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Title: The Famous Missions of California
Author: William Henry Hudson
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE FAMOUS MISSIONS OF CALIFORNIA ***
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The Famous Missions
of
California
by
William Henry Hudson
Lately Professor of English Literature at Stanford University,
To
Bonnie Burckhalter Fletcher
With Affectionate Recollections of California Days
London, England, 1901
Contents.
I. Of Junipero Serra, and the proposed settlement of Alta California.
II. How Father Junipero came to San Diego.
III. Of the founding of the Mission at San Diego.
IV. Of Portola's quest for the harbour of Monterey, and the founding
of the Mission of San Carlos.
V. How Father Junipero established the Missions of San Antonio de
Padua, San Gabriel, and San Louis Obispo.
VI. Of the tragedy at San Diego, and the founding of the Missions of
San Juan Capistrano, San Francisco, and Santa Clara.
VII. Of the establishment of the Mission of San Buenaventura, and of
the death and character of Father Junipero.
VIII. How the Missions of Santa Barbara, La Purisima Concepcion, Santa
Cruz, Soledad, San Jose, San Juan Bautista, San Miguel, San
Fernando, San Luis Rey, and Santa lnez, were added to the list.
IX. Of the founding of the Missions of San Rafael and San Francisco
Solano.
X. Of the downfall of the Missions of California.
XI. Of the old Missions, and life in them.
XII. Of the Mission system in California, and its results.
The Famous Missions of California.
I.
On the 1st of July, 1769 - a day forever memorable in the annals of
California - a small party of men, worn out by the fatigues and
hardships of their long and perilous journey from San Fernandez de
Villicatà, came in sight of the beautiful Bay of San Diego. They formed
the last division of a tripartite expedition which had for its object
the political and spiritual conquest of the great Northwest coast of the
Pacific; and among their number were Gaspar de Portolà, the colonial
governor and military commander of the enterprise; and Father Junipero
Serra, with whose name and achievements the early history of California
is indissolubly bound up.
This expedition was the outcome of a determination on the part of Spain
to occupy and settle the upper of its California provinces, or Alta
California, as it was then called, and thus effectively prevent the more
than possible encroachments of the Russians and the English. Fully alive
to the necessity of immediate and decisive action, Carlos III. had sent
Jose de Galvez out to New Spain, giving him at once large powers as
visitador general of the provinces, and special instructions to
establish military posts at San Diego and Monterey. Galvez was a man of
remarkable zeal, energy, and organizing ability, and after the manner of
his age and church he regarded his undertaking as equally important from
the religious and from the political side. The twofold purpose of his
expedition was, as he himself stated it, "to establish the Catholic
faith among a numerous heathen people, submerged in the obscure darkness
of paganism, and to extend the dominion of the King, our Lord, and
protect this peninsula from the ambitious views of foreign nations."
From the first it was his intention that the Cross and the flag of Spain
should be carried side by side in the task of dominating and colonizing
the new country. Having, therefore, gathered his forces together at
Santa Ana, near La Paz, he sent thence to Loreto, inviting Junipero
Serra, the recently appointed President of the California Missions, to
visit him in his camp. Loreto was a hundred leagues distant; but this
was no obstacle to the religious enthusiast, whose lifelong dream it had
been to bear the faith far and wide among the barbarian peoples of the
Spanish world. He hastened to La Paz, and in the course of a long
interview with Galvez not only promised his hearty co-operation, but
also gave great help in the arrangement of the preliminary details of
the expedition.
In the opportunity thus offered him for the missionary labour in
hitherto unbroken fields, Father Junipero saw a special manifestation
both of the will and of the favour of God. He threw himself into the
work with characteristic ardour and determination, and Galvez quickly
realized that his own efforts were now to be ably seconded by a man who,
by reason of his devotion, courage, and personal magnetism, might well
seem to have been providentially designated for the task which had been
put into his hands.
Miguel Joseph Serra, now known only by his adopted name of Junipero,
which he took out of reverence for the chosen companion of St. Francis,
was a native of the Island of Majorca, where he was born, of humble
folk, in 1713. According to the testimony of his intimate friend and
biographer, Father Francesco Palou, his desires, even during boyhood,
were turned towards the religious life. Before he was seventeen he
entered the Franciscan Order, a regular member of which he became a year
or so later. His favorite reading during his novitiate, Palou tells us,
was in the Lives of the Saints, over which he would pore day after day
with passionate and ever-growing enthusiasm; and from these devout
studies sprang an intense ambition to "imitate the holy and venerable
men" who had given themselves up to the grand work of carrying the
Gospel among gentiles and savages. The missionary idea thus implanted
became the dominant purpose of his life, and neither the astonishing
success of his sermons, nor the applause with which his lectures were
received when he was made professor of theology, sufficed to dampen his
apostolic zeal. Whatever work was given him to do, he did with all his
heart, and with all his might, for such was the man's nature; but
everywhere and always he looked forward to the mission field as his
ultimate career. He was destined, however, to wait many years before his
chance came. At length, in 1749, after making many vain petitions to be
set apart for foreign service, he and Palou were offered places in a
body of priests who, at the urgent request of the College of San
Fernando, in Mexico, were then being sent out as recruits to various
parts of the New World. The hour had come; and in a spirit of gratitude
and joy too deep for words, Junipero Serra set his face towards the far
lands which were henceforth to be his home.
The voyage out was long and trying. In the first stage of it - from
Majorca to Malaga - the dangers and difficulties of seafaring were
varied, if not relieved by strange experiences, of which Palou has left
us a quaint and graphic account. Their vessel was a small English
coaster, in command of a stubborn cross-patch of a captain, who combined
navigation with theology, and whose violent protestations and fondness
for doctrinal dispute allowed his Catholic passengers, during the
fifteen days of their passage, scarcely a minute's peace. His habit was
to declaim chosen texts out of his "greasy old" English Bible, putting
his own interpretation upon them; then, if when challenged by Father
Junipero, who "was well trained in dogmatic theology," he could find no
verse to fit his argument, he would roundly declare that the leaf he
wanted happened to be torn. Such methods are hardly praiseworthy. But
this was not the worst. Sometimes the heat of argument would prove too
much for him, and then, I grieve to say, he would even threaten to pitch
his antagonists overboard, and shape his course for London. However,
despite this unlooked-for danger, Junipero and his companions finally
reached Malaga, whence they proceeded first to Cadiz, and then, after
some delay, to Vera Cruz. The voyage across from Cadiz alone occupied
ninety-nine days, though of these, fifteen were spent at Porto Rico,
where Father Junipero improved the time by establishing a mission.
Hardships were not lacking; for water and food ran short, and the vessel
encountered terrific storms. But "remembering the end for which they had
come," the father "felt no fear, and his own buoyancy did much to keep
up the flagging spirits of those about him. Even when Vera Cruz was
reached, the terrible journey was by no means over, for a hundred
Spanish leagues lay between that port and the City of Mexico. Too
impatient to wait for the animals and wagons which had been promised for
transportation, but which, through some oversight or blunder, had not
yet arrived in Vera Cruz, Junipero set out to cover the distance on
foot. The strain brought on an ulcer in one of his legs, from which he
suffered all the rest of his life; and it is highly probable that he
would have died on the road but for the quite unexpected succor which
came to him more than once in the critical hour. This, according to his
wont, he did not fail to refer directly to the special favour of the
Virgin and St. Joseph.
For nearly nineteen years after his arrival in Mexico, Junipero was
engaged in active missionary work, mainly among the Indians of the
Sierra Gorda, whom he successfully instructed in the first principles of
the Catholic faith and in the simpler arts of peace. Then came his
selection as general head, or president, of the Missions of California,
the charge of which, on the expulsion of the Jesuits, in 1768, had
passed over to the Franciscans. These, thirteen in number, were all in
Lower California, for no attempt had as yet been made to evangelize the
upper province. This, however, the indefatigable apostle was now to
undertake by co-operating with Jose de Galvez in his proposed northwest
expedition[1]. Junipero was now fifty-five years of age, and could look
back upon a career of effort and accomplishment which to any less active
man might well seem to have earned repose for body and mind. Yet great
as his services to church and civilization had been in the past, by far
the most important part of his life-work still lay before him.
[1] In the sequel, it may here be noted, the Franciscans ceded Baja
California to the Dominicans, keeping Alta California to themselves.
II.
