Kit Carson's last Trapping Expedition--He embarks in a
Speculation--His Trip to California with a large Flock of
Sheep--The Method employed by Mexicans in driving Herds
and their Dexterity--Kit Carson goes to San Francisco--Its
wonderful Growth--Maxwell joins Kit Carson at Sacramento
City--The Lucky Speculation--The Return Trip to New Mexico and
its Adventures--The Mormon Delegate to Congress informs Kit
Carson of his Appointment as Indian Agent--Kit Carson enters
upon the Duties of his Office--Bell's Fight with the
Apaches on Red River--Kit Carson's Interview with the
same Indians--High-handed Measures on the Part of the
Apaches--Davidson's desperate Fight with them--The Soldiers
defeated with severe loss--Davidson's Bravery is unjustly
questioned--Kit Carson's Opinion of it--The Apaches elated
by their Victory--Their Imitations of the Actions of Military
Men.
The expedition into the United States which terminated with the last
chapter, proved to be valuable in its results so far as the parties
engaged in it were concerned. Kit Carson was once more trying hard to
keep quiet in his comfortable home at Rayado. But his restless spirit
was not proof against this inactivity. His stay at home therefore was
short. The memories of other days came upon him, and he longed once
more to enjoy, in company with the "friends of his youth," the scenes,
excitements and pleasures of his old life as a trapper. Throughout his
eventful life, as the reader has been able clearly to see, Kit Carson
seldom spent his time in idle thinking. His thoughts almost invariably
take form in actions. This eager longing resulted, therefore, in the
forming of a regular trapping expedition after the olden style, shape,
etc, which he organized with great care and attention. The members of
the party were selected by himself chiefly with great exclusiveness,
and numbers who wished to join the party were refused, on account of
their inexperience. After a good deal of inquiry, Kit succeeded in
collecting eighteen of his old companions. No one among them was not
entitled to be called a mountaineer. Kit looked upon this party of men
with an eye of real affection. The meeting previous to the start was a
scene to behold. Such a greeting of old friends, well tried and true,
will not soon be again seen on the American continent. The day when
men went trapping was "long time ago." Kit Carson, as he stood among
this band of friends, the acknowledged leader of the party, every
man of whom he knew would have periled his life for either one of the
company, felt that, indeed, the days of his youth had returned unto
him.
Everything preliminary was arranged in the most approved style. When
all was complete, Kit Carson, mounted on his magnificent charger
Apache, riding to the head of the line, gave the order to march. Kit
had put it to vote and the result was unanimous, that the expedition
should be no boy's play. On the contrary, the boldest and one of
the longest of the routes, known to their experienced footsteps,
was selected. It comprised many of the mighty rivers of the Rocky
Mountains, every one of which was almost a hunting ground by itself.
Onward, over the wild and broad plains, this band of stalwart men,
brave and kindred spirits, dashed. They soon put many a mile between
them and the comfortable firesides at Rayado. But these miles, Kit
Carson has often said, were the shortest he ever traveled. The way
was beguiled by many a recollection in which every man present could
participate with a relish, keen as disuse alone can render the palate
of enjoyment. In a short time the well-remembered waters of the South
Fork of the River Platte were descried. Their practised eyes soon
discovered the oft-noted "signs of the beaver." The camp was formed
and the traps set. The beaver, so long left to mind their
own business, had increased in great numbers. The hunt proved
correspondingly successful. The party continued working down this
stream through the plains of Laramie to the New Park; and from thence,
on to the Old Park. We cannot follow them through this long and
enlivening hunt. They trapped a large number of their old streams
until, finally, the expedition was terminated on the Arkansas River.
Throughout the whole course the hunt proved to be very successful.
With a large stock of furs they returned in safety to Rayado, via the
Raton Mountains, which are spurs of the great Rocky chain.
The fact that most of the old trappers had given up their vocation
furnishes the reason why the beaver were found, along the entire
route, to be so plentiful. We desire that the reader shall paint for
himself the enjoyment which these men gathered in this renewal of a
pursuit rendered congenial by the experience of long years of activity
in following it. It has been our purpose to enable the reader to
gather a spark of this same enjoyment by the endeavor to make of him
an amateur trapper. He has followed Kit Carson throughout the trapping
expeditions of his earlier life. It is to be supposed that with Kit he
has acquired some experience. With Kit therefore he shall now receive
his final polishing, and if he does not in the end catch a beaver,
he shall at least learn how they are caught, and all the necessary
minutiæ of toil which he must expect to encounter and undergo.
On striking any river, when on the hunt, the trappers are accustomed
to keep a bright lookout for signs, often heretofore referred to. The
word "signs" conveys but a vague idea of its all-important meaning, as
it was received by the trappers. The news of the presence of "signs"
sent a thrill of joy through the hunters of the olden time only
equalled on board of whale-ships when the man at the lookout cries
"_there she blows_". It rarely happens that this cunning, amphibious
animal can be seen moving free, either on the river banks, or in the
water; for nature has given him no powerful weapons with which to
defend himself when surprised and attacked; but, what is better, she
has endowed him with exceedingly sensitive eyesight and hearing, which
enables him to detect the approach of danger in time to escape. The
marks, however, which he leaves behind are, for a time, ineffaceable.
These were only to be detected and used for his own purposes, by the
superior intellect of man. The unequalled industry of gnawing down
trees and cutting twigs, peeling off the tender cuticle of the willow
bushes, digging away banks, and carrying on their shovel-shaped tails
the earth, together with innumerable foot-prints and sometimes dams,
were the items which filled up the catalogue of "signs" on which the
trappers' vision was regaled after long and dangerous tramps in search
of them. These "signs" were not always found together; but instead,
they each could exist separately and thus would arouse the hunter's
suspicions of the game near by. The little twig, as it floated down
the stream, half denuded of its bark, would go unheeded by the casual
observer, but, to the experienced trapper, it was a prize to be
obtained; for, by its freshness, it indicated to his mind how near
he was to the chance of obtaining and adding another pound or so of
valuable fur to his stock on hand. To him, this small event, or one
like it, as for instance, a fresh footprint, with its neatly defined
claw-tracks, as moulded in the moistened earth or sand, was of
a greater importance than the wonderful and striking workmanship
exhibited in a dam; for, the latter might be old and deserted,
whereas, the former was too recent to cause him to be deceived with
such a sign; and in such a vicinity, he hesitated not to set his trap.
An idea prevails which ought to be exploded. It is boldly asserted
that the beaver builds his dam for the purpose of having a nice
swimming pond in the neighborhood of his residence, which is always
located in the river's bank. This is not true; for, in every stream
which he inhabits, if this was his sole object, he could select many
natural places where the water is without a ripple and where it is
both deep and broad. The animal has a wiser object in view; and, it
consists in providing against the pinching wants of hunger during
winter, when nearly everything green has lost its sap and nutrition,
and is, as a body, without blood and animation. He therefore chooses a
place favorable for obtaining food, and also where his labors will be
assisted by natural formations or accidents in the river's course and
construction. Having pitched upon the right section to build, he
sets to work with his fellows and falls giant trees. In this he again
exhibits his wonderful instinct; for, while one party is cutting
with their sharp teeth the hard wood of one side of the tree, another
division is actively employed on the other side, never forgetting to
make, like unto the woodman, the lowest incision on the side the tree
is to fall, which, to suit their purposes, is always directly into and
across the stream. When a tree is thus fallen, it is attacked in its
branches, which are so turned and woven together in the outline of the
dam as to catch in their meshes any floating material, or receive the
tail-loads of soil and rubbish which they carry to it. Another and
another tree are then systematically fallen and arranged as is the
first, until the work is finished as completely as if it had been
planned and executed by a reasoning mind. The finishing stroke is
the transporting of the mud and laying it. In this labor, they show
themselves to be excellent masons. They now act in concert. A large
gang marches in a line to the bank where they load each other's tails
and swim with their cargoes elevated above and free from the water.
