SANTA BARBARA.
"Saints will aid if men will call,
For the blue sky bends o'er all."
Sweet sixteen and an "awful dad." Santa Barbara and Dioscurus. Such a
cruel story, and so varied in version that the student of sacred legend
gets decidedly puzzled. The fair-haired daughter was advised secretly by
Origen, who sent a pupil disguised as a physician to instruct her in the
Christian faith. She insisted on putting three windows instead of two
into the bathroom of the tower to which her father sent her, either to
prevent her from marrying or to imprison her until she would wed one of
the many gay young suitors. These three windows showed her belief in the
Trinity, which she could not have learned from Origen, as among
Christians he was regarded as heretical, and his followers were
Unitarians and Universalists combined, adding the cheerful theory of the
"second opportunity" and that all punishment from sin would have an end,
yet clinging to the old pagan mythology and believing that sun, moon,
stars, and the ocean all had souls--a "Neo-Platonist."
Refusing to recant, Barbara was arraigned and condemned to death. Her
energetic paternal evidently had heard the maxim, "If you want anything
done, do it yourself." His heavy blows fell soft as feathers. She seemed
in sweet slumber. So he drew his sword, cut off her head, and was
instantly killed by lightning from Heaven. Thus ends the history of two
"Early Fathers."
But sweet St. Barbara will never be forgotten. She is the patroness of
artillery soldiers, and protects from lightning and sudden death. In the
many pictures where she appears she carries a feather, or the martyr's
sword and palm, or a book; and the three windows are often seen. She is
the only Santa who bears the cup and wafer.
The appreciative Spaniards honored her memory by bestowing her pretty
name on the choicest spot of the coast, a belt of land seventy miles
long and thirty-five wide, from Point Concepcion to Buena Ventura. No
one can dare to doubt this tragic tale, for Barbara's head may still be
seen preserved as a relic in the temple of All Saints at Rome. I do not
want to be too severe in my estimate of the Roman noble, Dioscurus. An
old lady who never spoke ill of any one, when called upon to say
something good of the devil, said, "We might all imitate his
persistence;" and this impulsive demon was certainly a creature who, if
he had an unpleasant duty confronting him, attended to it himself.
The first navigator who landed on the coast of Santa Barbara, or on one
of the four islands, was Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo, in 1542. He is buried
on San Miguel (pronounced _Magell_). The Indians (and the entire Indian
population at that time amounted to 22,000) were exceedingly glad to
welcome the strangers, much better behaved than those found at San
Diego, who stripped the clothing from those too ill to defend
themselves. Perhaps a reason for this superiority may be found in the
fact that these tribes were entirely naked, and had no desire for any
conventional covering. They serenaded their new friends so loudly that
sleep or rest was impossible, and offered their most delicious food and
free use of canoes. They ate seeds, fruit, fish, locusts; hunted rabbit,
hare, and deer; dried the meat of the latter on trees; placed acorns in
a sieve basket, rinsed and boiled them. As every race is unhappy without
an intoxicating drink and something to chew or smoke, they extracted a
bitter beverage from a certain seed, and used a root in place of
tobacco.
These Channel Indians let their hair grow so long that they could make
braids and fasten them round the face with stone rings. The visitors
spoke of the "Island of the Bearded People." They had substantial brush
huts, supported by pillars bearing inscriptions supposed to allude to
their religion, and they enjoyed dancing to the music of bone flutes.
For gifts, they most desired red calico and chocolate.
Cabrillo's men found a primitive temple on one of the islands, and in it
an unknown god or idol. One of the eight original tribes had a form of
worship strongly resembling a Turkish bath. The men sat round a hot fire
until drenched in perspiration; then plunged into a pool of cold water.
