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Exhibiting a courage and zest for adventure that would characterize him throughout his life, soon after his sister’s wedding, Eugène Boban decided to look for work far away. His great-grandfather and grandfather had moved from Angers to Paris seeking employment, but the capital apparently held little opportunity for him at this stage. His sights were set on California.

His father, René Victor, joined him in this great adventure, leaving his wife, Laurence Michelle and three young daughters on their own. Marie was eighteen years old, Julie was fifteen, and the youngest, Charlotte, was twelve. It could not have been easy for their mother, a 42-year-old unemployed laundress with four mouths to feed. She may have received some assistance from her eldest daughter, Rose Louise, and her son-in-law, the gainier. Her husband’s half-sisters may have helped as well. However, later events indicate that the departure of the two males of the Boban family had a devastating effect on the women left behind.

In notes now in the collections of the Hispanic Society of America in New York, written in his own hand, the younger Boban briefly describes this momentous journey—not the setting out or the voyage itself, but rather the destination (HSA: B2240 Box I, folder III). Despite the fact that there are some fourteen boxes of handwritten notes, correspondence, and unpublished manuscripts in the Hispanic Society’s collection, they contain very little about his personal life or his family, and only a few pages about his sojourn in California. Given the timing of the journey, he was undoubtedly seeking his fortune. Additionally, and perhaps more important, Eugène was less than a year short of the age when he would almost certainly have been drafted into the French army.¹

How he traveled to California is not known, although there were a variety of possible methods. One could sail across the Atlantic and then cross the North American continent. Other options were to sail around the horn of South America or to sail to Veracruz, Mexico, cross the Isthmus of Tehuantepec and then board a ship to San Francisco. Yet another route was to sail to Nicaragua, disembark and travel overland to the Pacific Ocean and then take a ship north to the gold fields.

None of these would have been an easy journey, as noted by historian H. W. Brands. “California was about as far from the centers of Western civilization as a land could be. The sea voyage around South America from New York or Liverpool or Le Havre required five or six months, depending on the conditions off Cape Horn, which could terrify the most hardened unbeliever to prayer” (Brands 2002: 25–26).

The “shortcut” route developed in the late 1840s, which took less time if one was lucky, was no easier. Harris Newmark, a European traveler, left for California at just about the same time as Boban. He sailed from Liverpool on 10 July 1853 and arrived in New York some six weeks later. From New York he sailed to Nicaragua, continuing up the San Juan River to Lake Nicaragua. The next leg of the journey was long and arduous, particularly crossing the narrow strip of jungle between Lake Nicaragua and the Pacific Ocean. Crossing the isthmus had never been easy, but as Spain’s oversight dwindled through the early decades of the nineteenth century, it became more and more dangerous as “outlaws, freebooters, adventurers, and other undesirables flocked to this crossroads of two continents and two oceans and made merry havoc” (Brands 2002: 74).

By the time Harris Newmark sailed into the harbor at San Francisco, more than three months had elapsed since he had embarked in Liverpool, even though he had successfully taken the “shortcut” to California. No land routes existed from San Francisco to Los Angeles, so after arriving at the larger port it was necessary to take a smaller ship for a four-day voyage to this more southern boomtown (Newmark 1916: 16).

Aside from the question of which route Eugène Boban took to America is that of how he paid for his passage, which could have cost a thousand francs or more, a considerable amount of money, particularly for someone of Boban’s station (Brands 2002: 95). And the passage was just the beginning of the potential expenses. As he may have learned by reading journalist Étienne Derbec’s letters from San Francisco and the California gold fields, published in the popular Journal de Débats in 1850, “Those emigrants who plan to come to California must prepare themselves, for without doing so, many regrets await them when they arrive here without money and without help. … It is necessary that they know that from San Francisco to the first mines it is not less than 60 to 80 leagues, and that it is necessary to have a well filled pocket to make the trip” (Derbec 1964: 79). Derbec goes on to say that double-decked steamboats ply the waters between San Francisco and the interior of the state, but that the fares range from $30 to $60. At a conversion rate of five to one—which had become the standard for all foreign currency—that represented a cost of 150 to 300 francs. Added to that considerable expense was the cost of transporting any baggage, for which travelers were charged $2 (or 10 francs) for a 14-ounce pound (Derbec 1964: 83).

