Authors: H.W. Brands
The infant university drew its students primarily from the West Coast. The inaugural class included an orphan from Oregon named Herbert Hoover, who studied mining engineering and went on to make a fortune finding gold and other minerals in Australia, China, Russia, and more exotic locales. His postmining career as American president proved rather less successful, but by the time voters, in the 1932 election, retired Hoover to Palo Alto, Leland Stanford’s university was emphasizing engineering of another sort. In the electrical engineering department a professor named Frederick Terman played matchmaker to two former students, encouraging them to commercialize certain promising ideas they’d been talking about; a coin flip determined that William Hewlett’s name would precede David Packard’s on the masthead of the company they created.
Hewlett-Packard struggled during the late 1930s, along with most of corporate America, but as the Great Depression gave way to World War II, the U.S. government discovered a need for the testing equipment the company produced. By war’s end Hewlett-Packard had a hundred employees and sales of more than $1 million per year. Electronics was becoming big business, and Hewlett-Packard led the field.
Soon the neighborhood near Leland Stanford’s old farm was full of bright young men (they were nearly all men) with bright new ideas. The brightest idea was the transistor, which multiplied (and miniaturized) into the integrated circuit. Not long after the latter made its market debut, an area booster dubbed the region Silicon Valley, for the humble material that provided the basis for the electronic marvels devised and fabricated there. Yet there was nothing humble about the prices the silicon technology commanded,
and the principals of the new companies soon found themselves astonishingly rich.
By then the term “gold rush” had long been applied to any sudden efflorescence of wealth and opportunity. There was a “gold rush” for the oil (“black gold”) of Pennsylvania in the 1860s, and of Texas after 1900 and again in the 1930s, and of Alaska in the 1970s. There was a rush for land in Oklahoma in the 1890s and in Florida in the 1920s. The bull market of Wall Street in the 1920s and the defense industry in the 1950s were likened to gold rushes. Any entrepreneur who achieved overnight success, as all dreamed of doing, was described as striking it rich.
But in the case of Silicon Valley in the 1980s and 1990s—the case that epitomized modern American success—the parallels to the original Gold Rush were especially apt. As in the first Gold Rush, people came from all over the world to try their luck in Silicon Valley. The pace of life in the valley was as frenetic as it had been in the diggings—more frenetic, in fact, since neither night nor winter suspended work in the silicon mines. Both settings were permeated by a conviction that tremendous opportunities existed but faded fast. “Time is money,” Jean-Nicolas Perlot heard over and over in the gold diggings; his silicon successors constantly sought the grail of “the new new thing.” In each case random chance played a large role, and if failure preceded success, the appropriate response was not to blame oneself but one’s luck, and try again. A denizen of Silicon Valley described the “vein of gold” that ran through the valley, and declared, “Anybody can reach down into it and strike it rich.” But not everybody would. “No matter how big your hand is, if you reach down in the wrong spot, you don’t get anything.” A Silicon Valley venture capitalist called the phenomenon in which he participated “the largest legal creation of wealth in the history of the planet,” which may have been true. But when the high-tech bubble burst in the spring of 2000, the losses were also among the largest in history. It was poetic (or perhaps geologic) justice that silicon was the primary constituent of both the quartz of the Mother Lode and the semiconductors of Silicon Valley; in each case, a lead that looked promising at the surface could attract huge amounts of capital and then play out before yielding a profit.
So striking were the similarities between the Gold Rush and the Silicon Rush that it was tempting to seek a causal connection. Was it blind chance that determined that of all the places in the world where the silicon revolution might have occurred, it happened in the land of the Gold Rush? Silicon is ubiquitous, and smart people are portable; but the highly charged atmosphere in which the two combined to produce Hewlett- Packard and Fairchild and Intel and Xerox PARC and Sun and Cisco and Netscape and Yahoo was peculiar to California; or at least the California atmosphere carried a larger charge—of hell-for-leather entrepreneurship— than the air did elsewhere. California had seen and done it all before. Chambers of commerce in every region of the country envied Silicon Valley’s success and tried to reproduce it; Silicon Forest sprang up in the Northwest, Silicon Hills in central Texas, Silicon Alley in New York City. But none of the imitations quite matched the original, perhaps because nowhere else was the new American dream such a fundamental part of the psychic landscape.
