Book: The Forty Niners

S >> Stewart Edward White >> The Forty Niners




Beyond Fort Hall the Oregon Trail and the trail for California divided.
And at this point there began the terrible part of the journey--the
arid, alkaline, thirsty desert, short of game, horrible in its monotony,
deadly with its thirst. It is no wonder that, weakened by their
sufferings in this inferno, so many of the immigrants looked upon the
towering walls of the Sierras with a sinking of the heart.

While at first most of the influx of settlers was by way of Oregon,
later the stories of the new country that made their way eastward
induced travelers to go direct to California itself. The immigration,
both from Oregon in the North and by the route over the Sierras,
increased so rapidly that in 1845 there were probably about 700
Americans in the district. Those coming over the Sierras by the Carson
Sink and Salt Lake trails arrived first of all at the fort built by
Captain Sutter at the junction of the American and Sacramento rivers.

Captain Sutter was a man of Swiss parentage who had arrived in San
Francisco in 1839 without much capital and with only the assets of
considerable ability and great driving force. From the Governor he
obtained grant of a large tract of land "somewhere in the interior" for
the purposes of colonization. His colonists consisted of one German,
four other white men, and eight Kanakas. The then Governor, Alvarado,
thought this rather a small beginning, but advised him to take out
naturalization papers and to select a location. Sutter set out on his
somewhat vague quest with a four-oared boat and two small schooners,
loaded with provisions, implements, ammunition, and three small cannon.
Besides his original party he took an Indian boy and a dog, the latter
proving by no means the least useful member of the company. He found at
the junction of the American and Sacramento rivers the location that
appealed to him, and there he established himself. His knack with the
Indians soon enlisted their services. He seems to have been able to keep
his agreements with them and at the same time to maintain rigid
discipline and control.

Within an incredibly short time he had established a feudal barony at
his fort. He owned eleven square leagues of land, four thousand two
hundred cattle, two thousand horses, and about as many sheep. His trade
in beaver skins was most profitable. He maintained a force of trappers
who were always welcome at his fort, and whom he generously kept without
cost to themselves. He taught the Indians blanket-weaving, hat-making,
and other trades, and he even organized them into military companies.
The fort which he built was enclosed on four sides and of imposing
dimensions and convenience. It mounted twelve pieces of artillery,
supported a regular garrison of forty in uniform, and contained within
its walls a blacksmith shop, a distillery, a flour mill, a cannery, and
space for other necessary industries. Outside the walls of the fort
Captain Sutter raised wheat, oats, and barley in quantity, and even
established an excellent fruit and vegetable garden.

Indeed, in every way Captain Sutter's environment and the results of his
enterprises were in significant contrast to the inactivity and
backwardness of his neighbors. He showed what an energetic man could
accomplish with exactly the same human powers and material tools as had
always been available to the Californians. Sutter himself was a rather
short, thick-set man, exquisitely neat, of military bearing, carrying
himself with what is called the true old-fashioned courtesy. He was a
man of great generosity and of high spirit. His defect was an excess of
ambition which in the end o'erleaped itself. There is no doubt that his
first expectation was to found an independent state within the borders
of California. His loyalty to the Americans was, however, never
questioned, and the fact that his lands were gradually taken from him,
and that he died finally in comparative poverty, is a striking comment
on human injustice.

The important point for us at present is that Sutter's Fort happened to
be exactly on the line of the overland immigration. For the trail-weary
traveler it was the first stopping-place after crossing the high Sierras
to the promised land. Sutter's natural generosity of character induced
him always to treat these men with the greatest kindness. He made his
profits from such as wished to get rid of their oxen and wagons in
exchange for the commodities which he had to offer. But there is no
doubt that the worthy captain displayed the utmost liberality in
dealing with those whom poverty had overtaken. On several occasions he
sent out expeditions at his personal cost to rescue parties caught in
the mountains by early snows or other misfortunes along the road,
Especially did he go to great expense in the matter of the ill-fated
Donner party, who, it will be remembered, spent the winter near Truckee,
and were reduced to cannibalism to avoid starvation.[1]

[1: See _The Passing of the Frontier_, in "The Chronicles of America."]

