Gold: the marvellous history of General John Augustus Sutter

by Blaise Cendrars

  'From the summit of those mountains, I could see the immense expanse of land I had brought under cultivation, now given up to looting and fire-raising. Even up there, in my solitude, I could hear the sound of pistol shots and, coming from the West, the hubbub of crowds on the march. At the far end of the bay, I could see them building an unknown town which grew larger before my eyes and, out in the roadsteads, the sea was full of vessels.

  'I could stand it no longer.

  'I went back down to the fort, having paid off all those who had run away and who did not wish to return with me. I cancelled all the contracts, and paid all the bills.

  'I was ruined.

  'I appointed an administrator of my estate, and, without even glancing at that rabble of parasites who had now installed themselves in my home, I left for the banks of the Feather River to see if my grapes were ripe. Only those Indians whom I had brought up myself accompanied me.

  'If I had been able to follow my plans through to their conclusion, I should very soon have become the richest man in the world; as it was, the discovery of gold had ruined me.'

  * * *

  NINTH CHAPTER

  * * *

  32

  On the 17th of June, 1848, General Mason, the new American Governor, leaves Monterey to go and see for himself how much truth there is in the fantastic rumours that are circulating about the gold-mines discovered in the Sacramento basin. On the 20th, he is in San Francisco. The town, recently so crowded, is now completely empty and deserted; the entire male population has gone up to the diggings.

  'On the 3rd of July,' says his report, 'we arrive at Fort Sutter. The mills are standing silent. Immense herds of beef cattle and horses have trampled down their enclosures and are grazing peacefully in fields of wheat and maize. The farmhouses are falling into ruins, a nauseating odour wafts from them. The fort itself is very busy. Ferries and barges embark and disembark mountains of merchandise of every kind. There are camps of covered wagons all around the outer perimeter. Whole convoys arrive and depart again. People are paying a hundred dollars a month rent for a tiny room, and five hundred dollars a month for a wretched, single-storey hovel. The blacksmith and the shoeing-smith, who are still in Sutter's service, earn up to fifty dollars a day. Over an area of more than five miles, the slopes of the hills are covered with a multitude of tents that dazzle the eye in the glaring sunlight. The whole district is swarming with people. Everyone is panning gold, some with the aid of little saucepans or tightly-woven Indian baskets, others with the aid of the famous "cradles".'

  The Polynesian, a newspaper issued in Honolulu, publishes a letter from which we quote the following extract:

  'From San Francisco, our road led us through the valley of the Puebla as far as San José, a distance of some fifty miles. Never had I seen a more seductive country. The ground was dotted with flowers, a myriad of watercourses criss-crossed the prairies, the hills were covered with flocks of sheep. I had never seen such beautiful scenery. Then we passed the dilapidated buildings of the Santa Clara Mission, whose tiled roofs had caved in. We reached the banks of the San Joaquin, which we crossed by a ford; then we went up towards Fort Sutter, through country of astonishing fertility, which could support a huge population. But we did not encounter a single human being. All the farms were abandoned: the Americans, the Californians, the Indians, everybody was at the mining sector. After leaving Fort Sutter, we followed the steep banks of the American River and soon climbed the first foothills which rise up in terraces to the Sierra Nevada. At midday, we halted for lunch and a cup of coffee. While we were waiting for the water to boil, one of our company dipped his tin mug into a small creek that was running at our feet; it came up full to the brim with sand; he washed it and found four grains of gold at the bottom. By sunset, we had reached Captain Sutter's sawmill, where the first gold was discovered. We had just travelled twenty-five miles, through gold, silver, platinum and iron mines. The road was suitable for vehicles, even a town carriage could have negotiated it easily, and it ran through fairy-tale landscape, decked in flowers and traversed by thousands of little streams. I found a thousand white men there, busy panning gold. The average yield is about one ounce per man per day, and each prospector makes about sixteen dollars. The deeper one digs, the higher the yield. At the moment, the record for the luckiest strike is held by a man who made himself two hundred dollars in a single day. The nuggets come in all sizes: the largest that has been extracted weighed sixteen ounces. All the mountains in this area contain gold and platinum. At a distance of five miles from this sawmill, they have just discovered the richest seam of silver ever known. These treasures are inexhaustible. . . .'

  33

  At news of these prodigious lodes, the Yankee spirit of enterprise came to the boil. In New York and Boston, ten thousand emigrants gathered, bound for California. In New York City alone, sixty-five societies were founded to exploit this new business. Sons of the wealthiest families invested in it and the capital amassed was counted in millions. In the space of a fortnight, one small hotel on Broadway saw five hundred men file through its rooms, and every one of them was on his way to the Far West. By October, twenty-one vessels had already left the great port of the East destined for the Pacific coast; forty-eight others were preparing to set sail; on the 11th December, the hundredth sailed out of the Hudson. 'The whole of New England is on the move and making its way towards the ports or preparing to travel overland across the continent; we have given up trying to count the ships and the caravans,' cries the New York Herald of that date.

