 CHAPTER VIII. ADVERTISING AND IMMIGRATION, JOHN BIDWELL. The significant work of the overland fur traders came to a close about 1840. During the next few years the course of California history ran along in the main with but little outward change from its regular routine. Cattle-raising in the hide and tallow trade, with a little sea otter hunting along the coast and some beaver trapping in the interior, continued to be the chief occupations of the province. An occasional revolution gave temporary zest to domestic politics. While emission establishments secularized in 1834 sank further and further into hopeless and unfortunate decay. The apparent sameness of these conditions, however, was purely superficial. Beneath the surface, clearly seen by interested foreigners and dimly sensed by the Californians themselves, the old regime was crumbling to pieces. Forces which had about them something of the strength and swiftness of destiny were about to supplant Mexican rule with that of the United States. By 1840 the old California, with its Spanish institutions and habits and background, stood close to the end of its tranquil romantic day. A new order, whose fulfillment came with the Mexican War and the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, was already in the making. After 1840 American interest in California, already aroused by the New England merchants and the western fur traders, received additional stimulus from other sources. One of these was the unfortunate condition of the Mexican Republic. Constant revolution and economic chaos in a country which, at best, could only maintain the feeblest control over so distant a province as California, assured the end of that control at no very distant date. The people and the government of the United States consequently began to manifest increased concern in the future of the colony and to consider what would follow when Mexican rule came to its inevitable end. Another cause of increased American interest in California was the controversy, then nearing its climax between the United States and Great Britain over the possession of Oregon. In the long drawn out and at times very critical dispute over this territory, the nation's attention was focused upon the whole Pacific slope and California received almost as much publicity from the agitation as Oregon itself. Conditions in Texas, following the establishment of that Republic, likewise reacted favorably upon the American advance to California. The easy victories of the Texan revolutionists and such senseless atrocities as the invaders committed at Goliad intensified a profound contempt to the West for Mexican authority and spread an outspoken ambition among the settlers of the frontier to play the Texas game in California and to emulate Houston's example by setting up a new Republic on the Pacific slope. The possibility of European intervention in California was also held before the American people constantly during this period, serving both as a motive and excuse for annexation sentiment. In this, of course, California enjoyed no unique distinction, for the danger of foreign encroachment real or imaginary has influenced virtually every acquisition of United States territory from the purchase of Louisiana in 1803 to the extension of American influence over Cuba and the Philippine islands in our own generation. But in the case of California, this influence, as will be explained later, was stronger and more direct than in most annexation movements. Less tangible than the influences already mentioned, but certainly no less vigorous was the factor so particularly typical of Jacksonian democracy manifest destiny. This expression, though still to be found in our political vocabulary, does not now have the same meaning it formerly held for the great mass of our people, especially for those who lived west of the Alleghenies. The influence of manifest destiny, once exerted upon the formation of public opinion and the appeal at once made to the nationalistic ambitions of our forefathers, can scarcely be appreciated by this present generation. The years from 1825 to 1850 constitute a period unique in many respects in American history. Before the first quarter of the nineteenth century was over, we had passed from the uncertainties and weakness of national childhood to the vigor and self-assertiveness of youth. In all our conceptions, in all our activities, there was a largeness, an assurance, a sort of unfettered reckless energy that stamped itself upon the whole course of national development. The patriotism of this period was never characterized by modesty or lukewarmness. We cried the superiority of our institutions and proclaimed our greatness from the housetops. Yet, if our patriotism appeared boastful and smacked of primitive crudeness, it was never insincere. The generation that knew Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson was never chargeable with this, however, its lack of restraint might offend the more refined taste of our own time. The men of that day, provincial though they may have been, loved the United States with a hot passion of youth, they cherished no illusion that democracy or freedom could live under any other form of government. They held an implicit faith which acted upon them with a force of some deep religious conviction in the unbounded future of the American nation. The expansion of the United States to the Pacific, the establishment of continent-wide boundaries, the absorption of California, the development of untold natural wealth that lay idle and neglected, the control of the Oriental trade, this was the program that manifest destiny and joined on the American people in 1840. Some historians have found the program difficult of justification. Its influence, however, no one will deny. Still another factor of primary importance in the annexation of California was the beginning of organized immigration from the western states shortly after 1840. The significance of this movement, which, of itself under normal conditions, would have led to the acquisition of the province by the United States in the course of a few years, has been obscured by two events that struck directly across its course. The first of these was the Mexican War. This altered the whole aspect of California conditions and hastened by several years, few or many no one can say, the end of Mexican rule. The second was the gold rush of 1849, a migration of such stupendous proportions and so rapidly accomplished that the regular processes of settlement were completely submerged in it and lost sight of. The pre-war, pre-gold rush immigration, however, ought to be given a prominent place in the state's history. Not only was it a significant factor in arousing American interest in California, but it also furnished the basis for Polk's later diplomatic and military policy in the province. Above and beyond this, these first pre-pioneer settlers completed what the fur hunters had begun in the exploration of overland routes to the Pacific. What forces lay behind this early emigration from the border states across so many hundreds of miles of unknown wilderness? What motives compelled men and women to leave a settled society and establish tomes and set their faces westward toward a land they had never seen and a people who spoke an alien tongue? The answer is simple. The same forces and the same motives with little variation that led the western pioneer across the Alleghenies and from the Alleghenies to the Mississippi and from the Mississippi into Texas explained the coming of the first American settlers across the Sierra into California. The frontiersmen, once the Alleghenies were crossed, was never at ease, never satisfied in a permanent abode. He wanted elbow room, wide separation from his nearest neighbor, freedom from their restraints of society, a region in which game was abundant and a place where he could do as he pleased. To obtain this freedom he must always keep ahead of his more gregarious fellows and as they advanced he retreated farther and farther into the west. The career of Daniel Boone, moving from Virginia to Kentucky and from Kentucky to Missouri, is characteristic of this type of pioneer. The expression often ascribed to the old Kentucky and May indeed be apocryphal, but it aptly expresses the attitude of the class to which he belonged. I first moved to the woods of Kentucky, Boone is reported to have said. I fought and repelled the savages and hoped for repose. Game was abundant and our path was prosperous, but soon I was molested by interlopers from every quarter. Again I retreated to the region of the Mississippi, but again these speculators and settlers followed me. Once more I would drew to the licks of Missouri, inherent length I hoped to find rest. But I was still pursued, for I had not yet been two years at the licks before a damned Yankee settled down within a hundred miles of mean. The successors of Boone on the frontier, troubled as they were by the encroachment of the damned Yankees and of other undesirables from the Afeet regions east of the Mississippi, after 1840 began to look to the Pacific Coast as a place of escape. The hard times of Van Buren's administration stimulated this instinctive land hunger and craving for new scenes among the back settlers. In the meantime a very effective publicity campaign was directing their attention specifically to California. The booster indeed is no recent product of the Golden State, long before the advertisements of railroads, chambers of commerce and modern real estate dealers began to attract tourists from the east and middle west. The charms and advantages of California were widely heralded throughout the United States. Most of this early publicity dealt with a climate of California, the abundant supply of game in the province, the natural resources it possessed, and the wonderful agricultural possibilities that were to be found on every hand. Along with such an appeal when a picture scarcely less inviting to the adventurous Westerner of the military weakness of the province and the decadent state of its inhabitants. To enable one to appreciate the effects of such advertising upon prospective immigrants and the American public as a whole, a few quotations chosen almost at random from the literature of the time must be given. So far as there is any record, the first American publicity agent for California was Captain William Shaler, whose narrative, appearing in 1808, has been referred to at some length in a preceding chapter of this volume. Shaler's detailed description of the many advantages of California closed with a frank appeal for annexation. At great expense and considerable industry, he wrote, the Spaniards have removed every obstacle out of the way of an invading enemy. They have stalked the country with a multitude of horses, cattle, and other useful animals. They have spread a number of defenseless inhabitants over the country, whom they could never induce to act as enemies to those who should treat them well. In a word, they have done everything that could be done to render California an object worthy the attention of the great maritime powers. The conquest of this country would be absolutely nothing. It would fall without an effort to the most inconsiderable force. James Ohio-Patty was another enthusiast over California's possibilities, albeit his praises did not extend in the slightest degree to the Californians themselves. Those who traverse the province, he wrote, if they have any capability of perceiving and admiring the beautiful and sublime and scenery, must be constantly excited to wonder in praise. It is no less remarkable for uniting the advantage of healthfulness, a good soil, temperate climate, and yet one of exceeding mildness, a happy mixture of level and elevated ground and vicinity to the sea. Among other accounts that made the name of California widely known during these years was Richard Henry Dana's Two Years Before the Mast, first published in 1840. The author, who came to the California coast as a common seaman on one of the hide and tello vessels, portrayed in his narrative the life and customs of the Californians with an accuracy