Now Sutter had, of course, been naturalized in order to obtain
his grant of land. He had also been appointed an official of the
California-Mexican Government. Taking advantage of this fact, he was
accustomed to issue permits or passports to the immigrants, permitting
them to remain in the country. This gave the immigrants a certain
limited standing, but, as they were not Mexican citizens, they were
disqualified from holding land. Nevertheless Sutter used his good
offices in showing desirable locations to the would-be settlers.[2]

[2: It is to be remarked that, prior to the gold rush, American
settlements did not take place in the Spanish South but in the
unoccupied North. In 1845 Castro and Castillero made a tour through the
Sacramento Valley and the northern regions to inquire about the new
arrivals. Castro displayed no personal uneasiness at their presence and
made no attempt or threat to deport them.]

As far as the Californians were concerned, there was little rivalry or
interference between the immigrants and the natives. Their interests did
not as yet conflict. Nevertheless the central Mexican Government
continued its commands to prevent any and all immigration. It was rather
well justified by its experience in Texas, where settlement had ended by
final absorption. The local Californian authorities were thus thrust
between the devil and the deep blue sea. They were constrained by the
very positive and repeated orders from their home government to keep out
all immigration and to eject those already on the ground. On the other
hand, the means for doing so were entirely lacking, and the present
situation did not seem to them alarming.

Thus matters drifted along until the Mexican War. For a considerable
time before actual hostilities broke out, it was well known throughout
the country that they were imminent. Every naval and military commander
was perfectly aware that, sooner or later, war was inevitable. Many had
received their instructions in case of that eventuality, and most of
the others had individual plans to be put into execution at the earliest
possible moment. Indeed, as early as 1842 Commodore Jones, being
misinformed of a state of war, raced with what he supposed to be English
war-vessels from South America, entered the port of Monterey hastily,
captured the fort, and raised the American flag. The next day he
discovered that not only was there no state of war, but that he had not
even raced British ships! The flag was thereupon hauled down, the
Mexican emblem substituted, appropriate apologies and salutes were
rendered, and the incident was considered closed. The easy-going
Californians accepted the apology promptly and cherished no rancor for
the mistake.

In the meantime Thomas O. Larkin, a very substantial citizen of long
standing in the country, had been appointed consul, and in addition
received a sum of six dollars a day to act as secret agent. It was hoped
that his great influence would avail to inspire the Californians with a
desire for peaceful annexation to the United States. In case that policy
failed, he was to use all means to separate them from Mexico, and so
isolate them from their natural alliances. He was furthermore to
persuade them that England, France, and Russia had sinister designs on
their liberty. It was hoped that his good offices would slowly influence
public opinion, and that, on the declaration of open war with Mexico,
the United States flag could be hoisted in California not only without
opposition but with the consent and approval of the inhabitants. This
type of peaceful conquest had a very good chance of success. Larkin
possessed the confidence of the better class of Californians and he did
his duty faithfully.

Just at this moment a picturesque, gallant, ambitious, dashing, and
rather unscrupulous character appeared inopportunely on the horizon. His
name was John C. Fremont. He was the son of a French father and a
Virginia mother. He was thirty-two years old, and was married to the
daughter of Thomas H. Benton, United States Senator from Missouri and a
man of great influence in the country. Possessed of an adventurous
spirit, considerable initiative, and great persistence Fremont had
already performed the feat of crossing the Sierra Nevadas by way of
Carson River and Johnson Pass, and had also explored the Columbia River
and various parts of the Northwest. Fremont now entered California by
way of Walker Lake and the Truckee, and reached Sutter's Fort in 1845.
He then turned southward to meet a division of his party under Joseph
Walker.

His expedition was friendly in character, with the object of surveying a
route westward to the Pacific, and then northward to Oregon. It
supposedly possessed no military importance whatever. But his turning
south to meet Walker instead of north, where ostensibly his duty called
him, immediately aroused the suspicions of the Californians. Though
ordered to leave the district, he refused compliance, and retired to a
place called Gavilan Peak, where he erected fortifications and raised
the United States flag. Probably Fremont's intentions were perfectly
friendly and peaceful. He made, however, a serious blunder in
withdrawing within fortifications. After various threats by the
Californians but no performance in the way of attack, he withdrew and
proceeded by slow marches to Sutter's Fort and thence towards the north.
Near Klamath Lake he was overtaken by Lieutenant Gillespie, who
delivered to him certain letters and papers. Fremont thereupon calmly
turned south with the pick of his men.