“WE ARE ON THE brink of the age of gold,” Horace Greeley had said in 1848. The reforming editor wrote better than he knew. The discovery at Coloma commenced a revolution that rumbled across the oceans and continents to the ends of the earth, and echoed down the decades to the dawn of the third millennium. The revolution manifested itself demographically, in drawing hundreds of thousands of people to California; politically, in propelling America along the path to the Civil War; economically, in spurring the construction of the transcontinental railroad. But beyond everything else, the Gold Rush established a new template for the American dream. America had always been the land of promise, but never had the promise been so decidedly—so gloriously—material. The new dream held out the hope that anyone could have what everyone wants: respite from toil, security in old age, a better life for one’s children. By no means could all achieve success (fleeting or otherwise) at the level of John Frémont or George Hearst or Sam Brannan or Leland Stanford. But all
could
reasonably hope to emulate Jean-Nicolas Perlot, gardening happily in Herbeumont;
or William Swain, in his orchard near Niagara Falls; or Lewis Manly, on his ranch outside San Jose; or Sarah Royce, in her house in Grass Valley; or Yee Ah Tye, on the banks of the Feather River.
To be sure, the new dream had a dark side; it destroyed even as it created. The argonauts dismantled John Sutter’s handiwork all at once; the lawyers took longer to dispossess Mariano Vallejo. The Indians of California lost far more. Considering the grim fate of aboriginal peoples almost everywhere the American flag was raised, the destruction of the tribes of California may not have depended on the discovery of gold there, but the gold certainly hastened the process—as it hastened the demise of the plains tribes corralled onto reservations to allow the Pacific railroad to go through. Of a different nature was the damage mining operations did to the ecology of California, from the modest excavations of the placermen to the mountain-moving of the hydraulickers. (Eventually the silting caused by the latter provoked an outcry that compelled the water cannons to cease fire.) The speculative scandals of the post–Civil War era and the emergence of monopolies weren’t the work of the California experience alone, but to the extent the Gold Rush mentality migrated east along the route of the Pacific railroad, they too might be fairly charged against the new American dream.
Were the benefits worth the cost? To ask the question is to imply that an alternative existed. Maybe it did, but only if human nature could have resisted the temptation to seek a shortcut to happiness. America’s enthronement of individualism magnified the impact of the gold discovery; the gold rushes to Canada and Siberia were more orderly than the rush to California. But they were also less history-shaping, partly because neither the Klondike nor Siberia was anyone’s vision of paradise, but also because neither Canada nor Russia elevated the pursuit of happiness to the status of inalienable right. Americans, and those who came to America, cherished that right, and when the gold of California promised a way to find happiness all at once, they couldn’t resist.
And in this lay the ultimate meaning of the Gold Rush. The Gold Rush shaped history so profoundly because it harnessed the most basic of human desires, the desire for happiness. None of the gold-seekers went to
California to build a new state, to force a resolution of the sectional conflict, to construct a transcontinental railroad, to reconstruct the American dream. They went to California to seek individual happiness. Some found it; some didn’t. But the side effect of their pursuit—the cumulative outcome of their individual quests—was a transformation of American history. The men and women of the Gold Rush hoped to change their lives by going to California; in the bargain they changed their world.
A
S FOR THE CARPENTER
who set everything in motion, he never reached El Dorado. The sawmill at Coloma cut logs intermittently for three years before river miners diverted the American River and left the mill dry and powerless. Anyway, by then James Marshall had managed to lose the money he made from the cutting, for even less than his partner, Sutter, was the unlucky and unworldly Marshall able to accomplish the transition from the old era to the new. He spent the next thirty-five years trying to win acknowledgment of his role in creating the new California. But his neighbors were in too much of a hurry exploiting his discovery to notice, and he died forgotten and nearly destitute.
Yet he was remembered after his death, and a statue was erected in his honor. The statue stands above the river at Coloma, in a hillside copse of trees. From a stone pedestal Marshall gazes out across the valley. The mill is long gone, and the millrace obliterated. But so is most evidence of the hordes who followed Marshall here, and the general scene isn’t much different than it was on that sunny, cold morning in 1848, when the carpenter’s eye fell on the glittering yellow flakes that set the heart of the world aquiver.
The principal sources for this book are the words of the men and women who went to California in search of gold, or whose lives were otherwise touched by the gold discoveries there. In many cases, these words were put to writing contemporaneously, in the form of diaries, journals, and letters. In some cases they were recorded after the fact, as reminiscences or memoirs. A large number of these writings have been published; others remain unpublished, in archives and other depositories. The bibliography below includes all those firsthand accounts that have been quoted in the text as well as many others that have provided important information.
