There was, however, a very different element in the population, composed of several nationalities but commonly named, and naming itself, “the foreigners.” Some French and Germans could be found among them; the British—almost all of them naturalized—were still more numerous; but at the end of 1845 about three out of four were Americans. In 1822 a Boston trading vessel had, so to speak, discovered California, and from that date the business of collecting hides and bartering for them such manufactured articles as the people needed or could be induced to buy, was almost monopolized by New Englanders.[1] This naturally led a few shrewd, enterprising Americans—among whom were Thomas O. Larkin of Monterey, Abel J. Stearns of Los Angeles and Jacob Leese of Sonoma—to establish themselves in this new country as traders. Runaway sailors from the ships, hunters and trappers from the mountains, and occasional adventurers from almost anywhere, gradually introduced themselves.[4]
By 1836 the foreigners had become an important, if not always highly esteemed, element. In the autumn of 1840 some two hundred emigrants are said to have gone there from the Platte country, and in May, 1841, we know that about one hundred men and thirty women and children set out in that direction from Independence, Missouri. Many who undertook to settle in Oregon decided to exchange that wilderness for the more hospitable region close at hand. By August, 1844, our people were described by Larkin as “flocking” to California; and Whittier sang,
“By many a lonely river, and gorge of fir and pine,
On many a wintry hill-top, their nightly camp-fires shine.”[4]
AMERICANS IN CALIFORNIA
Probably by the end of 1845 there were about eight hundred American residents—men, women and children—in the province.[2] Quite a number pushed on to the shore of San Francisco Bay, but most of them lived in the Sacramento valley, because immigrants from the United States naturally came to that region first, and because the Mexicans were too much afraid of the savages to settle there; and as a sort of base they had the fortified trading post of New Helvetia,[3] situated about a hundred miles from the coast on the site of the present Sacramento City, where Captain John A. Sutter—a German naturalized in Switzerland—received the wayfarers with an open purse, an open countenance and an open, hazy head.[4]
Some of the Americans took the trouble to go through the process of acquiring citizenship, and so could become the legal owners of land; but far the greater number were mere squatters, or else hung about the ranches of other Americans, working a little, hunting or trapping more, but mainly waiting for something to turn up. They were in general a rough-looking set: the vicious, devil-may-care sailor, the gaunt, awkward, ragged immigrant, and the heavily bearded, leather-coated hunter with his long hair turbaned in a colored handkerchief; and while some had excellent brains and hearts of gold, the scale ran down to a very low point. Little work and less law was the motto of not a few. Some of the lowest were out-and-out for blood and plunder; some of the best had practically the same thought—regarding California as a new Canaan, out of which they were appointed by Providence to drive the new Hittites, Hivites and Jebusites; and probably almost all agreed in despising the inefficiency of the native, his passion for dress and dancing, his guitar, his bland smile and his dainty politeness.[4]
With such and so meagre a population, scattered from San Diego to Sacramento, an air-line distance of about four hundred and fifty miles, the outlook for progress appeared uncertain enough; and California was also hampered by a state of chronic misgovernment and rebellion. In 1836 the people, aided by a few Americans and other foreigners, took up the same battle-cry as Texas, and raised the same blue flag illumined with a single star. The Mexican troops were expelled; and J. B. Alvarado, M. G. Vallejo and José Castro, all of them natives, assumed the control of the province. Two years later Bustamante recognized their government; but in 1843 Santa Anna sent up General Micheltorena, with soldiers that were mostly convicts and officers that were mostly debauchees, to restore the national supremacy. Countenanced and protected by their commander these men, instead of repressing the savages, harassed the people with insults, outrages and murders. At length, in November, 1844, Alvarado and Castro took up the sword;[5] and the following February, after some almost bloodless fighting, the Mexicans were driven out.[9]
Once more the government abjectly accepted a revolutionary situation, recognizing as governor the senior member of the provincial assembly, Pio Pico, and as comandante general José Castro, who had appointed himself to that position; and meantime her destroying the missions and selling their property (1835–44) seemed to emphasize these hints that California was virtually to be thrown away. It has practically been abandoned, wrote the German traveller, Löwenstern, in 1843; and this fact was rendered still clearer by the proposal of May, 1846, that England should take military possession of the province, which Bankhead, the British minister, described as “an indirect offer of sale,” and by an explicit suggestion that Prussia occupy it. Mexico had substantially abdicated.[9]
In such a state of things the country could not advance. Indeed it was going backwards. The only source of revenue was the duties collected at Monterey, and this—amounting to $80,000 or $100,000 a year, and signifying the virtual confiscation of about one third of all the property in California—mostly disappeared in official pockets. No military force able to cope with the savages was maintained. In consequence of their incursions farms were being abandoned, and they even raided within the settlements. The laws were openly disregarded. There were practically no courts and no police, and each man had to defend his own person and property. No sort of regular postal facilities existed, and even communication with Mexico was rare and mostly by chance. The only carriage in the country had been one belonging to Micheltorena. There were no real schools, not a single newspaper, and of course hardly any books except in a very few hands.[9]