As a result of the conference between Galvez and Father Junipero, it was
decided that their joint expedition should be sent out in two portions -
one by sea and one by land; the land portion being again sub-divided
into two, in imitation, Palou informs us, of the policy of the patriarch
Joseph, "so that if one came to misfortune, the other might still be
saved." It was arranged that four missionaries should go into the ships,
and one with the advance-detachment of the land-force, the second part
of which was to include the president himself. So far as the work of the
missionaries was concerned their immediate purpose was to establish
three settlements - one at San Diego, a second at Monterey, and a third
on a site to be selected, about midway between the two, which was to be
called San Buenaventura. The two divisions of the land-force were under
the leadership of Captain Fernando Rivera y Moncada and Governor Portolà
respectively. The ships were to carry all the heavier portions of the
camp equipage, provisions, household goods, vestments and sacred
vessels; the land-parties were to take with them herds and flocks from
Loreto. The understanding was that whichever party first reached San
Diego was to wait there twenty days for the rest, and in the event of
their failure to arrive within that time, to push on to Monterey.
The sea-detachment of the general expedition - the "Seraphic and
Apostolic Squadron," as Palou calls it, was composed of three ships -
the San Carlos, the San Antonio, and the San Joseph. A list, fortunately
preserved, gives all the persons on board the San Carlos, a vessel of
about 200 tons only, and the flagship of Don Vicente Vila, the commander
of the marine division. They were as follows: - the commander himself; a
lieutenant in charge of a company of soldiers; a missionary; the
captain, pilot and surgeon; twenty-five soldiers; the officers and crew
of the ship, twenty-five in all; the baker, the cook and two assistants;
and two blacksmiths: total, sixty-two souls. An inventory shows that the
vessel was provisioned for eight months.
The San Carlos left La Paz on the 9th of January; the San Antonio on the
15th of February; the San Joseph on the 16th of June. All the vessels
met with heavy storms, and the San Carlos, being driven sadly out of her
route, did not reach San Diego till twenty days after the San Antonio,
though dispatched some five weeks earlier. We shudder to read that of
her crew but one sailor and the cook were left alive; the rest, along
with many of the soldiers, having succumbed to the scurvy. The San
Antonio also lost eight of her crew from the same dreadful disease.
These little details serve better than any general description to give
us an idea of the horrible conditions of Spanish seamanship in the
middle of the eighteenth century. As for the San Joseph, she never
reached her destination at all, though where and how she met her fate
remains one of the dark mysteries of the ocean. Two small points in
connection with her loss are perhaps sufficiently curious to merit
notice. In the first place, she was the only one of the ships that had
no missionary on board; and secondly, she was called after the very
saint who had been named special patron of the entire undertaking.
The original plan, as we have seen, had been that Father Junipero should
accompany the governor in the second division of the land-expedition;
but this, when the day fixed for departure came, was found to be quite
impossible owing to the ulcerous sore on his leg, which had been much
aggravated by the exertions of his recent hurried journey from Loreto to
La Paz and back. Greatly chafing under the delay, he was none the less
obliged to postpone his start for several weeks. At length, on the 28th
of March, in company with two soldiers and a servant, he mounted his
mule and set out. The event showed that he had been guilty of undue
haste, for he suffered terribly on the rough way, and on reaching San
Xavier, whither he went to turn over the management of the Lower
California missions to Palou, who was then settled there, his condition
was such that his friend implored him to remain behind, and allow him
(Palou) to go forward in his stead. But of this Junipero would not hear,
for he regarded himself as specially chosen and called by God for the
work to which he stood, body and soul, committed. "Let us speak no more
of this," he said. "I have placed all my faith in God, through whose
goodness I hope to reach not only San Diego, to plant and fix there the
standard of the Holy Cross, but even as far as Monterey." And Palou,
seeing that Junipero was not to be turned aside, wisely began to talk of
other things.
After three days devoted to business connected with the missions of the
lower province, the indomitable father determined to continue his
journey, notwithstanding the fact that, still totally unable to move his
leg, he had to be lifted by two men into the saddle. We may imagine that
poor Palou found it hard enough to answer his friend's cheery farewells,
and watched him with sickness of heart as he rode slowly away. It seemed
little likely indeed that they would ever meet again on this side of the
grave. But Junipero's courage never gave out. Partly for rest and partly
for conference with those in charge, he lingered awhile at the missions
along the way; but, nevertheless, presently came up with Portolà and his
detachment, with whom he proceeded to Villacatà. Here during a temporary
halt, he founded a mission which was dedicated to San Fernando, King of
Castile and Leon. But the worst experiences of the journey were still in
store. For when the party was ready to move forward again towards San
Diego, which, as time was fast running on, the commander was anxious to
reach with the least possible delay, it was found that Junipero's leg
was in such an inflamed condition that he could neither stand, nor sit,
nor sleep. For a few leagues he persevered, without complaint to any
one, and then collapsed. Portolà urged him to return at once to San
Fernando for the complete repose in which alone there seemed any chance
of recovery, but after his manner Junipero refused; nor, out of kindly
feeling for the tired native servants, would he ever hear of the litter
which the commander thereupon proposed to have constructed for his
transportation. The situation was apparently beyond relief, when, after
prayer to God, the padre called to him one of the muleteers. "Son," he
said - the conversation is reported in full by Palou, from whose memoir
of his friend it is here translated - "do you not know how to make a
remedy for the ulcer on my foot and leg?" And the muleteer replied:
"Father, how should I know of any remedy? Am I a surgeon? I am a
muledriver, and can only cure harness-wounds on animals." "Then, son."
rejoined Junipero, "consider that I am an animal, and that this ulcer is
a harness-wound . . . and prepare for me the same medicament as you
would make for a beast." Those who heard this request smiled. And the
muleteer obeyed; and mixing certain herbs with hot tallow, applied the
compound to the ulcerated leg, with the astonishing result that the
sufferer slept that night in absolute comfort, and was perfectly able
the next morning to undertake afresh the fatigues of the road.
Of the further incidents of the tedious journey it is needless to write.
It is enough to say that for forty-six days - from the 15th of May to
the 1st of July - the little party plodded on, following the track of
the advance-division of the land-expedition under Rivera y Moncada. With
what joy and gratitude they at last looked down upon the harbour of San
Diego, and realized that the first object of their efforts had now
indeed been achieved, may be readily imagined. Out in the bay lay the
San Carlos and the San Antonio, and on the shore were the tents of the
men who had preceded them, and of whose safety they were now assured;
and when, with volley after volley, they announced their arrival, ships
and camp replied in glad salute. And this responsive firing was
continued, says Palou, in his lively description of the scene, "until,
all having alighted, they were ready to testify their mutual love by
close embraces and affectionate rejoicing to see the expeditions thus
joined, and at their desired destination." Yet one cannot but surmise
that the delights of reunion were presently chilled when those who had
thus been spared to come together fell into talk over the companions who
had perished by the way. History has little to tell us of such details;
but the sympathetic reader will hardly fail to provide them for himself.
The condition of things which the governor and the president found
confronting them on their arrival was indeed the reverse of
satisfactory. Of the one hundred and thirty or so men comprising the
combined companies, many were seriously ill; some it was necessary to
dispatch at once with the San Antonio back to San Blas for additional
supplies and reinforcements; a further number had to be detailed for the
expedition to Monterey, which, in accordance with the explicit
instructions of the visitador general it was decided to send out
immediately. All this left the San Diego camp extremely short-handed,
but there was no help for it. To reach Monterey at all costs was
Portolà's next duty; and on the 14th of July, with a small party which
included Fathers Crespi and Gomez, he commenced his northwest march.
III.
In the meanwhile, says Palou, "that fervent zeal which continually
glowed and burned in the heart of our venerable Father Junipero, did not
permit him to forget the principal object of his journey." As soon as
Portolà had left the encampment, he began to busy himself with the
problem of the mission which, it had been determined, should be founded
on that spot. Ground was carefully chosen with an eye to the
requirements, not only of the mission itself, but also of the pueblo, or
village, which in course of time would almost certainly grow up about
it[2]; and on the 16th of July - the day upon which, as the anniversary
of a great victory over the Moors in 1212, the Spanish church solemnly
celebrated the Triumph of the Holy Cross - the first mission of Upper
California was dedicated to San Diego de Alcalà, after whom the bay had
been named by Sebastian Viscaino, the explorer, many years before. The
ceremonies were a repetition of those which had been employed in the
founding of the Mission of San Fernando at Villicatà; the site was
blessed and sprinkled with holy water; a great cross reared, facing the
harbour; the mass celebrated; the Venite Creator Spiritus sung. And, as
before, where the proper accessories failed, Father Junipero and his
colleagues fell back undeterred upon the means which Heaven had actually
put at their disposal. The constant firing of the troops supplied the
lack of musical instruments, and the smoke of the powder was accepted as
a substitute for incense. Father Palou's brief and unadorned description
will not prove altogether wanting in impressiveness for those who in
imagination can conjure up a picture of the curious, yet dramatic scene.
