The Footsteps of the Stranger
At no point does the early history of California come in contact with
that of the colonies of the Eastern coast of the United States. The
nearest approach to such contact was in the year 1789, when Captain
Arguello, commander of the presidio of San Francisco, received the
following orders from the governor of the province:--
“Should there arrive at your port a ship named Columbia, which, they
say, belongs to General Washington of the American States, you will
take measures to secure the vessel with all the people aboard with
discretion, tact, cleverness, and caution.” As the Columbia failed to
enter the Californian port, the Spanish commander had no chance to try
his wits and guns with those of the Yankee captain.
It would seem as though the Californians lived for a time in fear of
their Eastern neighbors, since prayers were offered at some of the
missions that the people be preserved from “Los Americanos;” but after
the coming of the first two or three American ships, when trade began
to be established, there arose the kindliest feeling between the New
England traders and the Californians. The ship Otter, from Boston, which
came to the coast in 1796, was the first vessel from the United States
to anchor in a California port.
La Perouse, in command of a French scientific expedition, was the
first foreigner of prominence to visit California. Of his visit, which
occurred in the fall of 1786, he writes in his journal: “The governor
put into the execution of his orders in regard to, us a graciousness and
air of interest that merits from us the liveliest acknowledgments, and
the padres were as kind to us as the officers. We were invited to dine
at the Mission San Carlos, two leagues from Monterey, were received upon
our arrival there like lords of a parish visiting their estates. The
president of the missions, clad in his robe, met us at the door of the
church, which was illuminated as for the grandest festival. We were led
to the foot of the altar and the Te Deum chanted in thanksgiving for the
happy issue of our voyage.”
La Perouse’s account of the country, the people, and the missions is
of great value in giving us a picture of these times. In regard to the
Indians he said that he wished the padres might teach them, besides the
principles of the Christian religion, some facts about law and civil
government, “Although,” said he, “I admit that their progress would be
very slow, the pains which it would be necessary to take very hard and
tiresome.”
Captain Vancouver, with two vessels of the British navy, bound on
an exploring voyage round the world, was the next stranger to visit,
California. So much did he enjoy the courtesy of the Spanish officers
that when his map of the coast came out it was found that he had honored
his hosts of San Francisco and Monterey by naming for them two leading
capes of the territory, one Point Arguello and the other Point Sal.
As early as 1781 Russia had settlements in Sitka and adjacent islands,
for the benefit of its fur traders, and in 1805 the Czar sent a young
officer of his court to look into the condition of these trading posts.
Count Rezanof found the people suffering and saw that unless food was
brought to them promptly, they would die from starvation. San Francisco
was the nearest port, and though he knew that Spain did not allow trade
with foreign countries, the Russian determined to make the attempt to
get supplies there. Loading a vessel with goods which had been brought
out for the Indian trade of the north coast, he sailed southward. The
story of his visit is well told by Bret Harte in his beautiful poem,
“Concepcion de Arguello.”
Rezanof was warmly welcomed and generously entertained by Commander
Arguello of the presidio of San Francisco, but in vain did he try to
trade off his cargo for food for his starving people. The governor and
his officers dared not disobey the laws of Spain in regard to foreign
trade. While they were arguing and debating, however, something happened
which changed their views. The Count fell in love with the commander’s
beautiful daughter, Concepcion. Then, as the poem has it,--
“. . . points of gravest import yielded slowly one by one, And by Love
was consummated what Diplomacy begun.”
It seemed to the governor that the man who was to be son-in-law in the
powerful family of Arguello could not be considered as a foreigner, and
therefore the law need not apply in his case. Thus the Count got his
ship load of food and sailed away, promising to return as soon as
possible for his betrothed wife. One of the most interesting pictures of
early California is the poem which tells of this pathetic love story.
Count Rezanof was so pleased with the beauty and fertility of California
that his letters interested the Czar, who decided to found a colony on
the coast. An exploring expedition was sent out, and the territory about
Russian River in Sonoma County was purchased of the Indians for three
blankets, three pairs of trousers, two axes, three hoes, and some beads.
