EARLY EXPLORATIONS IN CALIFORNIA, NEW MEXICO, AND ARIZONA.
HAVING traced the course of early discovery from the most southerly
point of Florida to the mouths of the Mississippi on the west, and up
the Atlantic coast to the 60th parallel of north latitude, from the
Gulf of St. Lawrence to the central table-lands of North America in
Minnesota and down the Father of Waters to the sea, we will complete
our survey of the work done in the first two centuries after the
discovery of Columbus by turning to the South-west, which from the
first presented special difficulties to the explorers, on account of
the rugged nature of its scenery and the persistent hostility of its
inhabitants.
From Mexico went forth the first authenticated expeditions for the
exploration of the districts now forming the south-western states of
North America, and to the restless ambition of Cortes may be traced
much of the hatred of the white man which still distinguishes the
Apaches, Pueblos, Shoshones, and other aboriginal tribes of New Mexico,
Arizona, and California.
As early as 1530, the conqueror of Mexico, anxious to retrieve his
waning greatness by new discoveries to the northward, sent forth two
brigantines, under Diego de Hurtado, to explore the coast above the
25th parallel of north latitude. These first vessels were wrecked, and
their commander lost; but, nothing daunted, Cortes at once equipped
two others to take their place, which put to sea in 1534, under
two captains, named Grijalva and Mendoza. The former is supposed to
have reached the northern portion of the Gulf of California, but the
latter was murdered by his pilot, Ximenes, who afterward landed on
the coast of California, where he and many of his men ♦were killed by
the natives. The survivors returned to Mexico with wonderful stories
of their adventures and the wealth of the districts visited, which
so inflamed the imagination of Cortes, that he soon afterward himself
started for the North with three well-manned vessels.
♦ ‘where’ replaced with ‘were’
Illustration: FERDINAND CORTES.
A disastrous result ensued. Two of the ships were wrecked, and when
about to prosecute his voyage in the third, Cortes was recalled to
Mexico by a rebellion which had broken out in his absence. A little
later, however, a certain Francisco de Ulloa, who had been throughout
the companion of Cortes, spent a year in cruising about the Gulf of
California, and discovered it to terminate in N. lat. 32°, in a bay
resembling the Adriatic, to which he gave the name of the Sea of
Cortes.
In 1537, a new impulse was given to the flagging interest of the
Spanish in the unknown districts to the north by the arrival at the
Mexican capital of our old acquaintance, Alvaro Nunez, fresh from his
wonderful experiences in Florida. His stories of his adventures, and,
still more, his repetition of the rumors of gold in plenty somewhere
on the north of the Gulf of Mexico, led to the sending forth in the
following year of a monk named Fra Marco da Nizza, with orders to find
out “what there was in the extensive regions beyond Mexico.”
Starting from Culiacan, then the most northern Spanish settlement in
Mexico, Da Nizza, accompanied by several Spaniards and a few Indian
guides, made his painful way, first through plains already desolated
by the incursions of his fellow-countrymen, and thence into the
territory now called Arizona, on the borders of which he was met by
some natives of California, who told him falsely, as it turned out,
that their home was on an island, and that its shores were washed by
waters abounding in pearls.
Encouraged by this intelligence, Da Nizza passed on till he came
to the encampment of a tribe of Indians who had never seen a white
man, but who received him courteously, informing him that forty days’
journey to the north, on the other side of lofty mountains, there
existed a vast plain full of cities inhabited by a people whose
wealth far exceeded their own. Passing on in search of this new El
Dorado, the Father was presently met by some Indians from the plain
in question, who confirmed all that he had already been told, and,
pointing to some gold ornaments he carried with him, assured him
that their land abounded in similar objects. Cevola, or Cibola, was
the nearest and largest of their cities. It contained lofty stone
houses, large places, etc.; in a word, it seemed likely to be a second
Tenotchitlan; and, after a consultation with his companions, Da Nizza
resolved to send one of them, Stefano Dorantes, on in advance, with an
escort of three hundred Indians, to announce his own approach, hoping
thus to enhance the _eclat_ of his own entry with a view to obtaining
a larger tribute for his employer.
The first part only of this programme was carried out. As Da Nizza was
approaching the capital, a few days after his envoy had left him, he
was met by an Indian, who told him that, on entering the city in all
the pomp of ringing bells and waving plumes, Dorantes and his escort
were seized by the people, stripped of all they possessed, and flung
into prison. On their attempting to escape, they were shot down by
arrows, and but few lived to tell the tale.
