L'or (10 page)

The years pass. In Washington, the General has become a familiar figure; everyone knows that big, flabby body, those feet dragging along in down-at-heel boots, that old frock-coat, stained and sprinkled with dandruff, and that large bald head that wobbles beneath a battered felt hat. All Washington knows him, and every government bureau.

At first, thanks to the intrigues hatched by his enemies, he met with a rather frosty reception, but nowadays. . . well, so much water has flowed under the bridge, many of his adversaries have long been laid to rest and many of the officials transferred. Today, nobody is exactly sure what he wants - this mad old man, you know the one, the old General who fought in the war with Mexico and drivels on about gold-mines. He's certainly got a bee in his bonnet, a whole hive of them. And in the government offices it is a favourite sport to send him on from one department to another, knocking at endless doors. The General knows every nook and cranny of the law courts and all the staircases of the various Departments of the Administration; he comes and goes, climbs up, climbs down, knocking, rapping, waiting patiently outside closed doors; he walks thousands of miles, covers the same ground over and over again, retracing his steps, caught like a squirrel in a cage.

But he never abandons hope.

Throughout these long years, John Augustus Sutter has lived on his general's pension. 'Lived' is something of a euphemism, for, in reality, his pension has been gobbled up every year by shyster lawyers, shady business men and petty officials in the Administration who, one after the other, have promised to win his case for him.

In 1863, a young Danish swindler, just arrived from New York, meets Sutter at a religious assembly, takes his documents from him and, next day, introduces him to an accomplice who passes himself off as secretary to the Attorney-General. These two sharks get the old man completely into their clutches. Sutter writes to Judge Thompson, telling him his business is in the hands of God, and that the Attorney-General himself is to plead his cause. He asks for ten thousand dollars to pay the Attorney-General. Mina, to whom he has also written, sends him a thousand dollars. He manages to obtain probate and have his deceased wife's meagre dowry sent to him from Switzerland. All the money he collects is handed over to the two crooks, until one fine morning, seeing that there is nothing more to be got out of the old man, they disappear.

And still he receives frequent visits from lawyers, genuine as well as false, who get him to explain his affairs to them and then make him sign mountains of papers in which Sutter waives all claim to a quarter, a half, three-quarters or even the whole sum in case of success, for what does he care about money, gold, lands? It is justice he wants, a judgement, a verdict.

Years pass. Years of poverty and wretchedness. He works at all sorts of menial tasks in order to survive: he 
shines shoes, runs errands, delivers messages and washes dishes in a cheap eating-house for soldiers, where his title of general and his horror of whisky have made him popular. Nowadays, Mina sends him a hundred dollars a month and this money goes to every kind of tout and go-between, anyone who knows how to wheedle it out of him. He gives away every last dollar to set his lawsuit in motion.

In 1866, Sutter presents himself before Congress and claims one million dollars in cash and the restitution of his estates. He has been put up to this by a Polish Jew.

In 1868, Sutter sends an appeal to the Senate. He sets out the facts at great length and declares he will be satisfied with five hundred thousand dollars and his lands. This request is the brain-child of a sergeant of infantry.

In 1870, in a new appeal addressed to the Senate (which has been drawn up by a man named Bujard, a photographer from the Swiss canton of Vaud), Sutter claims no more than one hundred thousand dollars, renounces all other indemnities, gives up all rights to his lands and undertakes to leave the soil of the United States and return to Switzerland, where he will settle in the canton of Vaud, 'since I cannot,' he says, 'having once been the richest man in the world, return in poverty to my own canton and become a charge upon the parish of my forefathers'.

In 1873, he joins the sect of the Herrenhütter, entrusts his case to the Council of the Seven Johannite Elders and signs an act by which he donates all his eventual fortune and all his Californian possessions to the fraternity 'in order that the corrupting stain of gold may be washed away from these beautiful valleys by Adamite purity'. And the case starts up again, directed this time by a barrister who is both founder and spiritual director 
of this German-American communist phalanstery.

Sutter leaves Washington and settles down in Lititz, Pennsylvania, in order to be baptised and purified according to the great Babylonian rite. He is now an immaculate soul and lives in intimacy with Our Lord.

The Herrenhütter of Lititz are established on large estates where an immense acreage of corn is grown and communally exploited. They also possess an oil-well. Sacks of corn and barrels of oil are sent down to the coast; by way of a trade-mark, they are stamped with the paschal Lamb
couchant
,
holding a banner between its feet. On this banner, standing out in bold black type, are the initials J.C., which stand not for Jesus Christ, but for Johannes Christitsch, the founder, director and grand master of the sect. This man, a Serbian, contrives to function at the same time as a shyster lawyer and as a formidable, shrewd and enterprising business man; he is in the process of building up one of the largest industrial fortunes, on the backs of some four hundred 'enlightened ones', almost all of whom are of German origin.

The principal articles of faith in this phalanstery are: communal ownership of women and chattels, the regenerative sanctity of labour, certain rules of Adamite life and a belief in visions and states of possession. The only gospel is the Book of Revelation. That is why Sutter soon becomes famous in the little parish for his profound knowledge of this book, and for the personal interpretations he puts upon it.

The Great Whore that sitteth upon many waters is Christopher Columbus discovering America.

The Angels and Stars of St John are in the American flag and, with the inclusion of California, a new star, the Star of Absinthe, has come to be inscribed upon the Star-Spangled Banner.

The Anti-Christ is Gold.

The Beasts and the Satans are the cannibalistic Indians, the Caribbean natives and the Kanakas. They are also the Negroes and the Chinese, the black and the yellow races.

The Three Horsemen are the three great Redskin tribes.

Already, one-third of the immigrants from Europe have been decimated in this country.