Fort Ross was the main settlement, and was the home of the governor,
his officers and their families, all accomplished, intelligent men
and women. Besides the soldiers there were a number of mechanics and a
company of natives from the Aleutian Islands, who were employed by the
Russians to hunt the otter. Up and down the coast roamed these wild
sea hunters, even collecting their furry game in San Francisco Bay and
defying the comandante of the presidio, who had no boats with which
to pursue them, and so could do nothing but fume and write letters of
remonstrance to the governor of Fort Ross. Spain, and later Mexico,
looked with disfavor and suspicion upon the Russian settlement, but
the people of California were always ready for secret trade with their
northern neighbors.
In 1816 Otto von Kotzebue, captain of the Russian ship Rurik, visited
San Francisco and was entertained by the comandante, Lieutenant
Luis Arguello. With Captain Kotzebue was the German poet, Albert von
Chamisso.
The Russian captain, with brighter faith and keener insight than any
other of the early visitors to the coast, says of the country: “It
has hitherto been the fate of these regions to remain unnoticed; but
posterity will do them justice; towns and cities will flourish where
all is now desert; the waters over which scarcely a solitary boat is
yet seen to glide will reflect the flags of all nations; and a happy,
prosperous people receiving with thankfulness what prodigal nature
bestows for their use will dispense her treasures over every part of the
world.”
In the writings of Albert von Chamisso can be found a most interesting
description of his visit. To him is due the honor of giving to our
Californian poppy its botanical name.
In 1841, the supply of otter having become exhausted, the Russians sold
their property and claims about Fort Ross to the Swiss emigrant,
the genial John Sutter. In 1903, through the agency of the Landmarks
Society, this property and its still well-preserved buildings came into
the possession of the state of California.
As early as 1826 there were a number of foreigners settled in
California. These were mostly men from Great Britain or the United
States who had married California women and lived and often dressed like
their Spanish-speaking neighbors. Captain John Sutter, the Swiss who
bought out the Russians of Fort Ross, came to California in 1839. He
obtained from the Mexican government an extensive grant of land about
the present site of Sacramento, and here he erected the famous Sutter’s
Fort where all newcomers, were made welcome and, if they desired, given
work under this kindest of masters. Around the fort, which was armed
with cannon bought from the Russians, he built a high stockade. He
gained the good will of the Indians and had their young men drilled
daily in military tactics by a German officer.
Governor Alvarado, at the time of his revolution in 1837, had in his
forces, under a leader named Graham, a company of wandering Americans,
trappers and hunters of the roughest type. Although there was no real
war, and no fighting occurred, yet when Alvarado and his party were
successful, Graham and his men demanded large rewards, and because the
governor would not satisfy them they began to persecute him in every way
possible. Alvarado says: “I was insulted at every turn by the drunken
followers of Graham; when I walked in my garden they would climb on
the wall and call upon me in terms of the greatest familiarity, ‘Ho,
Bautista, come here, I want to speak to you.’ It was ‘Bautista’ here,
‘Bautista’ there.”
To express dissatisfaction they held meetings in which they talked
loudly about their country’s getting possession of the land, until
Governor Alvarado, having good reason to believe that they were plotting
a revolution, expelled them from the territory and sent them to Mexico.
The United States took up the defense of the exiles and insisted on
their being returned to California. It does not seem that the
better class of Americans who had been long residents of the country
sympathized with Graham and his followers, but from this time there were
less kindly relations between the Californians and the citizens of the
United States who came into the territory.
We come now to the story of the conquest.
At the beginning of the year 1845 the United States and Mexico were on
the verge of war over Texas, which had been formerly a Mexican province,
but through the influence of American settlers had rebelled, declaring
itself an independent state, and had applied for admission to the
American Union. Because the question of slavery was concerned in this
application, it caused intense excitement throughout the United
States. The South was determined to have the new territory come in as a
slave-holding state, while the men of the North opposed the annexation
of another acre of slave land.
Eight Northern legislatures protested against its admission. Twelve
leading senators of the North declared that “it would result in the
dissolution of the United States and would justify it.” On the other
hand, the South resolved that “it would be better to be out of the Union
with Texas than in it without her.” The South won its point. Texas was
admitted, and at once a dispute with Mexico arose over the boundary
lines, and war at length followed, being brought on in a measure by the
entrance of United States troops into the disputed territory. During
the long discussion over Texas the United States was having trouble
with Great Britain over Oregon, which was then the whole country lying
between the Mexican province of California and the Russian possessions
on the north coast (now Alaska). Before the invention of steam cars and
the construction of railroads, the Pacific coast region had been thought
of little value. The popular idea was expressed by Webster when he said:
“What do we want of this vast, worthless area, this region of savages
and wild beasts, of deserts, of shifting sands and whirlwinds of dust,
of cactus and prairie dogs?” But now the United States was waking up,
and things looked different. Of Oregon the Americans were determined
to have at least a portion. California, so far away from Mexico and so
poorly governed, they would like to take under their protection,--at
least the region around the great Bay of San Francisco.
