Dawn and the Dons/CAVALIER TO GRINGO
CHAPTER XVI
CAVALIER TO GRINGO
THE fires of revolution, kindled in the Spanish colonies of South America, resulted in Mexican independence in 1821. The Californians, though they had declined to take part in the revolution, complacently accepted the new situation, and continued to receive their Governors from Mexico. Mexican rule, thus begun, came to an end when Commodore Sloat raised the American flag at Monterey in 1846.
This quarter of a century saw the twilight of Latin supremacy and the dawn of Anglo-Saxon rule in California. The Missions, secularized by Mexico and taken over by the civil authorities, were abandoned, their properties generally sold, and many of the Mission churches and buildings allowed to go to ruin. Their great work was done.
Foreigners in small numbers, mostly Americans, began slowly to filter in, accompanied by a gradual and limited introduction of other ways and methods. Both of these features were slow in developing, and the happy Californians were equally slow in appreciating their full Significance. Before the close of this transition period, however,
the Californians
realized not only that their
Missions were gone, not only that the Anglo-Saxon had arrived, but that the government to which they had given allegiance was making their fair land a dumping ground for Mexican politicians. This created much
dissatisfaction, especially among
the younger element, and culminated in 1836 in a revolt led by Juan Bautista Alvarado, a twenty-seven-year-old Californian, born at Monterey, and resulted in a brief
period of independence, and a later compromise whereby Alvarado was appointed Governor. As an added menace to the pastoral peace of California, and one that it was too late now
to check, greedy
foreign powers were casting eager, longing, hungry eyes on the province. England, with her ships upon the seven seas, was believed to be waiting an opportune time and an adequate cause for possessing herself of this Pacific jewel. The Russian bear had crossed over to the Alaskan coast, and was slowly moving down toward this land of perpetual springtime. France and Holland were making stealthy advances, and Uncle Sam was casting flirta-
tious eyes toward the Pacific. Russia’s
rected.
plans were well laid, and
intelligently di-
But for the hastening of events beyond Russia’s expectations, California would probably have passed under the dominion of the Czar. In Mexico and California, England’s consular agents, watchfully alert, were urgently recommending to their home government the acquisition of California from Mexico as an equivalent for the forty or fifty millions of dollars owed by the Mexican government to subjects of Great Britain. The United States had approached the Mexican government with a proposition of purchase, with negative results. All these international longings and rivalries were, of course, brought to an end by the war between the United States and Mexico, and the resulting treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Again may the fatalist declare that California was destined to become American.
The social and industrial changes were slowly wrought. Cattle raising continued the principal industry, and hides and tallow the only exports. Love-making and merry-making went happily on without apparent abatement or diminution. Hospitality knew no lessening, and the horse remained supreme in the field of passenger transportation. The Californians did not seem to realize that important history was in the making. They saw their Missions go. They saw an occasional stranger of an alien race take up his residence among them. They felt vaguely the political sins of Mexico. They had an idea that all was not quite as it should be. But four decades of quiet isolation and peaceful content had unfitted them keenly to discern, or soundly to meet, the slow but tremendous
changes that were making headway among them. Strangely enough, the place where these changes were least manifested, and where they seemingly had the smallest effect was Monterey, the social center of Cali- — fornia and its seat of government. Old Spain lingered on at Monterey; old Spain was found there by Commodore Sloat in 1846; and it is the one place in Cali-
fornia where old Spain lingers today. In “California Under Spain and Mexico,” written in 1911, Rich-
man says that something of the old California in the days of Serra and Fages lingers yet in nooks and corners, “and most of all in Monterey.” In “California Coast Trails,” written
in 1913, J. Smeaton Chase says of Monterey,
“Much
of the
air of its early days still pervades the place and makes it, in a way, the most interesting town in California. The green lawn is gone, but many of the low adobe houses remain, and a good part of the population is Spanish or
Mexican
herself
still;
a resident
and
my
hostess,
of Monterey
Dona
from
Carmelita, girlhood, has not a few compatriots with whom to talk over the old, gay, easy days that lingered here long after the rest of California had become charged with American energy.
Monterey, and not the Mission Dolores in San Francisco, as Bret Harte expected, seems destined to be the ‘last sigh’ of the native Californian.” It required more than a mere war—particularly a war between far off Mexico and farther off America—or a mere change of governing authority to disturb the peace, or to stifle the spirit of hospitality of Monterey. The simple truth is that these happy and contented people, in their delightful little world, isolated from and with
small knowledge of the world at large, were living in a paradise of beautiful dreams, and were taking scant heed of the great events of the time. To them it was incredible that anybody should want to take from them the joys and pleasures that had been uninterruptedly theirs for three quarters of a century, and which in their simple view would go on forever. A striking example of this unsuspecting and hospitable spirit was afforded in 1842 when Commodore Thomas Ap Catesby Jones, commanding an American squadron, under the belief that war had been declared
between the United States and Mexico, landed a force of a hundred and fifty marines, and raised the American flag over Monterey. He soon discovered his mistake, restored the Mexican flag, withdrew his marines, and fired a salute in apology. Official notice was taken of the incident, but the Commodore was promptly forgiven and socially wined and dined. Monterey.