When they arrive at an unfinished point of the dam they dump the mud
and mould it in place. Their houses they have previously built in the
river banks. These consist of holes which lead into large and airy
subterranean rooms, and which are above the water-mark. In these
houses they are said to sleep and live in pairs; and, if we could
believe the story of the trapper related many pages back, they imitate
human beings in managing their household and in keeping house. The
main object they have in staying the progress of the current of the
river is to afford a deep place where, having fallen numbers of trees,
the deep water will preserve tender and fresh the limbs and shrubs on
which to subsist during, not only time present, but also time to come.
It is well known that fresh branches of trees and young willows, when
placed in water, will keep up partial life for a considerable length
of time. On this principle, the beaver acts in submerging his food
deep in the water where it will retain its verdure and where the
freezing process that is going on at the surface of the river will
not bar his efforts in getting at his store of provisions during the
winter season. It is said that the beaver goes so far as to bundle up
small branches of trees and willows which he stows away in the muddy
bottom of the river. The trapper, in his wondrous yarns, insists that
there are grades of society among beavers the same as among men; and
he will have it that they have their "head chiefs," and that often
individuals among them roll in wealth and that they have slaves who
stand ready to do their master's bidding at a moment's warning; for
instance, to bring them a bundle of green twigs on which to feast.
According to their imaginative stories, the life of a beaver cannot
be rivaled in happiness; and if we could put full credence in their
descriptions of the pastimes of the animal, his palaces and luxuries,
we could only compare a beaver to a citizen of Venice in her most
palmy days--the difference between the two being, that the former
enjoyed himself more in the water than the latter did on it in his
favorite _gondola_.
The beaver, when captured young, can be sufficiently domesticated
to make him a pet; but their unattractive form is anything but an
ornament to the house. With young children, they are very friendly,
though their disposition is amiable to any one. They are very neat in
their person and, when moved from their comrades and domiciled with
human beings, nothing do they so much like as being allowed the
daily privilege of taking a clean bath. When thus engaged, they are
a curiosity to look at, as they are very agile and particular in
removing every particle of dirt. We remember seeing one of these pets
in the Mexican town of _Culebro_ thus enjoying himself. His owner
hesitated not in taking the animal to the river, which was close by,
and giving him his freedom. On finishing his ablutions the beaver
returned to where his owner was standing, without making an effort to
escape, and by a look as much as said, "I am ready to return to your
home."
The signs having been discovered, the trappers next select a suitable
location for a camp, which they soon occupy. After the pack animals
are unloaded, a part of the men start out to set the traps, while the
remainder busy themselves in looking after their wants and in cooking
and guarding their property, etc. The trap is very much like the
same instrument used in different sections of the United States for
catching foxes, wolves etc, excepting, that it is smaller and perhaps
made with more skill. Old trappers were very superstitious in regard
to the makers of their traps, for they entertained the idea that much
of their good or bad fortune depended on the tools they worked with;
hence, they always had their favorite makers, and would pay more for
their traps than for those of any other maker. This is true also with
their rifles. For many years a rifle was condemned at first sight if
it did not have the name of Hawkins[23] stamped on it, and it was not
uncommon for them, when boasting of the good qualities of their riding
animals, if they considered them of the maximum degree of superiority,
to style them "regular Hawkins _horses_", thereby showing how far, in
this respect, their predilections grounded their opinions.
[Footnote 23: Mr. Hawkins was the owner of a large gun establishment
at St. Louis, Mo.]
The setting of the trap required expertness and experience, or else it
availed nothing; for the game to be caught is, as the reader can now
readily conceive, very wary and his suspicions of there being anything
wrong near at hand, had to be allayed by concealing as much as
possible the instrument from view; yet it must not be far from the
surface of the water; and then again it had to be firmly fixed in its
position, by being made fast to something that was firm so as prevent
its being dragged off. The trapper, while thus engaged, is in the
water. About his waist there is a strap to which is attached a pouch
in which is carried the bait. Everything being arranged, the trap is
set and the bait applied, when the man notes the place where he has
been at work so as to recognize it again, and then takes his departure
to return early the following morning. The beaver, during this
interim, is attracted by the peculiar scent of the bait, and, as a
reward for his curiosity, he generally is caught by one of his paws
and thus falls a prey to the hunter's pleasure. The traps, when
visited, are relieved of the contents and then set again. The game is
put out of its misery and carried to camp, where it is skinned, and
where all of the pelts recently taken are stretched out, dried, cured,
and packed in small bales, whenever a sufficient quantity is obtained
so to do with it. The trapper, when in _full dress_ for an expedition,
and especially after having been on one with its concomitant
hair-breadth escapes, Indian and bear fights, etc., cuts, to all
appearances, a sorrowful figure. His wardrobe is meagre in the
extreme, yet it answers all of his purposes and the man would have
no other. When summed up, it would be found to consist usually of
two pairs of moccasins, one (or two pair) of buckskin pantaloons, two
woollen shirts, a loose, fringed buckskin coat and an old slouched
hat (usually made of some kind of skin with the fur on). His baggage,
limited to a very small bundle, comprises his blankets, a buffalo robe
or two, a spare hide of dressed buckskin, his extra garments above
spoken of, and a little tobacco (when it can be had). These, with his
camp kettle and outfit of powder, lead, extra traps, scanty allowance
of provisions, guns, pistols, horses, bridles,[24] saddles, etc. make
up his traveling and working kit; it may be only for a few months or
it may be for years. With them he was ready to penetrate the loftiest
mountains and unexplored regions. This is but a true picture, in a
brief space, of the appearance of Kit Carson and the resources of his
earlier days, the tools he had to work with, the mode of doing his
labor, and the habits of the animal he diligently hunted for several
years in order that his fellow man might convert into a luxury the
products of his toil; yet had he been allowed the choice, he would not
have exchanged situations with the consumer of the commodity. In the
company of his boon companions and enjoying the pure mountain air, he
had often seen as happy hours as ever fell to the lot of any man. And
now he was starting out on probably his last trapping expedition.
[Footnote 24: These saddles and bridles are queer-looking articles;
but, for use, they could not be surpassed either for durability or
comfort. Their bridle bits are the same as are used by the Mexicans.
They are very powerful and intended for managing wild horses and
mules, particularly the latter. With one in his mouth, an animal
cannot drink or feed. A Mexican only waters his horse twice a day when
traveling, viz. morning and night.]
The party did not return to their homes until several months had
expired, and, as much of the excitement that used to pertain to their
former exploits had been worn off from the changes brought about by
civilization, they decided that this, as far as they were concerned,
should be their last trapping expedition; therefore, this visit to
their old haunts was a sort of funeral service performed over their
early adventures. On quitting each favorite river, the trappers felt
that they were shaking hands with the streams and bidding them, one by
one, a final good bye.