The women were not permitted to be devout in this "cleanliness next to
godliness" manner. It was a luxury and prerogative the noble braves
wanted entirely for themselves. (We see something similar in our own
progressive, enlightened churches, where women are expected to provide
and pack clothing for missionary boxes, attend unfailingly on the stated
means of grace, visit and nurse the sick and poor members, deny
themselves for charity, listen reverently to stupid discourses on the
unknown, delivered with profound certainty that approaches omniscience,
but are not allowed to "speak out in meetin'," or to have the honor of
being represented by women delegates at denominational conventions, or
clubs and councils. They are to lead heavenward, but earthly pleasures
and honors are strictly "reserved"! About the same, isn't it?)
When Father Junipero Sena reached Santa Barbara on his mission-starting
pilgrimage, he sent for Mexican artisans, who taught his converts all
the industrial arts. They were taught to support themselves, then a
piece of ground was parcelled out to each, with a yoke of oxen and
farming utensils. Serra formed eleven missions; ten were added later. He
built the great aqueduct which is still used in Santa Barbara. All honor
to his memory! "There lingers around Santa Barbara more of the aroma and
romance of a bygone civilization, when the worthy Padres set an example
of practical Christianity to the Indian aborigines that we would do well
to emulate, than is found elsewhere in the State."
In the good old days a person could travel from San Diego to San
Francisco and not expend one shilling. The Mission Fathers would furnish
saddle, horse, or a comfortable bed, meals, and the Spanish host would
leave in the guest-chamber a small heap of silver covered by a cloth,
and the stranger, if needy, was expected to take some of it to supply
his wants.
Would you like to see a specimen of the Indian dialect used by the
"Bearded People"? I can count to five in the Siujtu language--or, at
least, I don't care to go much further: paca, sco, masa, scu, itapaca;
twenty is sco-quealisco; and to-morrow, huanahuit.
The islands are now only occupied by flocks of sheep, sheared twice a
year, and paying their owners a good profit; $100,000 one year from
Santa Rosa alone. The wool gets full of seed, and it is not the finest
quality, but this is counterbalanced by the quantity.
Many large abalone shells are found on San Miguel. They are pried off
with a crow-bar, the shells are polished for sale, made into buttons,
etc., and the meat is dried and sent to China, where it is ground and
made into soup. It has been used here, and pronounced by some to be
equal to terrapin, and by others to closely resemble leather.
These islands are always a delight to look upon. As the state of the
atmosphere varies they seem near or far away, clearly defined, or with a
hazy outline. But in sunlight or shadow, mist or mirage, they are ever
beautiful. Within the peaceful channel ships are safe while a wind storm
rages just beyond. The government sends big war-ships here for a trial
of speed. None of these islands are now desirable for residence. There
is no natural supply of fresh water, and the sheep rely on the moisture
left by the heavy fogs, and on a certain plant which holds water in its
cup-like blossom. I hear that at Catalina the goats, deprived of their
natural pabulum of hoop-skirts, tomato cans, and old shoes, feed on
clover and drink the dew.
That's what this climate does for a goat. I do not dare to make many
statements in regard to novelties in natural history since one poor
woman poetized upon the coyote "howling" in the desert, and roused
hundreds of critics to deny that coyotes ever howled. And a scientific
student came to Santa Barbara not so long ago, and found on one of these
islands a species of tailless fox, and hastened to communicate the
interesting anomaly to the Smithsonian Institute. It seems that the
otter hunters trapped these foxes for their tails, then let them go.
If it were not for these blunders I would state that roosters seem to
keep awake most of the night in Southern California, and can be heard
crowing at most irregular hours. Considering the risks, I refrain.