The bibliography also includes secondary works: works authored not by participants or eyewitnesses but by historians and others writing after the fact. In rare cases such secondary studies have been quoted in the text, and are cited, like the primary sources, in the page notes. More often, these works of history, geology, economics, and other disciplines provide background material that broadly informs the text in a way that defies specific citation. A few works are neither quite primary nor exactly secondary, but something in between. J. S. Holliday’s
The World Rushed In
, for example, reproduces the diary and letters of William Swain, which have been quoted in several places in the text; the book also provides insightful commentary on Swain’s great adventure. Any comprehensive bibliography of secondary works on the Gold Rush and other events related here would run to tens of thousands of entries; consequently, only those works that have been most helpful to the present author have been included.
The notes immediately below provide brief references to collections and works described in full detail in the bibliography.
Prologue: The Baron and the Carpenter
2 “On Christmas morning”: Bigler, following p. 66.
2 “Last Sunday”: Smith, 108.
5 “Made a contract”: Sutter, 72.
6 “decent appearance”: Gay, 55.
7 “In May 1847”: ibid., 520–23.
11 “Their bones”: Smith, 102n.
11 “The provisions”: Dillon (1967), 261.
12 “We crossed”: Smith, 102.
12–13 “We was… chill and fever”: ibid., 104–7.
13 “We have had”: ibid., 106.
14 “Started 5 wagons”: Sutter, 93.
14 “Yesterday… ever since”: Smith, 106–7.
14 “It raised”: Smith, 107.
14 “Clear as a bell”: Paul, ed., 61.
16 “I picked up”: ibid., 118.
16 “I have found it… nothing else”: ibid.
17 “odd spells”: Smith, 110.
18 “From the unusual agitation”: Paul, ed., 122.
18–19 “I declared… such a discovery”: ibid., 129.
Part One: The Gathering of Peoples
23 “As when some carcass”: Bancroft, 6:52.
1. In the Footsteps of Father Serra
28–30 “The hills… this might be”: Dana, 52, 71, 152–53, 209–10.
33 “band of robbers”: Nevins (1928), 1:264–65.
33 “If we are unjustly”: Bancroft, 5:14.
34 “Captain, shall I take”: Bancroft, 5:171.
36–37 “My acts… for duty”: Nevins (1928), 2:381–83.
38–39 “Being unfamiliar…in the country”: Sherman (1875), 43–54.
39 “Two men”: Sherman (1875), 64–65.
41 “The Mormon Co.”: Larkin, 5:79.
41 “Damn that flag!”: Scherer, 12.
42 “We traveled”: Bailey, 97.
43–44 “Gold! Gold!… per diem”: Bancroft, 6:56–60.
44 “I of course”: Sherman (1875), 70.
44–45 “The Sacramento… frontier town”: Sherman and Sherman, 43–44.
45 “on hand…to interfere”: Sherman (1875), 76–77.
45 “The most moderate”: Paul, ed., 95–97.
2. Across the Pacific
48 “The gold nuggets”: Pérez Rosales, 271.
49–53 “Four brothers…to receive us”: ibid., 272–79.
54 “Morals”: Archer, 38.
54 “I caught sight”: ibid., 45.
55 “We believe”: Bateson, 29.
55–56 “Mormons… afterwards”: Monaghan, 28–29.
57 “my two”: Archer, 163.
58 “At least a score”: ibid., 167–68.
59 “A more happy”: Hargraves, 74.
59 “This was too touching”: Archer, 173.
60 “A very queer-looking”: ibid., 180–81.
61 “As we entered”: Hargraves, 75.
63 “Americans are very rich”: McLeod, 23.
64 “Yee Ah Tye”: Farkas, 7.
64 “Celestials”: ibid.
3. The Peaks of Darien
65 “Miss Jessie”: Phillips, 47.
66 “that instinctive sympathy”: Herr, 19.
66 “Because I planned”: Phillips, 41.
67 “The horseback life”: Jessie Frémont memoirs, 54.
68 “I felt the whole situation”: ibid., 56–57.
68 “
Only trust me
”: Herr, 91.
70 “The accounts”: Browning, 36–37.
70 “We are on the brink”: Bancroft, 6:119.
70 “The Eldorado”: Browning, 45.
71 “Look out”: Buck, 27.
