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CHAPTER 38
Plan of the Salt Lake expedition - Great sandy deserts - Sufferings from thirst - Ogden's River - Trails and smoke of lurking savages - Thefts at night - A trapper's revenge - Alarms of a guilty conscience - A murderous victory - Californian mountains - Plains along the Pacific - Arrival at Monterey - Account of the place and
neighborhood - Lower California - Its extent The Peninsula Soil - Climate - Production Its settlements by the Jesuits - Their sway over the Indians - Their expulsion - Ruins of a missionary establishment - Sublime scenery - Upper California - Missions - Their power and policy - Resources of the country - Designs of foreign nations
IT WAS ON THE 24TH of July, in the preceding year (1833), that
the brigade of forty men set out from Green River valley, to
explore the Great Salt Lake. They were to make the complete
circuit of it, trapping on all the streams which should fall in
their way, and to keep journals and make charts, calculated to
impart a knowledge of the lake and the surrounding country. All
the resources of Captain Bonneville had been tasked to fit out
this favorite expedition. The country lying to the southwest of
the mountains, and ranging down to California, was as yet almost
unknown; being out of the buffalo range, it was untraversed by
the trapper, who preferred those parts of the wilderness where
the roaming herds of that species of animal gave him
comparatively an abundant and luxurious life. Still it was said
the deer, the elk, and the bighorn were to be found there, so
that, with a little diligence and economy, there was no danger of
lacking food. As a precaution, however, the party halted on Bear
River and hunted for a few days, until they had laid in a supply
of dried buffalo meat and venison; they then passed by the head
waters of the Cassie River, and soon found themselves launched on
an immense sandy desert. Southwardly, on their left, they beheld
the Great Salt Lake, spread out like a sea, but they found no
stream running into it. A desert extended around them, and
stretched to the southwest, as far as the eye could reach,
rivalling the deserts of Asia and Africa in sterility. There was
neither tree, nor herbage, nor spring, nor pool, nor running
stream, nothing but parched wastes of sand, where horse and rider
were in danger of perishing.
Their sufferings, at length, became so great that they abandoned
their intended course, and made towards a range of snowy
mountains, brightening in the north, where they hoped to find
water. After a time, they came upon a small stream leading
directly towards these mountains. Having quenched their burning
thirst, and refreshed themselves and their weary horses for a
time, they kept along this stream, which gradually increased in
size, being fed by numerous brooks. After approaching the
mountains, it took a sweep toward the southwest, and the
travellers still kept along it, trapping beaver as they went, on
the flesh of which they subsisted for the present, husbanding
their dried meat for future necessities.
The stream on which they had thus fallen is called by some, Mary
River, but is more generally known as Ogden's River, from Mr.
Peter Ogden, an enterprising and intrepid leader of the Hudson's
Bay Company, who first explored it. The wild and half-desert
region through which the travellers were passing, is wandered
over by hordes of Shoshokoes, or Root Diggers, the forlorn branch
of the Snake tribe. They are a shy people, prone to keep aloof
from the stranger. The travellers frequently met with their
trails, and saw the smoke of their fires rising in various parts
of the vast landscape, so that they knew there were great numbers
in the neighborhood, but scarcely ever were any of them to be met
with.
After a time, they began to have vexatious proofs that, if the
Shoshokoes were quiet by day, they were busy at night. The camp
was dogged by these eavesdroppers; scarce a morning, but various
articles were missing, yet nothing could be seen of the
marauders. What particularly exasperated the hunters, was to have
their traps stolen from the streams. One morning, a trapper of a
violent and savage character, discovering that his traps had been
carried off in the night, took a horrid oath to kill the first
Indian he should meet, innocent or guilty. As he was returning
with his comrades to camp, he beheld two unfortunate Diggers,
seated on the river bank, fishing. Advancing upon them, he
levelled his rifle, shot one upon the spot, and flung his
bleeding body into the stream. The other Indian fled and was
suffered to escape. Such is the indifference with which acts of
violence are regarded in the wilderness, and such the immunity an
armed ruffian enjoys beyond the barriers of the laws, that the
only punishment this desperado met with, was a rebuke from the
leader of the party. The trappers now left the scene of this
infamous tragedy, and kept on westward, down the course of the
river, which wound along with a range of mountains on the right
hand, and a sandy, but somewhat fertile plain, on the left. As
they proceeded, they beheld columns of smoke rising, as before,
in various directions, which their guilty consciences now
converted into alarm signals, to arouse the country and collect
the scattered bands for vengeance.
After a time, the natives began to make their appearance, and
sometimes in considerable numbers, but always pacific; the
trappers, however, suspected them of deep-laid plans to draw them
into ambuscades; to crowd into and get possession of their camp,
and various other crafty and daring conspiracies, which, it is
probable, never entered into the heads of the poor savages. In
fact, they are a simple, timid, inoffensive race, unpractised in
warfare, and scarce provided with any weapons, excepting for the
chase. Their lives are passed in the great sand plains and along
the adjacent rivers; they subsist sometimes on fish, at other
times on roots and the seeds of a plant, called the cat's-tail.