The islands were named by a pious priest, who made the map; and those we
see in looking out from Santa Barbara are San Miguel, Santa Rosa, Santa
Cruz, Ana, Capa. San Nicholas Island is interesting as having been the
abode for sixteen years of a solitary Indian woman, a feminine Robinson
Crusoe, without even a Friday, who was left by mistake when the rest of
the Indians were carried away by order of the Mission Fathers. Two of
the men who at last succeeded in finding her gave their testimony, which
has been preserved; and one of them, Charlie Brown, is still alive, and
likes to tell the strange story. It seems she had run back to get her
child, and the ship went off without her. Nidever tells his story in
this way:
"We scattered off two or three hundred yards apart. She had a little
house made of brush and had a fire; she was sitting by the fire with a
little knife; she was working with it. She had a bone; all came up and
looked at her; she had a heap of roots--that is what she lived on--and
had little sacks to carry them in. As soon as we sat down she put a lump
of them to roast on the fire. Finally we got ready to go, and we made
signs for her to come with us. She understood the signs for her to come
with us; she picked up her things to take them on board."
She had a dress made of duck skins, sewed together with the sinews of a
seal, with needles made of bone--an eye drilled through. This dress the
priests sent to Rome.
The demijohn in which she carried water was made out of rushes and
stopped with asphaltum. She was making one of these water bottles. She
heated small round stones in the fire and put them in the asphaltum, and
then lined the bottle, making it tight. She had no matches, of course,
nor even a tinder-box, but started fire by rubbing two sticks together.
She said her child was eaten up by wolves. None of the Indians
understood her dialect; finally one woman was found who could talk to
her a little, who had been raised on the same island. The woman was
found in 1853. She seemed happy and contented, and would go round to
different houses and dance the Indian dances. She was a great curiosity;
twenty or thirty would go along with her. Many who were sailing by would
stop just to see her.
The other hunters had noticed small human tracks, but never could see
any one. At last several men were scattered all over the island, and
Charlie Brown was the first to discover her. He thought at first it was
only a black crow sitting on a whalebone. I give his version, as his
language is far more picturesque and vivid than my paraphrase would be.
He says:
"She had built a brush fence about two feet high to break the wind. The
sun was coming in her face. She was skinning a seal. The dog when he
noticed me he began to growl. I thought if she should run. I stepped
right round her, and she bowed as if she knew me before, and when the
Indians came up they all kneeled down, and when she saw there was some
of her color, she held out some of her food and offered all some.
"I took her by the shoulder, and I said, '_Varmoose_,' and she
understood at once. I took everything she had, and she took a big seal
head in basket. We all had something to carry. Then she had a little
brand of fire, and she took that away and wobbled along with a strange
kind of a step like until we came to a watering-place about fifty feet
down the bank, and they all went down there and she went too, and she
sat down there and we watched to see what she would do, and she washed
herself over; her hair was all rotting away, a kind of bleached by the
sun, and we got to the vessel and she kneeled down, and we had a stove
right on deck and she crawled to the stove and we gave her a piece of
biscuit and she ate like a good fellow. It came on to blow; old man
Nidever had some bed-ticking. I made her a dress, and gave her a man's
shirt. She was tickled to death. If I was where she was she would hold
up her dress and point that I made it."
He was asked how she happened to be left, repeated Nidever's story, and
added: "She found they were all gone, and commenced to hollo. No answer,
and hunted round and saw the tracks and found they went to lower part of
the island. When she got there found the vessel going away, and she
called, 'Mancyavina,' but it never came. She put her head on the ground
and laid on the ground and cried, and they never came.
"The priest here had all the Indians in Santa Barbara and Santa Inez to
see if they understood her. They could understand some words, but not
all. She got baptized, and they made her a Christian and everything. A
steamer came up from below; the captain offered to take her up and show
her, but old man Nidever would not agree. She died; they gave her green
corn and melons, and they were too much for her. She made knives of
bone and wood, and had pointed nails for catching fish. She had ropes
nicely twisted with sinews, twisted as true as any rope-maker could
make, and had bottles made of grass, and dishes of wood with handles;
she put the feathers next her skin to keep warm."
I will only add that wild dogs were numerous, and she tamed them for
friends. The priests called her Juana Maria, and I think the name of the
island should be changed in her honor. I doubt if Santa Barbara herself
could have done as well under similar circumstances.