Resolved, in spite of the awful fate of Dorantes, not to return to
Mexico without seeing Cibola, Da Nizza now disguised himself, and,
accompanied by two attendants as brave as himself, he succeeded in
approaching near enough to the scene of the massacre to be convinced
that there had been no exaggeration in the reports of the wealth
of the people of the plain. Secretly setting up a little cross as a
witness of his visit, and a sign that the country henceforth belonged
to Spain, Da Nizza now retraced his steps, narrowly escaping death at
the hands of the Indians whose comrades had formed part of his unlucky
escort, but finally arriving safely at Culiacan, there to arouse a
perfect fever of enthusiasm by his account of all he had seen and
heard.
Illustration: CITY OF MEXICO.
Two years later, a costly expedition to Cibola, consisting of some two
thousand adventurers, was fitted out by Mendoza, the Viceroy, who had
superseded Cortes in the supreme command in Mexico. This expedition
was divided into two parts, one of which, under Fernando di Alarchon,
proceeded up the coast in well equipped vessels, while the other,
under Vasquez de Coronado, proceeded overland by the same route as
that taken by Da Nizza.
Sailing up the Vermilion Sea, or the Sea of Cortes, as the Gulf of
California was then called, Alarchon presently came to the mouth of
a large river, probably the Colorado, flowing into the head of the
gulf in N. lat. 32° 10′. Entering the river, the Spanish were soon
brought to a stand-still by the appearance on its banks of numbers
of well-armed natives, who, with threatening gestures, forbade the
intruders to advance further into their country.
Making conciliatory signs, however, Alarchon was able to open a parley,
and an old man came forth from among the gesticulating crowds, stepped
into the water, and presented Alarchon with a staff. This, it appeared,
answered to the calumet of the inland tribes, and, accepting it with
an embrace to the donor, Alarchon gave its bearer some rosaries, which
were eagerly carried ashore, though their spiritual significance is
scarcely likely to have been appreciated.
A good understanding having been thus established between the natives
and their guests, the white men were allowed to proceed up the river.
Some little distance from its mouth, the explorers met an Indian who
knew the language of some of the native escort, and by this means
intelligible communications were opened with the people. As their
brethren had done in the South, the Spaniards gave out that they were
the Children of the Sun, sent by the life-giving Deity to rule over
the natives of Arizona. Asked how it was they had so long delayed
their coming, and, having come, could not speak the language of their
subjects, they replied in an evasive yet reassuring manner. In due
course a second Indian joined the party, who not only knew all about
Cibola, but had even heard of Da Nizza’s expedition. From him Alarchon
learned that he was but ten days’ journey from the great city, and
he tried to persuade some of his companions to cross the country and
communicate with Coronado, who must by this time have been within
easy reach. No one could, however, be induced to make the venture, and
Alarchon――somewhat rashly, as it seems to us――resolved to turn back.
Sailing down the river, he returned to Mexico, having accomplished
next to nothing.
Meanwhile, Coronado had bravely led his troops over the rugged
mountainous districts of the north of Mexico, and in spite of much
murmuring on their part on account of the hardships endured by the way,
he had brought them safely to the plain of the Seven Cities. Here, on
the very eve of success, he was met by a large force of armed Cibolans,
who rejected all his efforts at conciliation. In the battle which
ensued, the Spaniards were finally victorious, and the city of Cibola
was taken; but Coronado was dangerously wounded in the assault, and
the long hoped-for plunder was nowhere to be found. Cibola was but a
large village, situated on a lofty and bleak plain, yielding plenty
of grass, maize, and pebbles of rock crystal, but no gold, silver, or
precious stones.
As soon as he could travel, Coronado, disguising his disappointment as
best he could, took possession of Cibola in the name of his Catholic
Majesty of Spain, and collected information on all sides as to the
nature of the country beyond the plain of the cities. Learning that a
great town called Quivira existed somewhere on the coast, he led his
men to a distance of about 300 leagues through a level and somewhat
barren country, finally arriving at the town in question, which turned
out to be really large and wealthy, though its riches consisted in
a fine breed of cattle, not in the precious metals and minerals for
which the Spaniards had hoped.
Feeling that he had now accomplished something, Coronado then led
his forces back to Mexico. As usual, very exaggerated reports were
circulated by his followers as to what they had seen and done; and
though its site has never yet been ascertained, Quivira was the goal
of many a future expedition.
The next hero to attempt to penetrate to the North-west was Juan
Rodriguez Cabrillo, a Portuguese mariner, sent out in 1542 by the
indefatigable Mendoza. After rounding the modern Cape St. Lucas,
Cabrillo sailed along the coast of California as far as N. lat.