Kit Carson, after disposing of his beaver, occupied himself in
attending to his ranche, and was thus employed when news was brought
to New Mexico of the exorbitant prices which sheep were bringing in
California. He made up his mind to embark in a speculation in those
animals by collecting a herd and driving it to that territory. He set
out for the valley of Rio Abajo, which lies to the south of Santa Fé,
and there, to his satisfaction, made his purchases. In company with
two friends, after employing a suitable number of shepherds, he
commenced his journey and traveled northward to Fort Laramie, where
he came to and followed the emigrant road that leads direct into
California via Salt Lake, etc. In the month of August, 1853, after
meeting with very trifling losses, as he traveled very slowly and
understood thoroughly the business he was employed in, Kit Carson
with his flock of sixty-five hundred sheep reached the point of his
destination in California, where he found no difficulty in disposing
of them at the rate of five dollars and fifty cents per head.
The making of these long journeys with such large herds of sheep, over
a diversified country, sometimes abounding in water and grass, while
on the other hand, and not unfrequently, for many miles, the earth is
barren, is a difficult task. When broad, deep and swift rivers are
to be forded, it requires dexterity and management to prevent heavy
losses.
The trail which Kit Carson followed to Fort Laramie is now a
well-beaten path. It runs almost due north from Taos, and abounds, in
the proper season, in good grass and water. For about one hundred
and twenty miles, it passes through a broken country, but when that
distance is accomplished, the traveler is ushered on to the plains and
keeps on them for most of the way close under the Rocky Mountains.
The scenery on this route is most magnificent, and at times as grand
perhaps as can be seen in any part of the world. The distance from
Taos, Kit Carson's starting-point, to Laramie River, is counted by
hundreds of miles; and in this great tract of country, there live
several of the largest and most troublesome tribes of Indians in
the far West. The names of these tribes are the Utahs, Apaches,
Arrapahoes, Cheyennes and Sioux. A man with a large drove of sheep is
so conspicuous an object that he is certain to attract their notice
and bring them to him. Kit Carson, however, was well received by
them and allowed to pass unmolested. They were pleased to find so
formidable an enemy moving boldly into their country and bearing
the olive branch of peace. He however forgot not to pay them toll by
presenting them with a suitable number of the sheep. In this way he
prevented them from being tempted to steal from him. This is a usual
custom, and the Indians expect that this sort of attention will be
shown them. They do not like, at all seasons of the year, to have
these herds pass through their country. Being so large, they eat up
much of their grass, which assists greatly to drive away the game.
We remember on one occasion that an American, in charge of several
thousand sheep, started on a journey from New Mexico to California.
Everything went prosperously with the man until he left the Raton
Mountains and entered the country inhabited by the Arrapahoes and
Cheyennes. At first, he was received in a friendly manner by these
Indians; but was commanded by them to rest where he was until they
went ahead and killed their annual amount of buffalo. This, the man
could not do; for the season was so far advanced that if he delayed,
and then attempted to make California, he would be certainly overtaken
by snow-storms which would bury him and his property in the mountains.
In vain he used his best endeavors to impress this state of affairs on
the minds of the Indians. They would not listen to him or sanction
his going on, and threatened to punish him if he undertook to disobey
them. Bidding defiance to these threats, this man started; but had
only proceeded a few miles, when a band of one hundred squaws, mounted
on horseback, overtook him and dashed into his herd, and with savage
delight put to death one hundred and fifty of the sheep before their
owner's eyes and without his being able to stop them. The carcasses
of the slaughtered animals were left to rot on the ground, thereby
showing that the Indians did not stand in need of food, but that
they wished to teach the intruder a lesson which he would be apt to
remember. These women had been sent out by their husbands, who no
doubt were close by in case their services should be needed, to show
to the white man the contempt they had of his power. The result was
that the American was obliged to return to New Mexico from whence he
came. When he set out again, he chose what is known as the Southern
Route, which runs via the Rio Gila and strikes California in its lower
section.
In the Rocky Mountains, the Indian women are rather small in stature,
but, from their constant exercise they are physically very strong.
They are naturally not wanting in modesty; but, being compelled to
work and even engage in war, they soon become roughened and hardened.
Their dresses consist principally of deer skins, and sometimes they
are very tastefully arranged. They give birth to their children with
great ease, and, as they have not become martyrs to fashions, or
dress, they suffer but little inconvenience from this provision of
nature. The children learn, during their earliest years, to look out
for themselves, and soon become expert at it. The marriage ceremony
amounts to little or nothing, and consists of a mere barter. The
warrior is obliged to pay so many horses to the father for the bride.
We remember, on one occasion, buying a superior pony from a trader,
who said that he had obtained him from his Indian owner with great
difficulty. The facts were as follows: This Indian was in love with a
young maiden of his tribe. The young girl wished some silver ornaments
which the trader had. The only thing the warrior had to exchange for
these trinkets, was his prized pony. An old chief stood by with the
trader and saw the warrior look and sigh at his horse. The chief gave
the trader a wink, and said in a low tone of voice to him: "That man
loves his horse and he loves his affianced bride, but the bride elect
will conquer. Hold on and he will sacrifice the horse to please the
girl. His love for her is the deepest feeling." Sure enough this
came true, and we never regretted that it was so. The pony proved a
valuable addition to our stock of animals.
Besides the many dangers to his flock which a person runs the risk
of, both from the numerous accidents to which it is liable, and the
unwelcome visits of the Indians when thus traveling, there are others
which may occasionally happen to his own person. He may be, while
standing guard, suddenly attacked and bitten by a mad wolf. On this
event occurring, he is almost certain to be seized with that terrible,
and we might as well add incurable disease, hydrophobia, which renders
him a most pitiful object to behold. From a human being so recently
respected and beloved by his companions, a person, thus unfortunate,
is suddenly changed into an object most dreaded and detested. A party
of Mexicans in charge of a large herd of sheep, a few years since,
were bound to California. One night a large, ferocious wolf entered
the camp, and bit a man in the leg. Symptoms of hydrophobia very soon
set in, and in a short time the victim was a confirmed case of the
disease. His comrades had no proper means of taking care of and
transporting him, as they were hundreds of miles from the nearest
house. They were superstitious, and believed that all would die if
they kept the man's company any longer; accordingly, they drove a
stake in the ground, to which they inhumanly secured him; and, after
depositing a small allowance of provisions near by, they left him to
die. Human bones were afterwards found near the identical spot where
it was said this unfortunate incident happened, which afforded
strong circumstantial evidence that the man had eked out a miserable
existence soon after he was deserted by his so-called friends, and
also, that the truth of this story rested upon strong probability.
When the Americans first obtained possession of New Mexico, sheep
could be bought at the rate of twenty-five cents per head. The reason
of this was, the want of a market and the ease with which they were
raised. Cheapness of labor, also, assisted in reducing their value.
The wool of these sheep was rather coarse, resembling hair more than
wool. The only use in which it was employed, was for manufacturing
blankets, rough carpet, and in filling mattresses. The valley of
the Rio Grande is wonderful as a sheep growing country. The mountain
districts also cannot be excelled in this respect. Their fitness for
grazing is best exemplified by their abounding in the famous Rocky
Mountain sheep. In many respects this animal resembles the chamois.
They live on the tops of the highest peaks, eat the tenderest grass,
and produce the finest flavored mutton in the world. One of their
heads, with the horns, often weighs one hundred pounds. To shoot
them, requires all of an experienced hunter's skill, and, when he has
brought down one of these trophies, he feels he has done more than if
he had killed ten deer. The sight of one of these mountain sheep, as
perched on a high, rocky peak, is beautiful. The hostile Indians are
the main drawback in New Mexico, to the successful raising of sheep.