As early as 1840 the United States government urged its consul at
Monterey, an American named Larkin, secretly to influence the leading
Californians to follow the example of Texas, secede from Mexico, and
join the United States, where he was to assure them they would receive a
brother’s welcome. Just as he felt he might be successful his plans were
overthrown.
One morning in 1842 there came sailing into Monterey Bay two American
men-of-war. Suddenly, to the consternation of those watching from the
shore, one of the ships was seen to fire upon an outgoing Mexican sloop.
After making it captive the three vessels proceeded to the anchorage.
Great was the excitement in Monterey. Neither the comandante nor the
American consul could imagine the reason for such strange conduct. It
was soon explained, however, by the arrival of a ship’s boat bringing an
officer who delivered to the authorities a demand for the surrender
of the fort and place to the American commander of the Pacific fleet,
Commodore Jones, who was on board one of the newly arrived vessels.
The Mexican officials and the officers of the army were astonished; so,
too, was the United States consul. They knew of no war between these
countries. Since he had neither men nor arms to resist this strange
demand, Alvarado, who was acting for the absent governor, gave orders
to surrender, and the next day the Mexican flag and forces gave place to
those of the United States.
After the ceremony of taking possession, Commodore Jones had a talk
with the American consul, Mr. Larkin, and learned to his dismay that the
letters upon which he had acted and which indicated that war had been
declared were misleading, and from the latest news it was evident that
there was peace between the two countries.
The commodore saw at once that he had made a serious mistake, “a breach
of the faith of nations,” as it was called, which was liable to involve
the United States in grave difficulties. How best to undo his rash
action was now his thought.
He apologized to the Mexican commander and gave back possession of the
fort. Next, he had the unhappy task of taking down the American flag and
replacing it with the cactus and eagle banner of Mexico, to which the
guns of his vessels gave a salute of honor. From Monterey he sailed
away to San Pedro. There he waited while he sent a messenger to Governor
Micheltorena, who was living in Los Angeles, asking permission to
call upon him and apologize in person. This request was granted, and
Commodore Jones and his staff came up to Los Angeles, where they were
the guests of their countryman, Don Abel Stearns, who, as he had been
working with Consul Larkin to win the Californians to the United States,
was most anxious to undo the mischief of the flag raising. For the
benefit of this history, Dona Arcadia Bandini, who was the beautiful
Spanish wife of Mr. Stearns, tells the story of the visit:--
“We gave a dinner to the governor, the commodore, and their attendants.
Everything was very friendly; they seemed to enjoy themselves, and the
uniforms of the two countries were very handsome. On the next day but
one the governor gave a ball. It was to be at his home, which was the
only two-story house in Los Angeles. To show the Americans how patriotic
the people of California were, the governor requested in the invitations
that all the ladies wear white with a scarf of the Mexican colors,--red,
green, and white. Of course we gladly complied, though some of us had to
work hard to get our costumes ready.
“The day of the ball came, but with it came rain, such a storm as I
never had seen. As it drew toward evening the water came down faster and
faster. The governor had the only carriage in California, and this he
was to send for the commodore, Mr. Stearns, Isadora, and myself; but
the poor young officers had to walk, and their faces were long when they
looked out at the rain and then down at their fine uniforms and shining
boots.
“Our California horses were not trained to pull loads and would not work
in the rain, so when the carriage came for us it was drawn by a number
of the governor’s Cholo soldiers. We got in quite safely, and it was
only a short distance we had to go, but as I was getting out the wind
suddenly changed and down came a torrent of water on me. It was clear
that I could not go to the ball in that condition, but the governor
immediately ordered the soldiers to pull the carriage back to my home,
where I soon made another toilet. The ball was delightful. The governor
and the commodore vied with each other in exchanging compliments and
courtesies.”
It was a sad fact, however, that in spite of apologies, dinners, and
balls, Consul Larkin now found it difficult to persuade his California
neighbors that the United States looked upon them as brothers, and they
began to regard with suspicion the host of American emigrants who were
coming into the territory.
