He was an Indian, employed at the Mission of San Fernando, distant three days' journey from their present position, and was now searching for a band of horses and mules which had strayed. San Fernando, it appeared, had once before been visited by a party of mountain freebooters, and the Indian therefore divined the object of the present one. He was, he told them, "un Indio, pero mansito"—an Indian, but a tame one; * "de mas, Christiano"—a Christian, moreover (exhibiting a small cross which hung round his neck). There were many people about the Mission, he said, who knew how to fight, and had plenty of arms; and there were enough to "eat up," the "Americanos, san frijoles,"without beans, as he facetiously observed. For his part, however, he was very friendly to the Americanos; he had once met a man of that nation who was a good sort of fellow, and who had made him a present of tobacco, of which he was particularly fond. Finding this hint did not take, he said that the horses and mules belonging to the Mission were innumerable—"like that," he added, sweeping his hand to all points of the compass over the plain, to intimate that they would cover that extent; and he could point out a large herd grazing nearer at hand than the Mission, and guarded but by three vaqueros. Regaled with venison, and with a smoke of his coveted tobacco, he rode off, and made his way to the Mission without delay, conveying the startling intelligence that a thousand Americans were upon them.
* The Mexicans call the Indians living near the Missions and
engaged in agriculture, mansos, or mansitos, "tame."
The next morning the thirteen doughty mountaineers quietly resumed their journey, moving leisurely along towards the object of their expedition.
It will not be out of place here to digress a little, in order to describe the singular features of the establishments formed in those remote regions by the Catholic Church, as nuclei round which to concentrate the wandering tribes that inhabit the country, with a view to give them the benefit of civilized example, and to wean them from their restless nomadic habits.
The establishment of Missions in Upper California is coeval with the first settlement of Southern Mexico. No sooner had Spanish rule taken a firm foothold in the Aztec empire, than the avowed primary object of the military expedition began to be carried into effect. "To save the souls" of the savage and barbarous subjects of their most Catholic majesties was ever inculcated upon the governors of the conquered country as the grand object to be sought after, as soon as tranquillity was partially restored by the submission of the Mexicans; and the Cross, the sacred emblem of the Catholic faith, was to be upraised in the remotest corners of the country, and the natives instructed and compelled to worship it, in lieu of the grotesque images of their own idolatrous religion.
To carry into effect these orthodox instructions, troops of pious priests, of friars and monks of every order, and even of saintly nuns, followed in the wake of the victorious armies of Cortez; and girding up their loins, with zealous fervor and enthusiasm, and with an enterprise and hardihood worthy of buccaneers, they pushed their adventurous way far into the bowels of the land, preaching devoutly and with commendable perseverance to savages who did not understand a syllable of what they so eloquently discoursed; and returning, after the lapse of many months passed in this first attempt, with glowing accounts of the "muy buen indole" the very ductile disposition of the savages, and of the thousands they had converted to "la santa fé catolica."
Ferdinand and Isabel, of glorious memory, at once beat up for volunteers. Crowds of Franciscan monks, greasy Capuchinos, and nuns of orthodox odor, joined the band; and saints even of the feminine gender, long since canonized and up aloft amongst the goodly muster of saints and martyrs, put foot once more on terra firma, and, rosary in hand, crossed the seas to participate in the good work. As proof of this latter fact, one Venabides, a Franciscan, whose veracity is beyond impeachment, declared that, while preaching in the regions now known as New Mexico, one million Indians from the "rumbo" known as Cibolo, a mighty nation, approached his temporary pulpit on the Rio Grande, and requested in a body the favor of being baptized. Struck with the singularity of this request from Indians with whom he had as yet held no communication, and with conscientious scruple as to whether he would be justified in performing such ceremony without their having received previous instruction, he hesitated a few moments before making an answer. At this juncture the Indians espied a medallion which hung around his neck, bearing the effigy of a certain saint of extraordinary virtue. At sight of this they fell on their knees before it; and it was some time before they found words (in what language does not appear) to explain to the holy father that the original of that effigy, which hung pendant from his neck, had been long amongst them instructing them in the elements of the Christian religion, and had only lately disappeared; informing them that certain reverend men would shortly appear in the land, who would finish the good work she had devoutly commenced, and clench the business by baptizing the one million miserable sinners who now knelt before El Padre Venabides.
"Valgame Dios!" reverently exclaimed that worthy man, "qui mïlagro es este!" [what a miracle is this I hear!] and casting up his eyes, and speaking slowly, as if he weighed every word, and taxing his memory of the historical calendar of saints, continued,—"Se muriô—aquella—santissima—muger—en el ano 175—es decir—ya hacen—mil—quatro—cientos—anos" [That most holy woman died in the year 175; that is to say, one thousand four hundred years ago.]
"Oh, what a strange thing is this!" the padre continues devoutly. "After so many ages spent in heaven in company of the angels, of most holy men, and of virgins the most pure—and, perhaps, also in the company of my worthy and esteemed friend and patron, Don Vincente Car-vajal y Calvo, who died a few years ago in San Lucar Xeres (bequeathing me certain arrobas of dry wine, of a class I greatly esteem—for which act he deserved to be canonized, and, I have no doubt, is), the said Don Vincente Carvajal y Calvo being, moreover, a man of the purest and holiest thoughts (Dios mio! what a puchero that man always had on his table!)—this holy woman comes here, to these wild and remote regions; this holy woman (who died fifteen hundred years ago), abandoning the company of angels, of holy men, and sanctified women and virgins, and also of Don Vincente Carvajal y Calvo (that worthy man!)—comes here, I say, where there are neither pucheros, nor garbanzos, nor dry wine, nor sweet wine, neither of Xeres, nor of Val de Penas, nor of Peralta; where" (sobbed the padre, and bellowed the last word) "there is— nothing either to eat or to drink. Valgame Purissima Maria! And what is the name of this holy woman? the world will ask," continues Ven-abides. "Santa Clara of Carmona is her name, one well known in my native country, who leaves heaven and all its joys, wends her way to the distant wilds of New Spain, and spends years in inducting the savage people to the holy faith. Truly a pious work, and pleasing to God!" *
* From a manuscript obtained in Santa Fé of New Mexico,
describing the labors of the missionaries Fray Augustin
Ruiz, Venabides, and Marcos, in the year 1585.