The usual modus operandi employed by Mexican herders, who cannot be
surpassed in their vocation, to which they appear to take intuitively,
although many of them serve an apprenticeship at it, which begins with
early life and ends only by death, is, to send a youth who leads a
goat in advance of the flock. From some strange and unaccountable
reason, the sheep will follow after him even to the crossing of rivers
whose currents are deep and swift. The shepherds, with their dogs to
assist them when necessary, allow the herd to scatter over a space
varying in its size, but always allowing sufficient area so that the
animals can move on at their ease and at the same time be able to
feed. The danger above all others that is to be apprehended and
guarded against, while thus travelling, is crowding; for, in this
manner, when journeying through deep gorges in the mountains and over
the precipitous banks of rivers, hundreds of sheep can be, and not
unfrequently are, smothered. When this crowding commences, it is next
to impossible to arrest it; a sort of panic prevails over the entire
herd, and they rush on, one on top of another, until a mass of dead
and dying is thus piled up and a barrier is made; or else, until, as
most frequently happens, a bridge of carcasses is formed over which
the survivors pass in safety. The Indians who inhabit the country
on the various routes to California, have a strong predilection for
mutton, which is a fact to bear in mind when migrating with this
sort of property. Such accidents as having a few sheep bitten by
rattlesnakes, and also a certain percentage becoming foot-sore and
breaking down from fatigue, are common to every herd that crosses the
Rocky Mountains. Economy in living is the great fundamental principle
among the lower classes of the Mexicans; therefore, when a sheep is
going to die from fatigue, or any simple disease, natural death is
anticipated by the herders with the aid of the hunting-knife, and the
meat, being dressed and cooked, is unhesitatingly eaten by them.
Next to the Mexican shepherd, his dog, although he is not generally a
handsome animal, is found to be ever faithful in guarding the flocks.
The greatest enemy to the herds is the wolf; and in keeping them at
bay, and preventing their inroads by night, the dog is capable of
performing valuable service; hence, no band of sheep should cross the
plains and mountains without a full complement of them. It was at one
of the frontier towns of California that Kit Carson disposed of his
flock. There having heard of the rapid and marvelous growth of San
Francisco, he made up his mind to verify these reports with his own
eyes, for he was well acquainted with its ancient aspect.
San Francisco had now had since the year 1848 to grow under the
impulse of the gold fever. Kit Carson remembered it, a Spanish
settlement as it existed in 1845--6--7, then containing not over two
hundred inhabitants. In 1847, the first gold discovery was made at
Sutter's Fort. In two months thereafter, about $250,000 in gold dust
were carried into the town. The next two months $600,000 more. In
February, 1849, the population of the town was two thousand. In the
six months following, it increased to five thousand. In the early
part of the year 1850, the population had increased to nearly twenty
thousand. In 1852, according to the census, it was thirty-four
thousand eight hundred and seventy. The first settlement made at San
Francisco, was commenced in the year 1776. The place was then called
Yerba Buena, or Good Herb, from the fact that an herb of that name,
which was supposed to have great medicinal value, grew in rich
luxuriance over the surrounding country. The houses were at first
built of adobes, or sun dried bricks. It is now one of the most
important cities on the western continent.
As Kit Carson neared this great emporium of California, possessed of
some of the details of its astonishing growth, and remembering it as
it existed when its inhabitants could be easily counted in an hour, he
was perfectly astonished to behold the great changes which a few short
years had produced.
Had it not been for the immovable landmarks about the city and the
familiar scenery of the bay, he would have been entirely at a loss in
considering that this was the spot, called San Francisco, which he had
visited in former years. This metropolis, however, like all others,
presented few attractions to Kit Carson's vision, further than its
objects of curiosity, which were a source of interest and amusement to
him. When he had finished sight seeing he was ready and anxious to
be on his way to New Mexico. Previous to his setting out, he went on
business to Sacramento City. While there, he received a message from
his friend and partner, Maxwell, asking him to wait until the latter
could come in with a herd of sheep from Carson River, when they could
join forces and return home together.
Kit Carson's stay in California was shortened by the annoyance (as
he considered it) of being made a lion. His society was constantly
courted by men whom he had never seen; he was passed free on
steamboats and to all places of public amusement; and, in fact,
the people, in acknowledging his worth, treated him with marked
distinction. He was pointed out wherever he went as a man who had done
the State great service. This reward of his merit was indeed a just
tribute to his worth. Kit felt himself highly honored and favored,
but he did not expect or wish such attention. He felt himself to be a
humble individual, who had honestly and faithfully performed his duty,
as it had been assigned to him, and his modesty would not allow him to
ask or be willing to receive any other than the unexpressed opinion
of the people. There were some men (there always are such persons in
every community) who sought his company expecting to hear him boast
of his deeds and proclaim himself a hero such as had never before
existed; but, what must have been their surprise on seeing his
unassuming bearing, his disregard of notoriety, and his anxiety to
escape that popularity which they themselves would have highly prized.
Tired, by the anxiety and hard work of bringing his property over a
long and dangerous journey to a good market, he had looked for rest
and retirement; but instead, he was everywhere sought out and made
conspicuous.
And here we pause to speak of the noble qualities of moral character
and good judgment evinced by Kit Carson on this occasion of his
eventful life. He found himself surrounded with the choice spirits of
the new El Dorado; his name a prestige of strength and position, and
his society courted by everybody. The siren voice of pleasure
failed not to speak in his ear her most flattering invitations.
Good-fellowship took him incessantly by the hand, desiring to lead
him into the paths of dissipation. But the gay vortex, with all
its brilliancy, had no attractions for him; the wine cup, with its
sparkling arguments, failed to convince his calm earnestness of
character, that his simple habits of life needed remodeling. To the
storm, however, he was exposed; but, like a good ship during the gale,
he weathered the fierce blast, and finally took his departure from the
new city of a day, with his character untarnished, but nevertheless
leaving behind him many golden opinions. With a hurried farewell and
many kind remembrances of the good people of California, he left their
great city to return to a home where he was certain to find a life
better suited to his tastes. Money-getting had no charms for him.
Had he chosen to accept some of the offers made him while then in San
Francisco, he could easily have amassed an immense fortune. But his
home had now the greater allurements, and a legitimate business gave
him the certainty of comfort. The power merely which wealth assumes,
Kit Carson never has desired to grasp.
The time had nearly arrived for the appearance of Maxwell. He finally
joined Kit Carson, when the two immediately engaged in the very
profitable work of disposing of their sheep. The market proved to be
quite active--so much so that they disposed of their entire flock at
high cash values without the least difficulty. The speculation thus
proved to be highly satisfactory to all concerned. In a monetary point
of view, the adventure proved to be the most fortunate in which
Kit Carson had been engaged. Heretofore, money had been a second
consideration with Kit Carson. He had directed his energies and
attention to almost everything, or at least to many things besides its
accumulation.