In the meantime the Spanish sub-prefect, Guerrero, had sent word to
Larkin that "a multitude of foreigners, having come into California and
bought property, a right of naturalized foreigners only, he was under
necessity of notifying the authorities in each town to inform such
purchasers that the transactions were invalid, and that they themselves
were subject to be expelled." This action at once caused widespread
consternation among the settlers. They remembered the deportation of
Graham and his party some years before, and were both alarmed and
thoroughly convinced that defensive measures were necessary. Fremont's
return at precisely this moment seemed to them very significant. He was
a United States army officer at the head of a government expedition.
When on his way to the North he had been overtaken by Gillespie, an
officer of the United States Navy. Gillespie had delivered to him
certain papers, whereupon he had immediately returned. There seemed no
other interpretation of these facts than that the Government at
Washington was prepared to uphold by force the American settlers in
California.

This reasoning, logical as it seems, proves mistaken in the perspective
of the years. Gillespie, it is true, delivered some letters to Fremont,
but it is extremely unlikely they contained instructions having to do
with interference in Californian affairs. Gillespie, at the same time
that he brought these dispatches to Fremont, brought also instructions
to Larkin creating the confidential agency above described, and these
instructions specifically forbade interference with Californian affairs.
It is unreasonable to suppose that contradictory dispatches were sent to
one or another of these two men. Many years later Fremont admitted that
the dispatch to Larkin was what had been communicated to him by
Gillespie. His words are: "This officer [Gillespie] informed me also
that he was directed by the Secretary of State to acquaint me with his
instructions to the consular agent, Mr. Larkin." Reading Fremont's
character, understanding his ambitions, interpreting his later lawless
actions that resulted in his court-martial, realizing the recklessness
of his spirit, and his instinct to take chances, one comes to the
conclusion that it is more than likely that his move was a gamble on
probabilities rather than a result of direct orders.

Be this as it may, the mere fact of Fremont's turning south decided the
alarmed settlers, and led to the so-called "Bear Flag Revolution." A
number of settlers decided that it would be expedient to capture
Sonoma, where under Vallejo were nine cannon and some two hundred
muskets. It was, in fact, a sort of military station. The capture proved
to be a very simple matter. Thirty-two or thirty-three men appeared at
dawn, before Vallejo's house, under Merritt and Semple. They entered the
house suddenly, called upon Jacob Leese, Vallejo's son-in-law, to
interpret, and demanded immediate surrender. Richman says "Leese was
surprised at the 'rough looks' of the Americans. Semple he describes as
'six feet six inches tall, and about fifteen inches in diameter, dressed
in greasy buckskin from neck to foot, and with a fox-skin cap.'" The
prisoners were at once sent by these raiders to Fremont, who was at that
time on the American River. He immediately disclaimed any part in the
affair. However, instead of remaining entirely aloof, he gave further
orders that Leese, who was still in attendance as interpreter, should be
arrested, and also that the prisoners should be confined in Sutter's
Fort. He thus definitely and officially entered the movement. Soon
thereafter Fremont started south through Sonoma, collecting men as he
went.

The following quotation from a contemporary writer is interesting and
illuminating. "A vast cloud of dust appeared at first, and thence in
long files emerged this wildest of wild parties. Fremont rode ahead, a
spare active looking man, with such an eye! He was dressed in a blouse
and leggings, and wore a felt hat. After him came five Delaware Indians
who were his bodyguard. They had charge of two baggage-horses. The rest,
many of them blacker than Indians, rode two and two, the rifle held by
one hand across the pummel of the saddle. The dress of these men was
principally a long loose coat of deerskin tied with thongs in front,
trousers of the same. The saddles were of various fashions, though these
and a large drove of horses and a brass field gun were things they had
picked up in California."