unsurpassed by any of his contemporaries. Incidentally, the book had about it a fascination of style that immediately gave it wide circulation and an established place in American literature. One of his chapters Dana concluded with the following paragraph. Such are the people who inhabit a country embracing four or five hundred miles of sea coast, with several good harbors, with fine forests in the north, the waters filled with fish in the plains covered with thousands of head of cattle, blessed with a climate than which there can be no better in the world, free from all manner of diseases, whether epidemic or endemic, and with a soil in which corn yields from seventy to eighty-fold. In the hands of an enterprising people, what a country this might be." Another enthusiastic admirer of California was Hall J. Kelly, an apostle of Westward expansion who deserves a much wider fame than history has given him. Kelly, indeed, had within him a sort of missionary zeal, the essence of which was the settlement of the Pacific slope by American citizens. His travels, extending over a number of years, carried him through much of the country west of the Rockies and gave him first-hand knowledge of the conditions on the Pacific. While most of his active work was devoted to Oregon, his interest in California showed itself repeatedly in lecture and published article, for he was an indefatigable advertiser of the whole West. In a report on the Oregon Territories, submitted to Congress in 1839, he devoted nearly half the allotted space to California because, as he said, he thought the annexation of that province to the United States was a matter sure of accomplishment and most earnestly to be desired. He concluded his description of the territory with this fervent wish. When I remember the exuberant fertility, the exhaustless natural wealth, the abundant streams and admirable harbors, and the advantageous shape and position of high California, I cannot but believe that at no very distant day a swarming multitude of human beings will again people the solitude and that the monuments of civilization will throng along the streams whose waters now murmur to the desert and cover those fertile veils whose tumuli by now commemorate the former existence of innumerable savage generations." To the praise voiced by Dana, Kelly, and others of this period, Thomas Jefferson Farnham, whose accounts of Western scenes and experiences ran through many additions, added his extravagant commendation. The style of Farnham had in it too much of the spread eagle to be particularly attractive to the present generation, but this made his publications all the more attractive to the readers for whom he wrote. The trans-allogany settlers of Farnham's day were not admirers of restraint. They likely exaggerated the highly colored literature as in everything else and accordingly found Farnham's life and adventures in California a book decidedly after their own tastes. From it they learned to despise the Californians as a weak, effeminate people, cruel and treacherous when opportunity arose, and to covet the rich empire over which they held such lax and temporary rule. California, wrote Farnham, is a wilderness of groves and lawns broken by deep and rich ravines separated from each other by broad and wild wastes. Along the ocean is a world of vegetable beauty, on the sides of the mountains are the mightiest trees of the earth, and on the heights are the eternal snows lighted by volcanic fires. It may be confidently asserted that no country in the world possesses so fine a climate coupled with so productive a soil as the seaboard portion of the Californians, including the territories on the Bay of San Francisco and the rivers San Joaquin and Sacramento. But its miserable people live unconscious of these things. In their gardens grow the apple, the pear, the olive, fig, and orange, the Irish and sweet potato, yam, and the plantain, most luxuriously, side-by-side, and yet they sleep, and smoke, and hum some tune of castilian laziness, while surrounding nature is thus inviting them to the noblest and richest rewards of honorable toil. The effect of such accounts in bringing about the first waves of overland migration to California can scarcely be overestimated. Year by year publications of this kind, some of which will be spoken of elsewhere, increased in number and their influence was continually supplemented by newspaper articles, magazines, and lectures or reports of returned travelers and explorers. Through these agencies the people of the United States were taught to look upon California as a land of infinite promise, abounding in agricultural and commercial possibilities, so full of game that thousands of elk were annually slaughtered for their hides and tallow, rich in timber, blessed with a perfect climate, inhabited by an effeminate, unambitious people, and ruled over by an inefficient government. To the Western settlers such a picture presented an irresistible appeal. Long before the stampede began for the mines, when every approach to the Pacific was crowded with the hurrying feet of the Argonauts, the Trans-Mississippi Frontier was already in motion, sending its restless children on horseback and by ox wagon over the long and dangerous trail to California. The first of these organized emigrant parties to start for California left the Western Frontier barely eighty years ago. How rapid has been the course of American development? It originated in Platt County, Missouri where the settlers had been aroused to such a high pitch of enthusiasm for the venture that they formed an organization called the Western Immigration Society for the purpose of enlisting recruits and providing a systematic program for the expedition. The immediate responsibility for this California fever lay at the door of a trapper named Rubidot, recently arrived from the coast with marvelous reports of what he had seen and learned. Rubidot, who appeared to be a calm and considerate man, so impressed his Platt County hearers that he was asked to speak before a large assembly of interested settlers. At this meeting Rubidot described California as a land of perennial spring and boundless fertility. Enumerable herds of cattle and wild horses, he said, dotted the hillsides and grassy plains. Oranges and other fruits grew in profusion. The authorities were friendly toward Americans and the people the most hospitable on the globe. To an egg-you-racked member of the assembly whose idea of paradise was a land free from chills and fever, Rubidot gave the following assurance. There never was but one man in California who had the chills. He was from Missouri and carried the disease in his system. It was such a curiosity to see a man shake with the chills that the people of Monterey went 18 miles into the country to see him. The effect of such descriptions upon minds already eager for change can readily be imagined. Rubidot's experts were supplemented by letters from Dr. John Marsh, an American resident of California who had reached the coast with one of the Santa Fe trapping expeditions in the 30s. Marsh had taken up a large ranch near Mount Diablo, where he acquired a very considerable reputation and became one of the most influential foreigners in the province. His letters were published in local Missouri newspapers and afterwards copied in keeping with a system of news exchange then invoked by many other Western journals. The Western Immigration Society was also itself responsible for much propaganda in favor of the California movement. It corresponded with possible immigrants as far off as Kentucky, Indiana and Arkansas and collected information relating to routes, methods of travel and the status of foreigners in the province. Eventually the Society circulated a pledge that bound its signers to meet the following May at Sapling Grove in what is now eastern Kansas, suitably equipped and armed, ready to start for California. This pledge had not been in circulation a month before 500 signatures were obtained for it. Before spring came, however, this first enthusiasm had materially cooled. Landowners and merchants of Platt County, looking with some dismay on the threatened exodus of so many of the county's inhabitants, said about countering the movement with a good deal of vigor. Discouraging reports began to appear regarding the difficulties of the route and the hazardous nature of the undertaking. Ugly stories were also circulated of the treatment Americans were receiving at the hands of California officials. And more effective still, sober second thought on the part of those at first so ready for the journey seriously undermined the work of the California enthusiasts. Accordingly, instead of the 500 who were counted upon to make the party, not more than 69 put in an appearance at the rendezvous, and only one of these had signed the original pledge at the Immigrant Society. This was John Bidwell, a young man who had but recently come to Missouri from Ohio in search of health and livelihood. The California venture so fired his interest that he became one of the chief organizers of the expedition and stuck by the project in the face of every discouragement. The same enthusiastic, determined spirit was later to bring him influence and a well-deserved honor in the land toward which he now set his face. Not in aptly has John Bidwell been called the Prince of California Pioneers. The company which met at Sapling Grove in May 1841 to take up the long journey to California could scarcely be described as an efficient organization. None of them were experienced mountain men or familiar with the first essentials of travel in the far west. Their ignorance of the route can best be described in Bidwell's words. We knew that California lay west and that was the extent of our knowledge. Some of the maps consulted, supposed to be correct, showed a lake in the vicinity of where Salt Lake now is. It was represented as a long lake, three or four hundred miles in extent, narrow, and with two outlets, both running into the Pacific Ocean, either apparently larger than the Mississippi River." So prevalent was this conception of western geography that Bidwell was advised to take tools along with which to construct canoes for the navigation of one of these rivers from Salt Lake to the Pacific. To the difficulty of ignorance was added the further complication of poor leadership. John Bartelsen, who hailed from Jackson County, Missouri, had been chosen company commander by popular vote, but it was understood that this choice was necessary to prevent the withdrawal of himself and his supporters, and the consequent disintegration of the party. The problems of the journey were intensified still more by the presence of fifteen women and children in the company. Each member of the party supplied his own equipment, his own wagons and animals, his own provisions and arms. The motive power was furnished by horses, mules, or oxen, as the individual chose. Food was limited to the essentials, flour, sugar, salt, coffee, and the like, but each person was supposed to have enough to satisfy his own needs. Money was almost entirely lacking, so much so indeed that the entire party possessed less than $100 in actual cash. Doubtless the expedition would have come to early ruin, had it not been forcibly enough to secure, for the part of the way at least, the services of two very useful men. Thomas Fitpatrick, the famous Rocky Mountain Trapper, and Father Dismet, pioneer Catholic missionary bound for the Flathead Indians of Idaho. So long as such assistance and leadership were available, the untrained emigrants got on with little difficulty. From the vicinity of Westport, the modern Kansas City, they pursued a northwest course to the Platte. This they followed to the South Fork, along which they continued until a ford allowed them to pass to the other branch of the main stream. Following the North Platte, they came at last to Fort Laramie and what is now eastern Wyoming. There they passed Independence Rock and turned to take the sweet water to the Rockies. Crossing through the south pass, the party followed the little and big sandy to Green River, changed their