Dawn and the Dons/LOYAL CALIFORNIA
CHAPTER XV
LOYAL CALIFORNIA
By the end of the first decade of the nineteenth century, revolution was sweeping like a forest fire through all Spain’s colonies in the New World, save only California. In a vague way, this northernmost province of the crown of Castile knew of the blaze of insurgency, yet of its volume and intensity the Californians had but meager information. Happy and contented, they gave small heed to the hints of revolt that, from time to time, drifted into their fair Arcadia, and California remained calm, and continued unswervingly loyal to the Spanish throne.
For nearly three centuries, Spain had ruled all of south America except Brazil, and all that part of North America stretching from the Isthmus of Panama to the Rio Grande, including also what are now the states of Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California. Before the close of the eighteenth century, the South American colonies had begun to exhibit signs of restlessness, and mildly to resent the withholding of colonial administration from those born in the colony, notwithstanding they might be of pure Spanish descent.
This local spirit was quickened by the action of the great Napoleon in 1808, when he deposed Ferdinand VII, and seated his brother, Joseph Bonaparte, upon the Spanish throne. By 1810, this spirit had generated into open revolt, manifesting itself first at Buenos Ayres, and spreading over South America, then northward where it culminated in Mexican independence in 1821. An important factor in California’s loyalty to the crown was the attitude of the better informed Mission Fathers, who felt safe under the rule of Spain. What effect insurgent success might have upon the Missions, and upon Mission jurisdiction, they did not know, but remembering their early differences with local Governors, and their successful appeals to Spanish Viceroys, they were apprehensive of any change. The insurgent colonies, on the other hand, felt aggrieved at the steadfast loyalty of California. It was a thorn in their side. This feeling culminated in 1818 in an expedition, commissioned at Buenos Ayres, whose ostensible purpose was to bring California into the insurgent fold, or failing in this, to strike a blow at Spain through a loyal province. Buenos Ayres, in Argentina, was the seat of the insurgent movement, whence all its earlier activities were directed, and where had gathered patriots and pirates bent on freedom and loot. A rare assortment of maritime adventurers of all nations had been drawn here by the lure of piratical gain, and the insurrecto junta was not always discriminatingly careful as to whom letters of marque
were
issued.
It is not
surprising,
therefore, that the California expedition was entrusted to the daring of men in whom the spirit of patriotism mingled with the hope of loot. As finally organized and outfitted at the Hawaiian Islands, where it had stopped en route to California, the expedition consisted of two vessels, the frigate Argentina, with two hundred sixty-six men under command of a Frenchman named Bouchard —head of the expedition—and the Santa Rosa, a piratical craft, with one hundred
men,
commanded
by an
Englishman named Corney. While the ships were being refitted at Honolulu,
an American
trading vessel, the
Clarion, sailed to Monterey and gave warning to the Californians of the approaching attack.
Monterey was much disturbed, and Governor Sola— whose ceremonious inauguration two years before has been related—prepared his presidial forces to receive the invaders.
As a reserve, or second line of defense,
the padres were requested to muster their lariated vaqueros and archered neophytes. They had not long to wait.
On. November 20, 1818, a sentinel stationed at
Point Pinos, sighted the insurgent ships, and reported their approach. The Santa Rosa came in and anchored in the harbor, while the Argentina stood off some distance, and the leaders of the expedition were rowed ashore to hold parley with the Governor.
The entire force at Monterey’s Presidio was less than a hundred men, and eight small field guns were all the artillery. Ammunition was scarce, and deteriorated in quality by age. Yet the demands of the insurrectos were boldly rejected by Sola, and they returned to their ships. The Santa Rosa promptly opened fire on Monterey, and the Presidio answered it, but no serious damage resulted on either land or sea. After the engagement had lasted for some time, Corney sent off several small boats to the Argentina, and lowered the colors of the Santa Rosa in seeming token of surrender. Believing this to be a ruse, Governor Sola directed that the fire from shore be continued, to find himself opposed by one of his own officers, named Gomez, who had a nephew of the same name among the officers of the Santa Rosa.
