incredible value; but just now they are all under water, so no one can tell what they are actually worth. Oh! Decidedly Benicia is a great place. "And how much, my dear sir," I modestly inquired of the gentlemanly recorder who displayed the map, "how much may this lot be worth?" and I pointed with my finger at lot number 97, block 16,496—situated, as per map, in the very center of the swamp. "That sir," replied he with much suavity, "ah! It would be held at about three thousand dollars, I suppose." I shuddered—and retired.
Derby's humorous California sketches were so well received by readers of the San Diego Herald and San Franicisco's Pioneer that he published a collection of his work, Phoenixiana in 1855.
As San Francisco boomed with the Gold Rush bonanza, it seemed destined to vanquish all rivals as the leading city of the state, even a well-situated challenger that would be a future state capital.
In 1850, humorist George Horatio Derby had his own ideas about urban leadership, which emerged as he described for readers of the San Fancisco Pioneeer the panoramic view across metropolitan rival Benicia.
As I sit here looking from my airy chamber upon the crowds of two or three persons thronging the streets of the great city; as I gaze upon that man carrying home a pound and a half of fresh beef for his dinner; as I listen to the bell of the Mary (a Napa steam packet of four cat power) ringing for departure, while her captain in a voice of authority requests the passengers to "step over the other side, as the larboard paddle-box is under water"; as I view all the unmistakable signs of the growth and prosperity of Benicia, I cannot but wonder at the infatuation of the people of your village, who will persist in their absurd belief that San Francisco will become a place, and do not hesitate to advance the imbecile idea that it may become a successful rival of this city. Nonsense!
Three years after George Horatio Derby's brief visit, Benicia became California's state capital until Sacramento permanently assumed that honor in 1854.
"Loading cartridges for big guns Benicia Arsenal, Benicia, California, USA," photographer unknown, date c. 1890. Larger.
It is easy, says the cynic, to forget the wrongs we do to others. Not so easy to forgive the wrongs others do to us—especially after we give them free publicity.
George Horatio Derby—writing under the psuedonym Squibob—took a dim view of those he deemed insufficiently grateful for his journalistic attentions.
I arrived at this place some days since, but have been so entirely occupied during the interval, in racing over the adjacent hills in pursuit of unhappy partridges, wandering along the banks of the beautiful creek, whipping its tranquil surface for speckled trout, or cramming myself with grapes at the vineyard, that I have not, until this moment, found time to fulfil my promise of a continuation of my traveling adventures. I left Benicia with satisfaction. Ungrateful people! I had expected, after the very handsome manner in which I had spoken of their city; the glowing description of its magnitude, prosperity and resources that I had given; the consequent rise in property that had taken place; the manifest effect that my letter would produce upon the action of Congress in making Benicia a port of entry; in view of all these circumstances I had, indeed, expected some trifling compliment—a public dinner, possibly, or preadventure a delicate present of a lot or two—the deeds inclosed in a neat and appropriate letter from the Town Council. But no!—the name of Squibob remains unhonored and unsung, and, what is far worse, unrecorded and untaxed in magnificent Benicia. "How sharper than a serpent's thanks it is to have a toothless child," as Pope beautifully remarks in his Paradise Lost.
An early California humorist, George Horatio Derby published sketches in various California serials under psuedonyms like Squibob and John Phoenix.
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