course here somewhat to the northwest until it closely paralleled the present route of the Oregon short line, crossed the divide between Bear and Green Rivers at the head of a tributary of the latter stream named Ham's Fork, and so came to Soda Springs, not many miles from the modern city of Pocatello, Idaho. Up to this point the journey had been marked by no extraordinary hardships. Of course the emigrants had experienced difficulties and much hard work, especially in getting wagons through a country where wheeled vehicles had only once gone before. Nearly ten years earlier Sablat had taken a loaded wagon to the Green River rendezvous and brought back a fortune in furs. Time, however, had obliterated nearly every trace of his passage, though here and there the faint mark of a wheel was still to be seen by the emigrant party. A false alarm of Indian attack, not without its ludicrous side. A cyclone that threatened total destruction but passed harmlessly by. The never-ending wonder of the buffalo herds which blackened the plain for several days dirty as far as the eye could reach. The loss of one man by gunshot wound and of four others who turned back or stopped on the way. The nightly encampment with the wagons coupled together to make a hollow square. The inconveniences or pleasurable excitements of each day's march. The shifting scenery, the gradual change from prairie to uplands. The sight of snow-clad mountains in the distance. And then the slow passage of the Rockies, till the old life became a thing of the past and a new land lay unfolded before them. Thus in brief the first stage of the journey was passed. At Soda Springs the second stage of the expedition, distinguished chiefly by hardships and privation, began. Here Fitzpatrick and Desmit turned northward to Fort Hall and the Flathead Indians. Along with them went thirty-two of the emigrants who preferred to seek an outlet to the Pacific by way of the Columbia rather than risk the unknown route to California. Among this number were most of the married men with their families, but at least one brave woman, Mrs. Benjamin Kelsey, and her little daughter remained with the original party. Of such stuff and heroism was the pioneer motherhood of California. Without the aid of skill leadership the company now reduced to less than half its original number started from Soda Springs on its determined quest for California. The route over which they must go was unknown except by hearsay even to Fitzpatrick. Jedidiah Smith and Bonneville's men, as already narrated, had some time before crossed the desert region between the Sierras and Salt Lake, but no one knew exactly where. Four of the emigrants who went to Fort Hall for information could obtain no more satisfactory instructions than to bear as nearly west as possible after leaving the lake. If they went too far south, they were told, they would reach a desert region and die for lack of water. If too far north they would lose themselves in a broken, desolate country where more than one trapping party had met an unknown fate. With this indefinite and disheartening information to guide them, the party already a hundred miles from Soda Springs when the four men who had gone to Fort Hall rejoined them set out for the Sierra. Their journey across the Utah and Nevada was one of unbroken hardship. The salt plains bewildered and almost famished them. On several occasions they traveled twenty-four hours without water. The mirage misled them with a most pitiless deception of which nature is capable. Finally, because it was necessary to make all possible haste in reaching the Sierra before winter set in, they abandoned their wagons and much of their baggage and packed the remainder on such animals as remained alive. Their saddles were hastily made in the animals untrained to the business, and the emigrants unskilled in the very difficult art of balancing a load and holding it in place with a sling and hitch. Confusion followed the first experiment. The pack slipped, and the animals became frightened and scattered the baggage to the four winds. Even when by degrees the loads were put on a little more securely, delays were frequent, and as the oxen could not keep up with the faster walking mules and horses, the company became scattered along the whole extent of each day's march. Luckily the Indian tribes through which the expedition passed were inoffensive creatures or the entire party would have been wiped out. Reaching the Humboldt River, the company, many of whom were now on foot, pressed on down the stream until Bartelsen and eight others on horseback one day deserted the main band and struck out by themselves for California. The rest of the train, some twenty-five in number, weakened by probation and almost out of provisions, faced a gloomy prospect. Before them stretched an unknown, barren, almost desert country where thirst and hunger were certain to cause delay and suffering if, indeed, they did not take some toll of human life. Beyond this region, but how far none could say, the giant Sierra stood like a barricade to shut off all approach to California. To cross the mountains after the winter snow sent in was impossible. Not to cross them meant death to every member of the party through starvation. It was already well along in September, so, making what haste they could, traveling eighteen or twenty miles a day, the immigrants pushed on to the dreary alkaline lake known as Humboldt Sink. Then they turned southward to Carson River and a little farther on came to the walker or the bomb as they appreciatively called it. This stream they followed to its outlet from the Sierra. Here they killed the last of the oxen and jerked the meat preparatory to the crossing of the mountains. While the party were thus engaged, the Bartelsen contingent, who had taken such unceremonious leave on the Humboldt, came slowly straggling across the plain. They had accomplished nothing by their desertion of the main party, except to wander as far south as Carson Lake. Most of them, moreover, were suffering the unpleasant effects of an ill-advised diet of diseased fish and pinion nuts, and were in a serious condition. The reunited company ascending the Sierra on the north side of the walker came at last to a little stream which flowed westward instead of toward the east. This proved to be the headwaters of the Stanislaus, one of the largest tributaries of the San Joaquin. The course of the river through the mountains was too rough and precipitous to furnish an easy route of travel. The immigrants became entangled in gorges and canyons, some of which were more than a mile in depth, and had to abandon many of their animals. FOOTNOTE Bidwell, on a scouting expedition, came upon one of the huge, overturned Sequoia gigantia of the Calavera scroll, the first white man known to have seen a specimen of the big trees, in FOOTNOTE. Food became scarce, so they ate crows, wildcats, and anything else they could lay hands upon. One member of the party separated from his companions and was not heard of again until he reached, in some miraculous way, the establishment of John A. Sutter, where Sacramento now stands. The horses and mules that still survived were so weak they could scarcely travel, and the immigrants, as they dragged themselves down the last weary ridge of the Sierra, were too worn out with fatigue to realize that the San Joaquin valley lay before them, and that California itself was at hand. Some of them, indeed, even when they reached a floor of the valley, thought that California must still be five hundred miles away. Bidwell thus describes how the party came to the San Joaquin. When morning came, the foremost of the party waited for the others to come up. They had found water in a stagnant pond, but what was better, they had shot a fat coyote, and with us it was anything but mule meat. As for myself, I was unfortunate, being among those in the rear, and not aware of the feast in the advance. I did not reach it in time to get any of the coyote except the lights and the windpipe. Longing for fat meat and willing to eat anything but poor mule meat and seeing a little fat on the windpipe by the coyote, I threw it on the coals to warm it and greedily devoured it. But how cyan days were at hand, we turned directly to the north to reach what seemed to be the nearest timber. This was at a distance of ten miles or so, which in our weakened condition it took us nearly all day to travel. It brought us to the Stanislaw River at a point not far from the foothills. Here the rich alluvial bottom was more than a mile wide. It had been burned over, but the new grass was starting up and growing luxuriously but sparsely, like thinly sown grain. But what gladdened our eyes most was the abundance of game and sight, principally Antelope. Before dark we had killed two of them and two sand hill cranes, and besides there was an abundance of ripe and luscious wild grapes. Still we had no idea that we were yet in California, but supposed we had yet to cross the range of mountains to the west." Within a few days, however, this dreary allusion was dispelled, and by the aid of an Indian guide the party came to the ranch of Dr. John Marsh some six miles from the foot of Mount Diablo. They reached this November 4, 1841, and after having spent six months on the long and dangerous way. Here the company separated and soon became widely scattered throughout the province. Some of the Americans were arrested by General Vallejo at San Jose, but the arrest in most cases was a mere formality. Bidwell, however, because of Marsh's failure to secure a passport for him, as he had done for the others, was held for three days in the San Jose Jail. No food was given him, and the fleas in his cell were so numerous as to darken anything of a light color. Yet even Bidwell's imprisonment was merely the result of official oversight, and as soon as his pre-document became known, General Vallejo issued the necessary passport and ordered his release. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 A History of California, The American Period by Robert Glass Cleveland. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 9 Immigration and Tragedy, The Donner Party A number of the Bidwell Party, shortly after their arrival on the coast, found their way northward to the recently erected settlement of New Helvetia in the Sacramento Valley. This establishment, semi-military and semi-feudal in character, was founded and ruled over by John A. Sutter, one of the most interesting figures of early California history. Sutter was born of Swiss parents in the Duchy of Baden in the year 1803. When a little over 30 years of age he came to the United States and lived for a time with one of his countrymen in Indiana. A year or two later he drifted on to St. Louis, where he engaged in an unsuccessful trading venture to Santa Fe. After this he joined a trapping party to the Rocky Mountains, and subsequently pushed on to the Pacific by way of the Columbia. By this time Sutter had conceived the plan of founding a colony in California. Sailing to the Sandwich Islands, he secured some aid from Americans resident there and a few Canacas to assist him in the undertaking. Yet length reached the California coast by way of Alaska in 1840, and secured permission from Governor Alvarado to carry out his project. At that time the Sacramento Valley, well known to the Californians, was neither fortified nor settled. The Indians, both in the valley and in the surrounding mountains, had long been a menace to the ranches on the coast, upon which they made frequent raids, driving off large numbers of horses and cattle almost with impunity. A colony such as Sutter proposed to establish would check this practice with no expense to the provincial treasury, except the grant of a few leagues of unoccupied wilderness land. Sutter selected as a site of his colony, attract lying along the Sacramento River, about two miles from where that stream receives the waters of the American. Here he proceeded to carry out his very ambitious plans. With the aid of his Sandwich Islanders, some native Indians, and the few foreigners who joined him from time to time, he began