Given the manner in which the Boban family pulled together in later years, taking care of and supporting each other as much as possible, it is likely that they pooled their resources for the funds necessary for Boban’s California adventure. Numerous other publications available at the time offered differing opinions and advice to miners about what they should bring to the gold fields. Aside from proper tools, several pamphlets suggested bringing things they could sell, like clothing, shoes, etc., since these were hard to come by and brought enormously inflated prices. It may be that aside from money to help transport their nephew to America, his aunts, the Duvergé sisters, also provided him with men’s shirts from their small factory, which would have brought a considerable sum in San Francisco and the other California Gold Rush boomtowns.

Despite the perils and expenses of the journey to get there, by 1853, California had become a haven for French adventurers and gold seekers. France was the first country to establish a foreign presence in the California territory after Alta California declared independence from Mexico in 1848. This diplomatic gesture occurred in 1852, a short time after Louis Napoleon became Emperor Napoleon III. His purpose was to create a toehold for a potential new colony in North America since Spain’s influence over the area was dwindling and the United States’ claims had yet to be fully established. He also had an eye to developing a new market for French goods as an incentive to the country’s struggling economy (Derbec 1964: 19).

There were some twenty thousand French immigrants in the new territory, many of them fleeing the political upheavals of 1848 and the subsequent economic depression. It was customary for each new arrival to go to his country’s consulate in San Francisco for assistance—emergency cash, a place to stay, and eventually, if one was lucky, help in setting up mining claims. “By 1853, a French envoy estimated that twenty-five percent of Californians were foreigners, and, of these, a third were French” (Chalmers 1998: 20).²

Although many place names in California—French Camp, French Bay, French Corral, Les Fourcades, and others—attest to French presence in the gold fields, they were not the most popular or convivial group working in the area. “It was said that if ten Frenchmen should get together, they would be quarreling and insulting one another within five minutes. They lived in groups together, but they lived the life of France as far as possible; they did not become citizens of the United States, for they considered the Americans a savage and ignorant people. They did not learn English; they glorified French” (Chalmers 1998: 24–25). Possibly to drive them away, the authorities tried to impose a $20 per month license fee on the unpopular foreign miners, which nearly started an all-out riot. The French consuls in California, Patrice Dillon and Jules Lombard, had to go to the mines to restore order (Derbec 1964: 24–25).

From his own notes and later accomplishments, it appears that Boban did not associate with or think so highly of the other Europeans in the area, preferring the company of the Spanish-speaking population and native groups. “I lived in California for 4 years, beginning in 1853 and for two of those years all I did was travel the country in all directions; this wandering life among the Indians allowed me to study their customs” (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III).³ He seems to have been an unusually empathetic observer of the circumstances and customs of California’s indigenous people. He wrote with some sadness and shock about the impact of the “violent European immigrants” and the disastrous effect they had on the land and lives of the native peoples.

Traveling up the Sacramento River, he met native Californians all along the way. The California Indians, he wrote, were

nomads and hunters, who ordinarily live in small groups (Rancherias), they choose always to build their rancherias on a hilltop with a view that stretches into the distance and located near extensive river valleys so that water is easily accessible. Their huts or shelters are made with tree branches (chamisos) stuck into the ground and joined at the other end in the shape of a bell, the base is circular, and in the center is a small fire that is kept going night and day. They all sleep pell mell, with their feet toward the fire. The Indians never make large fires for a number of reasons: lack of firewood because of deforestation, a desire not to frighten off game, and to avoid providing a target for their enemies. (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III)⁴