159
Such was the spirit of
So, as Colton informs us, the people of Monterey were
“more astounded than indignant” at the actual taking of the city four years later. When Commodore Sloat sailed into the harbor, and took peaceable possession of California’s capital, the chaplain on one of his vessels, the Congress, was a rather unusual man named Walter Colton, a keen observer, with the rare faculty of graphically and entertainingly recording what he observed. Colton was appointed by Sloat the first, and only, American Alcalde of Monterey, relieving Purser R. M. Price and Dr. Edward
Gilchrist, who
had been placed tem-
porarily in charge, and whose services, Colton informs
us, were needed on the ships. Apparently the Commodore thought he could better spare a preacher than a purser or a doctor. Colton remained Alcalde, with almost unlimited judi-
cial and executive authority, and an extensive territorial jurisdiction, for more than two years. Speaking of this
period, Goodwin in his “State Government of California” says, “Under the existing government, almost the entire control of local affairs rested in the hands of the Alcaldes. Instead of having their jurisdiction confined to a town or district, as under Mexican rule, they some-
times exercised authority over several districts. Rev. Walter Colton was such a one. His judicial power extended over all the territory within three hundred miles of Monterey, and within these limits there was no appeal from his decisions.” Colton kept a diary, remarkable alike for its fine literary quality and for its faithful picture of Monterey, its people and customs, during the years 1846, 1847 and
1848. A glimpse at the chivalrous standards and social ethics of these early Californians may be had through an entry of July 28, 1846, just three weeks after Commodore Sloat raised the American flag over the Custom House at Monterey. Says Colton, “Though a quasi war exists, all the amenities and courtesies of life are preserved. Your person, life and liberty are as sacred at the hearth of the Californian as they would be at your own fireside. He will never betray you; the rights of hospitality, in his generous judgment, require him to peril his own life in defense of yours. He may fight you on the field, but in his family you may dance with his daughters and he will himself wake the waltzing string.” Nine months later, Colton again strikes the same note. Under date of March 6, 1847, is the following entry: “I have never been in a community that rivals Monterey in its spirit of hospitality and generous regard. Such is the welcome to the privileges of the private hearth that a public hotel has never been able to maintain itself. You are not expected to wait for a particular invitation, but to come without the slightest ceremony, make youreslf entirely at home, and tarry as long as it suits your inclination, be it for a day or for a month. You create nov flutter in the family,
awaken
no
apologies,
and
are greeted every morning by the same bright smile.
It is not a smile that flits over the countenance, and passes
away like a flake of moonlight over a marble tablet. It is the steady sunshine of the soul within. Generous, forbearing people of Monterey! There is more true hospitality in one throb of your heart than circulates for years through the courts of capitols and kings!” The kindness and charity of these people are thus pictured in an entry of December 7, 1847:
“Their hospital-
ity knows no bounds. They are always glad to see you, come when you may; take a pleasure in entertaining you while you remain; and only regret that your business calls you away. If you are sick, there is nothing that sympathy and care can devise or perform which is not done for you. . . No sister ever hung over the throbbing brain or fluttering pulse of a brother with more tenderness and fidelity. This is as true of the lady whose hand has only figured her embroidery or swept her guitar, as of the cottage girl wringing from her laundry the foam of the mountain stream; and all from the heart. If I must be cast in sickness or destitution on the care of the stranger, let it be in California.”
It should not be forgotten that these diary were written of people whose at war with the country of which the ficial representative. It is difficult
entries in Colton’s country was then writer was an offor the twentieth
century American to get a clear vision of a people and a time so diametric to the feverish and selfish hurry of today. The kind, happy and hospitable people that Com
Comodore Sloat met at Monterey in 1846, and among whom Colton lived for more than two years, inhabited a little world of their own making into which had never entered the jealousies and rivalries born of selfishness and greed.
Next to the people, Colton seems to have been most impressed by the climate. He says in an entry of November 28, 1846, “It is now near the close of that month which in other climes is often one of the most unpleasant in the year; but here it has been one of unrivaled brilliancy. The sky has been almost without a cloud, the winds have slept, and the soft air has lain on the landscape like a golden slumber. Such is the tranquil beauty in which the vernal year here sinks to repose.” Again, on December 19, “The season is now verging on midwinter, and we have not had the first wrinkling frost. The hills and valleys since the recent rains, are mantled with fresh verdure, and here and there the violet opens its purple eye to the sun. The children are out at play as in June; their glancing feet are unshod, and their muslin slips but half conceal their pulsing limbs. Even the old men from whom the ethereal fires have escaped are abroad in the same garments which covered them in midsummer.”
And another, February 27, 1847, “The weather continues bright and beautiful. The air is soft, the sky clear, the trees are in bud, and the fields are medallion with flowers.” And so on, through many entries.
Colton also records the impression made upon him by the scenery of the Monterey peninsula. In an entry of March 5, 1849, after he had been at Monterey nearly two years, he writes, “The scenery around Monterey, and the locale of the town arrest the first glance of the stranger. The wild waving background of forest-feathered cliffs, the green slopes, and the glimmering walls of white dwellings, and the dash of the billows on the sparkling sands of the bay fix and charm the eye. Nor does the enchantment fade by being familiarly approached. Avenues of almost endless variety lead off through the circling steeps, and winding through long, shadowy ravines, lose themselves in the vine-clad recesses of the distant hills. It is no wonder California centered her taste, pride and wealth here.”