The sums which he had received for the important services rendered
both to government officers and private individuals, had been
expended on the wants of his family and on his suffering friends and
countrymen. A trifling amount had always sufficed to satisfy his own
immediate desires. The calls upon his purse, at the end of each year
had left, therefore, but little which he could call his own. The snug
sum now at his disposal, Kit Carson determined to lay by; and serving
as a nucleus, around it, he has since accumulated enough amply to
supply those comforts which will tend, in his old age, to make him
happy. Maxwell and Carson decided to return to their homes by the
southern route which runs through the country on and adjacent to the
Rio Gila. Maxwell determined to take a steamer down the coast as far
as Los Angelos, distant from San Francisco about three hundred and
fifty miles, and used his best endeavors to persuade his friend Kit
Carson to accompany him. In this however, he failed. Already one
cruise over a part of the ocean route which Maxwell contemplated
making, had been made by Kit Carson in 1846, and which had so sickened
him of sea life, that he resolved never to travel on salt water again
while it was in his power to obtain a mule to assist him in journeying
by land. Maxwell, by his water conveyance, reached Los Angelos fifteen
days in advance of Kit Carson, and employed himself in making the
necessary preparations for their trip to New Mexico. When Kit rejoined
his companion, everything was in readiness for them to proceed on
their route, and, in a day or so afterwards, they started. Everything
favored them until they reached a village belonging to some Pimo
Indians, and located on the Rio Gila. Here the grass became suddenly
very scarce. They learned from these Indians that the season had been
unusually dry, and that, if they attempted to proceed on the regular
trail, they would do so at the risk of losing their animals by
starvation. While undecided as to which was the best course to pursue,
Kit Carson informed the party that he could guide them over a new
route which, though difficult and rough to travel, he felt confident
would afford sufficient forage to answer all their purposes. At once
the men agreed to be governed by their experienced friend's advice,
and, having signified to him their willingness to do so, they resumed
their march, following up the Rio Gila, until they came to the mouth
of the San Pedro, when they struck out up the latter for three days,
and then parted with it to risk the chances of reaching, at the end
of each day, the small mountain creeks that lay on their contemplated
route. After traveling in as direct a course as the nature of the
country would admit, they arrived seasonably at the copper mines of
New Mexico.
While pursuing this experimental journey, Kit Carson, who was well
acquainted with the general outline of the country, but was not
equally conversant with it in reference to the certainty of finding
eligible camping-sites, where wood, water and grass presented
themselves in abundance, was frequently made the subject of a
tantalizing joke by the men of the party.
Occasionally his memory would not solve the question, what is the next
course? He had neither map, chart, nor compass, and depended entirely
upon old landmarks. Occasionally, the resemblance of different
mountains, one to another, would serve to embarrass him. For a time,
he would become doubtful as to the exact course to pursue. At such
moments, the mischievous dispositions of the men would get the better
of their judgment, and they would exert their lungs in shouting to
him, as he spurred his riding animal to keep out of the sound of their
raillery. He was not always successful in this, and occasionally a few
sentences reached him like the following:
"Hurrah!"
"I say! are you the famous Kit Carson, who knows this country so
well?"
"Are you really a good pilot, or are you lost?"
These and similar expressions saluted Kit's ear--a language to which
he had not been heretofore accustomed--as some impediment, such as a
fallen tree, a rock, a swamp, or a creek staid, for a brief period,
his progress, thus allowing the party to approach within speaking
distance. The remarks might have temporarily chafed his spirit; but,
he had too much good sense to allow his friends to see that they had
gained any advantage over him. He rode boldly on, and answered their
raillery with silence. He knew, however, very well, that his turn
would come; and, when he had brought them in safety to a spot with
which all were familiar, he turned the tables on them by retorting
to their questions in a playful manner, which made their future
interpretation of his occasional doubts, less sweeping in its
conclusions.
Kit succeeded in guiding the party safely to the Copper Mines, from
whence their route was plain. From the Copper Mines the party traveled
through to the Rio del Norte. This river is 1,800 miles in length and
forms the boundary line between Texas and Mexico. It takes its rise
in the Rocky Mountains and empties into the Gulf of Mexico. It is
navigable for small steamers, sloops and schooners, for a distance of
about four hundred and fifty miles from its mouth. About nine hundred
miles from its mouth, there is a spot where the river is only about
three or four feet deep. Here the Apache and Camanche Indians always
cross when on their depredatory tramps into Mexico.
Leaving the Rio Grande or del Norte, the party pursued their homeward
route through the settlements of the Rio Abajo and Santa Fé and
finally reached Taos on the twenty-third day of December, 1853.
Soon after the party entered the Territory of New Mexico, Kit Carson
accidentally met the Mormon delegate to Congress. That person informed
Kit Carson that the appointment of an Indian Agent had been conferred
upon him.
On learning this piece of intelligence, Kit was much elated. He
felt that the office was perfectly suited to his tastes, and he was
honestly impressed with the belief that he was capable of performing
the duties of this office, and of accomplishing much good. His
happiness and pride were heightened by thinking that, finally, his
services had met the approbation of his government, the substantial
proof of which, was the offering to him of an important trust without
solicitation on his part. Immediately on arriving at Taos, he wrote
an answer to the authorities at Washington, in which he expressed
his willingness to serve the government, and the pleasure he felt
in accepting the office; at the same time he sent the necessary bond
required of persons who hold this appointment.
Hardly had Kit Carson been ushered into his new duties before the
Jiccarilla Apaches, who formed one of the tribes of his agency, began
to show new signs of dissatisfaction by committing various kinds of
outrages on the property and lives of the citizens of the northern
part of New Mexico. To arrest them in their career and make them
amenable for the crimes they had already committed, Lieutenant Bell,
of the 2d Regiment of United States dragoons, was sent in quest of
them. He found them on the Red River, and at once commenced operations
against them. At first, these red men were equally ready to break a
lance in combat with their foes; but, after the soldiers had made two
charges and penetrated through and through their ranks, they were,
although in superior numbers, glad to give up the mastership of the
field, and run away. In this fight, the Apaches lost, by his being
killed, one of their great chiefs, besides many warriors. On the side
of the soldiers, two men were killed and several seriously wounded.
A short time after the news of this skirmish had reached Taos,
Kit Carson found it necessary, in order to attend to some official
business, to proceed to Santa Fé; but, just as he was on the point of
setting out, he was informed that a large party of these Jiccarilla
Apaches had recently arrived at a place in the mountains only about
twenty miles from Taos, and were there encamped. With the view of
pacifying them if it was possible, Kit Carson immediately
posted thither; and, with no small degree of peril attending his
movements--for he went unattended, and among Indians who were at the
time very bitter against the whites--he confronted their "head men" in
their den. He needed no introduction, for, during many years, he had
been well known to them. Therefore he proceeded, at once, to business.
After passing through the usual Indian salutations, he commenced by
haranguing them, in a style that most pleases their fancy, thereby
fixing their attention on what he was saying. Among other things, he
forewarned them that the course they were pursuing, if persisted in,
would prove the cause of their being exterminated, as their "Great
Father," the President, had at his disposal thousands of soldiers
to replace those who fell in battle, while, when their warriors were
killed, they could not immediately place others in their moccasins.