Just how
long the firing continued is not clear from available data, but probably not very long, for the second officer of the Santa Rosa, an American named Chapman, came
ashore with two men, all of whom were promptly made prisoners. Shortly, the Argentina approached, dropped anchor, and sent a messenger to Sola under a flag of truce with a demand for the surrender of Monterey. Sola replied that he would not surrender “while there remained a man alive in the province.” Night prevented an immediate renewal of hostilities, but at dawn, Bouchard sent nine boats ashore, with some two hundred armed men, and four field guns. The force was landed, with intent of secrecy, near Point Pinos, three or four miles west and oceanward of Monterey, but word of it came promptly to Sola, who sent a small detachment under Sergeant Jose Estrada to reconnoitre.
Outnumbered twenty to one, all it could do was to embarrass the invaders in their advance on Monterey, where Estrada rejoined Sola.
Then, according to Chapman,
“there fol-
lowed a brief encounter at Monterey, where by this time, Sola had a force of some eighty men. Sola deemed it prudent to retreat, and did so in safety, carrying with him some munitions and the archives of the province.” Simultaneously with Sola’s retirement, the entire civil population of Monterey moved out on horseback, most of the women
and
children
being
taken
to Soledad,
where a Mission had been established. Sola made his headquarters at the Rancho del Rey in the Salinas valley, some twenty miles from Monterey, where he reorganized his forces, and mapped out a campaign for the recapture of California’s capital. Here his small army grew in numbers, mainly through reinforcements from
San Francisco and San Jose, until it included some two hundred Spaniards and a number of Indians, the latter
variously and primitively accoutred. Feeling that he could now meet the enemy on something like equal terms, Sola, about a week after retiring from Monterey, advanced to the invaded capital only to find it deserted, looted and partially destroyed. Reconstruction was promptly begun, the Missions supplying the needed Indian labor, but it was several months before repairs were far enough along to bring back the women and children from Soledad. There was an official inquiry into the behavior of Manuel Gomez, who had opposed Sola during the bombardment, the accusation being made that he had given aid and comfort to his nephew’s fellow invaders. It was proved, however, that his own home had suffered, a shot from one of
the insurgent cannon having torn through its walls, and other evidence seemed conclusive that he had acted in good faith, with patriotism and loyalty. He was acquitted, and with other officers of the Presidio, was _ promoted for gallantry in action. Governor Sola was given the honorable commission of a colonel in the loyal army of Spain’s last province in the Americas. With these matters cleared away, and restoration complete, all fear of further molestation by the insurrectos vanished, and the days again flowed serenely on at Monterey. It is undoubtedly true that the underlying motives of those at Buenos Ayres who launched the California expedition was the advancement of the revolutionary movement in Spanish America. It is equally clear that the heterogeneous band of adventurers of many races that sailed from Hawaii for the attack upon Monterey was not guided solely by patriotism. A glimpse of what happened to the defenseless town may be had from an entry in a journal kept by Captain Corney of the Santa Rosa. He wrote, “It was well stocked with provisions and goods of every description, which we commenced sending on board the Argentina. The Sandwich Islanders, who were quite naked when they landed, were soon dressed in Spanish fashion; and all the sailors were employed in searching houses for money, and breaking and ruining everything.” The Monterey incident is not without interest to present day Californians, who live under the protecting folds of the stars and stripes. As Chapman says, “One wonders what might have happened if the Spanish Californians had made common cause with Bouchard, instead of resisting him. More than likely a Spanish-American republic would then and there have been formed.” But Bouchard found an aristocratic and loyal Spaniard in control of California as its provincial Governor, who declined to enlist under the banner of the insurrectos, and thus California was saved for her ultimate destiny of American statehood.