The Mission San Francisco de Assisi stood at the head of a great valley
about a league from the Presidio and facing the eastern hills. Behind
it, yet not too close, for the priests were ever on their guard against
Indians more lustful of loot than salvation, was a long irregular chain
of hills, breaking into twin peaks on its highest ridge, with a lone
mountain outstanding. It was an imposing but forbidding mass, as steep
and bare as the walls of a fortress; but in the distance, north and
south, as the range curved in a tapering arc that gave the valley the
appearance of a colossal stadium, the outlines were soft in a haze of
pale color. The sheltered valley between the western heights and the
sand hills far down the bay where it turned to the south, was green
with wheat fields, and a small herd of cattle grazed on the lower
slopes. The beauty of this superbly proportioned valley was further
enhanced by groves of oaks and bay trees, and by a lagoon,
communicating with an arm of the bay, which the priests had named for
their Lady of Sorrows--Nuestra Senora de los Dolores. The little sheet
of water was almost round, very green and set in a thicket of willows
that were green, too, in the springtime, and golden in summer. Near
its banks, or closer to the protecting Mission--on whose land grant
they were built--were the comfortable adobe homes of the few Spanish
pioneers that preferred the bracing north to the monotonous warmth of
the south. Some of these houses were long and rambling, others built
about a court; all were surrounded by a high wall, enclosing a garden
where the Castilian roses grew even more luxuriantly than at the
Presidio. The walls, like the houses, were white, and on those of Don
Juan Moraga, a cousin of Dona Ignacia Arguello, the roses had been
trained to form a border along the top in a fashion that reminded
Rezanov of the pink edged walls of Fiesole.
The white red-tiled church and the long line of rooms adjoining were
built of adobe with no effort at grandeur, but with a certain noble
simplicity of outline that harmonized not only with the lofty reserve
of the hills but with the innocent hope of creating a soul in the
lowest of human bipeds. The Indians of San Francisco were as
immedicable as they were hideous; but the fathers belabored them with
sticks and heaven with prayer, and had so far succeeded that if as yet
they had sown piety no higher than the knees, they had trained some
twelve hundred pairs of hands to useful service.
On the right was a graveyard, with little in it as yet but rose trees;
behind the church and the many spacious rooms built for the consolation
of virtue in the wilderness was a large building surrounding a court.
Girls and young widows occupied the cells on the north side, and the
work rooms on the east, while the youths, under the sharp eye of a lay
brother, were opposite. All lived a life of unwilling industry:
cleaning and combing wool, spinning, weaving, manufacturing chocolate,
grinding corn between stones, making shoes, fashioning the simple
garments worn by priest and Indian. Between the main group of
buildings and the natural rampart of the "San Bruno Mountains" was the
Rancheria, where the Indian families lived in eight long rows of
isolated huts.
In spite of vigilance an Indian escaped now and again to the mountains,
where he could lie naked in the sun and curse the fetich of
civilization. As the Russians approached, a friar, with deer-skin
armor over his cassock, was tugging at a recalcitrant mule, while a
body-guard of four Indians stood ready to attend him down the coast in
search of an enviable brother. The mule, as if in sympathy with the
fugitive, had planted his four feet in the earth and lifted his voice
in derision, while the young friar, a recruit at the Mission, and far
from enamored of his task, strained at the rope, and an Indian pelted
the hindquarters with stones. Suddenly, the mule flung out his heels,
the enemy in the rear sprawled, the rope flew loose, the beast with a
loud bray fled toward the willows of Dolores. But the young priest was
both agile and angry. With a flying leap he reached the heaving back.
The mule acknowledged himself conquered. The body-guard trotted on
their own feet, and the party disappeared round a bend of the hills.
Rezanov laughed heartily and even the glum visage of Father Abella
relaxed.
"It is a common sight, Excellency," he said. "We are thankful to have
a younger friar for such fatiguing work. Many a time have I belabored
stubborn mules and bestrode bucking mustangs while searching for one of
these ungrateful but no doubt chosen creatures. It is the will of God,
and we make no complaint; but we are very willing, Father Landaeta and
I, that youth should cool its ardor in so certain a fashion while we
attend to the more reasonable duties at home."
They were dismounted at the door of the church. The horses were led off
by waiting Indians. The soldiers on guard saluted and stepped aside,
and the party entered. Two priests in handsome vestments stood before
the altar, but the long dim nave was empty. The Russians had been told
that a mass would be said in their honor, and they marched down the
church and bent their knees with as much ceremony as had they been of
the faith of their hosts. When the short mass was over, Rezanov
bethought himself of Concha's request, and whispering its purport to
Father Abella was led to a double iron hoop stuck with tallow dips in
various stages of petition. Rezanov lit a candle and fastened it in an
empty socket. Then with a whimsical twist of his mouth he lit and
adjusted another.
"No doubt she has some fervent wish, like all children," he thought
apologetically. "And whether this will help her to realize it or not,
at least it will be interesting to watch her eyes--and mouth--when I
tell her. Will she melt, or flash, or receive my offering at her
shrine as a matter of course? I'll surprise her to-night in the middle
of a dance."