When a warrior was killed, they were compelled to wait until their
children grew up. He added, that the "Great Father" loved his red
children, and through him, whose servant he was, he wished to give
them annuities and otherwise aid them in living at peace. These
Indians, on learning that Kit Carson was their agent, expressed great
pleasure, and, at his earnest solicitation, came forward and professed
friendship. So little reliance, however, was to be placed in this
tribe, that Kit Carson doubted their sincerity; although he exacted
every pledge which he thought would in the least tend to bind them to
their promises, he feared they would not prove true. Having finished
his business, Kit bent his way to Santa Fé; but, he had not more than
reached there before he heard that the Jiccarillas had already become
tired of the restraints which he had placed upon them, and had broken
out in open defiance of the authorities. From this time onward,
so thick and fast did their wicked crimes increase, that coercive
measures became necessary to put them down. This finally resulted, in
as sanguinary a battle being fought between a small band of soldiers
and this tribe, as was ever recorded. A rapid sketch of it must
suffice to illustrate to the reader what kind of a fight this was, and
what plucky fellows these Apaches are. Lieutenant J.W. Davidson,
with a command of sixty men belonging to F and I companies of the 1st
Regiment of United States dragoons, was ordered out to seek and act
against these red men. Both the soldiers and their officers were
renowned for their bravery and experience in Indian mode of warfare;
hence, more than ordinary deeds were expected to be performed by
them. The result will show that they did not disappoint any reasonable
expectation. Lieutenant Davidson marched to the "_Embuda Mountains_"
(which range lies between fifteen and twenty miles southwest of Taos),
as he had been informed by good authority that the Indians were to be
found there.
On reaching the mountains he soon came upon the savages and found them
fully prepared to meet him. They had selected their ground with great
skill. The site which they had chosen was upon a high elevation, and
at the first glance, to get at them, appeared to be an impossibility
on account of the roughness of the country. If the Indians had hunted
over the whole of the Rocky Mountains they could not have hit upon a
place that offered them so many advantages for the use to which they
intended to put it; but, as the red men had, by great labor, reached
the tops of the crags, therefore, the soldiers resolved not to be
outdone, even if they had to be the assaulting party.
The strength of the Apaches amounted to eight lodges, or two hundred
and forty warriors; and, as they were on foot and without their
families, they were entirely unencumbered. Lieutenant Davidson's first
manoeuvre was to send in advance a small party, whose duty it was to
act as spies, while at the same time they endeavoured to engage the
Indians in a talk, of which they are usually so fond; but, the courage
of the red men was apparently much elevated on seeing the smallness
of the whole force sent against them; therefore, they received the
advance with such coldness that the latter soon after gladly retreated
to their companions, who were halted on the little creek that runs by
the foot of the mountains. Lieutenant Davidson now saw that his only
course was to commence the attack and trust to fortune and the bravery
of his men. Therefore he ordered the gallant fellows to dismount, and
after leaving their horses with a small guard, they commenced the work
of scrambling up the rocks so that they might get at, and dislodge
the enemy. In this they succeeded, notwithstanding they met with a
powerful and determined resistance. In the attempt, five soldiers were
killed; and when the dragoons had reached the highest eminence of the
mountain, they found, to their disappointment, that the Apaches had
not taken to flight according to their anticipations, but instead,
they were scattering and surrounding them. There being great danger,
as already demonstrations were visible in that quarter, that the
Indians would capture the horses of the soldiers, therefore Lieutenant
Davidson placed himself at the head of his men and led them back
to the spot where the animals were congregated. In so doing, he was
obliged to fight his way, as every foot of ground he passed over was
stoutly contested; but at last he arrived, just in time to save them.
The fight then became desultory, but desperate, on the part of the
soldiers; for the Indians, by concealing themselves behind rocks,
trees and whatever came in their way, were quite secure against injury
from the carbines and revolvers of the whites, while, from their
side, came a deadly fire that fast diminished the numbers of their
adversaries. In vain did the dragoons charge them and cause the
foremost of the enemy to retreat to their friends in the rear.
Lieutenant Davidson soon found his party so much crippled in strength
that he saw he could no longer protect his horses and at the same time
carry on the combat against such great odds. When there was little
left that he could do except to offer himself and men as targets to be
shot at, Lieutenant Davidson reluctantly ordered his men to retreat.
In obeying this command, the soldiers had not more than wheeled about,
when down came the foe in full pursuit, making the very air ring
with their war-whoops and unearthly shouts. So bold did these Indians
become from the victory which they had achieved, that they charged
so hotly and so near the soldiers that the latter were compelled, in
self-defence, to turn and, in a hand to hand contest, beat them off.
After resisting a succession of these assaults, the command finally
gained the main road. Upon counting his men, Lieutenant Davidson found
that twenty of them were killed and left behind on the battle-field;
and that, out of the surviving forty, hardly one man had escaped being
wounded, thereby showing, considering the numbers engaged, how
bravely the fight had been maintained, and how gallantly each one had
endeavored to turn the tide of affairs to a more favorable result.
The course pursued by, and even the bravery of, Lieutenant Davidson in
this affair, has been unjustly assailed and questioned by some persons
who have probably been misinformed on the subject. Judging from the
evidence of his companions, there was not a more courageous man
on that ground than the officer in command. Kit Carson refutes the
accusation made against his friend in the following strain: "I am
intimately acquainted with Lieutenant Davidson and have been in
engagements with him where he has taken a prominent part and can
testify that he is as brave and discreet as it is possible for a man
to be. Nearly every person engaged in and who survived that day's
bloody battle has since told me that his commanding officer never once
sought shelter, but stood manfully exposed to the aim of the Indians,
encouraging his men and apparently entirely unmindful of his own
life. It was, however, in the retreat they say that he acted the most
gallantly, for, when everything was going badly with the soldiers, he
was as cool and collected as if under the guns of his fort. The only
anxiety he exhibited was for the safety of his remaining men."
The Indians must have lost many of their warriors in this fight, but
the exact number has never been ascertained. The news of the defeat
was brought by the retreating soldiers themselves to the town of Taos,
where on hearing it, for short time, consternation seized hold of its
inhabitants; but slowly they calmed down, and a party, consisting
of Americans and Mexicans with wagons, was sent out to bring in the
mutilated remains of the fallen. On reaching the field, the dead were
found, but they were all mutilated and stripped of all their clothing.
The Indians had left nothing which they thought might be turned to the
least account. One poor fellow had escaped the rigid scrutiny of the
red men by crawling to an obscure place where he had died from his
wounds. On his body was found a belt that contained three hundred
dollars in gold--his hard earnings that he had been saving up against
a day of need. Had the savages known of this money, they would not
have left it, for they are quite familiar with the use, if not with
the real value of gold. A few days later, the Apaches made their
appearance in a small Mexican settlement which was far distant from
the scene of their success. They were dressed in portions of the
uniforms and accoutrements taken from the dead dragoons; and, as they
sauntered about the town, they would salute each other in military
style, and otherwise mock the actions of the military men. Calling
for a piece of paper, one fellow, with a bit of charcoal, pretended
to write on it an order. No doubt, by so doing, he thought he was
imitating something of the kind which he had seen done at a military
post. After making a few scratches on the paper, he handed it to one
of his red companions, and, with a smile on his rough countenance,
addressed to him some directions in reference to the document.
Although the Mexicans were much amused at these burlesque actions
of the Indians, yet they did not dare to show their mirth until the
latter had departed and left them in possession of their lives.
The day following the one on which the fight had taken place, Kit
Carson returned from Santa Fé and passed near to the spot where the
soldiers had been so roughly handled; but he did not see a visage of
an Apache. They had, by that time, traveled to the west side of the
Rio del Norte. Indeed, he anticipated no danger to himself, as he was
well aware, that the safest time to travel through any section of an
Indian country, is just after the savages have been guilty of some
highhanded act. They are then, instinctively, as some may say, but, as
the fact appears to us, by use of their reasoning powers, well aware
that active measures will be set on foot to repay them for their
rascality.