In 1842 Lieutenant Fremont, under orders from the United States
government, made the first of his wonderful journeys over deserts and
rough mountain ranges into the great unknown West. Soon he was to become
famous, not only in his own country but in Europe, as the “Pathfinder,”
the road maker of the West. Already many an Oregon emigrant had blessed
the name of Fremont for making plain the trail for himself and his loved
ones.
In 1846 Captain Fremont, conducting an exploring and scientific
expedition, entered California with sixty men and encamped in the valley
of the San Joaquin. Later he moved down into the heart of the California
settlements and encamped on the Salinas River. Possibly, knowing that
war would soon be declared between his country and Mexico, he had
determined to see as much of the enemy’s position as possible, not
caring particularly what the Mexican authorities might think.
As a natural result, General Castro, commander of the California forces,
objected; Fremont defied him, and there seemed a likelihood of immediate
war. There was no actual fighting, however, and in a day or two Fremont
continued his journey toward Oregon.
He had gone but a little way when he was overtaken by a captain of the
navy named Gillespie, bringing him letters from the officers of the
government at Washington. Upon reading these, Fremont immediately turned
about and marched swiftly back to Sutter’s Fort, where he encamped. Just
what orders the messages from Washington contained, no one knows; but it
is thought that perhaps they informed Fremont that war would be declared
very soon and that the government would be pleased if he could quietly
get possession of California.
If this was so, he had the best of reasons for his later actions.
If not, then in his eagerness to obtain for his country the valuable
territory he so well appreciated and in his desire to win for himself
the honor of gaining it, he brought on a war that caused the loss of
many lives and much property, and the growth of a feeling of bitterness
and distrust between Americans and Californians that has not yet
entirely passed away. Still it is by no means certain that California
could have been won without fighting, even had Fremont and the American
settlers been more patient.
Soon many Americans were gathered about Fremont’s camp; but though there
were a number of rumors as to what General Castro was going to do to
them, there was no action contrary to the previous kindly treatment all
had received from the hands of the Californians. Still the emigrants
felt that as soon as war was declared an army from Mexico might come up
which would not be so considerate of them and their families as had been
their California neighbors.
Having good reason to feel certain that Fremont would stand back of them
if they began the fight, a company of Americans attacked one of Castro’s
officers, who, with a few men, was taking a band of horses to Monterey.
Securing the horses, but letting the men who had them in charge get
away, they hurried them to Fremont’s camp, where they left them while
they went on to Sonoma. Here they made prisoner General Vallejo,
commander of that department of the territory, together with his brother
and staff.
General Vallejo was one of the leading Californians of the north, a man
of fine character, quiet and conservative, generous toward the needy
emigrants and favorable to annexation with the United States. When he
saw the rough character of the men surrounding his house that Sunday
morning, he was at first somewhat alarmed. A man named Semple, who was
one of the attacking party, describing the event in a Monterey paper
sometime afterward, says: “Most of us were dressed in leather hunting
shirts, many were very greasy, and all were heavily armed. We were about
as rough a looking set of men as one could well imagine.” When they
assured the general that they were acting under orders from Fremont, he
seemed to feel no more anxiety, gave up his keys, and arranged for
the protection of the people of his settlement. He was first taken to
Fremont’s headquarters, then for safe keeping was sent on to Sutter’s
Fort.
Meanwhile the party which had been left in charge of affairs at Sonoma
chose one of their number, a man named Ide, as their leader. Realizing
that they had begun a war, they felt the need of a flag, and not
daring to use that of the United States, they proceeded to make one for
themselves. For their emblem they chose the strongest and largest of the
animals of California, the grizzly bear. The flag was made of a Mexican
rebosa or scarf of unbleached muslin about a yard in width and five feet
long. To the bottom of this they sewed a strip of red flannel; in one
corner they outlined a five-pointed star, and facing it a grizzly bear.
These were filled in with red ink and under them in black letters
were the words “California Republic.” The temporary government of
the followers of the Bear Flag is generally known as the “Bear Flag
Republic.”
As soon as it seemed probable that the Californians under General
Castro were marching to attack the Americans, Captain Fremont joined his
countrymen, and from that time the United States flag took the place of
the banner of the bear. A little later Captain Fremont took the presidio
and port of San Francisco, and to him is due the honor of naming
beautiful Golden Gate.