to lay the foundation for what he hoped would one day become an independent state. Not long before the arrival of the Bidwell contingent, Sutter had bought out the Russian colony of Bodega, securing through his purchase a good deal of valuable personal property, some very shadowy land claims that brought him nothing but trouble, and an ever-pressing debt for nearly a hundred thousand dollars. Among the most useful of the Russian effects were a small launch, a considerable number of horses and cattle, and some forty odd pieces of ordinance of many types and sizes, and all of it in various stages of dilapidation. This artillery, however, was probably superior to anything possessed by the regular forces of the province, and gave Sutter a very considerable military prestige. Within a few years, indeed, he was not only able to make himself master of the surrounding Indian tribes, but also to defy any attempt the California officials might make to oust him from his position. And while Sutter's relations with the government were generally the most friendly character, it was clearly seen, both in Mexico and in California, that his control of the frontier made him a potential menace to all local authority. A very pretentious fort added to Sutter's security and gave New Helvetia a decided military character. This fort was a quadrangular structure built of adobe brick. It mounted twelve guns and could shelter a thousand men. An armed garrison was regularly maintained, centuries were on guard continually, and military drill was held each day. In addition to Sutter's military activities, he displayed a vast amount of energy and more peaceful endeavors. To care for the ever-growing needs of his colony, and especially to meet the pressing demands of his Russian debt, he branched out into a great variety of pursuits and tried all sorts of experiments, most of which impoverished rather than enriched him. He planted a large area to wheat, built a flour mill, diverted water from the American River for irrigation purposes, grazed large herds of cattle and horses, sent hunters into the mountains and along the rivers for furs and elkskins, set up a distillery, began the weaving of coarse woolen blankets, ran a launch regularly for freight and passengers between his settlement and San Francisco Bay, employed nearly all foreigners who came to him for work, whether he needed them or not, trained the Indians to useful occupations, at times chastised the thieving war-enclined tribes which the Spanish Californians could not subdue, administered justice as an official of the provincial government, and, in short, made his colony the nucleus of all activity, whether political or economic, and what was then the only settled portion of interior California. In addition to these varied activities, whether decided local and personal interest, Sutter contributed in a much larger way to the making of California history through his aid to American immigration. Few people today realize how large a part this hospitable, visionary, improvident land baron of the Sacramento played in the American advance to California. His fort occupied the most strategic position in all Northern California so far as the overland trails were concerned, and became the natural objective for parties crossing the Sierra by the central and northern routes or coming into the province by way of Oregon. At Sutter's, these immigrants, exhausted and half-starved as many of them were, found shelter, food, and clothing, and an opportunity to learn something of the new land and people to which they had come. More than one company, caught in the mountain snows, was saved from destruction by a rescue party sent from Sutter's fort. The situation of the latter also made it impossible for the California authorities, had they been so inclined, to check or turn aside the stream of overland migration. The passes and trails of the northern Sierras lay open to American frontiersmen so long as Sutter maintained his position on the Sacramento. The arrival of the Bidwell Bartelsen Company at Marsh's ranch ushered in, as already noted, the period of organized immigration to California. Almost contemporaneous with the coming of this party, some 25 immigrants, recruited partly in Missouri and partly from American residents in New Mexico, reached Los Angeles by way of the Gila and the Colorado. This company was known from the names of its leaders as the Workman Rowland Party, and while Bidwell and his companions for the most part settled along the north coast of Monterey or in the Sacramento Valley, the immigrants who came from Santa Fe established themselves in the south. Here many of them, like Rowland and Workman, the leaders, and Benjamin D. Wilson, the first mayor of Los Angeles under American rule, acquired large grants of land upon which they dwelt in entire harmony with the California authorities and became respected citizens of the province. Other parties were not slow to follow the lead of Bidwell and of Rowland. In 1843 a company consisting of 30 or 35 members reached New Helvetia from the Willamette Valley, traveling by way of the Rogue River, Shasta, and the Sacramento. The original expedition of which these California immigrants were only a part, left Independence Missouri in 1842 and reached the Columbia over the Fort Hall route in October. Here, however, the constant rains for which Oregon has long enjoyed a distinctive reputation proved too much for over 50 of the party who consequently saw a somewhat less saturated climate farther to the south. Indian difficulties and other discouragements, however, disheartened about a third of the California contingent who turned back near Rogue River, leaving their companions to finish the journey as best they might. The company, though thus considerably reduced in number, arrived at Sutter's Fort early in July after one or two serious encounters with hostile natives. Once at New Helvetia, the immigrants immediately drifted apart, some going to the coast, some taking up land in the Napa Valley where a unit, one of the trappers of Pate's party, had settled, and others finding employment with an American named Stephen Smith, who had begun the construction of the first steam grist and sawmills in California near the old Russian settlement of Bodega. The leader of this company, Lansford W. Hastings, was something more than an ordinary settler. Like Hall J. Kelly, he was a Pacific Coast enthusiast, a propagandist, almost a professional organizer of Western immigrant parties, and a descriptive writer of unusual ability. For several years he was engaged in presenting the attractions of California to the American people and in leading companies from the Western states across the Sierra. Not only was he familiar with most of the established overland routes, but even added his contribution to the work of the explorers in opening up a more direct way, known as the Hastings Cut-Off, from the Great Salt Lake to the Humboldt. Following the expedition of 1843, Hastings became involved in the Mormon plan of sending a colony to the coast. Moreover, from beginning to end his mind was busy with a scheme to bring about the independence of the province and to set up a republic on the Pacific. The model he set for himself in carrying out this program was Sam Houston of Texas. A second expedition to reach California in 1843 was the so-called Child's Walker Party. This company, consisting at first of approximately thirty men besides a considerable number of women and children, left independence Missouri under the command of Joseph B. Childs, a former member of the Bidwell-Bartelson Party of 1841. After a short stay in California, Childs had returned to Missouri for the express purpose of organizing a new company for the overland trip, and the party he led out of independence was chiefly the result of his efforts along this line. The company, somewhat better equipped than most expeditions, carried their belongings in wagons instead of on-pack animals. With them they took not only ordinary household goods, but also heavy furniture, farming utensils, and even a complete outfit for the erection of the sawmill on the Sacramento. Leaving independence in May, they followed the usual route to Fort Hall, which they reached without special incident. Here, however, the company divided. A small party consisting only of men under the command of Childs turned northward to Fort Boise for supplies, while the main expedition pursued a more southerly course under the guidance of Joseph R. Walker, the trapper who had first entered California ten years before. The men under Childs reached Sutter's Fort without serious mishap, though unfortunately little is known of the incidents of this part of the journey. Crossing from Boise to the Sacramento by way of Malheuer and Pitt Rivers, they entered California over a previously unexplored route and one seldom used by subsequent immigrant parties. The main company, following the lead of Walker, crossed from Fort Hall with their heavily laden ox wagons to the Humboldt River. This they followed in keeping with the usual practice to its sink in western Nevada. Vance, turning south, the party struck Walker Lake but made no attempt to follow the route by which the Bidwell Party had crossed the Sierra two years before. Instead they held a course running to the south through difficult mountainous or semi-desert country until they came to the large alkaline body of water now known as Mono Lake. Flowing into this lake from the Sierra were a number of clear running streams, one of which was given the name of Walker Creek. A long meadow running parallel to the lake furnished an ample supply of nutritious grass for the oxen. From Mono Lake the immigrants course lay over a succession of sandy ridges, very discouraging to the slow-moving caravan, until the crest of a pine clad ridge gave them outlook upon one of the fairest sites in all California. Before them, a river, clear as crystal, ran in great loops through a pleasant valley sloping gently to the south. The floor of this valley was covered with green grass and dotted here and there with herds of elk, deer, and bands of antelope. To the left, as the immigrants looked down the course of the valley, rose a range of brown gray mountains almost devoid of trees and other vegetation, but with an occasional snowbank clinging to the sides of some unusually high peak. To the right, white capped, rugged, beautiful beyond the power of words to describe, stood the impenetrable wall of the Sierra Nevada. Down this valley, which Fremont two years later called Owens Valley an honor of one of his own men, Walker led the members of his company. Grass was plentiful and frequent ice-cold streams flowed from the mountains across the immigrants course. As the caravan neared the lower end of the valley, however, the way became more difficult. Wide sandy stretches impeded their progress and bolder, strewn tongue shot out from the base of the mountains, forcing the wagons to make many tedious detours. At last, near a lake into which the river emptied, afterwards known as Owens Lake, the company were compelled to abandon their wagons and pack such goods as they were able to carry upon the backs of the horses and oxen. The heavy mill machinery was buried in the sand, where twenty years later a band of prospectors were greatly mystified by its discovery. Some day's journey beyond Owens Lake, the company entered the pass by which Walker had led the Bonneville hunters out of the San Joaquin in 1834 and to which he had given his name. Through this broad gateway the Sierras were successfully crossed without the impediment of snow or other serious inconvenience. On the California side of the mountains, however, intense suffering awaited the immigrants. Footnote The western outlet of Walker Pass lies about sixty miles northeast of the modern city of Bakersfield. In footnote In seeking to reach the western side of the San Joaquin Valley, the company found themselves caught in hot, choking alkali wastes, where for a hundred miles there was almost no water and where the heavily impregnated dust seemed to eat out the tissues of the lungs and dry up every