CHAPTER I.

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[Illustration: A Portion of Estes Park, with Long's Peak in the Distance.

(See Page 91.)]

COLORADO

THE BRIGHT ROMANCE OF AMERICAN HISTORY

BY

F. C. GRABLE

PAINTINGS BY

ALLEN TRUE

COPYRIGHT 1911

F. C. GRABLE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

THE KISTLER PRESS

DENVER COLO.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER I.

The Old, the New, and the Ocean Between 1

CHAPTER II.

Coronado 14

CHAPTER III.

Light in the East 40

CHAPTER IV.

Lieutenant Pike 54

CHAPTER V.

The Lost Period 75

CHAPTER VI.

Major Long 85

CHAPTER VII.

The Pioneers 99

CHAPTER VIII.

Christopher Carson and His Contemporaries 106

CHAPTER IX.

General Fremont and the Mormons 125

CHAPTER X.

Opportunity 143

CHAPTER XI.

A Vanishing Race 153

CHAPTER XII.

The Lustre of Gold 171

CHAPTER XIII.

Some Men of Visions 184

CHAPTER XIV.

The Stone Which the Builders Rejected 222

ILLUSTRATIONS.

A Glimpse of Estes Park Frontispiece

CHAPTER I. Face Page

The Ocean Explorer 1

CHAPTER II.

Coronado Before a Zuni Village 16

CHAPTER IV.

(_a_) Pike and His Frozen Companion 66

(_b_) One of the Approaches to Cheyenne Mt. 74

CHAPTER V.

The Trapper 78

CHAPTER VI.

The Buffalo Hunter 94

CHAPTER VII.

Pioneers and Prairie Schooner 110

CHAPTER VIII.

A Government Scout 126

CHAPTER IX.

Indians Watching Fremont's Force 134

CHAPTER X.

Ventura, Historian of Taos Indians 142

CHAPTER XI.

(_a_) Indian Chief Addressing the Council 158

(_b_) Winnowing Grain 166

CHAPTER XII.

Making a Clean-up 174

DEDICATED

TO THE PIONEERS OF COLORADO:

Whose work in laying the foundation of the magnificent superstructure

of our great State, as Abraham Lincoln said of the heroes of

Gettysburg, "is far beyond our poor power to add or detract."

PREFACE.

It is Emerson's beautiful thought that all true history is biography,

and that men are but the pages of history. In felicitous language the

author has pictured a period that is indeed the bright romance of

American history. It is the story of the discovery of a new Continent

in the Western Seas; the story of a graceful and cultured people of a

mighty world-power in the Fifteenth Century; the story of the dream of

a great Western Empire to be founded in the New World, where would be

revived all the pomps and chivalries of Castile's ancient court; the

story of the fading of that dream in the splendor of the great

world-idea of the self-government of man carried by the Pilgrim

Fathers to Plymouth Rock in 1620; the story that in the great drama of

life man is ever changing from the old into the new, and from the bad

into the better in unceasing, unchanging, inevitable evolution; the

story of early Colorado, whose ancient Capital, Santa Fe,--in the

sense that Colorado is a part of the old Spanish country--was the

first white settlement west of the Floridas upon all this Western

Continent within the present domain of the United States.

But more than all, it is a story of the human touch of those still

living and of great empire builders not long since passed away, whose

"hands bent the arch of the new heavens" over our beloved State of

Colorado; whose eyes were filled with far-away visions and their

hearts with sublime faith; pioneers and history makers of whom we

would say as Cinneas said when asked by his master Pyrrhus after his

return from his Embassy at Rome, "What did the Roman Senate look

like?"

"An assembly of Kings!" replied Cinneas.

Wendell Phillips, in the greatest of all his lectures, pictures the

"Muse of history dipping her pen in the sunlight and writing in the

clear blue" above all other names the name of his hero "Toussaint

l'Ouverture." The author in these pages which so graphically portray

the early history of our State would not write the name of Colorado

above any sister state; but we can catch between his lines the deep

undertones of the music of the Union, which overmaster all sectional

notes in the thought, that Colorado is a glorious part of it all.