The preliminary work of foundation thus accomplished, Father Junipero
gathered about him the few healthy men who could be spared from the
tending of their sick comrades and routine duties, and with their help
erected a few rude huts, one of which was immediately consecrated as a
temporary chapel. So far as his own people were concerned, the padre's
labours were for the most part of a grievous character, for, during the
first few months, the records tell us, disease made such fearful ravages
among the soldiers, sailors and servants, that ere long the number of
persons at this settlement had been reduced to twenty. But the tragedy
of these poor nameless fellows - (it was Junipero's pious hope that they
might all be named in Heaven) - after all hardly forms part of our
proper story. The father's real work was to lie among the native
Indians, and it is with his failures and successes in this direction
that the main interest of our California mission annals is connected.
They were not an attractive people, these "gentiles" of a country which
to the newcomers must itself have seemed an outer garden of Paradise;
and Junipero's first attempts to gain their good will met with very
slight encouragement. During the ceremonies attendant upon the
foundation and dedication of the mission, they had stood round in silent
wonder, and now they showed themselves responsive to the strangers'
advances to the extent of receiving whatever presents were offered,
provided the gift was not in the form of anything to eat. The Spaniards'
food they would not even touch, apparently regarding it as the cause of
the dire sickness of the troops. And this, in the long run, remarks
Palou, was without doubt "singularly providential," owing to the rapid
depletion of the stores. Ignorance of the Indians' language, of course,
added seriously to the father's difficulties in approaching them, and
presently their thefts of cloth, for the possession of which they
developed a perfect passion, and other depredations, rendered them
exceedingly troublesome. Acts of violence became more and more common,
and by-and-bye, a determined and organized attack upon the mission, in
which the assailants many times outnumbered their opponents, led to a
pitched battle, and the death of one of the Spanish servants. This was
the crisis; for, happily, like a thunderstorm, the disturbance, which
seemed so threatening of future ill, cleared the air, at any rate for a
time; and the kindness with which the Spaniards treated their wounded
foes evidently touched the savage heart. Little by little a few Indians
here and there began to frequent the mission; and with the hearty
welcome accorded them their numbers soon increased. Among them there
happened to be a boy, of some fifteen years of age, who showed himself
more tractable than his fellows, and whom Father Junipero determined to
use as an instrument for his purpose. When the lad had picked up a
smattering of Spanish, the padre sent him to his people with the promise
that if he were allowed to bring back one of the children, the youngster
should not only by baptism be made a Christian, but should also (and
here the good father descended to a bribe) be tricked out like the
Spaniards themselves, in handsome clothes. A few days later, a
"gentile," followed by a large crowd, appeared with a child in his arms,
and the padre, filled with unutterable joy, at once threw a piece of
cloth over it, and called upon one of the soldiers to stand godfather to
this first infant of Christ. But, alas! just as he was preparing to
sprinkle the holy water, the natives snatched the child from him, and
made off with it (and the cloth) to their own ranchería. The soldiers
who stood round as witnesses were furious at this insult, and, left to
themselves, would have inflicted summary punishment upon the offenders.
But the good father pacified them, attributing his failure - of which he
was wont to speak tearfully to the end of his life - to his own sins and
unworthiness. However, this first experience in convert-making was
fortunately not prophetic, for though it is true that many months
elapsed before a single neophyte was gained for the mission, and though
more serious troubles were still to come, in the course of the next few
years a number of the aborigines, both children and adults, were
baptized.
[2] The mission was transferred in 1874 from the location selected by
Junipero to a site some two miles distant, up the river.
IV.
While Junipero and his companions were thus engaged in planting the
faith among the Indians of San Diego, Portolà's expedition was meeting
with unexpected trials and disappointments. The harbour of Monterey had
been discovered and described by Viscaino at the beginning of the
seventeenth century, and it seemed no very difficult matter to reach it
by way of the coast. But either the charts misled them, or their own
calculations erred, or the appearance of the landscape was strangely
deceptive - at any rate, for whatever reason or combination of reasons,
the exploring party passed the harbour without recognizing it, though
actually lingering awhile on the sand hills overlooking the bay. Half
persuaded in their bewilderment that some great catastrophe must, since
Viscaino's observations, have obliterated the port altogether, they
pressed northward another forty leagues, and little dreaming of the
importance attaching to their wanderings, crossed the Coast range, and
looked down thence over the Santa Clara valley and the "immense arm" of
San Francisco Bay. By this time the rainy season had set in, and
convinced as they now were that they must, through some oversight or
ill-chance, have missed the object of their quest, they determined to
retrace their steps, and institute another and more thorough search. On
again reaching the neighborhood of Monterey, they spent a whole
fortnight in systematic exploration, but still, strangely enough,
without discovering "any indication or landmark" of the harbour. Baffled
and disheartened, therefore, the leaders resolved to abandon the
enterprise. They then erected two large wooden crosses as memorials of
their visit, and cutting on one of these the words - "Dig at the foot of
this and you will find a writing" - buried there a brief narrative of
their experiences. This is reproduced in the diary of Father Crespé[3];
and its closing words have a touch of simple pathos: "At last,
undeceived, and despairing of finding it [the harbour] after so many
efforts, sufferings and labours, and having left of all our provisions
but fourteen small sacks of flour, our expedition leaves this place
to-day for San Diego; I beg of Almighty God to guide it, and for thee,
voyager, that His divine providence may lead thee to the harbour of
salvation. Done in this Bay of Pinos, the 9th of December, 1769." On the
cross on the other side of Point Pinos was cut with a razor this legend:
- "The land expedition returned to San Diego for want of provisions,
this 9th day of December, 1769."
The little party - or more correctly speaking - what was left of it, did
not reach San Diego till the 25th of the following month, having in
their march down suffered terribly from hunger, exposure, wet, fatigue
and sickness. Depressed themselves, they found nothing to encourage them
in the mission and camp, where death had played havoc among those they
had left behind them six months before, and where the provisions were so
fast running low that only the timely reappearance of the San Antonio,
long overdue, would save the survivors from actual starvation. Perhaps
it is hardly surprising that, under these circumstances, Portolà's
courage should have failed him, and that he should have decided upon a
return to Mexico. He caused an inventory of all available provisions to
be taken, and calculating that, with strict economy, and setting aside
what would be required for the journey back to San Fernando, they might
last till somewhat beyond the middle of March, he gave out that unless
the San Antonio should arrive by the 20th of that month, he should on
that day abandon San Diego, and start south. But if the governor
imagined for a moment that he could persuade the padre presidente to
fall in with this arrangement, he did not know his man. Junipero firmly
believed, despite the failure of Portolà's expedition, that the harbour
of Monterey still existed, and might be found; he even interested
Vicente Vila in a plan of his own for reaching it by sea; and he
furthermore made up his mind that, come what might, nothing should ever
induce him to turn his back upon his work. Then a wonderful thing
happened. On the 19th of March - the very day before that fixed by the
governor for his departure, and when everything was in readiness for
to-morrow's march - the sail of a ship appeared far out at sea; and
though the vessel presently disappeared towards the northwest, it
returned four days later and proved to be none other than the San
Antonio, bearing the much needed succour. She had passed up towards
Monterey in the expectation of finding the larger body of settlers
there, and had only put back to San Diego when unexpectedly, (and as it
seemed, providentially), she had run short of water. It was inevitable
that Father Junipero should see in this series of happenings the very
hand of God - the more so as the day of relief chanced to be the
festival of St. Joseph, who, as we have noted, was the patron of the
mission enterprise.
The arrival of the San Antonio put an entirely new complexion upon
affairs; and, relieved of immediate anxiety, Portolà now resolved upon a
second expedition in quest of Monterey. Two divisions, one for sea, the
other for land, were accordingly made ready; the former, which included
Junipero, started in the San Antonio, on the 16th of April; the latter,
under the leadership of Portolà, a day later. Strong adverse winds
interfered with the vessel, which did not make Monterey for a month and
a half. The land-party, following the coast, reached the more southern
of the great wooden crosses on the 24th of May, and after some
difficulty succeeded at last in identifying the harbour. Seven days
later, steering by the fires lighted for her guidance along the shore,
the San Antonio came safely into port; and formal possession of the bay
and surrounding country was presently taken in the name of church and
King. This was on the 3rd of June, the Feast of Pentecost; and on that
day of peculiar significance in the apostolic history of the church, the
second of the Upper California missions came into being. Palou has left
us a full account of the ceremonies. Governor, soldiers and priests
gathered together on the beach, on the spot where, in 1603, the
Carmelite fathers who had accompanied Viscaino, had celebrated the mass.