He deposited a gold piece among the candles on the table and followed
Father Abella through a side door. A corridor ran behind the long line
of rooms designed not only for priests but for travellers always sure
of a welcome at these hospitable Missions. Father Abella shuffled
ahead, halted on the threshold of a large room, and ceremoniously
invited his guests to enter. Two other priests stood before a table
set with wine and delicate confections, their hands concealed in their
wide brown sleeves, but their unmatched physiognomies--the one lean and
jovial, the other plump and resigned--alight with the same smile of
welcome. Father Abella mentioned them as his coadjutor Father Martin
Landaeta, and their guest Father Jose Uria of San Jose; and then the
three, with the scant rites of genuine hospitality, applied themselves
to the tickling of palates long unused to ambrosial living. Responding
ingenuously to the glow of their home-made wines, they begged Rezanov
to accept the Mission, burn it, plunder it, above all, to plan his own
day.
"I hope that I am to see every detail of your great work," replied the
diplomatic guest of honor. "But at your own leisure. Meanwhile, I beg
that you will order one of your Indians to bring in the little presents
I venture to offer as a token of my respect. You may have heard that
the presents of his Imperial Majesty were refused by the Mikado of
Japan. I reserved many of them for possible use in our own
possessions, particularly a piece of cloth of gold. This I had
intended for our church at New Archangel, but finding the priests there
more in need of punishment than reward, I concluded to bring it here
and offer it as a manifest of my admiration for what the great
Franciscan Order of the Most Holy Church of Rome has accomplished in
the Californias. Have I been too presumptuous?"
The priests all wore the eager expressions of children.
"Could we not see them first?" asked Father Landaeta of his superior;
and Father Abella sent a servant with an order to unload the horse and
bring in the presents.
Not a vestige of reserve lingered. Priests and guests sat about the
table eating and drinking and chatting as were they old friends
reunited, and Rezanov extracted much of the information he desired.
The white population--"gente de razon"--of Alta California, the
peculiar province of the Franciscans--the Jesuits having been the first
to invade Baja California, and with little success--numbered about two
thousand, the Christianized Indians about twenty thousand. There were
nineteen Missions and four Presidial districts--San Diego, close to the
border of Baja California, Santa Barbara, Monterey, and San Francisco.
Each Mission had an immense grant of land, or rancho--generally fifteen
miles square--for the raising of live stock, agricultural necessities,
and the grape. At the Presidio of San Francisco there were some seventy
men, including invalids; and the number varied little at the other
military centres, Rezanov inferred, although there was a natural effort
to impress the foreigner with the casual inferiority of the armed force
within his ken. Cattle and horses increased so rapidly that every few
years there was a wholesale slaughter, although the agricultural yield
was enormous. What the Missions were unable to manufacture was sent
them from Mexico, and disposed of the small salaries of the priests;
the "Pious Fund of California" in the city of Mexico being
systematically embezzled. The first Presidio and Mission were founded
at San Diego in July of 1769; the last at San Francisco in September
and October of 1776.
Rezanov's polite interest in the virgin country was cut short by the
entrance of two Indians carrying heavy bundles, which they opened upon
the floor without further delay.
The cloth of gold was magnificent, and the padres handled it as
rapturously as had their souls and fingers been of the sex symbolized
while exalted by the essence of maternity, in whose service it would be
anointed. Rezanov looked on with an amused sigh, yet conscious of
being more comprehending and sympathetic than if he had journeyed
straight from Europe to California. It was not the first time he had
felt a passing gratitude for his uncomfortable but illuminating sojourn
so close to the springs of nature.
The priests were as well pleased with the pieces of fine English cloth;
and as their own homespun robes rasped like hair shirts, they silently
but uniformly congratulated themselves that the color was brown.
Father Abella turned to Rezanov, his saturnine features relaxed.
"We are deeply grateful to your excellency, and our prayers shall
follow you always. Never have we received presents so timely and so
magnificent. And be sure we shall not forget the brave officers that
have brought you safely to our distant shores, nor the distinguished
scholar who guards your excellency's health." He turned to Langsdorff
and repeated himself in Latin. The naturalist, whose sharp nose was
always lifted as if in protest against oversight and ready to pounce
upon and penetrate the least of mysteries, bowed with his hand on his
heart, and translated for the benefit of the officers.
"Humph!" said Davidov in Russian. "Much the Chamberlain will care for
the prayers of the Catholic Church if he has to go home with his cargo.
But he has a fine opportunity here for the display of his diplomatic
talents. I fancy they will avail him more than they did at
Nagasaki--where I am told he swore more than once when he should have
kowtowed and grinned."
"I shouldn't like to see him grin," replied Khostov, as they finally
started for the outbuildings. "If he could go as far as that he would
be the most terrible man living. Were it not for the fire in him that
melts the iron just so often he would be crafty and cruel instead of
subtle and firm. He is a fortunate man! There were many fairies at
his cradle! I have always envied him, and now he is going to win that
beautiful Dona Concha. She will look at none of us."
"We will doubtless meet others as beautiful at the ball to-night," said
Davidov philosophically. "You are not in love with a girl who has
barely spoken to you, I suppose."
"She had almost given me a rose this morning, when Rezanov, who was
flattering the good Dona Ignacia with a moment of his attention, turned
too soon. I might have been air. She looked straight through me.
Such eyes! Such teeth! Such a form! She is the most enchanting girl I
have ever seen. And he will monopolize her without troubling to notice
whether we even admire her or not. Pray heaven he does not break her
heart."
"He is honorable. One must admit that, if he does fancy his own will
was a personal gift from the Almighty. Perhaps she will break his. I
never saw a more accomplished flirt."
"I know women," replied the shrewder Khostov. "When men like Rezanov
make an effort to please--" He shrugged his shoulders. "Some men are
the offspring of Mars and Venus and most of us are not. We can at
least be philosophers. Let us hope the dinner will be excellent."