And so it is enough that we read in the title of this book these magic

words, as if traced in the clear sunlight of our mountain skies,

"Colorado--The Bright Romance of American History."

J. F. TUTTLE, JR.

COLORADO--THE BRIGHT ROMANCE OF AMERICAN HISTORY

[Illustration: The Ocean Explorer.]

CHAPTER I.

THE OLD, THE NEW, AND THE OCEAN BETWEEN.

[Sidenote: 1504]

The great Queen Isabella was dead. She had died amidst the splendor of

the richest and most powerful Court on earth, beloved by some for her

noble qualities, and execrated by others for her tyrannical laws, for

the heartlessness and cruelty she had practiced, for the wars she had

kindled, and for the lives she had sacrificed. Because of the

turbulence of the elements, the superstitious believed that her

unconquerable spirit refused to be tranquilized even by death.

Darkness lay upon the world, and the slowly moving funeral cortege

made its way the three hundred miles to Granada, menaced by the

lightning's flash, and accompanied by the thunder's roar, the rain and

the hurricane, and the floods which swept men and horses to their

death. At last, after thirty years of a masterful and memorable reign,

Isabella lay at rest in the marvelously beautiful Alhambra, the burial

place of her choice which she had wrested from the Moorish Kings. And

Ferdinand ruled in her stead.

[Sidenote: 1506]

Less than two years, and there was another notable death in Spain. The

far-seeing eyes of a kingly man looked out upon the world for the last

time. The active hands of a great navigator lay still, folded over the

courageous heart that had long been broken; the heart that had been

thrilled by the acclaim of the populace, and then chilled by the

frowns of its sovereigns; the hands that had been bedecked with jewels

by Ferdinand and Isabella, and later laden by them with chains.

Columbus, the admiral of the ocean, who had joined two worlds by his

genius and accomplished an event whose magnitude and grandeur history

can never equal, and who had filled the center of a stage, brilliant

with the famous actors of his time, had died; died in poverty and

neglect; instead of chimes chanting a requiem in his praise, there was

the rattle of the chains his hands had worn, as they went down into

his sepulchre for burial with him according to his wish. Even his

grave remained unmarked for ten years, until public opinion forced

Ferdinand to a tardy recognition of his duty in the erection of a

monument in honor of one of the greatest men of any age; a man great

in thought and great in action; a man with such a mighty faith that we

stand appalled at its mightiness!

Isabella left a united country; a country at the pinnacle of

greatness. She left a highly organized army; an army wrought out of a

fragment of incompetency. She raised the standard of science and the

arts, and advanced the cause of morality. But the greatest and most

enduring monument she erected was the result of the slight

encouragement and scant help that she gave to the enthusiastic Italian

mendicant, who became the founder of a New World and whose fame will

continue undimmed to the end of time.

[Sidenote: 1516]

"The King is dead" fell upon Ferdinand's unhearing ears. "Long live

the King" greeted the advent of Charles, his successor. Charles, who

was the son of the unfortunate Joanna, daughter of Ferdinand and

Isabella; Charles I, King of Spain; Charles V, Emperor of Germany;

Ruler over the kingdom of Naples; Monarch of the New World. Power,

such as the world has seldom seen, centered in this man; an empire so

vast that it encircled the globe, and upon whose domain military

activities never ceased. The cruelties of Spain are proverbial, and

they reached their climax under the rule of Ferdinand, Isabella and

Charles; and under them the decadence of their nation began, which in

four hundred years has never ceased. Now, shorn of every dependency,

its power forever destroyed, it lies crushed, humiliated and broken by

the greatness of its fall.

And here this sketch leaves Old Spain and we sail away across the

ocean five thousand miles, to the New Spain of that period, in a ship

whose sails flap lazily in the breeze, taking more weeks then than

days now by the modern methods of this enlightened age.