An altar was improvised and bells rung; and then, in alb and stole, the
father-president invoked the aid of the Holy Ghost, solemnly chanted the
Venite Creator Spiritus; blessed and raised a great cross; "to put to
flight all the infernal enemies;" and sprinkled with holy water the
beach and adjoining fields. Mass was then sung; Father Junipero preached
a sermon; again the roar of cannon and muskets took the place of
instrumental music; and the function was concluded with the Te Deum.
Though now commonly called Carmelo, or Carmel, from the river across
which it looks, and which has thus lent it a memory of the first
Christian explorers on the spot, this mission is properly known by the
name of San Carlos Borromeo, Cardinal-Archbishop of Milan. A few huts
enclosed by a palisade, and forming the germ at once of the religious
and of the military settlement, were hastily erected. But the actual
building of the mission was not begun until the summer of 1771
[3] The Diary, furnishing a detailed itinerary of the expedition, is
given in full in Palou's noticias de la Nueva California.
V.
News of the establishment of the missions and military posts at San
Diego and Monterey was in due course carried to the City of Mexico,
where it so delighted the Marques de Croix, Viceroy of New Spain, and
Jose de Galvez, that they not only set the church bells ringing, but
forthwith began to make arrangements for the founding of more missions
in the upper province. Additional priests were provided by the College
of San Fernando; funds liberally subscribed; and the San Antonio made
ready to sail from San Blas with the friars and supplies. On the 21st of
May, 1771, the good ship dropped anchor at Monterey, where, in the
meantime, Junipero, though busy enough among the natives of the
neighborhood, was suffering grievous disappointment because, from lack
of priests and soldiers, he was unable to proceed at once with the
proposed establishment of San Buenaventura. The safe arrival of ten
assistants now brought him assurance of a rapid extension of work in
"the vineyard of the Lord." He was not the man to let time slip by him
unimproved. Plans were immediately laid for carrying the cross still
further into the wilderness, and six new missions - those of San
Buenaventura, San Gabriel, San Louis Obispo, San Antonio, Santa Clara
and San Francisco - were presently agreed upon. It was discovered later
on, however, that these plans outran the resources at the president's
disposal, and much to his regret, the design for settlements at Santa
Clara and San Francisco had to be temporarily given up.
There was, none the less, plenty to engage the energies of even so
tireless a worker as Junipero, for three of the new missions were
successfully established between July, 1771, and the autumn of the
following year. The first of these was the Mission of San Antonio de
Padua, in a beautiful spot among the Santa Lucia mountains, some
twenty-five leagues southeast of Monterey; the second, that of San
Gabriel Arcángel, near what is now known as the San Gabriel river; and
the third, the Mission of San Luis Obispo de Tolosa, for which a
location was chosen near the coast, about twenty-five leagues southeast
of San Antonio. In his account of the founding of the first named of
these, Palou throws in a characteristic touch. After the bells had been
hung on trees and loudly tolled, he says, the excited padre-presidente
began to shout like one transported: - "Ho, gentiles! Come to the Holy
Church; Come! Come! and receive the faith of Jesus Christ!" His comrade,
Father Pieras, standing by astonished, interrupted his fervent eloquence
with the eminently practical remark that as there were no gentiles
within hearing, it was idle to ring the bells. But the enthusiast's
ardour was not to be damped by such considerations, and he continued to
ring and shout. I, for one, am grateful for such a detail as this. An
even more significant story, though of a quite different sort, is
recorded of the dedication of San Gabriel. It was, of course, inevitable
that here and there in connection with such a record as this of Serra
and his work, there should spring up legends of miraculous doings and
occurrences; though on the whole, it is, perhaps, remarkable that the
mythopoeic tendency was not more powerful. The incident now referred to
may be taken as an illustration. While the missionary party were engaged
in exploring for a suitable site, a large force of natives, under two
chiefs, suddenly broke in upon them. Serious conflict seemed imminent;
when one of the fathers drew forth a piece of canvas bearing the picture
of the Virgin. Instantly the savages threw their weapons to the ground,
and, following their leaders, crowded with offerings about the
marvellous image. Thus the danger was averted. Further troubles attended
the settlement at San Gabriel; but in after years it became one of the
most successful of all the missions, and gained particular fame from the
industries maintained by its converts, and their skill in carving wood,
horn and leather.
VI.
Though, as we thus see, Father Junipero had ample reason to be
encouraged over the progress of his enterprise, he still had various
difficulties to contend with. The question of supplies often assumed
formidable proportions, and the labors of the missionaries were not
always as fruitful as had been hoped. Fortunately, however, the Indians
were, as a rule, friendly, notwithstanding the fact that the behaviour
of the Spanish soldiers, especially towards their women, occasionally
aroused their distrust and resentment. At one establishment only did
serious disturbances actually threaten for a time the continuance of the
mission and its work. Junipero had lately returned from Mexico, with
undiminished zeal and all sorts of fresh designs revolving in his brain,
when a courier reached him at San Carlos bringing news of a terrible
disaster at San Diego. Important affairs detained him for a time at
Monterey, but when at length he was able to get to the scene of the
trouble, it was to find that first reports had not been exaggerated. On
the night of the 4th of November, 1775, eight hundred Indians had made a
ferocious assault upon the mission, fired the buildings, and brutally
done to death Father Jayme, one of the two priests in charge. "God be
thanked," Junipero had exclaimed, when the letter containing the
dreadful news had been read to him, "now the soil is watered, and the
conquest of the Dieguinos will soon be complete!" In the faith that the
blood of the martyrs is veritably the seed of the church, he, on
reaching San Diego, with his customary energy, set about the task of
re-establishing the mission; and the buildings which presently arose
from the ruins were a great improvement upon those which had been
destroyed.
Before these alarming events at the mother-mission broke in upon his
regular work, the president had resolved upon yet another settlement
(not included in the still uncompleted plan), for which he had selected
a point on the coast some twenty-six leagues north of San Diego, and
which was to be dedicated to San Juan Capistrano. A beginning had indeed
been made there, not by Junipero in person, but by fathers delegated by
him for the purpose; but when news of the murder of Father Jayme reached
them, they had hastily buried bells, chasubles and supplies, and hurried
south. As soon as ever he felt it wise to leave San Diego Junipero
himself now repaired to the abandoned site; and there, on the 1st of
November, 1776, the bells were dug up and hung, mass said, and the
mission established. It is curious to remember that while the
padre-presidente was thus immersed in apostolic labors on the far
Pacific coast, on the other side of the North American continent events
of a very different character were shaking the whole civilized world.
Though the establishment of San Juan Capistrano is naturally mentioned
in this place, partly because of the abortive start made there a year
before, and partly because its actual foundation constituted the next
noteworthy incident in Junipero's career, this mission is, in strict
chronological order, not the sixth, but the seventh on our list. For
some three weeks before its dedication, and without the knowledge of the
president himself, though in full accordance with his designs, the cross
had been planted at a point many leagues northward beyond San Carlos,
and destined presently to be the most important on the coast. It will be
remembered that when Portolà's party made their first futile search for
the harbour of Monterey, they had by accident found their way as far as
the Bay of San Francisco. The significance of their discovery was not
appreciated at the time, either by themselves or by those at
headquarters to whom it was reported; but later explorations so clearly
established the value of the spot for settlement and fortification, that
it was determined to build a presidio there. Some years previous to
this, as we have seen, a mission on the northern bay had been part of
Junipero's ambitious scheme; and though at the time he was forced by
circumstances to hold his hand, the idea was constantly uppermost in his
thoughts. At length, when, in the summer of 1776, an expedition was
despatched from Monterey for the founding of the proposed presidio, two
missionaries were included in the party - one of these being none other
than that Father Palou, whose records have been our chief guides in the
course of this story. The buildings of the presidio - store house,
commandant's dwelling, and huts for the soldiers and their families -
were completed by the middle of September; and on the 17th of that month
- the day of St. Francis, patron of the station and harbour - imposing
ceremonies of foundation were performed. A wooden church was then built;
and on the 9th of October, in the presence of many witnesses, Father
Palou said mass, the image of St. Francis was borne about in procession,
and the mission solemnly dedicated to his name[4].