particle of moisture in the body. By the time they came to the coast range there was little life left in any of them, but on one of the tributaries of the Salinas River they found a welcome taste of paradise. Here lay a small valley, known probably to Walker for many years, where there were grass, trees, and water in abundance, and where game was as plentiful as heart could ask. After a few weeks of recuperation in this pleasant spot the company finished the last few miles of its long journey, reaching the Gilroy Rancho near Monterey in January. Here the immigrants separated. Before long, like the companies which had preceded them, they were to be found in various parts of California a welcome reinforcement to the foreign population of the province. During the years 1843 and 1844 other parties followed those already enumerated in this chapter. In some cases the expeditions came by way of Oregon, but more frequently they took the shorter route from Fort Hall to the Sierra and crossed into California by whatever pass they were fortunate enough to discover. One of the most important of these companies was the Stevens-Murphy Party, which consisted of over fifty men, besides women and children, when it left the Missouri in May 1844. At Fort Hall about half the immigrants turned north for Oregon, but the remainder took the fairly well-defined trail to the Humboldt River. From the sink of this river the party, instead of seeking Walker Pass as Childs and his companions had done the preceding year, crossed southwest directly to the Sierras and entered California by way of the Truckee River and Bear Creek. The passage of the mountains was made in the late fall and early winter, and was consequently accompanied by very considerable hardship. A division of the company took place near the summit at the beautiful lake which two years later witnessed the slow tragedy of the Donner Party. Because of this division the immigrants did not all reach Sutter's Fort at the same time, but by good fortune the early snowfall was light and the last of the train were out of the mountains before the way became impassable. The Stevens-Murphy Party, aside from antedating the 49ers by half a decade, claimed distinction along two other lines. They were the first immigrants to take wagons all away from the western states to the settled portions of California, and they were probably the first Americans to reach the Siera divide by way of the Truckee River, thus opening the most central of the immigrant trails and discovering a route of which the first transcontinental railroad afterwards made use. During the year 1845 at least 250 persons reached California by the overland trails. To narrate the trials and vicissitudes of the five or six parties to which these immigrants belong would be to repeat in large measure what has already been said of previous companies. The story of every early expedition to California is an epic of romance and adventure well worth the telling if this can be done at proper length, but where lack of space for Bid's narration in detail little can be gained by attempting a mere summary of each expedition. Without seeking, therefore, to describe the experiences of these various parties, it will be sufficient merely to mention the more important of them by name. Under the leadership of James Cleiman, one of the Bidwell Bartelsen Company of 1841, 43 Oregonians left to Willamette in June, reaching Sutter's about the middle of July. In this company was a man of no particular distinction named James Marshall, who some years later, by a chance discovery, set the whole world agog. A month after the arrival of the Cleiman party, thirteen young men, commonly spoken of as the Swayze Todd Company, crossed the Sierra by the Truckee route into the Sacramento Valley. In the fall, one of the sablettes made his appearance at Sutter's in charge of fifteen men who had accompanied him from St. Louis. The party was exceptionally well equipped with oxen and wagons and nearly all the members had rather unusual reserves of ready money. A few days later, the advance guard of the largest company of the year began to arrive at New Helvetia. This party, known as the Grigsby Eid Party, consisted of over a hundred persons. It left Fort Hall in August and reached the Sierra over the humble Truckee route without special incident. Once at the crest of the mountains, however, the company forgot all sense of union and each family struck out for itself to reach the long-sought California. In the mad scramble that followed, some wagons were left far behind and from the 8th of October to the 25th the members of the scattered train came straggling into Sutter's hospitable establishment. One other company came to California before the year closed. This was led by the potential filibuster and explorer Langsford W. Hastings. It left independence late in August with twenty-two or twenty-three members. Because of the lateness of the start and certain unexpected delays, the crossing of the Sierras was attended with very grave danger. But since the company consisted only of men, they were able to reach the plains a day or two before the passes became snowblock for the winter. The party arrived at Sutter's on Christmas day, where the holiday feast proved a welcome contrast to the hunger and privations suffered in the mountains. Besides Hastings, at least one other member of this party acquired some measure of fame in later California history. This was Robert Semple, who among other claims to distinction could boast a remarkable stature. He was six feet eight inches tall. The arrival of these various overland companies and the coming of some settlers by sea materially increased the foreign population of California. The actual immigration, however, fell far shorter than numbers that rumors said were on the way. Both in California and in the United States, the air was thick with stories of a westward migration that in a year or two would populate the entire Pacific coast and displace the Mexican control of California. In the spring of 1845, for instance, it was commonly reported that seven thousand persons were assembled at Independence, prepared to take the road for Oregon and California. A few months later, Sutter predicted the arrival of more as one thousand souls before the end of summer and of other thousands within the year. Well informed American residents of the province also thought that two or three thousand of their countrymen would be in California before the close of 1846. At various times more exaggerated rumors spread along the coast that ten or twenty thousand immigrants were already westward bound, and a far-visioned editor of The New York Sun foretold the coming of a hundred thousand persons by the spring of 1846. Behind these estimates, exaggerated as they appear, were a number of sober facts that gave color to all but the most fanciful of the predictions. Not only was actual immigration assuming considerable proportions, but several forces, quietly working to stimulate the settlement of California by Americans, gave every indication of early success. The United States government, through its exploring expeditions, furnished invaluable information to prospective immigrants and also lent a semi-official encouragement to the American settlement of the province. More important still, the active propaganda begun some years before by American residents of California to draw settlers to the coast, was now at flood tide, and its effects were everywhere evident throughout the American states. Some of the propagandist literature in 1845 and 1846 was in book form, a tight best represented by Alfred Robinson's readable and widely circulated life in California. The author had been for many years a resident agent of the Boston firm of Bryant and Sturges, and though the volume first appeared anonymously, it was known to have been written by someone thoroughly familiar with California life. The book was published in the early part of 1846 and immediately created a profound impression. Its effect can best be summed up in the words of a review in Hunt's Merchants Magazine. When we reflect, said the writer of the article, that the superb region of California is adequate to the sustaining of 20 millions of people, has for several hundred years been in the possession of an indolent and limited population incapable from their character of appreciating its resources, that no improvement can be expected under its present control, we cannot but hope that thousands of our fellow countrymen will pour in and accelerate the happy period, which work before us assures us cannot be far distant, when all to California will become part and parcel of our great confederation. And the cry of Oregon is only a precursor to the actual settlement of this more southern, more beautiful, and far more valuable region. Other magazines and newspapers, such as Niles Register, the North American Review, the Journal of Commerce, and the New York Sun, to mention only a few at random, aided materially in this California publicity campaign. In the eastern states there was much talk of a transcontinental railroad, for Asa Whitney's plan had already been laid before Congress. With its terminus at Monterey and various routes from the Mississippi Valley to the Pacific began to be spoken of in the daily papers. The vacant lands of the province also came in for much favorable comment, and young men, long before Horace Greeley's classic admonition, were urged to immigrate to California and grow up with the country. The inducements to the land hungry or adventurous spirits along this line were certainly not unattractive. A foreigner, said a typical article in the New York Sun, can become a citizen of California by obtaining two signatures to his petition. He then possesses the right to take up vacant land and may secure as much as 11 square leagues upon the payment of $26 in fees. Many grants held by such owners are 33 miles long by 3 miles wide. The newspapers of the extreme western states not only concerned themselves with articles descriptive of California's resources and attractions, but also published everything obtainable regarding immigration to the province. The opening of some shortcut or new route, the departure of an overland train, or the organization of a California company were subjects in which every western editor showed decided interest. Not infrequently, for example, such an item as the following would appear in a local newspaper to be widely copied and commented upon by other papers of the frontier. Quote, For California, a large party of settlers proposed to leave Arkansas for California next May. The chairman of the committee of arrangements gives notice in the Little Rock Gazette that the Californians will rendezvous at Fort Smith, Arkansas on the first Monday and April next, preparatory to taking up the line of March for the Pacific Coast. Every person starting is expected to be well armed with a rifle or heavy shotgun, 16 pounds of shot or lead, four pounds of powder, et cetera, in quote. The inspiration for much of this California publicity came from California itself. In the province were several Americans eager for various reasons to hasten the tide of immigration. Nearly all of these carried on a regular correspondent with friends still resident in the states, writing in such a vein that their letters would find ready publication in local newspapers and perhaps in more widely circulated magazines as well. One or two of these interested Americans, moreover, wrote directly for eastern publications and were in fact responsible for a large part of the information regarding California matters which reached the United States before the Mexican War. By far the most important service of this kind was rendered by Thomas O. Larkin of Monterey. Reaching California in 1832, Larkin had built up an important commercial and trading business along the coast, and in 1843 was appointed United States Consul to California. Since Larkin was thoroughly acquainted with the economic and political conditions of the province, his letters were eagerly sought after by a number of the best-known American newspapers when public attention began to turn to California. The New York Sun made him a regular correspondent, and the New York Herald, the Journal of Commerce and the Boston Advertiser, all published his letters at frequent intervals. Of the practical nature of Larkin's articles from the settler's standpoint, the following serves as an illustration. Quote, immigrants leaving independence for the Pacific should furnish themselves, if a family of five or six persons, with one good wagon, four or five yoke of oxen, three or four cows, three horses, and to each grown person, 250 pounds of flour, 150 pounds of bacon, 30 pounds of coffee, 50 pounds of sugar, 20 pounds of rice, two good blankets, and a few cooking utensils. Every male person over 14 years of age should have one good rifle, 10 pounds of powder, 20 rounds of lead, 2,000 percussion caps, and a good horse. On arriving on the banks of the Sacramento and finding a convenient piece of land that the immigrant can occupy, he should begin sowing wheat from December to February, beans, peas, and corn in April or May, and should also procure for himself cows two years old, worth from four dollars to five dollars, young bulls at two dollars or three dollars, 30 or 40 mares at five or six dollars, a stallion at 15 or 20 dollars, and a few sheep at two dollars apiece. 