The trail which, on this occasion, Kit Carson traveled over in coming
from Santa Fé, is one of the most interesting routes, in safe times,
that the mere traveler can select. It comprises some of the most
beautiful scenery in New Mexico. The length of the trail is about
seventy-five miles, and so many windings and turns does it make
through mountains, forests and gorges, that every hundred yards
furnishes a suitable place for an Indian ambuscade. The largest part
of the country which lies between Taos and Santa Fé, is mountainous;
therefore, this trail is one series of ascents and descents. The
greatest pitch is near the scene of the fight in which Lieutenant
Davidson and his command were engaged, where the path, in order to
avoid an almost perpendicular declivity, makes a zig zag course. To
accomplish the ascent of this mountain on a good riding animal, it
takes, at least, two hours; therefore, the height of the mountain
can be easily imagined by those accustomed to mountain climbing. On
reaching some of these immense eminences, the scenery is principally
formed by the broken country, studded here and there with mountains,
which appear as if in miniature, as well as real. Between are valleys,
rivers, creeks, cañons, etc., which render the views truly grand.
There is sufficient woodland, plenty of pure air, and different
species of game, in great abundance, playing about, and filling up the
picture with life. To use the words of romance, this does not fail to
make the scenery perfect. The trail runs through hamlets and villages,
which come in at the proper distances and form great auxiliaries to
the traveler, when fatigued by horseback riding; for, at most of these
places, the traveler can find rest for the night, always provided that
he be willing to submit to a multitude of inconveniences.
The most desirable place at which to stop, on this trail, is a town
nearly midway between Taos and Santa Fé. It is called Rio Arriba. In
this village, the traveler can obtain many comforts which are denied
him even in the larger towns. At the present time it is a very
difficult matter for loaded caravans to pass direct from Santa Fé to
Taos; but the United States government has taken the matter in hand
and has appropriated large sums of money for making a good road
between the two places; therefore, it will not be a long time before
the transit will be accomplished with ease and safety. Scattered over
the country adjacent to this trail now under consideration, there are
many hamlets and villages which are being greatly augmented by new
settlers yearly. Many of these have been seldom, if ever, visited by
white men, and the minute geography of this tract of country is still
in the embryo. Perhaps a new El Dorado is there in store for mankind,
and that some day its resources will receive an impetus and be
developed by the sudden discovery of valuable mines therein. This is
no chimerical illusion; it scarcely rests upon an uncertainty; for,
the mineral wealth of New Mexico, we are firmly persuaded, is still in
its infancy. To use trapper language, judging from "signs" which exist
there in abundance, we shall not be surprised to hear, in time, that
this territory has turned out to be a second California. Rumors of
gold, and even specimens of the article itself, are frequent in many
parts of the country; but the poverty of the inhabitants keeps them
from searching as they ought in order to make the discovery. The
Americans find a more profitable business in commerce and trade,
therefore they but seldom indulge in speculations designed to develop
the mineral wealth of the country; but nevertheless, they have faith
that gold, in immense quantities, exists there, and believe that, in
time, scientific men will disclose the fact and position. We have seen
_quills_ full of gold dust which has been collected there, and we are
well acquainted with men who have washed out from several streams
in the northern part of the Territory, the value of two and a half
dollars per diem; but, with the high prices of living, this rate of
produce cannot be made to pay unless the work shall be carried on by
the assistance of capital.
On this trail to Santa Fé, there are several small Pueblos which are
inhabited by the descendants of the ancient Aztecs. These settlements,
generally, are quite thrifty, and exhibit many external appearances
of comfort. To prepare and cultivate the soil, it takes much labor
in irrigating and bestowing other farming operations upon the land in
order to bring crops to perfection. Hence these people, like the New
Mexicans, can realize from their toil but little beyond their own
subsistence. This trail, as it approaches Santa Fé, enters through
groves of small pines which are many miles in extent. In such places
the ground is sandy and the vegetation poor in the extreme. It has
proved an exceedingly difficult problem, for more than one mind, to
solve the reason why the capital of the Territory should have been
located in such a barren section of the country. Perhaps it was
because this was the most central spot that could be selected,
although such a reason can hardly be offered in sober earnestness. The
most charitable reasoning which we can offer for it, is because the
Mexicans knew no better. It is true there are valuable silver mines
near by; but this could only cause a town to be raised to suit the
miners and not to form the attraction where the _élite_ of New Mexican
society should for so many years congregate.
Santa Fé is located on a plateau of ground which is about seven
thousand feet above the level of the sea. The town itself contains
about five or six thousand inhabitants which includes all races. It
is built of _adobes_, or sun-burnt brick, and occupies both sides of
a small stream which is called the _Rio Chicito_ and which flows into
the Rio Grande nearly twenty miles from the town. The site of Santa
Fé is low when compared with the altitude of the surrounding country,
being bounded on nearly all sides by lofty mountains. One of these
mountains is quite famous. It is the loftiest of all in that section
of country, and is capped during the greater part of the year with
snow. As is invariably the case with the large majority of Mexican
towns, there is but little regularity in the streets of Santa Fé; but
yet, the plaza is easily reached by several avenues. Santa Fé forms
the grand commercial emporium of the great interior continent of North
America; and its trade diverges to every point of the compass. The
extent of this trade can be realized when we assert the fact that with
the State of Missouri alone it amounts annually to several millions of
dollars. In the south it has overland communication even with the city
of Mexico. If the tariff between the two countries could be arranged
upon a more equitable footing than it now is, the Mexican trade would
swell into an enormous sum. Every acquisition of a new territory in
the far west and southwest aids in developing the commerce of Santa
Fé; therefore, until steam shall cause a revolution in the course of
trade, this town must necessarily increase greatly in importance.
The stores in the town are mostly owned, and the mercantile business
chiefly carried on, by Americans. These American speculators are
celebrated for the daring manner with which they launch out their
money upon various enterprises. With them, the greater the risk when
their chances appear that the gain will be large, the more eager they
are in facing the hazard. They sometimes lose, but oftentimes realize
large fortunes. The appearance of these stores is captivating to the
fancy, and many of them would be ornaments to any of the larger cities
or towns of the east. The most expensive articles of luxury and dress
are to be found in them, and in these distant parts, such property
commands a price which would startle and quite shake the nerves of
a prince; but, when the people can obtain the money, they purchase
everything which their fancy dictates. A Santa Fé señorita dashes in
her rich silks which have cost hundreds of dollars with as much grace
as does one of the Washington or Fifth Avenue belles, clothed in the
same luxuriant style. In Santa Fé, we are sorry to say, it requires
vice of the worst shade for women to support such a style of living;
but the morals of the Mexicans are so loose in all classes, that
virtue is boldly parted with by both sexes in a spirit which the
triumphs of natural reason alone ought to prevent, and which no lover
of humanity can admire or tolerate. Gambling, in this town, has
long held its full sway, and many is the victim which this wretched
wickedness has prematurely hurried into a vortex, from which there has
been no recovery.
The palmy days of gambling, in San Francisco, have been rivaled in
the little town of Santa Fé, and the boldness with which the Mexican
player will part with his last dollar, shows the hardened state
to which the man, and, what is perhaps worse, the woman, have been
brought, by years of habitual playing for money. In olden times, the
Mexicans used to travel hundreds of miles, and bring their money with
them in order to squander it at their favorite game of _monte_. Not
only this fact is true, but men will often sell themselves into the
slavery of debt in order to satisfy their craving desire to gamble.