[Sidenote: 1519]

Hernando Cortez sprang from a noble but impoverished family. Educated

for the law, he chose an adventurous life instead, and at the age of

nineteen left Spain for San Domingo to try his fortunes in the New

World, resulting in his brilliant conquest of Mexico; a country whose

early history we can only imagine. The unknowable is there; for its

secrets lie buried beneath the weight of centuries. Tragedy is there;

for what derelict, never heard of more, dropped in from over the seas

and cast its human wreckage on those unknown shores for the beginning

of a nation? Who were those who may have been lost to home and friends

and wandered in from Asia over that narrow strip of land long ago

submerged? Whence they came, whatever their nation or color, they were

human beings, with thoughts and affections like ours, whose beginnings

we can never fathom. They grew in numbers, had flocks and herds, and

gold and jewels. They had tribal governments, with differing customs

and languages. They had the wandering habit. The streams, the

mountains, and the plains beckoned them and they came and went, happy,

care-free and prosperous. Some one among them said: "Let us all come

together and unite as a people; establish a uniform government; build

a city, and select some one of our number to rule over us." And it was

done. Mexico City was built and became the Capital. Montezuma was made

the ruler. They had laws and Courts of Justice; they had

well-constructed and highly-decorated buildings, with architectural

features the equal of some European structures prized for their beauty

and durability. Their streets were laid out symmetrically, and their

parks and landscape gardening added to the city's attractiveness. They

had a system of canals and well-developed agriculture; an organized

army and thoroughly equipped ships. Whence came this high

civilization? We can never know. We only know that it existed. Two

million people lived in and adjacent to Mexico City. They were rich,

intelligent and contented, until the coming of Cortez; and when he

reached the shores of Mexico in the Spring of 1519 it was a memorable

day for them. He came in ten ships with six hundred Spanish soldiers.

He disembarked, and when the last man was ashore and all the

ammunition and guns and supplies were landed, he performed a feat of

courage bordering on the sublime. He set his ships on fire, and he

stood with his resolute men and saw them burn to the water's edge,

knowing that the flame and smoke and destruction meant for each that

he must conquer or die. And they marched away, a handful against a

host, and they won!

But the fall of Mexico, like the fate of most nations, came from

within and not from without. What could six hundred do against a

united two million. That was where Cortez shone. To create discord,

distrust and jealousy; to make them fight each other; to unite the

disaffected under his own banner, was the work of a diplomat and

general, and he was both. To their everlasting disgrace, the

dissatisfied of the native race accomplished for Cortez the downfall

of their own nation. And when, two years after he began his

destructive warfare, the City of Mexico had been utterly destroyed;

when a race had been subjugated; had been stripped of its vast

treasure of gold and jewels for the greater glorification of the

luxurious Court of Spain; had lost thousands by slaughter; then, and

not till then, did the insurgents know that they had encompassed their

own ruin. They were enslaved by the Spaniards. The last chapter in

their national life was written. The Aztecs, as a people, were no

more. They were given the name of Mexicans by the Spaniards, for

"Mexitl" the national War God of the native race. Mexicans they have

continued to this day, and Cortez as Captain General ruled over the

Mexican Territory which he called "New Spain." He set four hundred

thousand of the enslaved natives to rebuilding the City of Mexico, but

their hearts were in the ruins of the old city, and not in the

building of the new--for Cortez saw to it that there should be nothing

in the new Spanish city that would remind them of the ancient grandeur

of the old. Ten years after its completion there were not a thousand

people in it. The old population was melting away, dying off from

over-work in the mines to which they had been driven, and where they

sickened from disease and hunger and heart yearning for the families

from whom they had been forcibly separated, while nearly seven million

dollars a year of their earnings were being sent to Spain, taken from

the richest silver mines in all the world.

You were great Empire builders, oh Spain! But your wanton cruelty to

mankind will forever cloud your glory as the eclipse darkens the sun!

You permitted the Inquisition! You pitted strength against

helplessness, burned thousands alive, and confiscated their property!

You permitted the slaughter of twelve hundred thousand human beings in

the West Indies, and never heard their pitiful cry, until the lack of

earnings ceased to swell the income of the Crown, and then you carried

captives from the mainland to take the place of the dead! You

permitted the institution of the American slave trade, which only

ended at Appomattox, with the destruction of hundreds of thousands of

American soldiers, and millions of money!

