Roughing It
reason he did not meet you upstairs was to spare you the humiliation of
a beating in the sight of others.”
I submit that that unguarded remark of Philip Lynch convicts him of
having been privy in advance to Mr. Winters’ intentions whatever they
may have been, or at least to his meaning to make an assault upon me,
but I leave to others to determine how much censure an editor deserves
for inveigling a weak, non-combatant man, also a publisher, to a pen of
his own to be horsewhipped, if no worse, for the simple printing of what
is verbally in the mouth of nine out of ten men, and women too, upon the
street.
While writing this account two theories have occurred to me as possibly
true respecting this most remarkable assault: First—The aim may have
been simply to extort from me such admissions as in the hands of money
and influence would have sent me to the Penitentiary for libel. This,
however, seems unlikely, because any statements elicited by fear or
force could not be evidence in law or could be so explained as to have
no force. The statements wanted so badly must have been desired for some
other purpose. Second—The other theory has so dark and wilfully
murderous a look that I shrink from writing it, yet as in all
probability my death at the earliest practicable moment has already been
decreed, I feel I should do all I can before my hour arrives, at least
to show others how to break up that aristocratic rule and combination
which has robbed all Nevada of true freedom, if not of manhood itself.
Although I do not prefer this hypothesis as a “charge,” I feel that as
an American citizen I still have a right both to think and to speak my
thoughts even in the land of Sharon and Winters, and as much so
respecting the theory of a brutal assault (especially when I have been
its subject) as respecting any other apparent enormity. I give the
matter simply as a suggestion which may explain to the proper
authorities and to the people whom they should represent, a well
ascertained but notwithstanding a darkly mysterious fact. The scheme of
the assault may have been:
First—To terrify me by making me conscious of my own helplessness after
making actual though not legal threats against my life.
Second—To imply that I could save my life only by writing or signing
certain specific statements which if not subsequently explained would
eternally have branded me as infamous and would have consigned my family
to shame and want, and to the dreadful compassion and patronage of the
rich.
Third—To blow my brains out the moment I had signed, thereby preventing
me from making any subsequent explanation such as could remove the
infamy.
Fourth—Philip Lynch to be compelled to testify that I was killed by John
B. Winters in self-defence, for the conviction of Winters would bring
him in as an accomplice. If that was the programme in John B. Winters’
mind nothing saved my life but my persistent refusal to sign, when that
refusal seemed clearly to me to be the choice of death.
The remarkable assertion made to me by Mr. Winters, that pity only
spared my life on Wednesday evening last, almost compels me to believe
that at first he could not have intended me to leave that room alive;
and why I was allowed to, unless through mesmeric or some other
invisible influence, I cannot divine. The more I reflect upon this
matter, the more probable as true does this horrible interpretation
become.
The narration of these things I might have spared both to Mr. Winters
and to the public had he himself observed silence, but as he has both
verbally spoken and suffered a thoroughly garbled statement of facts to
appear in the Gold Hill News I feel it due to myself no less than to
this community, and to the entire independent press of America and Great
Britain, to give a true account of what even the Gold Hill News has
pronounced a disgraceful affair, and which it deeply regrets because of
some alleged telegraphic mistake in the account of it. [Who received the
erroneous telegrams?]
Though he may not deem it prudent to take my life just now, the
publication of this article I feel sure must compel Gen. Winters (with
his peculiar views about his right to exemption from criticism by me) to
resolve on my violent death, though it may take years to compass it.
Notwithstanding I bear him no ill will; and if W. C. Ralston and William
Sharon, and other members of the San Francisco mining and milling Ring
feel that he above all other men in this State and California is the
most fitting man to supervise and control Yellow Jacket matters, until I
am able to vote more than half their stock I presume he will be retained
to grace his present post.
Meantime, I cordially invite all who know of any sort of important
villainy which only can be cured by exposure (and who would expose it if
they felt sure they would not be betrayed under bullying threats), to
communicate with the PEOPLE’S TRIBUNE; for until I am murdered, so long
as I can raise the means to publish, I propose to continue my efforts at
least to revive the liberties of the State, to curb oppression, and to
benefit man’s world and God’s earth.
CONRAD WIEGAND.
[It does seem a pity that the Sheriff was shut out, since the good sense
of a general of militia and of a prominent editor failed to teach them
that the merited castigation of this weak, half-witted child was a thing
that ought to have been done in the street, where the poor thing could
have a chance to run. When a journalist maligns a citizen, or attacks
his good name on hearsay evidence, he deserves to be thrashed for it,
even if he is a “non-combatant” weakling; but a generous adversary would
at least allow such a lamb the use of his legs at such a time.—M. T.]