The winter and spring were spent in occasional hunting excursions, and in visits to the Spanish haciendas. In the spring, a new turn was given to the fortunes of the Patties, by the embezzlement and flight of a trusted Spanish subordinate, through whom were lost the savings of several years. Forced to abandon their mining operations, father and son sought to rehabilitate themselves by another extended trapping expedition, and set forth with a company of thirty, again in the direction of the Gila.

Engagements with hostile Indians were of frequent occurrence. Early in November, many of their party having deserted and all of their horses being stolen, the remainder built themselves canoes, and embarked upon the river. Communication with the natives being only possible through the sign language, our adventurers misunderstood their informants to declare that a Spanish settlement existed at the mouth of the Colorado; and in expectation of here finding succor, they continued down that great waterway to its mouth. There they met with nothing but deserted shores, and tidal waves which seriously alarmed and disturbed these fresh-water voyagers. Finding the ascent of the swift current beyond their powers, they had now no recourse but to bury their store of furs, and strike across the rugged peninsula of Lower California toward the Spanish settlements on the Pacific coast. The story of their sufferings in the salt lakes and deserts of this barren land is told with more vigor than delicacy. Arrived at a Dominican mission on the western slope of the mountains, the weary travellers were received with suspicion rather than hospitality. Being placed under surveillance, they were forwarded to San Diego, then the residence of the governor of the Spanish settlements of California.

We now come to a most interesting portion of Pattie's book—his residence in California, in the time of the Mexican régime, and his report of conditions and events in the "land of the golden fleece." According to his account, he and his companions were at first treated with severity, being imprisoned at San Diego for lack of passports, and there detained for many months. The elder Pattie died in his cell, without being permitted to see the son for whose presence he had piteously pleaded in his latest hours. Young Pattie's hatred for the Mexican governor was not unnatural; but the consequent bitterness of expression quite distorts his narrative. A Mexican tradition reports that the Patties were received by the inhabitants with wonder, and treated kindly; also that the elder Pattie embraced the Catholic faith before his death, and expressed his appreciation of the hospitality shown them. We may infer even from the son's statements, since his chief anathemas are reserved for the officers and the priests, that the unofficial population disapproved of the governor's measures.

Pattie was at last released, in recognition of his services as an interpreter, and in order that he might vaccinate the natives of the missions, among whom a smallpox epidemic had broken out. The adventurer now set forth up the coast, stopping in turn at each mission and presidio, and presenting us with a graphic picture of the pastoral life of the neophytes and rancheros. Arrived at San Francisco, he pushed on to the Russian fort on Bodega Bay, returning to Monterey in time to describe and participate in the Solis revolt of 1829. Here he consorted with the small American colony, and in his narrative probably magnifies his own part in this affair, which, seen through the mists of memory, bulked larger than the facts would warrant. At Monterey he encountered his old enemy, Governor Echeandia, who with apparent surprise found his former captive among those who had aided in suppressing the revolt. Proffered Mexican citizenship, Pattie represents himself as showering reproaches on the governor for the indignities he had suffered. Advised by his new friends to make a formal statement of his injuries, and the losses suffered by refusal to permit the securing of his furs, Pattie embarked for Mexico in May, 1830, together with the revolutionists who were being sent to the capital for trial. Upon his departure he conveys his impressions of Alta California in a few striking sentences: "Those who traverse it [the California coast] ... must be constantly excited to wonder and praise. It is no less remarkable for uniting the advantages of healthfulness, a good soil, a temperate climate, and yet one of exceeding mildness, a happy mixture of level and elevated ground, and vicinity to the sea." He then proceeds to animadvert upon the inhabitants and the conduct of the mission padres in their treatment of the natives. The companions of his long and adventurous journey he left settled among the Mexicans; most of them made California their permanent home.

At the City of Mexico, Pattie visited the American diplomatic representative, also the president of the republic, but failed to obtain satisfaction for his losses or injuries. On the way to Vera Cruz, Pattie's travelling party met with an incident then common to travel in Mexico—being halted by the outlawed followers of the recently-deposed president, their arms seized, one of their number hanged, and the remainder relieved of their valuables. From Vera Cruz our adventurer found passage to New Orleans; thence, through the kindly help of compatriots, who loaned him money for the steamboat passage, he ascended the Mississippi to Cincinnati and his early Kentucky home. Here the narrative closes. The only clue we have in reference to his after life, is the one given by H. H. Bancroft, the historian, who thinks he was again in San Diego, California, after the American advent.[1]

When poor Pattie arrived in Cincinnati, August 30, 1830, he not only was penniless, but long incarceration in Mexican prisons had broken his health and spirits. The tale of his adventures was doubtless received with slight credence by his simple relatives. But the Reverend Timothy Flint, the young editor of the Western Monthly Review of Cincinnati, who was already enamored of stories of Western pioneering, prevailed upon Pattie to write an account of his curious experiences. Thus originated the Personal Narrative, which we now republish in full for the first time.[2]

Pattie appears to have written from memory, without the aid of notes taken on the journey—a fact which accounts for the occasional discrepancies in dates, and the obvious confusion of events. Upon the whole, however, the narrative impresses the reader with a sense of its verity, and has the charm of simplicity and vigor. The emendations of the editor, we are assured, were chiefly in the matters of orthography and punctuation, "with the occasional interposition of a topographical illustration, which my acquaintance with the accounts of travellers in New Mexico, and published views have enabled me to make." It is probable that we thus owe to Flint most of the descriptions of scenery, for there is abundant textual evidence that Pattie was not possessed of a poetic fancy. To expand the dimensions of the book, Flint added an article on "Inland Trade with New Mexico," composed chiefly of extracts from the journal of a Doctor Willard, who in May, 1825, set out from St. Charles, Missouri, with an overland party bound for Santa Fé. Thence, practicing medicine on the way, he visited Chihuahua and the northeastern provinces of Mexico, ending his journey at Matamoras. This article, together with another by the same author, on the "Downfall of the Fredonian Republic," also included in the volume, had appeared three years before in Flint's magazine. The volume closes with an extract on Mexican manners and customs, from Malte-Brun's Géographie universelle.

A thrilling tale of pure adventure, ranging all the way from encounters with grizzly bears, and savages who had never before seen a white man, to a revolution in a Latin-American state, Pattie's narrative has long been a classic. Its chief value to the student of Western history depends upon the vast extent of country over which the author passed, the ethnological data which he presents, especially in relation to the Southwestern tribes, and his graphic picture of the contact between two civilizations in the Southwest, with the inevitable encroachments of the more progressive race. One sees in his pages the beginnings of the drama to be fought out in the Mexican War—the rich and beautiful country, which excited the cupidity of the American pioneer; the indolence and effeminacy of the inhabitants, which inspired the virile backwoodsmen's contempt; and the vanguard of the American advance, already touching the Rockies, and ready to push on to the Pacific. The Spanish-American official, displaying his little brief authority, but irritated the restless borderer, whose advent he dreaded, and whose pressure finally proved irresistible. As a part of the vanguard of the American host that was to crowd the Mexican from the fair northern provinces of his domain, Pattie's wanderings are typical, and suggestive of more than mere adventure. His book is well worthy of reproduction in our series.

The present Editor is under obligations to Louise Phelps Kellogg, Ph.D., and Edith Kathryn Lyle, Ph.D., for assistance in preparing this volume for the press.

R. G. T.