About two weeks after the capture of Sonoma, Commodore Sloat, with
two vessels of the United States navy, entered the harbor of Monterey.
Although he had come for the purpose of taking the territory for his
country, and had orders to see to it that England did not get possession
of California ahead of him, yet he had been cautioned to deal kindly
with the Californians, and he hesitated to take decided steps. It took
him six days to make up his mind, and then he came to a decision
partly on account of the actions of Fremont and his men. Slowly up the
flagstaff on the fort of Monterey rose the Stars and Stripes. Unfolded
by the sea breeze, the beautiful flag of the United States waved again
over the land of the padres, and this time to stay. A few days later
Commodore Stockton reached California to take command in place of
Commodore Sloat, who returned home. Stockton appointed Fremont commander
of the American forces on land, and together they completed the conquest
of the territory.
It was unfortunate that Commodore Stockton had so lately arrived from
the East that he did not fully understand the state of affairs. As he
believed the wild rumors which, falsely, accused the Californians of
treachery and cruelty, his proclamations were harsh and unjust to
the proud but kindly people whom he was conquering. Many of the late
historians find much to blame in the treatment given by the Americans
to the people of California. Severity was often used when kindness would
have had far better effect.
Los Angeles and San Diego were taken by Stockton and Fremont without
any fighting, and leaving a few troops in the south, both commanders
returned to Monterey. They were soon recalled by the news that the
people of Los Angeles had risen against the harsh rule of Captain
Gillespie, who had been left in command; that the Americans had
surrendered but had been allowed to retire to San Pedro, and that all
the south was in a state of active rebellion.
Landing at San Pedro, Stockton waited a few days, then fearing the
enemy was too strong for his forces, sailed away to San Diego. Here the
Americans received a hearty welcome, and much-needed assistance, from
the Spanish families of Bandini and Arguello.
Mr. Bandini escorted a body of the United States troops to his home
rancho on the peninsula of Lower California, where he gave them cattle
and other food supplies. For this aid to the invaders he was forced to
remove his family from their home there, and on the journey up to San
Diego. Mrs. Bandini made what was probably the first American flag
ever constructed in California. As they neared San Diego the officer in
command discovered that he had neglected to take with him a flag. He did
not wish to enter the settlement without one, and when the matter was
explained to Mrs. Bandini, who was journeying in a carreta with her
maids and children, she offered to supply the need.
From the handbag on her arm came needle, thimble, thread, and scissors,
and from the clothing of her little ones the necessary red, white, and
blue cloth. Under the direction of the young officer she soon had a
very fair-looking flag, and beneath its folds the party marched into
the town. That night the band of the flagship Congress serenaded Mrs.
Bandini in her San Diego home, and the next day Commodore Stockton
called to thank her in person. The flag, it is said, he sent to
Washington, where it is still to be found with other California
trophies.
The most severe battle of the war in the state of California was fought
on the San Pasqual rancho in San Diego County. The forces engaged
were those of General Andres Pico, who commanded the Californians, and
General Stephen Kearny, who had marched overland, entered the territory
on the southwest, and was on his way to join Stockton. Hearing that the
country was conquered and the fighting over, the American officer had
sent back about two hundred of his men, but he was afterward reinforced
by Captain Gillespie and fifty men sent by Stockton to meet him. Several
American officers were killed in the battle of San Pasqual, and their
brave commander severely wounded.
Commodore Stockton, on his march from San Diego to Los Angeles, twice
engaged the enemy, once at the crossing of the San Gabriel River and
once on the Laguna rancho just east of the city. The Californians
behaved with great bravery. All of them were poorly armed, many having
only lances and no fire-arms, and what powder they had was almost
worthless; yet three times they dashed upon the square of steadily
firing United States marines.
This was the last battle in the territory. The Californians retreated
across the hills to the present site of Pasadena. Here, at the little
adobe house on the banks of the Arroyo Seco, they separated. General
Flores, their commander, was to ride with his staff through the stormy
night, down El Camino Real toward Mexico. General Andres Pico, upon whom
devolved the duty of surrender, was to ride with his associates to the
old Cahuenga ranch house, the first station on the highway from Los
Angeles to Santa Barbara. There he met Captain Fremont, and the treaty
was signed which closed hostilities. The terms proposed by Fremont were
favorable for the Californians and did much to make way for a peaceful
settlement of all difficulties.