It was at San Luis Obispo on his way back from San Diego to Monterey,
that Father Junipero learned of the foundation of the mission at San
Francisco, and though he may doubtless have felt some little regret at
not having himself been present on such an occasion, his heart
overflowed with joy. For there was a special reason why the long delay
in carrying out this portion of his plan had weighed heavily upon him.
Years before, when the visitador general had told him that the first
three missions in Alta California were to be named after San Diego, San
Carlos and San Buenaventura (for such, we recollect, had been the
original programme), he had exclaimed: - "Then is our father, St.
Francis, to have no mission?" And Galvez had made reply: - "If St.
Francis desires a mission, let him show us his port, and he shall have
one there." To Junipero it had seemed that Portolà had providentially
been led beyond Monterey to the Bay of San Francisco, and the founder of
his order had thus given emphatic answer to the visitador's words. It
may well be imagined that he was ill at rest until the saint's wishes
had been carried into effect.
But this was not the only good work done in the north while Junipero was
busy elsewhere; for on the 12th of January, 1777, the Mission of Santa
Clara was established in the wonderfully fertile and beautiful valley
which is now known by that name. The customary rites were performed by
Father Tomas de la Peña, a rude chapel erected, and the work of
constructing the necessary buildings of the settlement immediately
begun[5]. It should be noted in passing that before the end of the year
the town of San Jose - or, to give it its full Spanish title, El Pueblo
de San Jose de Guadalupe - was founded near by. This has historic
interest as the first purely civil settlement in California. The fine
Alameda from the mission to the pueblo was afterwards made and laid out
under the fathers' supervision.
[4] This is now colloquially known as the Mission Dolores. Its proper
title is, however, Mission of San Francisco de Assis. It originally
stood on the Laguna de los Dolores (now filled up) ; and hence its
popular name.
[5] The site originally chosen lay too low, and from the outset danger
of inundation was foreseen. A flood occurred in 1779, and in 1784 the
mission was removed to higher ground. The present buildings date from
1825-26.
VII.
Though Junipero's subordinates had thus done without him in these
important developments at San Francisco and Santa Clara, he still
resolved to go north, both to visit the new foundations and to inspect
for himself the marvellous country of which he had heard much, but which
he had not yet seen. As usual, he was long detained by urgent affairs,
and it was not till autumn that he succeeded in breaking away. He made a
short stay at Santa Clara, and then pushed on to San Francisco, which he
reached in time to say mass on St. Francis' day. After a ten days' rest,
he crossed to the presidio and feasted his eyes on the glorious vision
of the Golden Gate - a sight which once seen is never to be forgotten.
"Thanks be to God!" he cried, in rapture (these, says Palou, were the
words most frequently on his lips); "now our Father St. Francis, with
the Holy Cross of the procession of missions, has reached the ultimate
end of this continent of California. To go further ships will be
required!" Yet his joy was tempered with the thought that the eight
missions already founded were very far apart, and that much labour would
be necessary to fill up the gaps.
It was thus with the feeling that, while something had been done, far
more was left to do, that the padre returned to his own special charge
at San Carlos. Various circumstances in combination had caused the
postponement, year after year, of that third mission, which, according
to original intentions, was to have followed immediately upon the
establishments at San Diego and Monterey. Three new settlements were now
projected on the Santa Barbara Channel, and the first of these was to be
the mission of San Buenaventura. It was not until 1782, however, that
the long-delayed purpose was at length accomplished. The site chosen was
at the southeastern extremity of the channel, and close to an Indian
village, or ranchería to which Portalà's expedition in 1769 had given
the name of Ascencion de Nuestra Señora, or, briefly, Assumpta. A little
later on, in pursuance of the same plan, the then governor, Filipe de
Neve, took formal possession of a spot some ten leagues distant, and
there began the construction of the presidio of Santa Barbara. It was
Junipero's earnest desire to proceed at once with the adjoining mission.
But the governor, for reasons of his own, threw obstacles in the way,
and in the end this fresh undertaking was left to other hands.
For we have now come to the close of Father Junipero's long and
strenuous career; and as we look back over the record of it, our wonder
is, not that he should have died when he did, but rather that he had not
killed himself many years before. His is surely one of those cases in
which supreme spiritual power and sheer force of will triumph over an
accumulation of bodily ills. Far from robust of constitution, he had
never given himself consideration or repose, forcing himself to
exertions which it would have appeared utterly impossible that his frame
could bear, and adding to the constant strain of his labours and travels
the hardships of self-inflicted tortures of a severe ascetic régime. He
had always been much troubled by the old ulcer on his leg, though this,
no matter how painful, he never regarded save when it actually
incapacitated him for work; and for many years he had suffered from a
serious affection of the heart, which had been greatly aggravated, even
if it was not in the first instance caused, by his habit of beating
himself violently on his chest with a huge stone, at the conclusion of
his sermons - to the natural horror of his hearers, who, it is said,
were often alarmed lest he should drop dead before their eyes. The fatal
issue of such practices could only be a question of time. At length,
mental anxiety and sorrow added their weight to his burden -
particularly disappointment at the slow progress of his enterprise, and
grief over the death of his fellow-countryman and close friend, Father
Crespì, who passed to his well-earned rest on New Year's Day, 1782.
After this loss, it is recorded, he was never the same man again, though
he held so tenaciously to his duties, that only a year before the call
came to him, being then over seventy, he limped from San Diego to
Monterey, visiting his missions, and weeping over the outlying Indian
rancherìas, because he was powerless to help the unconverted dwellers in
them. He died at San Carlos, tenderly nursed to the end by the faithful
Palou, on the 28th August, 1784; and his passing was so peaceful that
those watching thought him asleep. On hearing the mission bells toll for
his death, the whole population, knowing well what had occurred, burst
into tears; and when, clothed in the simple habit of his order, his body
was laid out in his cell, the native neophytes crowded in with flowers,
while the Spanish soldiers and sailors pressed round in the hope of
being blessed by momentary contact with his corpse. He was laid beneath
the mission altar beside his beloved friend Crespì; but when, in after
years, a new church was built, the remains of both were removed and
placed within it.
It is not altogether easy to measure such a man as Junipero Serra by our
ordinary modern standards of character and conduct. He was essentially a
religious enthusiast, and as a religious enthusiast he must be judged.
To us who read his story from a distance, who breathe an atmosphere
totally different from his, and whose lives are governed by quite other
passions and ideals, he may often appear one-sided, extravagant,
deficient in tact and forethought, and, in the excess of his zeal, too
ready to sacrifice everything to the purposes he never for an instant
allowed to drop out of his sight. We may even, with some of his critics,
protest that he was not a man of powerful intellect; that his views of
people and things were distressingly narrow; that, after his kind, he
was extremely superstitious; that he was despotic in his dealings with
his converts, and stiffnecked in his relations with the civil and
military authorities. For all this is doubtless true. But all this must
not prevent us from seeing him as he actually was - charitable,
large-hearted, energetic, indomitable; in all respects a remarkable, in
many ways, a really wise and great man. At whatever points he may fall
short of our criteria, this much must be said of him, that he was fired
throughout with the high spirit of his vocation, that he was punctual in
the performance of duty as he understood it, that he was obedient to the
most rigorous dictates of that Gospel which he had set himself to
preach. In absolute, single-hearted, unflinching, and tireless devotion
to the task of his life - the salvation of heathen souls - he spent
himself freely and cheerfully, a true follower of that noblest and most
engaging of the mediaeval saints, whose law he had laid upon himself,
and whom he looked up to as his guide and examplar. Let us place him
where he belongs - among the transcendent apostolic figures of his own
church; for thus alone shall we do justice to his personality, his
objects, his career. The memory of such a man will survive all changes
in creeds and ideals; and the great state, of which he was the first
pioneer, will do honour to herself in honouring him.
VIII.
After Junipero's death the supervision of the missions devolved for a
time upon Palou, under whose management, owing to difficulties with the
civil powers, no new foundations were undertaken, though satisfactory
progress was made in those already existing. In 1786, Palou was
appointed head of the College of San Fernando, and his place as mission
president was filled by Father Firmin Francisco de Lasuen, by whom the
mission of Santa Barbara was dedicated, on the festival day of that
virgin-martyr, before the close of the year[6]. Just twelve months
later, the third channel settlement was started, with the performance of
the usual rites, on the spot fixed for the Mission of La Purisima
Concepcion, at the western extremity of the bay; though some months
passed before real work there was begun. Thus the proposed scheme,
elaborated before Junipero's death, for the occupation of that portion
of the coast, was at length successfully carried out.