I am one of the twenty-four Elders, and it is because I heard the Voice that I have come here amongst you. I was once the richest man in the world, I was ruined by gold . . .

A Russian woman lies at Sutter's feet in a state of ecstasy while he comments on the visions of St John and narrates episodes of his life.

But Sutter cannot even be left in peace to indulge this harmless folly.

Johannes Christitsch is his evil daemon, Johannes Christitsch, who has had the case reopened and is 
conducting the whole business, pushing ahead with it, determined to win no matter what the cost. Every week, Christitsch goes to Washington, where he intrigues, solicits, circulates officially-stamped documents, brandishes dossiers, rummages in the archives, brings new evidence to light and generally bestirs himself to set all this colossal procedure in motion once more. Very often, he brings Sutter with him, or sends him into town alone; he shows him off, puts him on exhibition and forces him to speak. He has appointed himself Sutter's manager. He has unearthed an old general's uniform and dressed Sutter up in it; he has even hung a few medals on his chest.

And the General's martyrdom begins again, as he goes from office to office, from one legal department to the next. Highly-placed officials take pity on the old man and his lamentable history, they take careful note of the case, promise to take steps on his behalf and see that he gets satisfaction. When he is on his own, all sorts of rogues stop him in the street and make him recount the tale of the discovery of gold, and Sutter becomes confused and mixes bits of the Apocalypse and Herren-hütter stories into the tale of his own life. He is completely unhinged; every urchin in Washington recognizes the General's madness and derives huge amusement from it.

The old madman.

The richest man in the world!

What a joke!

In 1876, thanks to Johannes Christitsch's relentless intriguing, Sutter is named Honorary President of the Swiss section at the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia. Christitsch takes advantage of this to establish relations with members of the Consulate; he dreams of instigating a diplomatic move to resolve Sutter's case.

In 1878, he and Sutter settle permanently in Washington. The affair is well under way, important political figures are concerning themselves with the case. Sutter has a kind of return to rationality, he is somewhat calmer and less prolix when he talks to people in the street.

At the end of January 1880, John Augustus Sutter is summoned to the Capitol and he learns that the Federal government is 'about to recognize your services forthwith'. In high places, they 'find your case interesting, your appeal just and your claims in no way exaggerated'. They are ready to award him a huge indemnity.

From this moment on, Sutter escapes completely from the clutches of Christitsch. He is once more very agitated and feverish. He cannot keep still for a moment, and wanders the streets night and day. He is constantly running to the Capitol. He besieges officials at all hours, asking if there is any news, if Congress has yet given its verdict. He is importunate, he badgers certain Congressmen, even in their own private homes, and is accompanied on these visits by a gang of ragamuffins who refuse to leave 'their' General's side, and who applaud whenever Sutter makes a scene, for nowadays he easily becomes violent and abusive and his little band delights in exciting him still further. The General is very proud of his popularity with the common people. In his mind, 
these children symbolize the Army of the Just.

'When I win my case, I shall give you all my gold,' he tells them, 'the gold that will be due to me, just gold, purified gold.'

God's gold.

One day, in the street, he runs across three male nurses who are taking a man to the asylum. He is a tall old creature, filthy dirty and dressed in rags, he is waving his arms about furiously, gesticulating and shouting. He manages to break free from his guardians and throws himself on the ground, rolling in the mud, filling his mouth, his eyes and ears with it and avidly plunging his hands into mounds of rubbish and ordure. His pockets are full of unspeakable filth and his bundle of possessions contains nothing but pebbles.

While the nurses are strapping him up, the General watches this man closely and suddenly recognizes him: it is Marshall, the carpenter. Marshall recognizes him too, and, as they are dragging him away, cries out to him: 'Boss, boss, I told you the truth - there is gold everywhere, everything is made of gold!'

On a hot afternoon in June, the General is sitting on the bottom step of the monumental stairway that leads up to the Capitol. His head is as empty as the heads of a great many old men; it is a rare moment of well-being, he is doing nothing but warm his old carcase in the sun.

'I am the General. Yes. I am the General. . . ral. . .'

All of a sudden, a child of about seven rushes down the great marble staircase, four steps at a time. It is Dick Price, the little match-seller, the General's favourite.

'General! General!' he shouts to Sutter, hurling himself on his neck. 'General! You've won! Congress has just delivered its verdict! They're giving you a hundred million dollars!'

'Is it true? Is it really true? Are you sure?' Sutter asks him, holding the child tightly in his arms.

'Of course, General, and it seems it's already in the papers. Jim and Bob have gone to get some to sell! Me, too, I'm going to sell lots of newspapers this evening, heaps of them!'

Sutter does not notice seven little guttersnipes who are splitting their sides with laughter beneath the tall portico of Congress and who are making signs at their little pal. Sutter rises to his feet, holds himself very erect, says but two words, 'Thank you!' then beats the air with his arms and falls down like a log.

General John Augustus Sutter died on the 17th of June, 1880, at three o'clock in the afternoon.

Congress was not even in session that day.

The urchins run away.

The hour strikes in the immense deserted square and before long, as the sun descends, the gigantic shadow of the Capitol falls over the General's corpse.

John Augustus Sutter died at the age of seventy-three.

Congress never delivered a verdict.

His descendants never took any action, they abandoned the case.

His inheritance remains unclaimed.

Today, in 1925, and for just a few more years, there will still be time to come forward, take action, stake a claim.

Gold. Gold. Who wants gold?

Paris, 1910-1922.

Paris, 1910-1911.

Paris, 1914.

Paris, 1917.

Le Tremblay-sur-Mauldre, 

from November 22nd, 1924

to December 31st, 1924.