100 young cows will produce from 70 to 90 calves between the second and twelfth months. From 1000 to 1500 dollars in cash will start an enterprising man in breeding animals for a California farm. In a few years the settler may find purchases for produce from among the immigrants and throughout the country. In time he will find a market in the Sandwich Islands, Northwest Coast, Somblas, Mazatlán, and elsewhere. Wheat produces from 40 to 50 fold under the most imperfect cultivation. The Spanish Padres for many years obtained 100 fold at some of the missions. 180 fold was once gathered at the mission of San Jose. Wild oats and mustard cover the country, the farmer from three to four feet high, the latter so high and compact that is impossible for a traveler to find his horses when they stray among it. Rye and buckwheat have not been proved. Hemp was raised by former Padres. Cotton has been proved to advantage but no quantity has been planted. Every kind of vegetable yet planted has produced well. Apples, pears, quinces, and peaches are common all over California. In parts of the country there are limes, oranges, almonds, figs, and walnuts. Plums and cherries have not yet been introduced. Grapes of the very best quality are found in the greatest abundance in different sections of the country. Latitudes south of 34 degrees produces the best. With imperfect means good wine could be produced and distilled. The climate of California is surpassed by no other. The lowest rate of the thermometer in the shade at Monterey in 1845 was 44 degrees, the highest 86 degrees, from 60 to 70 is the common rate throughout the year. Besides this campaign of education, the American residents of California found at least one other field for their activities. It will be recalled that Fort Hall occupied a most strategic position on the route of travel from Missouri to the coast. Here the trail to the Pacific divided. One branch leading on to Oregon, while the other ran to California. Most of the western immigrants started from the Missouri with Oregon as their objective, but at Fort Hall they were sure to meet discouraging reports of the northern country and of the route thither. California, on the contrary, they heard spoken of only in glowing terms. And as a consequence many a settler changed his destination from the Columbia to the Sacramento. In this method of obtaining recruits the efforts of the California enthusiasts were supplemented by the officials of the Hudson's Bay Company at Fort Hall who wished to keep the Northwest Territory unoccupied as long as possible. Naturally the Oregon supporters did not take kindly to the arrangement and accordingly organized a committee to counteract the California propaganda. The publicity which California received during 1845 and the early part of 1846 was expected, as already indicated, to bear large fruit. Nor is there any question but that these expectations would have been in large measure realized had the Mexican war not altered the whole course of California history and temporarily diverted the stream of immigration. Even before the outbreak of this conflict apparently well-founded rumors spoke of the planting of a great Mormon colony west of the Sierra. And after the opening of hostilities more than one company of determined settlers pushed their way across the mountains. To this period belongs in many respects the most tragic story of California annals. In the early spring of 1846 a party of nearly a hundred persons organized chiefly in Sangamon County Illinois by George and Jacob Donner and James F. Reed left independence Missouri on the trail to California. On the road this company was joined by several smaller detachments until at one time it consisted of nearly 200 persons. Nothing occurred on the route of unusual incident until the immigrants reached Fort Bridger. Here after four days of discussion the party divided the larger number of immigrants going by way of Fort Hall while the remainder 87 and all decided to take the newly discovered Hastings Cut-Off along the south side of the Salt Lake reuniting with the Fort Hall route on the Humboldt. With the larger company all went well. Following the somewhat longer but well known clearly defined route they reached California in safety and without north worthy hardship. The smaller company with George Donner in command met with no such fortunate escape. In seeking to reach the south side of the lake so many formidable obstacles were encountered that nearly a month of precious traveling time was lost and the strength of men and animals alike so seriously reduced as to render progress for the rest of the journey extremely slow. Autumn was already at hand before the company left the vicinity of the lake to cross the wide intervening desert and the Sierra Nevada into California. So late in the season the passage of the mountains was accompanied by extreme risk when a slight mishance might easily turn into overwhelming disaster. Among the Donner immigrants conditions were ripe for such an eventuality. The stock was worn out, food was scarce, and the nerves of men and women frayed almost to the breaking point. Criticisms and quarrels at least one of which resulted in a dismal tragedy became the accepted order. Through misfortune and inefficiency so many cattle were lost that wagon after wagon had to be abandoned and many of the women and children compelled to walk. One or two deaths occurred and the whole caravan was on the verge of starvation when they were met near the present side of Reno, Nevada by a relief party sent out by Sutter at the request of two members of the expedition who had gone on ahead to secure aid. Under favorable conditions the food thus obtained would have carried the immigrants across the Sierra. But a few days delayed arrest the cattle and an early fall of snow prepared the way for the final tragedy. Late in October the company had succeeded in reaching a camp on Prosser Creek three miles from the modern, trucky city. Here the snow caught them before its normal time. In the face of this catastrophe the immigrants lost their self-control. Each family sought safety after its own plan. Unity and cooperation were forgotten. Wagons pressed forward or remained behind as individual judgment decided or necessity determined. By November 1st however most of the company had reached the shores of that beautiful lake which the tourist sees today from the Central Pacific Trains that wind above it. Beyond this lake for most of the immigrants there was no escape. Sutter's fort with its abundance of food and the warm fruitful plains of the Sacramento lay a hundred miles away. The intervening mountains were already covered with several feet of snow which each succeeding storm made more hopelessly impassable than its predecessor. All about the immigrants, already exhausted and half-starved, a rugged wall of rock and snow sprang abruptly from the level of the lake and interposed an effective check to further progress. Several attempts were made at the outset by the more energetic members of the party to escape from this natural prison. But the snow and the steepness of the mountains defeated every effort. Nothing remained but to winter there in the heart of the Sierras. Two camps were established about six miles apart. A few log shacks were erected, but most of the company lived only in crude shelters of boughs and canvas banked with snow. Almost the only food available was the flesh of the cattle the immigrants had brought with them. It was agreed that these should all be killed and the meat carefully husbanded for the long months ahead. The night of this decision, however, a heavy storm came up which lasted for several days and when this had cleared away most of the cattle had disappeared. Seeking whatever shelter was available, they had taken refuge under bushes and overhanging boughs only to be buried a dozen feet beneath the drifting snow. The bodies of some of these animals were afterwards found, but a considerable number could not be located and where every ounce of food was needed this loss was irreparable. Of game the immigrants had practically none. The deer, of course, had long since sought the lower levels where they could find grass. Bear is seen to have been fairly numerous, but the men were either too discouraged or too exhausted to hunt them successfully. Little meal, flour, or sugar remained after the six months' journey across the plains. From the very outset the unfortunate immigrants were face to face with starvation. The account of the bitter days through which the Donner Party passed has no parallel in American literature. Seventy-nine persons began the winter at the lake. Of these twenty were men, fourteen were women, thirty-eight were children, and seven were nursing infants. Before many weeks were over almost the only food to be had was soup or jelly made from oxides, a most nauseating dish, and bones burned and ground to powder. The cold was intense. Storm succeeded storm until the snow lay piled from fifteen to thirty feet in depth around the lake. Men became too weak to gather wood so that starvation and cold together took pitiless toll of the luckless company. The horror and despair of those days cannot be told. At length a party of nine men and six women left the main camp and made a desperate effort to reach Sutter's on foot. Thirty-two days later, five women and two men, the sole survivors of this forlorn hope, reached Johnson's Ranch near the present site of Wheatland in the Sacramento Valley. The name of one of the camps of this party is in keeping with the whole of their terrible experience. It was called the Camp of Death. Horrible as it is to relate, the members of the forlorn hope kept themselves from starving by eating the flesh of their dead companions and even shot two faithful Indian guides who had become so exhausted they could travel no further and were about to die to serve the same grim need. The survivors could have lived in no other way. Among the immigrants left at the lake, similar unspeakable conditions prevailed. Suffering, despair and death walked daily through the camp. Human flesh was frequently eaten and only the opportune arrival of rescue parties from Sutter's Fort saved any of the company alive. The first of these relief expeditions consisting of seven men reached the camp February 19th. They had with them only a scant supply of food which they carried on their own backs since animals could not get through the snow. With such a the company has seemed best able to make the journey, they immediately began the return, reaching Sutter's after the most harrowing experiences. Several immigrants who started back with this party died of starvation or utter exhaustion on the road. A second and third rescue expedition, each after a grimly heroic struggle, succeeded in saving a few of the survivors at the lake. Though when