40° 30′, where he saw two lofty snow-clad mountains, between which
projected the now well-known modern headland to which he gave the name
of Cape Mendocino, in honor of his employer. Sailing on beyond Cape
Mendocino, Cabrillo was compelled, four degrees further north, to
turn back, on account of the extreme cold. He arrived in Mexico in the
spring of 1543, after ten months’ absence, his voyage justly entitling
him to be called the discoverer of Northern California, though that
honor is usually claimed for our fellow-countryman, Sir Francis Drake,
who, thirty-six years later, touched at Point de los Reyes, and, in
ignorance of his predecessor’s work, took possession of the country he
thought he had discovered in the name of Queen Elizabeth, christening
it New Albion.
In 1596, Mendoza’s successor, Conde de Monterey, sent an expedition
consisting of three vessels, under Sebastian Viscaino, to California,
with a view to opening friendly relations with the natives. Crossing
the lower portion of the Gulf of California, and rounding Cape St.
Lucas, as Cabrillo had done before him, Viscaino soon came to a good
harbor, which he named first St. Sebastian and then La Paz. After
taking possession of the country for the King of Spain, by firing
cannons and hoisting standards, the explorer allowed four Franciscan
friars to admit such of the natives as were willing to the Holy
Catholic Church, the simple people gazing with wondering admiration
at the unintelligible ceremonies performed on their behalf. This
double conquest made for the State and Church of his sovereign,
Viscaino continued his voyage up the north-eastern coast; but a
misunderstanding with the natives, and the failure of his provisions,
compelled him shortly to return to Mexico. In 1602, however, he
started again, this time at the head of a thoroughly well-organized
expedition; and after a flying visit to the converts at La Paz, he
sailed leisurely up the coast of California, discovering the harbor
of San Diego (N. lat. 32° 47′) on the 10th November, and the Bay of
Monterey (N. lat. 36° 33′), so named after the Viceroy, on the 16th
December.
At Monterey, the expedition received an unfortunate check by the
breaking out of scurvy among the crew of the fleet. The terrible
symptoms of this disease, the cause and cure of which were then alike
unknown, so appalled the Spaniards, that all but a few entreated to
be taken back to Mexico. Their request was granted, one vessel alone,
the _Capitana_, under Viscaino himself, prosecuting the voyage. A
miserable remnant of those who had been stricken with the now only
too familiar seamen’s complaint were landed on the Mexican shores,
and when for many months no tidings came of the _Capitana_, it was
supposed that she was lost with all on board. Very different, however,
had been her experience from that of her consorts. Viscaino took
his vessel far away to the north, discovering in N. lat. 42° 51′ yet
another great headland, to which he gave the name of Cape Blanco, and
some miles beyond it again the mouth of a mighty river, supposed to
have been the Columbia, and to have been identical with the fabulous
Strait of Anian, by which, tradition says, the Dutch had penetrated
from the northern to the southern sea.
Unable, from want of provisions, to penetrate further northward, or
to ascend the newly-discovered river, the successful explorer now
retraced his course, arriving at the island of Mazatlan, off the
north-western coast of Mexico, with his men in good health, though
much reduced by famine. Refreshed by the hospitality of the friendly
people of Mazatlan, Viscaino and his men now hastened to report
themselves to the Viceroy, and to beg for permission to make yet
another trip at the leader’s own expense.
Incredible as it may appear, this request was refused; and though,
many years afterward, Viscaino was asked to lead another expedition,
the delay proved fatal, for the gallant explorer died on the eve of
setting sail.
With the death of Viscaino the first chapter of discovery in the
south-west of North America may be said to have been closed. The next
well-authenticated voyage up the western coast was that in which a
Greek pilot named Juan de Fuca took part, and from whom Mr. Lok, an
Englishman much interested in geographical discovery, obtained an
account of his adventures many years after they took place. According
to De Fuca, he made a voyage in 1592 through the long-sought Straits
of Anian, situated between the 47th and 48th parallels of north
latitude, beyond which his vessel entered the North Sea. That a
voyage was made in this direction, though not with this result, seems
proved by the exact correspondence of Queen Charlotte’s Sound, between
Vancouver Island and the mainland, with De Fuca’s description of the
channel turning, now west, now north-west. For the North Sea read
the North Pacific, and the experience of many a future mariner is
anticipated. The naming of the straits dividing the southern portion
of Vancouver Island from what is now Washington Territory after De
Fuca is a conclusive expression of the verdict of geographers on the
matter.
Another voyage from the South was that of Admiral de Fonte, who
is thought by some authorities to have penetrated as far north as
the 53d degree, where his vessel was in great danger, owing to the
multitude of islands impeding its progress. Captain Barnardo, the
second in command to De Fonte, carefully explored the winding of this
archipelago, while De Fonte entered a large river leading into a vast
lake also dotted with islands, in a bay of which he found an English
ship lying at anchor, the first, according to the Indians, ever seen
in these high latitudes.