Hardly had this been accomplished before the viceroy and governor,
having resolved upon a further extension of the mission system, sent
orders to Father Lasuen to proceed with two fresh settlements, one of
which was to be dedicated to the Holy Cross, the other to Our Lady of
Solitude. Time was, as usual, consumed in making the necessary
preparations, and the two missions were finally founded within a few
weeks of each other - on the 28th of August and the 9th of October,
1791, respectively. The site selected for the Mission of Santa Cruz was
in the neighborhood already known by that name, and near the San Lorenzo
River; that of Nuestra Señora de la Soledad, on the west side of the
Salinas River, in the vicinity of the present town of Soledad, and about
thirty miles from Monterey.
A glance at the map of California will help us to understand the policy
which had dictated the creation of the four missions founded since
Junipero's death. The enormous stretch of country between San Francisco
and San Diego, the northern and southern extremes of evangelical
enterprise, was as yet quite insufficiently occupied, and these new
settlements had been started with the object of to some extent filling
up the vast vacant spaces still left among those already existing. For
the efficient performance of missionary work something more was needed
than a number of separate establishments, no matter how well managed and
successful these in themselves might be. Systematic organization was
essential; for this it was requisite that the various missions should be
brought, by proximity, into vital relations with one another, that
communication might be kept up, companionship enjoyed, and, in case of
need, advice given and assistance rendered. The foundations of Santa
Barbara, La Purisima, Santa Cruz and Soledad, had done something, as
will be seen, towards the ultimate drawing together of the scattered
outposts of church and civilization. But with them a beginning had only
been made. Further developments of the same general plan which aimed, it
will be understood, not alone at the spiritual conquest, but also at the
proper control of the new kingdom - were now taken under consideration.
And, as a result, five fresh missions were presently resolved upon. One
of these was to be situated between San Francisco and Santa Clara; the
second, between Santa Clara and Monterey; the third, between San Antonio
and San Luis Obispo; the fourth, between San Buenaventura and San
Gabriel; and the fifth, between San Juan Capistrano and San Diego. The
importance of these proposed settlements as connecting links will be at
once apparent, if we observe that by reason of their carefully chosen
locations they served, as it were, to put the older missions into actual
touch. When at length the preliminary arrangements had been made, no
time was wasted in the carrying out of the programme, and in a little
over a year, all five missions were in operation. The mission San Jose
(a rather tardy recognition to the patron-saint of the whole
undertaking), was founded on the 11th June, 1797; San Juan Bautista
thirteen days later; San Miguel Arcángel on the 25th July, and San
Fernando Rey de España on the 8th September of the same year; and San
Luis Rey de Francia (commonly called San Luis Rey to distinguish it from
San Luis Obispo), on the 13th of the July following. The delay which had
not at all been anticipated in the establishment of this last-named
mission, was due to some difficulties in regard to site. With this ended
- so far as fresh foundations were concerned - the pious labours of
Lasuen as padre-presidente. He now returned to San Carlos to devote
himself during the remainder of his life to the arduous duties of
supervision and administration. There he died, in 1803, aged
eighty-three years.
His successor, Father Estevan Tapis, fourth president of the Upper
California missions, signalized his elevation to office by adding a
nineteenth to the establishments under his charge. Founded on the 17th
September, 1804, on a spot, eighteen miles from La Purisima and
twenty-two from Santa Barbara, to which Lasuen had already directed
attention, this was dedicated to the virgin-martyr, Santa Inez. It was
felt that a settlement somewhere in this region was still needed for the
completion of the mission system, since without it, a gap was left in
the line between the two missions first-named, which were some forty
miles apart. With the planting of Santa Inez thorough spiritual
occupation may be said to have been accomplished over the entire area
between San Francisco and San Diego, and from the Coast Range to the
ocean. The nineteen missions had been so distributed over the vast
country, that the Indians scattered through it could everywhere be
reached; while the distance from mission to mission had, at the same
time, been so reduced that it was in no case too great to be easily
covered in a single day's journey. The fathers of each establishment
could thus hold frequent intercourse with their next neighbors, and
occasional travelers moving to and fro on business could from day to day
be certain of finding a place for refreshment and repose[7].
[6] The original adobe church was injured by earthquakes in 1806 and
1812. The present edifice was begun in 1815 and finished in 1820.
[7] The table given by the French traveler, De Mofras, in his
authoritative Exploration du Territoire de L'Oregon, les Californies,
etc., shows us that the distance between mission and mission nowhere
exceeded nighteen leagues, and that it was often very much less.
IX.
Santa Inez carries us for the first time over into the nineteenth
century, and its establishment may in a sense be regarded as marking the
term of the period of expansion in California mission history. A pause
of more than a decade ensued, during which no effort was made towards
the further spread of the general system; and then, with the planting of
two relatively unimportant settlements in a district thentofore
unoccupied the tally was brought to a close.
The missions which thus represented a slight and temporary revival of
the old spirit of enterprise, were those of San Rafael Arcángel and San
Francisco Solano. The former, located near Mount Tamalpais, between San
Francisco de Assis and the Russian military station at Fort Ross, dates
from the 17th December, 1817; the latter, situated still further north,
in the Sonoma Valley, from the 4th July, 1823. Some little uncertainty
exists as to the true reasons and purposes of their foundation. The
commonly accepted version of the story connects them directly with
problems which arose out of the course of affairs at San Francisco. In
1817 a most serious epidemic caused great mortality among the Indians
there; a panic seemed inevitable; and on the advice of Lieutenant Sola,
a number of the sick neophytes were removed by the padres to the other
side of the bay. The change of climate proved highly beneficial; the
region of Mount Tamalpais was found singularly attractive; and a
decision to start a branch establishment, or asistencia, of the mission
at San Francisco was a natural result. The patronage of San Rafael was
selected in the hope that, as the name itself expresses the "healing of
God," that "most glorious prince" might be induced to care "for bodies
as well as souls." While considerable success attended this new venture,
the condition of things at San Francisco, on the other hand, continued
anything but satisfactory; and a proposal based on these two facts was
presently made, that the old mission should be removed entirely from the
peninsula, and refounded in a more favorable locality somewhere in the
healthy and fertile country beyond San Rafael. It was thus that the name
of San Francisco got attached from the outset to the new settlement at
Sonoma; and when later on (the old mission being left in its place) this
was made into an independent mission, the name was retained, though the
dedication was transferred, appropriately enough, from St. Francis of
Assisi to that other St. Francis who figures in the records as "the
great apostle of the Indies."
Such is the simpler explanation of the way in which the last two
missions came to be established. It has, however, been suggested that,
while all this may be true as far as it goes, other causes were at work
of a subtler character than those specified, and that these causes were
involved in the development of political affairs. It will have been
noted that, though the threatened encroachments of the Russians had been
one of the chief reasons for this Spanish occupation of Alta California,
there had hitherto been no attempt to meet their possible advances in
the very regions where they were most to be expected - that is, in the
country north of San Francisco. In course of time, however, always with
the ostensible purpose of hunting the seal and the otter, the Russians
were found to be creeping further and further south; and at length,
under instructions from St. Petersburg, they took possession of the
region of Bodega Bay, establishing there a trading post of their Fur
Company, and a strong military station which they called Fort Ross. As
this settlement was on the coast, and only sixty-five miles, as the crow
flies, from San Francisco, it will be seen that the Spanish authorities
had some genuine cause for alarm. And the mission movement north of San
Francisco is considered by some writers to have been initiated, less
from spiritual motives, than from the dread of continued Russian
aggression, and the hope of raising at least a slight barrier against
it. However this may be, the two missions were never employed for
defensive purposes; nor is it very clear that they could have been made
of much practical service in case of actual need.
X.
Such, in briefest outline, is the story of the planting of the
twenty-one missions of Alta California. This story, as we have seen,
brings us down to the year 1823. But by this time, as we follow the
chronicles, our attention has already begun to be diverted from the
forces which still made for growth and success to those which ere long
were to co-operate for the complete undoing of the mission system and
the ruin of all its work.