He lived for a while in Los Angeles, which was a boomtown during the Gold Rush, filled with foreign fortune seekers, many of them violent, prone to strong drink and generally out of control. The “violent European immigrants” lynched Mexicans and brutally hunted and killed native peoples by setting fire to the many stands of trees. They “hunted them, burned their beautiful forests and disturbed the earth,” writes Boban. He later commented, “Certainly nothing is stranger than seeing a man, claiming to be civilized, take such great pleasure in burning and destroying everything, and if the Indians had the word ‘savage’ in their language, how often they should have applied it to those Europeans” (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III).⁵

Other observers, both contemporary participants and later historians, echoed Boban’s concerns about the treatment of the original inhabitants of California. Peter H. Burnett, governor of California from 1849 to 1851, expressed the view that, “a war of extermination will continue to be waged between the two races until the Indian becomes extinct” (Heizer and Almquist 1971: 26). Unfortunately, Burnett’s prediction proved all too accurate. According to some sources, California’s native population plummeted between 1848 and 1860 from about 150,000 to about 30,000 (Heizer and Almquist 1971: 26).

The arrival of European and American settlers affected every aspect of the Indians’ lives and ruined their environment. As Edward Castillo, an historian and member of the Cahuilla tribe, wrote in a later history of California Indians, the violent immigrants exhibited a total disregard for the native inhabitants, and enthusiastically participated in “the destruction of the natural environment in their frenzy to exploit the land.” Their ceaseless violent devastation “struck a mortal blow to the Indians’ sacred relationship with nature” (Castillo 1978: 108).

Although he was minimally educated and came from a completely different culture, Boban exhibited an unusual openness and sophistication about the native people he met. He wrote about them with tenderness and admiration, detailing their customs and daily subsistence practices. “The Indians live by hunting and fishing. One day I was watching one of them fishing along the Sacramento and I tried to figure out what sort of bait he had at the end of his line. I saw him bend down and take some flesh from his heel and attach it to the line. Indians have very cracked heels. The bait was excellent, the fish seemed to find it tasty, and the fishing was successful” (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III).⁶

The young explorer (voyageur in French) seems also quite sympathetic to the plight of native women. In another passage Boban recalled, “On a day of hunting—the Indian man leaves before daybreak and upon return he throws all the game on the ground in front of his wife, who is in charge of preparing everything, because she has the worst part of the share.”⁷ He commented on native hygiene as well. “The hunter goes off to bathe in the temascalli, a sort of steam bath like that used among the Aztecs and today also among the modern Mexicans as well, and leaving the steam bath, the California Indian jumps into the freezing water. I have always thought the Indian owes the freshness of his skin to that sort of bath” (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III).⁸

Boban was a keen observer, noticing and recording a variety of different customs. He was always eager to try new experiences. “I was also present at a particular hunt undertaken by Indian women. This was at a place where there were very many grasshoppers—the women set fire to the grass and picked up the grasshoppers in their baskets. The grasshoppers were already half grilled, and they ate them with great gusto. The taste reminded me of shrimp” (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III).⁹

Somewhere along the Sacramento River, the young traveler witnessed a funeral that touched him deeply.

The ceremony made a profound impression on me. One of the brothers of the dead man set fire to the funeral pyre and stirred the fire with the end of a branch so that the cadaver was completely consumed—during that time all the relatives and others danced around the fire. His poor mother was overwhelmed by despair. I saw her bend down and pick up one of her son’s vertebrae, which was still on fire, and put it in her mouth. The scene is still before my eyes. I will never forget it. When everything was reduced to ashes, the chief’s widow disposed of all her ornaments and rolled around in the burnt ashes of her husband. Then the ashes were picked up and placed in a terra cotta vessel and then put into the ground. (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III)¹⁰

He also described his sadness about the cause of this young man’s death.