Meantime, the Americans who had collected in Sonoma, under the lead of
William B. Ide, raised the flag of revolution--"a standard of somewhat
uncertain origin as regards the cotton cloth whereof it was made,"
writes Royce. On this, they painted with berry juice "something that
they called a Bear." By this capture of Sonoma, and its subsequent
endorsement by Fremont, Larkin's instructions--that is, to secure
California by quiet diplomatic means--were absolutely nullified. A
second result was that Englishmen in California were much encouraged to
hope for English intervention and protection. The Vallejo circle had
always been strongly favorable to the United States. The effect of this
raid and capture by United States citizens, with a United States officer
endorsing the action, may well be guessed.

Inquiries and protests were lodged by the California authorities with
Sloat and Lieutenant Montgomery of the United States naval forces. Just
what effect these protests would have had, and just the temperature of
the hot water in which the dashing Fremont would have found himself, is
a matter of surmise. He had gambled strongly--on his own responsibility
or at least at the unofficial suggestion of Benton--on an early
declaration of war with Mexico. Failing such a declaration, he would be
in a precarious diplomatic position, and must by mere force of automatic
discipline have been heavily punished. However the dice fell for him.
War with Mexico was almost immediately an actual fact. Fremont's
injection into the revolution had been timed at the happiest possible
moment for him.

The Bear Flag Revolution took place on June 14,1846. On July 7 the
American flag was hoisted over the post at Monterey by Commodore Sloat.
Though he had knowledge from June 5 of a state of war, this knowledge,
apparently, he had shared neither with his officers nor with the public,
and he exhibited a want of initiative and vigor which is in striking
contrast to Fremont's ambition and overzeal.

Shortly after this incident Commodore Sloat was allowed to return "by
reason of ill health," as has been heretofore published in most
histories. His undoubted recall gave room to Commodore Robert Stockton,
to whom Sloat not only turned over the command of the naval forces, but
whom he also directed to "assume command of the forces and operations on
shore."

Stockton at once invited Fremont to enlist under his command, and the
invitation was accepted. The entire forces moved south by sea and land
for the purpose of subduing southern California. This end was
temporarily accomplished with almost ridiculous ease. At this distance
of time, allowing all obvious explanations of lack of training, meager
equipment, and internal dissension, we find it a little difficult to
understand why the Californians did not make a better stand. Most of
the so-called battles were a sort of _opera bouffe_. Californians
entrenched with cannon were driven contemptuously forth, without
casualties, by a very few men. For example, a lieutenant and nine men
were sufficient to hold Santa Barbara in subjection. Indeed, the
conquest was too easy, for, lulled into false security, Stockton
departed, leaving as he supposed sufficient men to hold the country. The
Californians managed to get some coherence into their councils, attacked
the Americans, and drove them forth from their garrisons.

Stockton and Fremont immediately started south. In the meantime an
overland party under General Kearny had been dispatched from the East.
His instructions were rather broad. He was to take in such small
sections of the country as New Mexico and Arizona, leaving sufficient
garrisons on his way to California. As a result, though his command at
first numbered 1657 men, he arrived in the latter state with only about
100. From Warner's Ranch in the mountains he sent word to Stockton that
he had arrived. Gillespie, whom the Commodore at once dispatched with
thirty-nine men to meet and conduct him to San Diego, joined Kearny near
San Luis Rey Mission.

A force of Californians, however, under command of one Andres Pico had
been hovering about the hills watching the Americans. It was decided to
attack this force. Twenty men were detailed under Captain Johnston for
the purpose. At dawn on the morning of the 6th of December the Americans
charged upon the Californian camp. The Californians promptly decamped
after having delivered a volley which resulted in killing Johnston. The
Americans at once pursued them hotly, became much scattered, and were
turned upon by the fleeing enemy. The Americans were poorly mounted
after their journey, their weapons were now empty, and they were unable
to give mutual aid. The Spanish were armed with lances, pistols, and the
deadly riata. Before the rearguard could come up, sixteen of the total
American force were killed and nineteen badly wounded. This battle of
San Pascual, as it was called, is interesting as being the only
engagement in which the Californians got the upper hand. Whether their
Parthian tactics were the result of a preconceived policy or were merely
an expedient of the moment, it is impossible to say. The battle is also
notable because the well-known scout, Kit Carson, took part in it.