71 “The last thing”: Browning 43–44.
73 “She was a hard”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 12.
73 “I had never been”: ibid., 13.
74 “When we reached”: ibid., 26.
75 “For three or four days”: Borthwick, 21–22.
76 “The eastern shore”: Taylor, 9.
77 “We found Chagres”: Davis, 7.
77 “negroes in a state”: Browning, 174.
77–79 “The town of Chagres… die lazily”: Marryat, 1–3.
79 “naked, screaming”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 27.
79–81 “We were near…to the base”: ibid., 30–32.
81 “Scrambling up”: Taylor, 24.
81 “It was astonishing”: Borthwick, 34.
81 “We found the ‘road’ ”: Davis, 7.
81–82 “consisted of frames… landed there”: Marryat, 5.
82 “There are various reasons”: Hanson letter, Dec. 22, 1849.
82–83 “The nights were odious… leaving home”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 34.
83 “Never were modern”: Marryat, 8.
84 “The natives”: Borthwick, 39.
84 “is inhabited”: Norris letter, Nov. 12, 1851.
84 “Many of the women… future occasion”: Borthwick, 39.
85 “This morning”: Davis, 10.
85 “Keep clear”: Bunker letter (from Frederick C. Sanford), Jan. 16, 1849.
86 “I became possessed”: Jessie Frémont memoirs, 82.
87 “In starving times”: Nevins (1928), 2:410.
87 “The sight was beautiful”: ibid., 400.
87–90 “The trail showed… bright weather”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 44–54.
91 “These two…my strength”: ibid., 56–60.
4. To the Bottom of the World and Back
95 “There is no French province”: Nasatir (1934), 13.
95–103 “The gold fever…of the hair”: Perlot, 6–21.
105 “a perfect mania”: Whipple, 61.
105 “A strutting dude”: ibid., 102.
107 “Her bow rises”: Howe and Matthews, 1:60–61.
108 “They ate holes”: Whipple, 122.
110 “I think it was the worst”: ibid., 159.
111–14 “twenty-two days… with speed”: Perlot, 22–26.
120 “I felt the bones”: Whipple, 189. (The account here of the reign of terror aboard the
Challenge
follows Whipple, 178–90.)
5. To See the Elephant
124 “Hugh is making… but poetry”: Heiskell, xv.
124–26 “I have seen…as I have”: Durham, 6–12.
127–29 “We are quite sure… the spectacle”: Holliday (1981), 55–56, 66–74.
130 “We were on board”: Bruff, 567.
130 “The slow progress”: Holliday, (1981) 78–79.
132 “I felt a change”: Manly, 61–62.
133 “Is it not owing”: Ingalls, 16.
133 “rattled away”: Manly, 66.
133–35 “The morning… lovely scene”: S. Royce, 3–7.
135 “on nearly as low terms”: Ware, 3.
135 “It ought to be”: Haskell, xxii–xxiii.
137 “He says”: Holliday (1981), 71.
137 “The cholera”: Heiskell, xxii.
138–39 “The oldest… land of savages?”: S. Royce, 14–17.
139 “a treacherous, hostile race”: Ingalls, 21.
139–140 “The men… sight of them”: S. Royce, 13–14.
141 “We are getting”: Holliday (1981), 129.
141 “Camp full of Indians”: Heiskell, 12.
141 “We found”: Manly, 72–73.
142 “It was a revolting sight”: Holliday (1981), 162.
142 “This afternoon”: ibid., 151–52.
143 “He still kept”: Manly, 70.
144 “I presume that not less”: Sawyer, May 21, 1850.
145 “We are determined”: Heiskell, xxvi.
145 “Over 100 teams”: Van Dorn diary, May 13 and August 19, 1849.
145 “At twelve o’clock”: Holliday (1981), 167–68.
146 “A flare up”: Heiskell, 25.
147 “I did not like this”: Manly, 69.
148 “Our Guide Book”: S. Royce, 26.
149 “The sun in magnificence”: Heiskell, 15–18.
150 “presented the appearance”: Holliday (1981), 215.
150 “who he appears… cowhiding”: Heiskell, 13.
151–52 “It was near sunset… western feet”: S. Royce, 29–30.
152–61 “This was bad news… rough and dangerous”: Manly, 76–108.
6. Where Rivers Die
163–64 “The road this evening… ride across”: Heiskell, 34–36.
163 “The river here”: Holliday (1981), 238.