I arrived in this region the day before the death of this chief, a young man of 25 years at most, who was big and strong. He procured eau de vie [liquor], I really don’t know how, because it was far away from any village, and he was drunk for 15 days in succession, and finally succumbed to an attack of delirium tremens. All the remedies having failed, about ten Indian women formed a magnetic chain, which did not keep him from dying. I don’t know if alcohol is good for anything in Europe, but I can affirm that it is the veritable and principal cause of making the Indian race of America brutish and the principal cause of their destruction. (HSA: B2240, Box 1, Folder III)¹¹

By 1856, the California Gold Rush was over, and most people had not struck it rich. The violence continued, however, with one French consul describing the country as giving “the most revolting examples of disorders and crimes. Every day the newspapers mention murders and frightful assassinations” (Nasatir 1945: 116).

It is unknown how profitable this period was for Boban financially, but the young adventurer certainly had acquired valuable knowledge about the native peoples of California. He apparently had also acquired a working knowledge of Spanish. In 1850 the northern part of California became part of the United States, with Baja California still a part of Mexico. In both Californias, however, the predominant language continued to be Spanish.

Probably by late 1856, Boban began making his way south toward Mexico City, perhaps stopping for a while in the northern part of Baja California, where he again wrote about the native peoples’ habits that he observed, in particular their fishing practices and pearl-diving enterprises. In an unpublished manuscript about the natural resources of Mexico, which he compiled in the early 1890s, he wrote about Baja California pearls. “Forty years ago in Los Angeles, where we lived at that time, we often saw people from California and from Sonora who came to offer pearls, which they brought from the coast of Baja California” (HSA: B2253, Box 14).¹² Boban often writes these memoirs in the first person singular, although in many instances he crosses out the “I” and writes “we.” It is unclear whether he does this out of a sense of modesty or is actually talking about traveling companions—his father or someone else.

Boban continues writing about the pearl industry quoting from a French-published source “Notes Statistiques sur la Basse Californie” by Édouard Guillemin about the quality of pearls from La Paz, at the southern end of Baja California. He wrote that they have a “very nice finish, and that black pearls are unusual; the pink pearl, a local variety, is even more rare” (HSA: B2253, Box 14).¹³

In the nineteenth century pearls were an extremely valuable commodity in Mexico. In a publication about the industry, the gemologist George Kunz, who was vice president of Tiffany & Co., quoted from an 1859 report that by 1857 (the year Boban left California), 95,000 tons of oysters had been removed from the Sea of Cortés, between Baja California and the mainland of Mexico. The Baja California pearl yield was “2770 pounds of pearls, worth $5,540,000 (Kunz and Stevenson 1908: 246).

Whether he sailed from California to Acapulco or traveled south overland, Boban arrived in Mexico City in the spring of 1857. The city was the capital of the still struggling republic, which after gaining independence from Spain had recently lost California—a significant portion of its territory—to the United States. The country had developed a liberal constitution in 1857 but was about to enter three years of civil war before the constitution would be ratified and Benito Juárez declared president.

“Eugenio” Boban’s first carta de seguridad, a sort of visa, dated 1 April 1857, is in the Archivo General de la Nación (AGN) in Mexico City. The document states “For the term of a year [the bearer] may live and travel in the territory of the Republic observing the regulations of 1 May 1828” (AGN: Movimiento Marítima, Vol. 201, Exp. 135, foja 24). The security letter lacks the usual descriptive information such as height, weight, hair color, complexion, and so forth; although presumably the original document that Boban would have carried was complete in those details. The young man is listed as being twenty-two years old, although he was actually twenty-three. Interestingly, there are a variety of documents relating to Boban that give conflicting information about his age. This is also true of the census data documenting his family in Angers and Paris. The security letter may be the first of many indications that Boban had a habit of losing years, perhaps out of vanity.

After wandering for four years through California, his arrival in Mexico City would mark the beginning of a new life and career. He had traveled thousands of miles from Paris. He had learned to live with many nationalities, some prone to violence in search of gold. Yet he seems to have come to the realization that the New World offered great riches, despite its hardships.

He brought with him to Mexico an appreciation for the struggles of native peoples, who had taught him many things about their lives and customs. Boban also brought a basic knowledge of Spanish, which would provide considerable aid in reinventing himself as a student and dealer of all things Mexican.