The forces of Stockton and Kearny joined a few days later, and very soon
a conflict of authority arose between the leaders. It was a childish
affair throughout, and probably at bottom arose from Fremont's usual
over-ambitious designs. To Kearny had undoubtedly been given, by the
properly constituted authorities, the command of all the land
operations. Stockton, however, claimed to hold supreme land command by
instructions from Commodore Sloat already quoted. Through the internal
evidence of Stockton's letters and proclamations, it seems he was a
trifle inclined to be bombastic and high-flown, to usurp authority, and
perhaps to consider himself and his operations of more importance than
they actually were. However, he was an officer disciplined and trained
to obedience, and his absurd contention is not in character. It may be
significant that he had promised to appoint Fremont Governor of
California, a promise that naturally could not be fulfilled if Kearny's
authority were fully recognized.

Furthermore, at this moment Fremont was at the zenith of his career, and
his influence in such matters was considerable. As Hittell says, "At
this time and for some time afterwards, Fremont was represented as a
sort of young lion. The several trips he had made across the continent,
and the several able and interesting reports he had published over his
name attracted great public attention. He was hardly ever mentioned
except in a high-flown hyperbolical phrase. Benton was one of the most
influential men of his day, and it soon became well understood that the
surest way of reaching the father-in-law's favor was by furthering the
son-in-law's prospects; everybody that wished to court Benton praised
Fremont. Besides this political influence Benton exerted in Fremont's
behalf, there was an almost equally strong social influence." It might
be added that the nature of his public service had been such as to throw
him on his own responsibility, and that he had always gambled with
fortune, as in the Bear Flag Revolution already mentioned. His star had
ever been in the ascendant. He was a spoiled child of fortune at this
time, and bitterly and haughtily resented any check to his ambition. The
mixture of his blood gave him that fine sense of the dramatic which so
easily descends to posing. His actual accomplishment was without doubt
great; but his own appreciation of that accomplishment was also
undoubtedly great. He was one of those interesting characters whose
activities are so near the line between great deeds and charlatanism
that it is sometimes difficult to segregate the pose from the
performance.

The end of this row for precedence did not come until after the
so-called battles at the San Gabriel River and on the Mesa on January 8
and 9, 1847. The first of these conflicts is so typical that it is worth
a paragraph of description.

The Californians were posted on the opposite bank of the river. They had
about five hundred men, and two pieces of artillery well placed. The
bank was elevated some forty feet above the stream and possibly four or
six hundred back from the water. The American forces, all told,
consisted of about five hundred men, but most of them were dismounted.
The tactics were exceedingly simple. The Americans merely forded the
river, dragged their guns across, put them in position, and calmly
commenced a vigorous bombardment. After about an hour and a half of
circling about and futile half-attacks, the Californians withdrew. The
total American loss in this and the succeeding "battle," called that of
the Mesa, was three killed and twelve wounded.

After this latter battle, the Californians broke completely and hurtled
toward the North. Beyond Los Angeles, near San Fernando, they ran
head-on into Fremont and his California battalion marching overland from
the North. Fremont had just learned of Stockton's defeat of the
Californians and, as usual, he seized the happy chance the gods had
offered him. He made haste to assure the Californians through a
messenger that they would do well to negotiate with him rather than with
Stockton. To these suggestions the Californians yielded. Commissioners
appointed by both sides then met at Cahuenga on January 13, and
elaborated a treaty by which the Californians agreed to surrender their
arms and not to serve again during the war, whereupon the victors
allowed them to leave the country. Fremont at once proceeded to Los
Angeles, where he reported to Kearny and Stockton what had happened.

In accordance with his foolish determination, Stockton still refused to
acknowledge Kearny's direct authority. He appointed Fremont Governor of
California, which was one mistake; and Fremont accepted, which was
another. Undoubtedly the latter thought that his pretensions would be
supported by personal influence in Washington. From former experience he
had every reason to believe so. In this case, however, he reckoned
beyond the resources of even his powerful father-in-law. Kearny, who
seems to have been a direct old war-dog, resolved at once to test his
authority. He ordered Fremont to muster the California battalion into
the regular service, under his (Kearny's) command; or, if the men did
not wish to do this, to discharge them. This order did not in the least
please Fremont. He attempted to open negotiations, but Kearny was in no
manner disposed to talk. He said curtly that he had given his orders,
and merely wished to know whether or not they would be obeyed. To this,
and from one army officer to another, there could be but one answer, and
that was in the affirmative.

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