  And what a journey!

  34

  Those who chose the land route had months of hardship and privation to look forward to. Others had to round Cape Horn - leaving New York Harbour, they headed due south, through the Gulf of Mexico, crossed the Line and sailed down the coast of South America as far as Cape Horn, the cape of storms, then had to turn and sail as far to the north again, following the coast of Chile, recross the Line and make straight for San Francisco - a voyage of 17,000 nautical miles which took between 130 and 150 days to accomplish.

  But the majority of the gold-seekers crossed the Isthmus of Panama. A veritable human torrent sailed down the Gulf Stream and tramped the beaches of Cuba and Haiti before hurling itself upon Chagres, a hot and pestilent hole wallowing in the swamps. If all went well, it was possible to struggle on, through villages full of degenerate Indians or leprous Negroes, and reach Panama in three days, in spite of shifting sands, mosquitoes and yellow fever. Then, in furious haste, the survivors embarked for 'Frisco.

  This traffic was so heavy that one New York company began to build a railway. Tons of earth and gravel had to be poured into the swamps and thousands of workers left their bones there, but the line was completed. It is true that the sleepers sank beneath the weight of the convoys but the trains got through nevertheless and the journey to San Francisco was shortened by several weeks.

  At the head of the line, a town sprang up; it was named Aspinwall after the director of the enterprise. Regular communications, by steamship, were established with England, France, Italy, Germany, Spain and Holland. The little trains puffed their way to Panama, bearing cargoes of feverish Europeans who had come, dressed in red shirts, brown leather boots and corduroy trousers, to take their turn at tempting Dame Fortune.

  San Francisco. California. Sutter!

  Those three names echoed round the world, they were heard everywhere, even in the most secluded villages. They awoke men's appetites, their energies, their thirst for gold, their dreams and illusions, their spirit of adventure. And now, from every corner of the globe, solitary men were setting out, as well as sects, groups and corporations, all heading for the promised land, all converging on this EL DORADO where all one had to do was bend down and pick up gold, pearls and diamonds by the handful. On the quays of San Francisco South Americans, Kamchatkans, Siberian peasants and men from all the races of Asia, who had embarked in the ports of China, were arriving in a never-ending stream. Troops of N
egroes, Russians, yellow men took their turn at occupying Fort Sutter, relieving the Germans, Swedes, Italians and French who had already gone up to the mines. People cohered into groups and multiplied with a rapidity unparalleled in history. In less than seven years, the inhabitants of the towns could be counted in hundreds of thousands and those of the whole region in millions. In ten years, San Francisco had become one of the largest capitals in the world. The little village of Yerba Buena had been swallowed up. Building land was fetching the same price as in London or New York.

  Meanwhile, John Augustus Sutter was ruined.

  35

  Sutter's name is on the lips of everyone who travels up the Sacramento. Nevertheless, each man settles himself in the most propitious spot and there, where the soil offers up its treasures, plunges his hands in deep, grabbing all he can. Sutter's plantation, his farms, his entire domain, form a centre for the gold-panners. There are so many features inviting one to settle down there - the multitude of generous little water-courses, the judiciously-chosen site of the first farm, the extraordinary fertility of the soil, the tracks already laid out, the bridges and canals. One after another, villages spring into being. The fort crumbles into ruins. The very name of New Helvetia disappears. New names are given to the region and although Sutterville, Sutter's Creek and Sutter's County bear his name, Sutter himself does not see this as an act of homage but rather as a symbol of the ruination of his settlement and the calamity of his life.

  36

  John Augustus Sutter has retired into his Hermitage.

  He has rescued what he could of his herds and flocks. In spite of events, the first harvest brings him in 40,000 bushels. His vineyards and his orchards seem to be blessed. He could still exploit all this, for there is a shortage of foodstuffs in the area, due to the massive immigration, and more than once the locust-cloud of gold-seekers is threatened with famine.

  But Sutter's heart is no longer in the work.

  He lets everything go.

  His most faithful employees, his closest confidantes have deserted him. No matter how well he pays them, they can earn more in the mines. There are no longer any hands to tend the fields. There is not a single shepherd left.

  He could, once again, make a fortune - speculate, profiteer in the astronomic rise in the price of edible commodities - but, to what purpose? He sees his stocks of grain dwindling and, presently, the end of his provisions.

  Other men will make fortunes.

  He lets things go.

  He does nothing.

  Nothing.

  Impassively, he watches the seizure and partition of his lands. A new land registry is established. New title-deeds are drawn up. The latest arrivals are accompanied by men of law.

  37

  Since the cession of Texas and California to the United States, the government in Washington has extended the federal laws to these two territories, but there is a dearth of magistrates and, at the time of the gold rush, no authority has any hold over these cosmopolitan multitudes lusting for gold. When the Governor of Monterey sends in troops to maintain order, the soldiers lay down their arms, drop bag and baggage and desert to the mines, and if a warship, sent by the federal government to enforce respect for the law, disembarks an armed crew, they will vanish forever, drawn irresistibly to the mines. The commander cannot hold his sailors, not even with a wage of fifteen dollars a day.