On the latter portion of this story great doubt has been thrown; but
again we are almost compelled to accept the truth of a visit having
been paid to the labyrinth of islands, channels, etc., now bearing
the names of Graham, Moresby, and other modern explorers, from the
correspondence between their appearance and the description of his
archipelago given by De Fonte.
Leaving the work of Behring, Spangberg, Meares, Vancouver, Kotzebue,
and other successors of De Fuca and De Fonte in the hyperborean
regions, we return to the Spanish in the South, to find our next hero
of discovery in an old Jesuit priest named Eusebius Francis Kino,
who, in 1658, went forth alone from his Mexican monastery to try and
win over the wild tribes of the North to the faith of which he was
a minister. With no weapon but the cross, and no food but such as he
was able to beg by the way, the father pressed on through the present
province of Sonora till he came to a river supposed to have been the
Santa Cruz. Following its course, he entered Arizona, and arrived at
the junction of the Santa Cruz with the Gila, which in its turn joins
the Colorado some miles above its mouth.
Crossing the Gila, Kino ascended its northern bank, and came to a
country which he characterizes as the most wonderful ever seen by the
eye of man. Its people, who were “kind, generous, and hospitable,”
dwelt in well-built villages clustering on the banks of streams,
and employed their time in the manufacture of a kind of cotton
cloth and of very beautiful feather-work. They were also skillful
picture-writers, and on the walls of their public buildings was
preserved a pictorial record of their history. Mines of gold and
silver――which they understood how to work with considerable skill,
though they set but small value on the ore when excavated――promised to
yield a splendid return to the emigrant, while immense flocks of sheep
and herds of cattle constituted another source of almost inexhaustible
wealth.
Worshiping the sun as the one supreme God, these simple yet
intelligent natives kept a fire ever burning on their altars in his
honor. With its undying flame they connected their own prosperity,
and they therefore showed little readiness to substitute for it any
less material guarantee of well-being. Father Kino made few converts
to the belief in the spiritual God, whose altar is the heart, and
whose chief purifying agent is adversity; and, passing on among the
fire-worshipers, he trod his weary way in a north-westerly direction
till he came to the so-called Fire Mountain, supposed to have been the
San Francisco Mountain. Here he altered his course for the East, and
after a long tramp through the forest, he reached the head-waters of
the Mimbres, the course of which he followed till its waters suddenly
sunk away in the earth, a phenomenon often since commented upon by
modern travelers.
Many months were spent by the missionary in the wild districts on
either side of the eccentric Mimbres, with little or no result so
far as his main object was concerned, the native tribes being then,
as now, peculiarly averse to the reception of religious teaching.
Finding it useless to remain longer among them, our hero therefore
at last resolved to return to Mexico, and there obtain recruits for
the further prosecution of missionary work in the more hospitable
Arizona. After no less than seven years of fruitless effort, he at
last accomplished his purpose, and toward the end of 1670 we find him
starting with three other Jesuits for the Gila, on the banks of which
he established a mission for the conversion of the Yaquis in 1672.
Between that date and 1679, no less than five missions were founded
among these and others of the New Mexican tribes, the Pueblos, Opotoes,
etc., themselves aiding in erecting the beautiful buildings, the ruins
of which, especially that of San Xavier del Bac, in the beautiful
Santa Cruz valley, still bear witness to the religious zeal and
architectural skill of these early teachers in the West.
Had the Jesuit Fathers been content with the gradual but sure growth
of their influence in fair Arizona and New Mexico, the conclusion
of our story might have been different. As it was, however, their
eagerness to extend their spiritual influence, and――alas, that we
should have to say it!――to appropriate for the use of their order
the gold and silver abounding in the mountains on the north of their
new homes, led to the sending out of expeditions beyond the limits
occupied by the tribes friendly to their interests. The wrath of the
terrible Apaches, dwelling in the now desolated plains and mountain
fastnesses on the north-west, was aroused; and in 1680 they swept down
upon the Spanish settlements in such numbers as to carry all before
them, compelling the missionaries to flee for their lives into Mexico.
Again and again they returned with the same result, until at last the
missions were finally abandoned, having wrought nothing but evil to
those for whose benefit they were primarily established.