Perhaps it was in the nature of things (if one may venture here to
employ a phrase too often used out of mere idleness or ignorance) that
the undertaking which year by year had been carried forward with so much
energy and success, should after a while come to a standstill; and the
commonest observation of life will suffice to remind us that when
progress ceases, retrogression is almost certain to set in. The immense
zeal and unflagging enthusiasm of Junipero Serra and his immediate
followers could not be transmitted by any rite or formula to the men
upon whose shoulders their responsibilities came presently to rest. Men
they were, of course, of widely varying characters and capabilities -
some, unfortunately, altogether unworthy both morally and mentally, of
their high calling; many, on the contrary, genuine embodiments of the
great principles of their order - humane, benevolent, faithful in the
discharge of daily duty, patient alike in labour and trial, and careful
administrators of the practical affairs which lay within their charge.
But without injustice it may be said of them that for the most part they
possessed little of the tremendous personal force of their predecessors,
and a generous endowment of such personal force was as needful now as it
ever had been.
Not unless we wish to emulate Southey's learned friend, who wrote whole
volumes of hypothetical history in the subjunctive mood, it is hardly
necessary for present purposes to discuss the internal changes which,
had the missions been left to themselves, might in the long run have
brought about their decay. For as a matter of fact the missions were not
left to themselves. The closing chapter of their history, to which we
have now to turn, is mainly concerned, not with their spiritual
management, or with their success or failure in the work they had been
given to do, but with the general movement of political events, and the
upheavals which preceded the final conquest of California by the United
States.
In considering the attitude of the civil authorities towards the mission
system, and their dealings with it, we must remember that the Spanish
government had from the first anticipated the gradual transformation of
the missions into pueblos and parishes, and with this, the substitution
of the regular clergy for the Franciscan padres. This was part of the
general plan of colonization, of which the mission settlements were
regarded as forming only the beginning. Their work was to bring the
heathen into the fold of the church, to subdue them to the conditions of
civilization, to instruct them in the arts of peace, and thus to prepare
them for citizenship; and this done, it was purposed that they should be
straightway removed from the charge of the fathers and placed under
civil jurisdiction. No decisive step towards the accomplishment of this
design was, however, taken for many years; and meanwhile, the fathers
jealously resisted every effort of the government to interfere with
their prerogatives. At length, with little comprehension of the nature
of the materials out of which citizens were thus to be manufactured, and
with quite as little realization of the fact that the paternal methods
of education adopted by the padres were calculated, not to train their
neophytes to self-government, but to keep them in a state of perpetual
tutelage, the Spanish Cortes decreed that all missions which had then
been in existence ten years should at once be turned over to bishops,
and the Indians attached to them made subject to civil authority. Though
promulgated in 1813, this decree was not published in California till
1820, and even then was practically a dead letter. Two years later,
California became a province of the Mexican Empire, and in due course
the new government turned its attention to the missions, in 1833
ordering their complete secularization. The atrocious mishandling by
both Spain and Mexico of the funds by which they had been kept up, and
the large demands made later upon them for provisions and money, had by
this time made serious inroads upon their resources; notwithstanding
which they had faithfully persisted in their work. The new law now dealt
them a crushing blow. Ten years of great confusion followed, and then an
effort was made to save them from the complete ruin by which they were
threatened by a proclamation ordering that the more important of them,
twelve in number, should be restored to the padres. Nothing came of
this, however; the collapse continued; and in 1846, the sale of the
mission buildings was decreed by the Departmental Assembly. When in the
August of that year, the American flag was unfurled at Monterey,
everything connected with the missions - their lands, their priests,
their neophytes, their management - was in a state of seemingly hopeless
chaos. Finally General Kearney issued a declaration to the effect that
"the missions and their property should remain under the charge of the
Catholic priests . . . until the titles to the lands should be decided
by proper authority." But of whatever temporary service this measure may
have been, it was of course altogether powerless to breathe fresh life
into a system already in the last stages of decay. The mission-buildings
were crumbling into ruins. Their lands were neglected; their converts
for the most part dead or scattered. The rule of the padres was over.
The Spanish missions in Alta California were things of the past.
In these late days of a civilization so different in all its essential
elements from that which the Franciscans laboured so strenuously to
establish on the Pacific Coast, we may think of the fathers as we will,
and pass what judgment we see fit upon their work. But be that what it
may, our hearts cannot fail to be touched and stirred by the pitiful
story of those true servants of God who, in the hour of ultimate
disaster, firmly refused to be separated from their flocks.
Among the ruins of San Luis Obispo, in 1842, De Mofras found the oldest
Spanish priest then left in California, who, after sixty years of
unremitting toil, was then reduced to such abject poverty that he was
forced to sleep on a hide, drink from a horn, and feed upon strips of
meat dried in the sun. Yet this faithful creature still continued to
share the little he possessed with the children of the few Indians who
lingered in the huts about the deserted church; and when efforts were
made to induce him to seek some other spot where he might find refuge
and rest, his answer was that he meant to die at his post. The same
writer has recorded an even more tragic case from the annals of La
Soledad. Long after the settlement there had been abandoned, and when
the buildings were falling to pieces, an old priest, Father Sarría,
still remained to minister to the bodily and physical wants of a handful
of wretched natives who yet haunted the neighborhood, and whom he
absolutely refused to forsake. One Sunday morning in August, 1833, after
his habit, he gathered his neophytes together in what was once the
church, and began, according to his custom, the celebration of the mass.
But age, suffering, and privation had by this time told fatally upon
him. Hardly had he commenced the service, when his strength gave way. He
stumbled upon the crumbling altar, and died, literally of starvation, in
the arms of those to whom for thirty years he had given freely whatever
he had to give. Surely these simple records of Christ-like devotion will
live in the tender remembrance of all who revere the faith that, linked
with whatever creed, manifests itself in good works, the love that
spends itself in service, the quiet heroism that endures to the end.
XI.
The California missions, though greatly varying of course in regard to
size and economy, were constructed upon the same general plan, in the
striking and beautiful style of architecture, roughly known as Moorish,
which the fathers transplanted from Spain, but which rather seems by
reason of its singular appropriateness, a native growth of the new soil.
The edifices which now, whether in ruins or in restoration, still
testify to the skill and energy of their pious designers, were in all
cases later, in most cases much later, than the settlements themselves.
At the outset, a few rude buildings of wood or adobe were deemed
sufficient for the temporary accommodation of priests and converts, and
the celebration of religious services. Then, little by little,
substantial structures in brick or stone took the place of these, and
what we now think of as the mission came into being.
The best account left us of the mission establishment in its palmy days
is that given by De Mofras in his careful record of travel and
exploration along the Pacific Coast; and often quoted as this has been,
we still cannot do better here than to translate some portions of it
anew. The observant Frenchman wrote with his eye mainly upon what was
perhaps the most completely typical of all the missions - that of San
Luis Rey. But his description, though containing a number of merely
local particulars, was intended to be general; and for this reason may
the more properly be reproduced in this place.
"The edifice," he wrote, "is quadrilateral, and about one hundred and
fifty metres long in front. The church occupies one of the wings. The
façade is ornamented with a gallery [or arcade]. The building, a single
storey in height, is generally raised some feet above the ground. The
interior forms a court, adorned with flowers and planted with trees.
Opening on the gallery which runs round it are the rooms of the monks,
majordomos, and travelers, as well as the workshops, schoolrooms, and
storehouses. Hospitals for men and women are situated in the quietest
parts of the mission, where also are placed the schoolrooms. The young
Indian girls occupy apartments called the monastery (el moujerìo), and
they themselves are styled nuns (las moujas) . . . Placed under the care
of trustworthy Indian women, they are there taught to spin wool, flax,
and cotton, and do no leave their seclusion till they are old enough to
be married. The Indian children attend the same school as the children
of the white colonists. A certain number of them, chosen from those who
exhibit most intelligence, are taught music - plain-chant, violin,
flute, horn, violincello, and other instruments. Those who distinguish
themselves in the carpenter's shop, at the forge, or in the field, are
termed alcaldes, or chiefs, and given charge of a band of workmen. The
management of each mission is composed of two monks; the elder looks
after internal administration and religious instruction; the younger has
direction of agricultural work . . . For the sake of order and morals,
whites are employed only where strictly necessary, for the fathers know
their influence to be altogether harmful, and that they lead the Indians
to gambling and drunkenness, to which vices they are already too prone.