the fourth party arrived at the encampment in April, it found only one of the original company alive. This man, about whom tradition and gossip wove many a ghastly tale, escaped to the Sacramento Valley, only to live the rest of his days in an outcast from society. Of the seventy-nine persons who began the winter in the Sierra, only forty-five survived. Even these survivors endured privations and suffering, such as can scarcely be imagined. The story is the most tragic in California history, if not in all of the annals of Western immigration. In it were sordid, cowardly episodes, petty quarrels, personal jealousies, inefficiency and vacillation played their part in its pitiful outcome. But side by side with these unattractive features was a heroism, an unselfishness, a grim bravery that make the story of the Donner Party, especially because of the part played by its splendid women, synonymous with something more than tragedy. It is synonymous with the spirit of the pioneer. CHAPTER X Wilkes and Fremont Government Explorers While the immigrant movement to California was under way, as narrated in the previous chapter, two exploring expeditions sent out by the United States government were also doing their part toward making the province better known to the American public, and in various other ways aiding the cause of American settlement and ultimate annexation. The first of these official expeditions to reach the coast was a naval squadron under command of Lieutenant Charles Wilkes. The undertaking had been planned as early as 1836, but for various reasons it could not be gotten underway until 1838. Six vessels, with an adequate force of men and a small company of highly trained scientists, made up the expedition. Five years were spent in explorations throughout the Pacific and along the American coast. In the course of these explorations, part of Wilkes' fleet visited California, and it is with the details of this visit that the present narrative is alone concerned. In the summer of 1841 the main body of the expedition reached the northwest coast. On a site, which in 1917 was destined to become part of the great military containment known as Camp Lewis, Wilkes held an elaborate Fourth of July celebration. The first of its kind, so it is said, to take place west of the Rocky Mountains. After several months spent in exploring and charting the bays and harbors of the northwest coast, Wilkes prepared to continue his voyage to San Francisco. In the meantime, however, 17 men were detached from the main expedition to travel overland to California. This party was placed under command of Lieutenant Emmons. A number of dissatisfied Oregon settlers hoping to find conditions more to their liking in Mexican territory also joined the company, but Emmons afterward found their presence more a source of discord than of added strength. Following the trail generally taken by the Hudson's Bay trappers on their expeditions to California, the exploring party traveled up the Willamette Valley, stopped one night at the log cabin of John Turner, former employee of Jedidiah Smith, whose gigantic strength had saved him from the Umpqua massacre, crossed the divide between the Willamette and the Umpqua, and finally found themselves upon the great upland plains around Mount Shasta. Though harassed by sickness, chiefly malaria, and menaced by hostile Indians, Emmons next explored the courses of the Klamath and Rogue Rivers. By October 10th, the company found themselves out of the mountains and safely encamped in the upper reaches of the Sacramento Valley. Traveling southward, they reached the Feather River on the 17th of October, and on the 19th came to Sutter's Fort. A few days later, the company rejoined the main command at San Francisco. As a result of this overland expedition, much scientific data relating to the ethnology, geology, and botany of Northern California was collected, and in addition an accurate account to the root between Oregon and California was made available for the use of later immigrants coming into the province by way of the Columbia. While the Emmons party was making its way from the Willamette to the Sacramento, Wilkes had come by sea to San Francisco. Here he spent much time in charting the Bay and in visiting nearby points of interest. A small party under command of Lieutenant Ringgold also made an extensive survey of the Sacramento, going by launch and canoe to the head of navigation. Wilkes, as commander of the expedition, confined his own activities to the more settled regions around the Bay. Frequently availing himself of the hospitality of the Californians, and traveling from Sonoma and the Napa Valley to the mission of Santa Clara and the Pueblo of San Jose, he succeeded in learning much about the social and economic life of the people and in getting an insight, especially valuable to his government in later years, into the political condition of the province. As an enthusiast for California, Wilkes was somewhat of a disappointment. His report called attention to many shortcomings of the province and abounded in criticisms. The Californians were not cleanly or energetic enough to meet his approval. The priests were too much given to liquor. The winds of the Bay region proved extremely disagreeable, and the economic life of the province appeared most primitive and crude. In spite of these drawbacks, however, there were certain redeeming features which even in Wilkes' eyes made California a prize of great value. Among these were the wide diversity of soil and the adaptability of the province to agriculture and cattle-raising. The province's greatest asset, however, was the Bay of San Francisco, which Wilkes regarded as one of the finest, if not the very best, harbor in the world. It could easily be defended, he continued, and was ample enough to receive the combined naval forces of Europe. The real value of Wilkes' exploration, however, lay not so much in his personal impressions of California, of whatever nature these might be, as in the fund of information gathered by the expedition and afterwards embodied in its report. The material relating to California was of many kinds. None, however, was later of such value to the government at Washington as that dealing with the political conditions in the province, its military inefficiency, and the advantages of San Francisco Bay to the naval and commercial interests of the United States. There was no official record to show that such information was obtained for the purpose of enabling the government to acquire the territory at a later date. On the other hand, one may well question whether the report, current among American residents of California, that Wilkes' visit was directly connected with a program of annexation lacked entirely a sound foundation. On June 10th, 1842, after completing their long and memorable voyage, the vessels under Wilkes' command dropped anchor in New York Harbor, thus bringing to an end one of the most successful scientific expeditions ever sent out by the United States. By a singular coincidence, the same day that witnessed the return of this naval expedition also saw a small party of Western Frontiersmen, likewise acting under government authority, start from the last outpost of American settlement on a long overland journey of discovery and observation to the Pacific coast. The company, though organized on a very insignificant scale compared to the Wilkes' expedition, was destined to acquire lasting fame in Western annals. It was the first exploring expedition of John C. Fremont. A detailed description of this particular undertaking does not properly belong in the history of California, since the expedition itself did not enter Mexican territory. In as much, however, as it marked the beginning of Fremont's career as an explorer and became the starting point for his subsequent activities in California, a brief account of the enterprise becomes necessary. The party, composed chiefly of Creole and Canadian voyageurs, was organized as a military command and sent out under the direction of Colonel J. J. Albert, chief of the Corps of Topographical Engineers of the United States Army. In this branch of the service, Fremont held a commission as second lieutenant. His right-hand men in the undertaking were Charles Prouse, a well-trained scientist of German birth, a professional hunter named Maxwell, and the noted guide and Indian scout, Kit Carson. The expedition outfitted at St. Louis late in May and traveled by steamer four hundred miles up the Missouri to a point near the mouth of the Kansas River, known as Choteau's Landing. From a trading post of the same name, some twelve miles farther on, the overland march began. The incidents of the journey, which lasted four months, absorbing and interesting as many of them were, cannot be narrated here. From a geographical standpoint, the expedition was important chiefly because of the careful surveys Fremont made of the route through the South Pass and the detailed knowledge he secured of the Rocky Mountains. From a historical standpoint, the chief significance of the undertaking lay in the stimulus it gave to Oregon and California immigration, and to the training it afforded Fremont and his men for their later and much more difficult explorations in Oregon and California. Some eight months after the close of his first western venture, Fremont organized a second expedition to explore the far west. This, too, like its predecessor, was set out under the authority of Colonel Albert of the topographical engineers. It was, accordingly, an official expedition whose expenses were borne by the United States government and whose commander was an officer in the United States Army. The object of the expedition was to connect Fremont's explorations of the previous year, 1842, with those made by Lieutenant Wilkes along the Pacific Coast in 1841. With thirty-nine men, among whom were Prowse, Maxwell, and several others who had been in the party of 1842, Fremont left the junction of the Kansas and Missouri rivers on May 29, 1843, having as a guide the famous trapper Thomas Fitzpatrick. The members of the party were well-equipped and exceptionally well-armed. As something of an innovation, they carried with them a 12-pound mountain howitzer from the United States arsenal at St. Louis. As it turned out, the War Department disapproved of this feature of the expedition, and Fremont was able to retain the howitzer only through the independence and ready-wit of his remarkable wife, Jesse Benton Fremont, the daughter of Senator Benton of Missouri. Instead of taking his route to the previous year, which lay up the Platte River to the South Pass, Fremont followed the general course of the Kansas River, ultimately expecting to strike the headwaters of the Arkansas and possibly cross the mountains through some unexplored pass in that region. During the first part of the journey, when the party followed the regular Overland Trail which ran from Missouri to the Rocky Mountains, they overtook numerous immigrant companies bound for Oregon and California. For already, as has been shown in a previous chapter, the advanced guard of American settlers was pushing irresistibly forward to the Pacific. Where the regular immigrant road crossed the Kansas River, the explorers abandoned it for a more direct course to the Rocky Mountains. Careful observations were made of the entire route, for one of the primary purposes of the expedition was the discovery of a more practical immigrant road to the Pacific. On July 23rd, after sundry adventures, but without serious misfortune, Fremont reached St. Vraines Fort, a famous trading center of pioneer days situated on the South Platte some distance north of the old Spanish settlement of Taos, New Mexico. At this post, Fremont was joined by two very valuable men, Kit Carson and Alexander Gotti. He then proceeded northward over a very difficult route until he came to the South Pass about three hundred miles from St. Vraines. At this point, the company again took the well-traveled road to Oregon, which they had left several months before at the crossing of the Kansas. In Bear Valley they came upon a large immigrant