164 “Dent & Crocker”: Heiskell, 37.
164 “Range of the Pah Utahs”: Bruff, 633.
165 “We no longer see”: Heiskell, 51.
166 “Along the edge”: Bruff, 147–48.
166–68 “The moon was some… miles distant”: Holliday (1981), 254–62.
169–74 “After hearing his instructions… Carson River”: S. Royce, 39–56.
176–85 “I reached the summit… bright day”: Manly, 146–201.
186–87 “One who has never… Death Valley”: Manly, 221–41.
188 “We bid a long… own hook”: Holliday (1981), 276–77.
189 “They brought us”: Heiskell, 71–74.
189 “Their rapidity… how it was”: S. Royce, 63–64.
190 “Rice came in”: Heiskell, 72.
190 “I looked down”: S. Royce, 72.
Part Two: From Vulcan’s Forge
193 “Never, since the Roman legionry”:
Hutchings’ California Magazine
, May 1859 (p. 167 in Olmsted ed.)
193 “tally of gold-hunters”: The best assessment of immigrant numbers is Holliday (1999).
7. With a Washbowl on My Knee
197 “The gold is in fine bright scales”: Sherman and Sherman, 45.
198–200 “The system… ounces of gold”: Pérez Rosales, 44, 51–52.
200 “This new invention”: Perlot, 103.
201 “Time is money”: Pérez Rosales, 54 and passim.
202 “the astonishment”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 80.
204–06 “a long thin young captain… greatest wishes”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 71–82.
206 “They all appear”: John Lambert letter, Nov. 4, 1849.
207 “This they did”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 81.
207–09 “The blow was terrible… into the trench”: Perlot, 32, 41–42, 60–61, 85–86, 102.
210 “I did not see him… dreaded hour”: Heiskell, 87.
211 “Physicians are all making fortunes”: Wyman, 158.
211 “The price of provisions”: Archer, 214–15.
212 “a large store”: Pérez Rosales, 37–38.
214–16 “All were so absorbed… natural prey”: S. Royce, 80–87.
216–20 “I soon found myself… quarter-ounce nuggets”: Archer, 184–85, 192–95, 204–6.
221–22 “I saw many places… speedy fortune!”: Perlot, 111–12.
222–25 “We judged… high hopes”: Holliday (1981), 313–15, 331, 337, 358.
8. A Millennium in a Day
226 “Should that sum”:
Hutchings’ California Magazine
, September 1857 (p. 109 in Olmsted ed.)
229 “A claim at Iowa Hill… hundred yards”: Paul (1947), 154–55.
230 “The quantity of powder”: Browne (1869), 150–51.
231–32 “The Mariposa Estate… from the mine”: Browne (1869), 21, 28.
235–39 “We descended their shaft… several millions of people”:
Hutchings’ California Magazine
, October 1857 (pp. 170–77 in Olmsted ed.).
239 “I have with me”: Holliday (1981), 422–23.
240–42 “But they were ignorant… myself alone”: Perlot, 118–20.
Part Three: American Athena
245 “Plutus rattled his money bags”: Soulé, 507–8.
9. The Miracle of St. Francis
248 “Our fourth ended”: Soulé, 171.
248 “God help the city”: ibid., 165.
248 “Last Wednesday”: Gilman letter, Jan. 22, 1850.
249 “Our type”: Soulé, 175.
250 “In the immense crowds”: S. Royce, 109.
251 “The usual order”: Charles Thompson letter, Sept. 10, 1851.
252 “No place in the world”: Soulé, 645–66.
252 “Denison’s Exchange”: Taylor, 118–19.
254 “California beef”: Van Dorn diary, Nov. 13, 1849.
255 “Before eleven”: Soulé, 274.
255 “I put into this”: John Lambert letter, May 10, 1850.
255 “New buildings”: Soulé, 275.
257 “I arrived here”: Lotchin, 175.
258 “Her wild fevered gaze”: Nevins (1955), 399
258 “It is more disagreeable”: Jessie Frémont (1993), 49.
259 “son of a nigger”: Pérez Rosales, 10.
261 “It will be asked”: Cary, notebook 1.
261–62 “Compliant… making bricks!”: Pérez Rosales, 68–69.
263 “The voyage from Sydney”: Soulé, 565.
264 “With the families”: Cary, notebook 1.
265–68 “the maintenance of the peace … the people said
Amen
!”: Soulé, 569–81.