To encourage the natives in their tasks, the fathers themselves often
lend a hand, and everywhere furnish an example of industry. Necessity
has made them industrious. One is struck with astonishment on observing
that, with such meagre resources, often without European workmen or any
skilled help, but with the assistance only of savages, always
unintelligent and often hostile, they have yet succeeded in executing
such works of architecture and engineering as mills, machinery, bridges,
roads, and canals for irrigation. For the erection of nearly all the
mission buildings it was necessary to bring to the sites chosen, beams
cut on mountains eight or ten leagues away, and to teach the Indians to
burn lime, cut stone, and make bricks.
"Around the mission," De Mofras continues, "are the huts of the
neophytes, and the dwellings of some white colonists. Besides the
central establishment, there exists, for a space of thirty or forty
leagues, accessory farms to the number of fifteen or twenty, and branch
chapels (chapelles succursales). Opposite the mission is a guard-house
for an escort, composed of four cavalry soldiers and a sergeant. These
act as messengers, carrying orders from one mission to another, and in
the earlier days of conquest repelled the savages who would sometimes
attack the settlement."
Of the daily life and routine of a mission, accounts of travelers enable
us to form a pretty vivid picture; and though doubtless changes of
detail might be marked in passing from place to place, the larger and
more essential features would be found common to all the establishments.
At sunrise the little community was already astir, and then the Angelus
summoned all to the church, where mass was said, and a short time given
to the religious instruction of the neophytes. Breakfast followed,
composed mainly of the staple dish atole, or pottage of roasted barley.
This finished, the Indians repaired in squads, each under the
supervision of its alcalde, to their various tasks in workshop and
field. Between eleven and twelve o'clock, a wholesome and sufficiently
generous midday meal was served out. At two, work was resumed. An hour
or so before sunset, the bell again tolled for the Angelus; evening mass
was performed; and after supper had been eaten, the day closed with
dance, or music, or some simple games of chance. Thus week by week, and
month by month, with monotonous regularity, life ran its unbroken
course; and what with the labours directly connected with the management
of the mission itself, the tending of sheep and cattle in the
neighboring ranches, and the care of the gardens and orchards upon which
the population was largely dependent for subsistence, there was plenty
to occupy the attention of the padres, and quite enough work to be done
by the Indians under their charge. But all this does not exhaust the
list of mission activities. For in course of time, as existence became
more settled, and the children of the early converts shot up into boys
and girls, various industries were added to such first necessary
occupations, and the natives were taught to work at the forge and the
bench, to make saddles and shoes, to weave, and cut, and sew. In these
and similar acts, many of them acquired considerable proficiency.
It is pleasant enough to look back upon such a busy yet placid life. But
while we may justly acknowledge its antique, pastoral charm, we must
guard ourselves against the temptation to idealization. Beautiful in
many respects it must have been; but its shadows were long and deep.
According to the first principles adopted by the missionaries, the
domesticated Indians were held down rigorously in a condition of servile
dependence and subjection. They were indeed, as one of the early
travelers in California put it, slaves under another name - slaves to
the cast-iron power of a system which, like all systems, was capable of
unlimited abuse, and which, at the very best, was narrow and arbitrary.
Every vestige of freedom was taken from them when they entered, or were
brought into, the settlement. Henceforth they belonged, body and soul,
to the mission and its authority. Their tasks were assigned to them,
their movements controlled, the details of their daily doings dictated,
by those who were to all intents and purposes their absolute masters;
and corporal punishment was visited freely not only upon those who were
guilty of actual misdemeanor, but also upon such as failed in attendance
at church, or, when there, did not conduct themselves properly. From
time to time some unusually turbulent spirit would rise against such
paternal despotism, and break away to his old savage life. But these
cases, we are told, were of rare occurrence. The California Indians were
for the most part indolent, apathetic, and of low intelligence; and as,
under domestication, they were clothed, housed and fed, while the labour
demanded from them was rarely excessive, they were wont as a rule to
accept the change from the hardships of their former rough existence to
the comparative comfort of the mission, if not exactly in a spirit of
gratitude, at any rate with a certain brutal contentment.
XII.
It does not fall within the scope of this little sketch, in which
nothing more has been aimed at than to tell an interesting story in the
simplest possible way, to enter into any discussion of a question to
which what has just been said might naturally seem to lead - the
question, namely, of the results, immediate and remote, of the mission
system in California. The widely divergent conclusions on this subject
registered by the historians will, on investigation, be found, as in
most such cases, to depend quite as much upon bias of mind and
preconceived ideals, as upon the bare facts presented, concerning which,
one would imagine, there can hardly be much difference of opinion. To
decide upon the value of a given social experiment, we must, to begin
with, wake up our minds as to what we should wish to see achieved; and
where there is no unanimity concerning the object to be reached, there
will scarcely be any in respect of the means employed. It is not to be
wondered at, therefore, that critical judgment upon the Franciscan
missionaries and their work has been given here in terms of unqualified
laudation, and there in the form of severest disapproval, and that
everyone who touches the topic afresh is expected to take sides. In
their favor it must, I think, be universally admitted that they wrought
always with the highest motives and the noblest intentions, and that
their labours were really fruitful of much good among the native tribes.
On the other hand, when regarded from the standpoint of secular
progress, it seems equally certain that their work was sadly hampered by
narrowness of outlook and understanding, and an utter want of
appreciation of the demands and conditions of the modern world. Thus
while we give them the fullest credit for all that they accomplished by
their teachings and example, we have still frankly to acknowledge their
failure in the most important and most difficult part of their
undertaking - in the task of transforming many thousands of ignorant and
degraded savages into self-respecting men and women, fit for the duties
and responsibilities of civilization. Yet to put it in this way is to
show sharply enough that such failure is not hastily to be set down to
their discredit. It is often said, indeed, that they went altogether the
wrong way to work for the achievement of the much-desired result; and it
is unquestionably true, as La Pérouse long ago pointed out, that they
made the fundamental, but with them inevitable mistake, of sacrificing
the temporal and material welfare of the natives to the consideration of
so-called "heavenly interests." Yet in common fairness we must remember
the stuff with which they had to deal. The Indian was by nature a child
and a slave; and if, out of children and slaves they did not at once
manufacture independent and law-abiding citizens, is it for us, who have
not yet exhibited triumphant success in handling the same problem under
far more favorable conditions, to cover them with our contempt, or
dismiss them with our blame? Civilization is at best a slow and painful
affair, as we half-civilized people ought surely to understand by this
time - a matter not of individuals and years, but of generations and
centuries; and nothing permanent has ever yet been gained by any
attempt, how promising soever it may have seemed, to force the natural
processes of social evolution. The mission padres bore the cross from
point to point along the far-off Pacific coast; they built churches,
they founded settlements, they gave their strength to the uplifting of
the heathen. Little that was enduring came out of all this toil. Perhaps
this was partly because their methods were shortsighted, their means
inadequate to the ends proposed. But when we remember that they had set
their hands to an almost impossible task, we shall perhaps be inclined
rather to acknowledge their partial success, than to deal harshly with
them on the score of their manifest failure.
Be all this as it may, however, the missions of California passed away,
leaving practically nothing behind them but a memory. Yet this is surely
a memory to be cherished by all who feel a pious reverence for the past,
and whose hearts are responsive to the sense of tears that there is in
mortal things. And alike for those who live beneath the blue skies of
California, and for those who wander awhile as visitors among her scenes
of wonder and enchantment, the old mission buildings will ever be
objects of curious and unique interest. Survivals from a by-gone era,
embodiments not only of the purposes of their founders, but of the faith
which built the great cathedrals of Europe, they stand pathetic figures
in a world to which they do not seem to belong. In the noise and bustle
of the civilization which is taking possession of what was once their
territory, they have no share. The life about them looks towards the
future. They point mutely to the past. A tender sentiment clings about
them; in their hushed enclosures we breathe a drowsy old-world
atmosphere of peace; to linger within their walls, to muse in their
graveyards, is to step out of the noisy present into the silence of
departed years. In a land where everything is of yesterday, and whose
marvellous natural beauties are but rarely touched with the associations
of history or charms of romance, these things have a subtle and peculiar
power - a magic not to be resisted by any one who turns aside for an
hour or two from the highways of the modern world, to dream among the
scenes where the old padres toiled and died. And as in imagination he
there calls up the ghostly figures of neophyte and soldier and priest,
now busy with the day's task-work, now kneeling at twilight mass in the
dimly-lighted chapel; as the murmur of strange voices and the faint
music of bell and chant steal in upon his ears; he will hardly fail to
realize that, however much or little the Franciscan missionaries
accomplished for California, they have passed down to our prosaic
after-generation a legacy of poetry, whereof the sweetness will not soon
die away.
The End.
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