  The country is infested with thieves and bandits. The outlaws and the desperadoes lay down the only law—their law. It is the epic reign of the '45' and of summary justice. In the struggle for survival, might is right. Men are hanged with lassoes or shot down with revolvers. Vigilance committees are formed to protect the slowly-reviving civic life. Those who first took possession of the land can, as a last resort, go to Monterey to seek redress and have their property claims evaluated. The Governor addresses their just claims to the proper quarter and the government appoints a Commission of Inquiry. But Washington is too far away, the official commissions travel slowly, while the immigrants pour in in ever-increasing numbers, swamp the country, settle and multiply. By the time the gentlemen commissioners at last arrive on the spot, they can do nothing but report the overwhelming upheaval of men and affairs, total chaos where property is concerned, and if, by an unlucky chance, they take the time to study an individual case in detail, they are sure to be overtaken by events.

  Ten large cities have sprung up. Fifteen hundred villages.

  Nothing can be done.

  Appeal to the Law.

  The Law.

  In September 1850, California officially enters the confederation of the United States. It is a State at last, a fully-fledged constitutional body, endowed with officials and magistrates.

  And so begins a series of prodigious, costly and futile legal actions.

  The Law.

  The impotent Law.

  The men of law whom John Augustus Sutter despises.

  * * *

  TENTH CHAPTER

  * * *

  38

  Basle, late December, 1849.

  In Basle, they still know nothing about the discovery of gold.

  Frau Sutter is staying at the famous 'Stork Hotel'. Her three tall sons and her young daughter are with her. A devoted friend, tutor to her children during the long absence and even longer silence of their father, accompanies her. Frau Anna Sutter, née Dübeid, is a tall, dark-haired woman who hides her excessive sweetness beneath an air of severity. Round her neck, in a gold locket, she carries a daguerrotype of John Augustus, taken at the time when the couple were engaged.

  Anna Sutter has taken a long time to make up her mind. A letter addressed from New Helvetia and dated end of December 1847, summons her to California. Detailed instructions for the embarkation and voyage are attached, as well as an important letter-of-credit on the Passavant, Sarrazin and Co. Bank in Basle. The fact that Anna Sutter is undertaking this voyage today is thanks to her father, the old pastor of Grenzach, who has urged her to it in the name of Christian charity and for the honour of her children; it is also thanks to the devoted care of Martin Birmann, the tutor, who has handled all the travel arrangements and legal formalities, who has made the journey to the bank in Basle several times to obtain the necessary information, and has just brought back from there not only a large sum of money, but sensational news. Today, Frau Sutter feels reassured, she knows that her husband, John Augustus Sutter, is a man of honourable reputation, accredited in the most important banks in Europe and that he is one of the largest colonists in America, the owner of an estate vaster than the entire canton of Basle, the founder of a country, the developer of a region, something like William Tell, for she cannot quite realize what New Helvetia is, and she has heard talk of war and battles; but what do her fears and her secret tremblings matter? She has been able to pay off all her husband's old debts and wipe out the infamous judgement of earlier times. Now, her duty calls her to a foreign land. She will obey that call. The Chief Clerk of the Passavant, Sarrazin and Co. Bank has come to the hotel to bring her letters-of-credit on the banking houses of Dardel the Elder in Paris, and Pury, Pury and Son in Le Havre. He wishes Frau Sutter a pleasant journey on behalf of his directors and takes advantage of the occasion to speak to her about a cousin of his whom he would dearly like to see settled in America. The coachman is cracking his whip outside the front door. The proprietors of the 'Stork', Herr and Frau Freitag, are giving a farewell party in her honour and there is quite a gathering of worthy citizens, who are touched at the sight of this poor woman-setting off on such a long journey. They overwhelm her with recommendations and good advice. Lost in a huge, high-backed armchair, Martin Birmann is weeping and sneezing into his handkerchief. On his knees, he holds a tapestry travelling-bag fastened with a heavy padlock. At last, the whole family is installed in the post-chaise and Martin Birmann bestows the precious bag on Frau Sutter, giving her a complete list, once again, of all it contains.

  The coach jerks forward. There are cries of 'Hurrah!' The children
laugh. The mother feels a great wrench at her heart. Martin Birmann takes a double pinch of snuff to hide his emotion.

  Bon voyage!

  Bon voyage!

  39

  The journey is swiftly accomplished. The post-chaise travels hell-for-leather. The family spends the night at Délémont. Next day, at Saint-Ursanne, they eat trout for lunch, and while the children go into ecstasies over the little town, which has preserved its medieval ramparts, Frau Sutter feels her heart contract at the thought that she is about to enter a Catholic country. That night they sleep in Porrentruy. Then, next day, into the land of the heathen, through the valleys of the Joye and the Allaine to Boncourt, Delle and Belfort, where they board the coach that comes from Mulhouse.