company bound for the Columbia, and a little while afterward, turning aside from the direct road to Fort Hall, they arrived at the great Salt Lake. After exploring one of the islands of the lake, which the leader and a few of his companions reached at considerable risk in a frail rubber boat, Fremont made his way to Fort Hall. Here the company was divided. Part of the men returned to the Missouri settlements, while the remainder set their faces westward to the Pacific. Not far from Fort Hall, this latter party came upon the fresh wagon tracks of a very considerable band of immigrants. This proved to be the main division of the child's company, which, under the leadership of Joseph Walker, had abandoned the regular Oregon Trail at Salt Lake to take the hazardous and little-known southern route to California by way of Monalake and Walker Pass. After the usual difficulties of Western travel, but otherwise without noteworthy incident, Fremont, in a small advanced party, reached the Whitman settlement on the Walla Walla toward the latter part of October. From this outpost of civilization, the company traveled on down the Columbia to the Dalles. Here Fremont left a greater part of his men under Carson's command to prepare for the homeward journey, while he, with a few companions, went on to Fort Vancouver by canoe. At Fort Vancouver, the Hudson's Bay officials received the Americans with marked cordiality and rendered them every possible assistance in their preparation for the return journey. Consequently, when Fremont left for his camp at the Dalles, he carried with him not only badly needed supplies for his expedition back to the United States, but also warm admiration for the courteous British commander Dr. McLaughlin. The formal object of Fremont's expedition, namely the connection of his first explorations with Wilk's Survey, had now been realized, but the most important results of the undertaking were yet to be accomplished. Instead of returning over the route by which he had come, Fremont mapped out a new course for the homeward journey. This involved a long swing to the south and an exploration of the territory known as the Great Basin, which lay between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra. Thence the return was to be made to the headwaters of the Arkansas. The choice of this new route not only allowed a general survey of a very vast and little known area, but also afforded an opportunity to investigate three specific objects. The first of these was Klamath Lake, from which the Sacramento River was supposed to flow. The second was a Mary's Lake, lying between the Great Salt Lake and the Sierra. And the third was the Buenaventueta River, a mythical stream appearing on many authoritative maps of the period, which flowed from the Rocky Mountains into the bay of San Francisco. The return journey was begun on the morning of November 25, 1843. At this time there were 25 men in the party. Riding and pack animals numbered more than 100 and several head of cattle were driven along for food. The mountain Howitzer likewise still remained part of the equipment. From the latter part of November until January 18, the party followed the general course outlined by Fremont before leaving the Dalles. From the Klamath Lake onward, however, travel became increasingly difficult. Mary's Lake was not to be found, nor the eagerly looked for Buenaventueta. Food grew scarce. Horses and mules became exhausted or were so badly lain by the rough going as to be of little service. Even the men lost spirit in the face of hardship and uncertainty. In this dilemma, Fremont decided to abandon the route previously chosen through the Great Basin and turned westward across the Sierra to the Sacramento. While this change of itinerary was probably born of necessity, there is every reason to believe the American commander welcomed it with enthusiasm, since it gave him a legitimate excuse to visit California, a region which had already aroused keen interest and perhaps shadowy ambitions in the eager mind of the explorer. The passage of the mountains, begun as it was in the very dead of winter, was accompanied not only by the greatest of difficulties but also involved the gravest risks. On the eastern side, the Sierra rises much more abruptly from the plains than on the west. Consequently, the little company, after only a few days of travel, found itself struggling through heavy snow drifts and shut in on every hand by lofty ranges. The howitzer, which had been so much an object of concern to the War Department when the expedition left St. Louis, at last had to be abandoned. Progress in the ordinary fashion became impossible. Rudely constructed snowshoes and sheds were next resorted to, and in this way the baggage was carried forward a few laborious miles each day. On the path thus made, the enfeebled animals next followed as best they could. Some of the men became snow-blind, and all were greatly reduced in strength because of lack of food and the strenuous exertions they were called upon to make. Except for a few hours near midday the cold was severe, the snow fields grew deeper and more impassable with each day's march, and at times a way had to be beaten through the drifts with mauls to enable the animals to travel. Had the spirit of the men been less resolute or the leadership at all wavering, disaster must have overtaken the entire party. At length, however, on the 20th of February, 1844, the company reached the Pacific side of the Sierra, having crossed the mountains at an elevation of more than 9,000 feet. But the end of the difficulties was not even yet in sight. The descent to the Sacramento was extremely arduous, especially as men and horses were in no condition for further travel. Mule meat was the only food. Two men, one of whom never recovered, lost their reason from weakness and starvation. A third became separated from his companions and was not heard of again for several days. At last, however, a small advance guard with Fremont himself at its head succeeded in reaching Sutter's Fort on March 6th, after more than a month of struggle in the mountains. Two or three days later the remainder of the company, weak, emaciated and scarce able to travel, came to the junction of the American and Sacramento rivers. Here they were met by a relief party from Sutter's with provisions and fresh horses. The exploring party enjoyed the hospitality of Sutter's Fort for about two weeks. With only one exception the men quickly regained both strength and spirit, as many of their type were want to do with rest and food no matter what experiences they had undergone. In preparation for the journey home, provisions were collected and fresh animals purchased to take the place of those—more than half the entire number—which had been lost or eaten in the mountains. Leaving behind several of their companions who wished to remain in California, the rest of the expedition bade Sutter goodbye on March 24th and set out on the long return journey to St. Louis. To avoid a second crossing of the Sierra still deep in snow, as well as to acquaint himself further with the resources of California and open a new overland route from Salt Lake, Fremont led his men several hundred miles south through the great valley of the San Joaquin, which Jedidiah Smith had first traversed nearly seventeen years before. It was Fremont's good fortune to find the valley at its best. The beauty of spring was everywhere. Great oaks boarded the rivers and were scattered here and there over the plain and large groves. On every hand green grass, variegated blossoms and singing birds furnished a welcome contrast to the grim starving time and the cold so recently experienced in the Sierra. Bands of elk, antelope and wild horses were constantly met with and innumerable herds of deer broke from the thickets as the party advanced. One might travel the world over, Fremont later wrote in his report of this stage of the journey, without finding a valley more fresh and verdant, more floral and silvin, more alive with birds and animals, more bountiously watered than we had left in the San Joaquin. At the lower end of the valley, Fremont intended to cross the Sierra through the Walker Pass. This lies on the eastern side of the San Joaquin, slightly north of the latitude of the present city of Bakersfield. Instead of reaching this pass, however, the Americans fell in with a Christian Indian from the San Fernando Mission, who led them either through the Tahone or the Tahachapi Pass, both of which lie much further south and somewhat west of Walker Pass. Once out of the San Joaquin, Fremont directed his course so as to intercept the old Spanish trail where it emerged from the Sierra Madre Mountains. In carrying out this design he followed in the opposite direction the general course of the route over which Jedidiah Smith had led his men from the Tahone Pass into the San Joaquin on his first expedition. At the season of the year when Fremont traversed it, the route was exceptionally beautiful. On his right the Sierra Madre Mountains rose rather sharply from the floor of the desert to altitudes varying from 5,000 to 10,000 feet. The tops of the higher peaks were covered with snow, for it was still early spring, and many of the ridges were heavily wooded with pine trees. Occasional streams, such as the Big Rock and Little Rock creeks, flowing down the interlacing canyons, also added their attractiveness to the scene. To the left of the explorers' trail lay the vast, uneven expanse of the Mojave Desert, possessed of a peculiar, indescribable fascination, thickly set with grotesque clumps of cactus in the weird shapes of Joshua trees, and still gloriously beautiful with a carpet of myriads of spring flowers. The party struck the Santa Fe Trail some fifteen miles from the Mojave River and turned eastward toward the Colorado, as the annual trading caravan from Los Angeles had not yet passed over the trail there was an abundance of grass for the horses. But the Indians were very numerous and hostile, and in spite of unusual vigilance one man's life was sacrificed to their attacks. Leaving the Santa Fe Trail near the foot of the Wasatch Mountains, the explorers pushed northeast along the base of that range, crossed Severe River, and came by way of Spanish Fork to the Salt Lake. From this point, St. Louis, the route was already well defined and the company traversed it without much difficulty. With a fate not unusual to explorers, however, Fremont had the misfortune to lose most of his perishable collections by a sudden rise of water when almost at his journeys in. The company reached St. Louis on August 6, 1844, after an absence of fourteen months. Much of the country through which its route lay had already been traversed by adventurous fur traders and immigrants. Fremont was therefore not a pathfinder in the same sense that Jedediah Smith, the Patis, and Joseph Walker merit such a title, yet his work was no less significant than theirs. If they were the more genuine explorers, he was much more the scientist, and his descriptions and observations, whether of routes, topography, Indian tribes, or flora and fauna, were much more systematic and valuable than theirs. In addition to his scientific training, which so admirably fitted him for collecting and systematizing all sorts of information relative to the country through which he passed, Fremont had two other valuable assets for an explorer. An eye for beauty and a rare command of the English language. The account of his expedition, which was first published in 1845 under government direction, testified to his ability along both of these lines. The report met with instant popularity and quickly ran through four editions. No part of it was eagerly sought after as that which dealt with the routes to California and described so vividly the attractions of the province. Of all the literature of the period, one may safely say no publication was more effective in influencing the popular imagination and turning the restless tide of immigration westward than the fascinating, adventurous, and highly scholarly narrative of John C. Fremont, California enthusiast, and government explorer.