Though Junipero's subordinates had thus done without him in these
important developments at San Francisco and Santa Clara, he still
resolved to go north, both to visit the new foundations and to inspect
for himself the marvellous country of which he had heard much, but which
he had not yet seen. As usual, he was long detained by urgent affairs,
and it was not till autumn that he succeeded in breaking away. He made a
short stay at Santa Clara, and then pushed on to San Francisco, which he
reached in time to say mass on St. Francis' day. After a ten days' rest,
he crossed to the presidio and feasted his eyes on the glorious vision
of the Golden Gate--a sight which once seen is never to be forgotten.
"Thanks be to God!" he cried, in rapture (these, says Palou, were the
words most frequently on his lips); "now our Father St. Francis, with
the Holy Cross of the procession of missions, has reached the ultimate
end of this continent of California. To go further ships will be
required!" Yet his joy was tempered with the thought that the eight
missions already founded were very far apart, and that much labour would
be necessary to fill up the gaps.
It was thus with the feeling that, while something had been done, far
more was left to do, that the padre returned to his own special charge
at San Carlos. Various circumstances in combination had caused the
postponement, year after year, of that third mission, which, according
to original intentions, was to have followed immediately upon the
establishments at San Diego and Monterey. Three new settlements were now
projected on the Santa Barbara Channel, and the first of these was to
be the mission of San Buenaventura. It was not until 1782, however, that
the long-delayed purpose was at length accomplished. The site chosen
was at the southeastern extremity of the channel, and close to an Indian
village, or rancheria to which Portala's expedition in 1769 had given
the name of Ascencion de Nuestra Senora, or, briefly, Assumpta. A little
later on, in pursuance of the same plan, the then governor, Filipe de
Neve, took formal possession of a spot some ten leagues distant, and
there began the construction of the presidio of Santa Barbara. It was
Junipero's earnest desire to proceed at once with the adjoining mission.
But the governor, for reasons of his own, threw obstacles in the way,
and in the end this fresh undertaking was left to other hands.
For we have now come to the close of Father Junipero's long and
strenuous career; and as we look back over the record of it, our wonder
is, not that he should have died when he did, but rather that he had not
killed himself many years before. His is surely one of those cases in
which supreme spiritual power and sheer force of will triumph over an
accumulation of bodily ills. Far from robust of constitution, he
had never given himself consideration or repose, forcing himself to
exertions which it would have appeared utterly impossible that his frame
could bear, and adding to the constant strain of his labours and travels
the hardships of self-inflicted tortures of a severe ascetic regime. He
had always been much troubled by the old ulcer on his leg, though
this, no matter how painful, he never regarded save when it actually
incapacitated him for work; and for many years he had suffered from a
serious affection of the heart, which had been greatly aggravated, even
if it was not in the first instance caused, by his habit of beating
himself violently on his chest with a huge stone, at the conclusion of
his sermons--to the natural horror of his hearers, who, it is said,
were often alarmed lest he should drop dead before their eyes. The fatal
issue of such practices could only be a question of time. At length,
mental anxiety and sorrow added their weight to his burden--particularly
disappointment at the slow progress of his enterprise, and grief over
the death of his fellow-countryman and close friend, Father Crespi, who
passed to his well-earned rest on New Year's Day, 1782. After this
loss, it is recorded, he was never the same man again, though he held so
tenaciously to his duties, that only a year before the call came to him,
being then over seventy, he limped from San Diego to Monterey, visiting
his missions, and weeping over the outlying Indian rancherias, because
he was powerless to help the unconverted dwellers in them. He died at
San Carlos, tenderly nursed to the end by the faithful Palou, on the
28th August, 1784; and his passing was so peaceful that those watching
thought him asleep. On hearing the mission bells toll for his death, the
whole population, knowing well what had occurred, burst into tears; and
when, clothed in the simple habit of his order, his body was laid out
in his cell, the native neophytes crowded in with flowers, while the
Spanish soldiers and sailors pressed round in the hope of being blessed
by momentary contact with his corpse. He was laid beneath the mission
altar beside his beloved friend Crespi; but when, in after years, a new
church was built, the remains of both were removed and placed within it.
It is not altogether easy to measure such a man as Junipero Serra by our
ordinary modern standards of character and conduct. He was essentially
a religious enthusiast, and as a religious enthusiast he must be judged.
To us who read his story from a distance, who breathe an atmosphere
totally different from his, and whose lives are governed by quite
other passions and ideals, he may often appear one-sided, extravagant,
deficient in tact and forethought, and, in the excess of his zeal, too
ready to sacrifice everything to the purposes he never for an instant
allowed to drop out of his sight. We may even, with some of his critics,
protest that he was not a man of powerful intellect; that his views of
people and things were distressingly narrow; that, after his kind, he
was extremely superstitious; that he was despotic in his dealings
with his converts, and stiffnecked in his relations with the civil and
military authorities. For all this is doubtless true. But all this
must not prevent us from seeing him as he actually was--charitable,
large-hearted, energetic, indomitable; in all respects a remarkable, in
many ways, a really wise and great man. At whatever points he may fall
short of our criteria, this much must be said of him, that he was fired
throughout with the high spirit of his vocation, that he was punctual in
the performance of duty as he understood it, that he was obedient to
the most rigorous dictates of that Gospel which he had set himself to
preach. In absolute, single-hearted, unflinching, and tireless devotion
to the task of his life--the salvation of heathen souls--he spent
himself freely and cheerfully, a true follower of that noblest and most
engaging of the mediaeval saints, whose law he had laid upon himself,
and whom he looked up to as his guide and examplar. Let us place him
where he belongs--among the transcendent apostolic figures of his own
church; for thus alone shall we do justice to his personality, his
objects, his career. The memory of such a man will survive all changes
in creeds and ideals; and the great state, of which he was the first
pioneer, will do honour to herself in honouring him.