They are of the same kind of people that Captain Bonneville found
upon Snake River, and whom he found so mild and inoffensive.
The trappers, however, had persuaded themselves that they were
making their way through a hostile country, and that implacable
foes hung round their camp or beset their path, watching for an
opportunity to surprise them. At length, one day they came to the
banks of a stream emptying into Ogden's River, which they were
obliged to ford. Here a great number of Shoshokoes were posted on
the opposite bank. Persuaded they were there with hostile intent,
they advanced upon them, levelled their rifles, and killed twenty
five of them upon the spot. The rest fled to a short distance,
then halted and turned about, howling and whining like wolves,
and uttering the most piteous wailings. The trappers chased them
in every direction; the poor wretches made no defence, but fled
with terror; neither does it appear from the accounts of the
boasted victors, that a weapon had been wielded or a weapon
launched by the Indians throughout the affair. We feel perfectly
convinced that the poor savages had no hostile intention, but had
merely gathered together through motives of curiosity, as others
of their tribe had done when Captain Bonneville and his
companions passed along Snake River.
The trappers continued down Ogden's River, until they ascertained
that it lost itself in a great swampy lake, to which there was no
apparent discharge. They then struck directly westward, across
the great chain of California mountains intervening between these
interior plains and the shores of the Pacific.
For three and twenty days they were entangled among these
mountains, the peaks and ridges of which are in many places
covered with perpetual snow. Their passes and defiles present the
wildest scenery, partaking of the sublime rather than the
beautiful, and abounding with frightful precipices. The
sufferings of the travellers among these savage mountains were
extreme: for a part of the time they were nearly starved; at
length, they made their way through them, and came down upon the
plains of New California, a fertile region extending along the
coast, with magnificent forests, verdant savannas, and prairies
that looked like stately parks. Here they found deer and other
game in abundance, and indemnified themselves for past famine.
They now turned toward the south, and passing numerous small
bands of natives, posted upon various streams, arrived at the
Spanish village and post of Monterey.
This is a small place, containing about two hundred houses,
situated in latitude 37 north. It has a capacious bay, with
indifferent anchorage. The surrounding country is extremely
fertile, especially in the valleys; the soil is richer, the
further you penetrate into the interior, and the climate is
described as a perpetual spring. Indeed, all California,
extending along the Pacific Ocean from latitude 19 30' to 42
north, is represented as one of the most fertile and beautiful
regions in North America.
Lower California, in length about seven hundred miles, forms a
great peninsula, which crosses the tropics and terminates in the
torrid zone. It is separated from the mainland by the Gulf of
California, sometimes called the Vermilion Sea; into this gulf
empties the Colorado of the West, the Seeds-ke-dee, or Green
River, as it is also sometimes called. The peninsula is traversed
by stern and barren mountains, and has many sandy plains, where
the only sign of vegetation is the cylindrical cactus growing
among the clefts of the rocks. Wherever there is water, however,
and vegetable mould, the ardent nature of the climate quickens
everything into astonishing fertility. There are valleys
luxuriant with the rich and beautiful productions of the tropics.
There the sugar-cane and indigo plant attain a perfection
unequalled in any other part of North America. There flourish the
olive, the fig, the date, the orange, the citron, the
pomegranate, and other fruits belonging to the voluptuous
climates of the south; with grapes in abundance, that yield a
generous wine. In the interior are salt plains; silver mines and
scanty veins of gold are said, likewise, to exist; and pearls of
a beautiful water are to be fished upon the coast.
The peninsula of California was settled in 1698, by the Jesuits,
who, certainly, as far as the natives were concerned, have
generally proved the most beneficent of colonists. In the present
instance, they gained and maintained a footing in the country
without the aid of military force, but solely by religious
influence. They formed a treaty, and entered into the most
amicable relations with the natives, then numbering from
twenty-five to thirty thousand souls, and gained a hold upon
their affections, and a control over their minds, that effected a
complete change in their condition. They built eleven missionary
establishments in the various valleys of the peninsula, which
formed rallying places for the surrounding savages, where they
gathered together as sheep into the fold, and surrendered
themselves and their consciences into the hands of these
spiritual pastors. Nothing, we are told, could exceed the
implicit and affectionate devotion of the Indian converts to the
Jesuit fathers, and the Catholic faith was disseminated widely
through the wilderness. The growing power and influence of the
Jesuits in the New World at length excited the jealousy of the
Spanish government, and they were banished from the colonies. The
governor, who arrived at California to expel them, and to take
charge of the country, expected to find a rich and powerful
fraternity, with immense treasures hoarded in their missions, and
an army of Indians ready to defend them. On the contrary, he
beheld a few venerable silverhaired priests coming humbly forward
to meet him, followed by a throng of weeping, but submissive
natives. The heart of the governor, it is said, was so touched by
this unexpected sight, that he shed tears; but he had to execute
his orders. The Jesuits were accompanied to the place of their
embarkation by their simple and affectionate parishioners, who
took leave of them with tears and sobs. Many of the latter
abandoned their heriditary abodes, and wandered off to join their
southern brethren, so that but a remnant remained in the
peninsula. The Franciscans immediately succeeded the Jesuits, and
subsequently the Dominicans; but the latter managed their affairs
ill. But two of the missionary establishments are at present
occupied by priests; the rest are all in ruins, excepting one,
which remains a monument of the former power and prosperity of
the order. This is a noble edifice, once the seat of the chief of
the resident Jesuits. It is situated in a beautiful valley, about
half way between the Gulf of California and the broad ocean, the
peninsula being here about sixty miles wide. The edifice is of
hewn stone, one story high, two hundred and ten feet in front,
and about fifty-five feet deep. The walls are six feet thick, and
sixteen feet high, with a vaulted roof of stone, about two feet
and a half in thickness. It is now abandoned and desolate; the
beautiful valley is without an inhabitant-- not a human being
resides within thirty miles of the place!