The town of Santa Fé is watered by azequias or small canals, which
are used in every section of the Territory, with which to irrigate the
soil. Near the town, and on a hill adjoining, stands the ruins of Fort
Marcy, which was used by the American Volunteers during the conquest
of the country in the year 1846. This fort commands the town; and, for
the purpose which governed its building it answered very well. There
are several good boarding-houses in Santa Fé, and one hotel, which is
well fitted up and well kept. It forms the rendezvous for the
whole town. The commanding general of the military department which
comprises the Territory of New Mexico, with his staff, makes this
town his head-quarters. There is also a garrison of American soldiers
stationed in the town. The governor of the territory, the judges,
surveyor and all the government officials of any importance, make
this place their home. The Territorial buildings, being the halls of
legislation, and such other buildings as are necessary for the State
and Territorial purposes, both finished and under process of erection,
are located in Santa Fé. On one side of the plaza there stands a long,
low building known as the Palace. No one, however, would be aware
of the fact if not informed of it; for the building has more the
appearance of having been intended for a rope-walk than for the
assemblage of _savants_ who were to discuss and arrange matters of
state and public interest. Notwithstanding the small pretensions
in the way of architecture which the Palace presents, nevertheless,
within it, there have lived old Mexican governors who ruled their
people with a rod of iron, and whose fiery impulses went forth as just
and equitable law. These tyrants--for it was very seldom that the
poor and ignorant New Mexicans were favored with a good, wise and just
governor--governed on the principle of self aggrandizement. Being far
separated from their home government, they took care to smother all
evil reports, while the good, only, were allowed to circulate; and
these, so far as the home government was concerned, solely by their
authority, in order to have the desired effect to retain them in
office. In this they were usually successful, as they generally
retained their lucrative positions until cut off by death, or until
they had amassed a fortune which made their tasks burdensome. Many of
these men might have been envied by the richest among Americans, so
far as wealth is considered. They were so envied by the wealthy men at
the capital of the republic. These provinces of Mexico were the Indies
where troublesome opponents were to be sent by government, to suck,
like leeches, the public treasury, and thus obtain their fill
to repletion. When the United States came into possession of the
territory of New Mexico, affairs were somewhat tempered to the state
of reason and justice; but, a people who had so long been kept down,
could not at once appreciate the value of the changes; consequently,
they have been slow in elevating their heads to the proper standard
of men. The legislature of New Mexico, as it has been recognized
under the constitution of the United States, resembles other forms of
territorial governments. This statement is true in theory, but not in
practice; for it is impossible to collect an uneducated people,
unused to self government, and allow them to steer their own bark as
law-makers, without observing that they make many openings for serious
mistakes to creep in, which are and should be severely criticised.
The pioneer laws, as they came from the first New Mexican legislature,
were faulty in the extreme. They seemed to point out wickedness as
a punishment for wickedness. If we desired to afford our readers a
laugh, we should permit them to read many of these laws. The simple
perusal of them would cause merriment equal to the most laughable
comedy. Had it not been for the few white men, who, from time to time,
have found their way into the legislature of New Mexico, the whole
body would long since have lost themselves in the depth of learning
which their untutored minds had undertaken to engraft upon their
statute books. The members of this body, for a long time, turned their
attention more to the emoluments which naturally accrued from their
position, than to endeavors to steady the helm of government for
the good of their country. In order to save their pay, they studied
economy, which caused them to make a beggarly appearance, and, in
the eyes of the white men, they were often contemptibly mean. Greatly
predominating in numbers, the Mexicans of course had no difficulty in
ruling the country; and they naturally preferred their own countrymen
in filling the law-making department of their government. The
consequence was, that they thus obtained a crowd of legislators who
could hardly read. By the aid of a few schools, an enlightened press,
and the examples of a few worthy Americans, they are gradually mending
their ways in this respect; and the time will come in a few years,
when the legislature of New Mexico will compare favorably with
its sister territories; but this, not until education has made her
indelible mark upon the people.
The town of Santa Fé is provided with a Roman Catholic church, which,
under the judicious management of the present bishop and clergy, is
doing what it can to improve the condition of the Mexican population.
Other religious denominations have not yet been fully developed;
although the attempt is being made to establish churches of the
Protestant faith on a sure and permanent footing; but this, although
we regard it as certain, will take time, for the majority of the
people lean strongly to the Roman Catholic faith. It is a very
singular fact that among a population of seventy thousand souls
included in the limits of the Territory of New Mexico, there have been
such feeble and vain attempts made by Protestant missionaries to
bring the people to their mode of thinking. The task might have been
impossible when the country was under the jurisdiction of old Mexico;
but, since it has changed masters, this excuse does not hold good. The
Mexicans, as a body, learn readily; they easily discern between right
and wrong; and, as the field for Christian enterprise to work in is
large enough for all sects, it is strange that the Protestant church
is not found laboring in the good cause, side by side with its Roman
Catholic friend. It is true, there are a few persons struggling on
under the auspices of the Protestant church; but they are so few that
they are seldom met in the great expanse of the country. Santa Fé has
long been celebrated as having a depraved population; but, as honest
and honorable men are now working with satisfactory success for a
reformation, the day cannot be far distant when this town will redeem
itself. It is true that, not many years back, Santa Fé was filled with
gamblers and desperadoes of all grades; but, at the present time, law
and order is beginning to predominate, and it is to be hoped that the
next generation will see a better state of affairs. The vices which
have characterized the inhabitants have not been confined, by any
means, to the Mexicans; but rather they have been exemplified in those
Americans with bad characters, who have, from time to time, crept in
among the people. These men, in several instances, have set examples
which the most debased Mexican would hesitate to follow.
The appearance of Santa Fé, from an outside view, is anything but
striking. Its houses, like most Mexican buildings, are seldom higher
than one story, and, with few exceptions, they are entirely wanting
in beauty. They are built after what may be styled a Mexican mode of
architecture, and consist of a series of rooms which encircle an open
square or court, the access to which is through a large portal. These
buildings are usually huddled together towards the centre or plaza,
while, in the outskirts of the town, they are greatly scattered. The
arrangement of the streets appears as if they were mere matters of
accident rather than matters of system or intention. The town is
ornamented by few, if any, trees, while the general appearance of the
adjacent country, as has been seen, is barren. The markets of the town
are but sparingly supplied with a variety, and those articles which
are the most common, bring, comparatively speaking, good prices. Not
many miles from Santa Fé there are famous silver mines, which for
many years were worked almost entirely by hand. Within a recent date
machinery has been introduced by some enterprising Americans, and the
precious silver ore is being brought to light in large quantities.
In point of amusement the people still cling to the pleasures of the
fandango; and, as this town is much in advance of any other in the
Territory, the Santa Fé balls are carried on, sometimes, on quite a
grand scale. The majority of them are the places of resort for the
free classes of society. The more respectable people seldom attend
them, and then only when they are certain that they will find the
ceremonies conducted in the spirit which administers really to
pleasure and not to excess. The distance from Santa Fé to the Missouri
River is in the neighborhood of nine hundred miles. The road, for the
first one hundred miles towards the Santa Fé terminus, is rough and
hilly; but, after that, it strikes out on the open plains, and is as
level as can possibly be for such an immense distance. It is over this
beautiful road that we have several times described Kit Carson as he
traveled to and from the United States, though, more frequently, as
has been seen, he preferred routes of his own selection, which enabled
him, with his small escorts, to elude the vigilant watch of hostile
Indians. The rich merchandise which finds its market in New
Mexico passes over this road; and, during the summer months, the
heavily-laden caravans are continually traversing it.