10. Sutter’s Last Stand
271 “Before the celebration was over”: Sherman (1875), 73, 1123.
271 “I was no more”: Dillon (1967), 294.
271 “enthusiastic”: Sherman (1875), 1123.
271–72 “I went to eat…no law”: Dillon (1967), 294–98.
273 “where orgies”: Vallejo memoirs, 5:160.
274 “Had I not been”: Bancroft, 6:447.
275–76 “Hold on…by the Lord”: Dillon (1967), 303, 306, 314.
277 “As Congress”:
Report of Debates
, 3–5.
277 “agriculturist”: ibid., 478.
278 “Dr. Gwin”: Browne (1969), 121.
278 “I was gravely”: Taylor, 158.
279 “Neither slavery”:
Report of Debates
, 43.
279 “In a country”: Nevins (1928), 2:438.
279 “Nor shall the introduction”:
Report of Debates
, 44.
280–81 “No population… enlightened principles”: ibid., 137–41.
283 “The people of California… gambling state”: ibid., 91–92.
283 “holy horror”: ibid., 327.
283 “associations”: ibid., appendix.
283 “I am not wedded”: ibid., 259.
284–85 “The hall was cleared… from his eyes”: Taylor, 159–64.
286 “General… prosperity”:
Report of Debates
, 476–77.
11. Shaking the Temple
288–89 “gave freedom… working forces”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 91–94.
289 “All these women”: Herr, 208.
289 “Mrs. Frémont”: Bosqui, 150.
290 “the better man”: Crosby, 35.
290 “One evening”: Jessie Frémont (1878), 103.
291 “I had done so many things”: ibid., 100–101.
293–95 “But it is impossible… heart-rending spectacle”:
Congressional Globe
31:1, app. 116–18, 127.
295–97 “the greatest and the gravest… from all responsibility”: ibid., 451–55.
297 “He was a black”: Peterson, 38.
298 “Liberty and Union”: ibid., 178.
298 “That man”: Hamilton, 26.
298–301 “I wish to speak… certain destiny”:
Congressional Globe
31:1, app. 269–76.
301 “The Government of the United States”: John Frémont letters, 3:139.
301 “omnibus speech”: Hamilton, 62.
302 “calumniator… pistol on me!”: ibid., 93.
302–03 “This batch…is her cry!”:
Congressional Globe
31:1, 677–84.
303 “The omnibus”: Hamilton, 110.
303–04 “I was willing… Union stands firm”: Peterson, 474–76.
12. Children of the Mother Lode
307 “He is a man”: Eccleston, 106–7.
310 “Savage said to them”: ibid., 15.
310 “We reached the camp”: Bunnell, 22.
311 “He says”: Eccleston, 29.
311–12 “From his long acquaintance… six mules”: Bunnell, 30–33.
313 “We had not the time”: ibid., 84.
313 “Burnt over 5000 … not long deserted”: Eccleston, 49, 67–68.
313 “Their courage”: Bunnell, 126.
313–14 “who had been led…I am done”: ibid., 170–71, 177.
314–15 “We are afraid…to the plains”: ibid., 43, 60, 62–63.
315 “Where can we now go”: ibid., 234.
315 “The whites”: ibid., 223.
316 “The white man”: Hurtado, 134–35.
317 “high indignation”: ibid., 115.
319 “that Swiss adventurer”: Vallejo memoirs 5:19.
320 “When we join our fortunes”: Rosenus, 90–91.
320 “In spite of the fact”: Vallejo memoirs, 5:77.
321 “I left Sacramento”: Emparan, 43.
321 “The good ones”: Pitt, 52.
321 “the great crowd”: Vallejo memoirs, 5:189.
322 “He is better acquainted”: Taylor, 157.
322 “it be represented”:
Report of Debates
, 323.
323 “I think I will know”: Rosenus, 230.
323 “Let me see… purest blood of Europe”: Pitt, 27.
325 “For some time back”: Latta, 36.
326 “The band is led”: ibid., 37.
326–27 “We publish today… along the road”: ibid., 44.
327 “When shot at”: Varley, 49–50.
327 “I have been engaged”: Boessenecker, 91.
328 “I have arrested”: Latta, 479.
328 “Capt. Love”: ibid., 474–75.
329 “There is not the least doubt”: ibid., 513.
331–32 “We find… judicial tribunal”: Farkas, 10–11.
333 “all great men…do good to them”: Cary, notebook 2.