After the expulsion of the Jesuits by the Apaches, the districts
to the north-west of Mexico were for many years left unvisited
by any Europeans, with the exception of a few venturesome miners,
who, working at the risk of their lives in the north of the present
province of Arizona, won for it its name, originally Arizuma, or the
silver-bearing country. To atone for this pause in inland exploration,
however, the coasts of both Upper and Lower California became
thoroughly well known to Spanish pearl-fishers, who were followed, as
the French _coureurs de bois_ had been in the North, by Roman Catholic
missionaries, eager to be the first Christian teachers to win the ears
of the natives. In the course of about half a century, many missions
had been established in Lower California; and though, owing to the
law forbidding priests to marry, no permanent root was taken in the
country by them, and no homes gathered about their chapels, they
paved the way for the advent of the settler, and exercised a refining
influence, alike on the wild Spanish fishermen and the fierce and
degraded Californian Indians.
The beginning of the 18th century witnessed the first chapter of the
thrilling drama of the fall of the Jesuits from the lofty position
they had held throughout the world for two centuries. Expelled from
Portugal in 1759, and from France in 1764, they flocked to Spain,
hoping to find a refuge in the first home of their order. They were
disappointed. In 1767, the edict for their banishment, alike from the
mother country and her colonies, was issued by Charles III. of Spain,
and the Jesuits both at home and abroad found themselves involved in
one common ruin.
Rallying as best they could from the blow which deprived them of all
their property, and exiled them from the land of their adoption, those
members of the disgraced order who had settled in Lower California
resolved to begin a new crusade in the north of the same country.
Under the leadership of Father Junipero Serra, appointed president of
all the missions to be established in Upper California, the Fathers
went forth to set up the cross among the Ahwashtes, Altahmos, Romanans,
Klamaths, Modoes, Shastas, Eurocs, and others of the almost countless
tribes forming the two great families of the Central and Northern
Californians.
Dividing into two parties, the first expedition started for Northern
California by land in 1768. The first division, under Captain Rivera
of Moncado, after a terrible journey across country, arrived at the
site of the present San Diego (N. lat. 32° 47′, W. long. 117° 8′)
on the 14th of May, 1768, and there founded the first settlement of
white men in Upper California. The second party, under Father Junipero
himself, arrived at the new colony on the 1st of July, and the first
North Californian convert was baptized on the 16th of December of the
same year.
Early in January, 1769, a second detachment of Jesuits started in
three vessels――the _San Carlos_, the _San Antonio_, and the _San
José_――to reach San Diego by sea. The first arrived on the 1st May,
having lost all her crew, except two or three officers, from scurvy
and famine; the second put into port at San Diego on the 10th April,
with eight men missing; and the third was never again heard of.
Illustration: THE GOLDEN GATE, SAN FRANCISCO.
After a rest of a few weeks, the survivors of the unfortunate fleet,
their numbers augmented by a party of emigrants from Sonora and an
escort of Lower Californian Indians, started, under the command of Don
Gaspar de ♦Portola, who had been appointed military governor of the
new country, for the North, intending to find the Bay of Monterey,
and there found a second branch of the mission. The pioneers failed to
find Monterey, but on the 25th October, 1769, they discovered the now
famous harbor of San Francisco, justly named the gem of the Pacific,
its Golden Gate, the outlet connecting it with the ocean, forming
the entry to the finest seaport on the western seaboard of America.
Land-locked as it was, the noble bay had escaped the notice of
previous explorers, and even now its great importance seems scarcely
to have been recognized. Naming it San Francisco, after the titular
saint of the Jesuits, Portola led his party back to San Diego, and for
six long years the site of the present capital of California was left
to the undisturbed possession of the natives.
♦ ‘Portala’ replaced with ‘Portola’
Illustration: CITY HALL, SAN FRANCISCO. (1885.)
For sixty years after their first arrival at San Diego the Jesuits
carried all before them in Upper California, and when the overthrow
of the Spanish dominion in Mexico――which has been characterized
as the death-blow of the mission system――took place in 1822, their
settlements along the coast numbered as many as twenty-one. As in
Lower California, however, the exclusiveness of the missionaries
was fatal to the growth of permanent settlements: the emigration
of Europeans to the districts belonging to them was discouraged; no
inland colonies were founded; and, after living for years in an almost
patriarchal state, more than 18,000 Indians owning no authority but
theirs, the Fathers were deprived, by act of the Mexican Congress,
of their plantations, and forbidden to employ the Indians to work
for them. As a result, they were compelled, one by one, to abandon
the country for which they had done so much. During the latter years
of their sway, many speculators and trappers had, in spite of their
opposition, penetrated into their territories, and the first seeds
had been sown of many a now thriving community; but, before we relate
the adventures of those travelers whose exploits entitle them to rank
among our heroes, we must go back a couple of centuries to trace the
further course of exploration in the Eastern States.