In approaching this deserted mission-house from the south, the
traveller passes over the mountain of San Juan, supposed to be
the highest peak in the Californias. From this lofty eminence, a
vast and magnificent prospect unfolds itself; the great Gulf of
California, with the dark blue sea beyond, studded with islands;
and in another direction, the immense lava plain of San Gabriel.
The splendor of the climate gives an Italian effect to the
immense prospect. The sky is of a deep blue color, and the
sunsets are often magnificent beyond description. Such is a
slight and imperfect sketch of this remarkable peninsula.
Upper California extends from latitude 31 10' to 42 on the
Pacific, and inland, to the great chain of snow-capped mountains
which divide it from the sand plains of the interior. There are
about twenty-one missions in this province, most of which were
established about fifty years since, and are generally under the
care of the Franciscans. These exert a protecting sway over about
thirty-five thousand Indian converts, who reside on the lands
around the mission houses. Each of these houses has fifteen miles
square of land allotted to it, subdivided into small lots,
proportioned to the number of Indian converts attached to the
mission. Some are enclosed with high walls; but in general they
are open hamlets, composed of rows of huts, built of sunburnt
bricks; in some instances whitewashed and roofed with tiles. Many
of them are far in the interior, beyond the reach of all military
protection, and dependent entirely on the good will of the
natives, which never fails them. They have made considerable
progress in teaching the Indians the useful arts. There are
native tanners, shoemakers, weavers, blacksmiths, stonecutters,
and other artificers attached to each establishment. Others are
taught husbandry, and the rearing of cattle and horses; while the
females card and spin wool, weave, and perform the other duties
allotted to their sex in civilized life. No social intercourse is
allowed between the unmarried of the opposite sexes after working
hours; and at night they are locked up in separate apartments,
and the keys delivered to the priests.
The produce of the lands, and all the profits arising from sales,
are entirely at the disposal of the priests; whatever is not
required for the support of the missions, goes to augment a fund
which is under their control. Hides and tallow constitute the
principal riches of the missions, and, indeed, the main commerce
of the country. Grain might be produced to an unlimited extent at
the establishments, were there a sufficient market for it. Olives
and grapes are also reared at the missions.
Horses and horned cattle abound throughout all this region; the
former may be purchased at from three to five dollars, but they
are of an inferior breed. Mules, which are here of a large size
and of valuable qualities, cost from seven to ten dollars.
There are several excellent ports along this coast. San Diego,
San Barbara, Monterey, the bay of San Francisco, and the northern
port of Bondago; all afford anchorage for ships of the largest
class. The port of San Francisco is too well known to require
much notice in this place. The entrance from the sea is
sixty-seven fathoms deep, and within, whole navies might ride
with perfect safety. Two large rivers, which take their rise in
mountains two or three hundred miles to the east, and run through
a country unsurpassed for soil and climate, empty themselves into
the harbor. The country around affords admirable timber for
ship-building. In a word, this favored port combines advantages
which not only fit it for a grand naval depot, but almost render
it capable of being made the dominant military post of these
seas.
Such is a feeble outline of the Californian coast and country,
the value of which is more and more attracting the attention of
naval powers. The Russians have always a ship of war upon this
station, and have already encroached upon the Californian
boundaries, by taking possession of the port of Bondago, and
fortifying it with several guns. Recent surveys have likewise
been made, both by the Russians and the English; and we have
little doubt, that, at no very distant day, this neglected, and,
until recently, almost unknown region, will be found to possess
sources of wealth sufficient to sustain a powerful and prosperous
empire. Its inhabitants, themselves, are but little aware of its
real riches; they have not enterprise sufficient to acquaint
themselves with a vast interior that lies almost a terra
incognita; nor have they the skill and industry to cultivate
properly the fertile tracts along the coast; nor to prosecute
that foreign commerce which brings all the resources of a country
into profitable action.
Content of CHAPTER 38 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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