The power and fame of Cortez had grown beyond the limit set by the

Crown of Spain. Every forceful and successful man in the Dominion of

Spain was a marked man; not marked for preferment and encouragement,

but marked for humiliation and disgrace. The battles that Cortez had

won for the King were forgotten; the treasure he had sent home counted

for naught; and for the territory he had subjugated, there was no

appreciation. His authority was ended. An officer and soldiers came

from Spain to take him back, not with honor, but in ignominy. He

arrested the officer, and induced the soldiers to join his army. He

was so powerful that he thought he could be King of the New World.

Finally, threats and promises secured his peaceable return to Spain,

where all promises were broken, and his life was tempest-tossed until

he died.

[Sidenote: 1528]

Then Nuno de Guzman was named Governor General of New Spain. He

started out to duplicate the successes of Cortez, whose ability he

lacked, as well as the opportunity. He hunted in vain for another

Mexico City to conquer and despoil. He pushed Northward hunting for

riches, slaughtering the natives, burning their villages, and laying

waste their country. He conquered a great territory on the western

coast of Upper Mexico, along the Gulf of California, which he called

"New Gallicia." His rule was so ruthless, cruel and desolating, that

even Spain, hardened as she was to suffering, was shocked with his

barbarous persecution of the natives, and after seven years, a warrant

was sent out from Spain for his arrest and trial, on charges of

inhuman cruelty. He was deprived of his office, taken to Mexico City,

held there a prisoner for several years, and was then returned to

Spain.

[Sidenote: 1535]

Don Antonio de Mendoza, known as the "Good Viceroy," succeeded to the

rule of Mexico, and put in practice a new policy, one not before tried

in the New World, that of kindness. It had come too late for many, for

the dead were everywhere, and the living had settled into a degree of

hopelessness that a whole decade of kind treatment could do little

toward counteracting. Three hundred and seventy-six years have passed

since that day, and the scars of those sixteen years of Spanish murder

and plunder have not yet been removed.

With which our narrative ends as to the mis-rule of New Spain.

[Sidenote: 1536]

Pamfilo de Narvaez had been made Governor of Florida in 1527 by the

Spanish Government, with a grant to explore and colonize a vast

territory bordering on the Gulf of Mexico. He outfitted in Spain,

sailed to Cuba where he repaired his vessels, thence into the Gulf of

Mexico, meeting with storms that drove him out of his course, and so

confused his mariners that they lost their reckoning. Consequently, he

was left by his ships with his three hundred men and horses on the

coast of Florida, instead of on the coast of Texas, as he thought.

They rode away into the wilderness and nearly all to their death.

Their wanderings, hardships and sufferings, the mind cannot conceive

nor the pen describe. They worked to the West and North, crossing

rivers and swamps, plains and mountains, through heat and cold, hungry

and finally starving when their last horse had been used for food,

mistreated by hostile Indians, lost and in despair. Beating their

spurs into nails, they made boats, and using the hides from their

horses for sails, they were borne down one of the Gulf Rivers, and out

into the swift ocean current where they were carried to sea and

drowned--all save four. Eight years after they had disembarked on the

Florida Coast, these four were found by some slave catchers, away up

on the Coast of California, whither they had wandered, and taken to

Mexico City. Their sufferings had been so great, that when they

reached civilization, they could no longer appreciate comforts. They

continued to sleep on the ground, to eat unwholesome food, and to

cling to the primitive habits they had formed. Slavery had in the

meantime become so common, that Mendoza bought of the three Spaniards

the negro, Estevanico, to act as guide to the far North, to which

country Mendoza proposed to send an expedition.

[Sidenote: 1539]

Fray Marcos, a Priest from Italy, had been a participant in the

conquest of Peru, was a historian and theologian, picturesque in

appearance and language, and was next to Mendoza in power. He was

selected to go North on a visit preliminary to the proposed

expedition, with the negro as guide. Rumors were in the air, and

growing all the time, of wonderful cities and untold treasure in the

North. Even the three returned Spaniards, rested from their

wanderings, hinted at the fabulous wealth of which they persuaded

themselves they had heard. The tales grew with the telling, so that

Fray Marcos felt that he must be able to verify these reports, which

he did, with the result that when the Coronado expedition found they

did not exist, he had the great misfortune to ever after be called the

"Lying Monk."

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