Landfalls (26 page)

It brings me no pleasure to end this letter with unpleasantness, Your Excellency. However, I must bring to your attention a grave matter concerning His Reverence Fray Mat
í
as Noriega, the priest who serves under Fray Lasu
é
n. Fray Noriega has always been harsh in his treatment of the neophytes, but lately his punishments have grown excessive. My soldiers in Carmel are unsentimental men who have no particular love for the Indian, but they have asked to be transferred. His Reverence moderated his punishments during the Frenchmen's visit, but has, since their departure, applied them with redoubled violence. He recently abandoned the traditional leather whip in favor of chains. I fear lest these excesses incite a revolt among the Indians.

Last week a female neophyte, age about twenty-five, died two days after being punished. She had run away from the mission for the third time in as many months. My men found her and delivered her to Fray Lasu
é
n's custody, but she was turned over to Fray Noriega. My men report that His Reverence compelled one of the younger priests, newly arrived with Captain Mart
í
nez, to witness and assist in the discipline. This man has since fallen prey to fits of madness.

I know that in making this report, I may appear to be vindictive and ungrateful. The mission's numerous complaints about the conduct of my soldiers are well-known. So is the great service their reverences—and Fray Noriega in particular—rendered to me last year. I have appealed to Fray Lasu
é
n, but Fray Noriega is by all accounts prodigiously skilled at appeasing his superiors. Given this state of affairs, I have ordered my men at the mission to ignore henceforth any request from their reverences to retrieve runaways. My men are charged with the protection of the mission and its inmates, not with hunting down unwilling converts and delivering them to death …

III.
From Eulalia Callis de Fages, wife of Don Pedro Fages, Governor of California, to her mother, Do
ñ
a Rosa Callis, Mexico City.
[Editor's note: The text rendered in italics is in a different ink and hand from the original; the fading of this ink over time has revealed some of the original text.]

My Dear Mother,

Last year I was not
permitted
able
to write to you from the mission, where I
was held against my will, away from my children and friends,
stayed
until I agreed to
submit to
reconcile with
my husband,
recant my accusations against him,
thus restoring his honor
and my own
. This I eventually did, for
as unhappy as I was with my marriage,
a cold, damp cell is no place for a lady, and I grieved for my children, who were without their mother
for three long months
. Don Pedro welcomed me warmly
enough
, and before long I was with child again. Don Pedro was delighted and said the child would symbolize our renewed life together. She was born in May, a beautiful, dark-eyed girl with black hair, but eight days later she was gone. I asked my husband, “What does she symbolize now?” but he
made no answer
only wept
.

For a long time—all through the foggy summer here that is more like winter—I did not speak another word. But one morning my Indian girl woke me and said two French ships had sailed into the bay. I think the mandate of hospitality must course through our Spanish blood, Mother, for the urgency of welcoming these visitors from Europe pushed back my grief. All that day I prepared to receive the French explorers, for that is who had arrived. The servants and I—and even Don Pedro—cleaned house and tidied the garden, mended our best clothes, slaughtered lambs, stirred soup, and baked bread. I was ashamed of the meanness of our dwelling, but Don Pedro assured me that after so long at sea, the Frenchmen would deem our home a small palace. It was
the
such a
kind
est
thing he said to me
in so long
.

The next day two French captains and assorted officers and naturalists came to the presidio and then to our home for a reception. I wore my black polonaise over a gray silk underskirt, which felt in keeping with our recent bereavement without being gloomy. I had not used French in many years, so at first I was shy, but during the evening many words and phrases came back to me.
Don Pedro's French is very poor; he needed everything translated.
I could scarcely stop talking. I had not spoken to anyone in so long.

Our visitors were men of great refinement and kindness. The commander of the expedition, a Count de Lap
é
rouse, is not a good-looking man but laughs so easily that one is charmed. They must eat very well aboard French ships, for he was surprisingly stout for one who had been so long at sea. His friend, the Viscount de Langle, who commands the second ship, is taller and thinner and more classically handsome but was quiet, almost grave. The officers were all young and so beautiful in their dress and manners. The men of science—they call themselves “savants”—intimidated me, but the junior botanist asked me about my garden, and poor man, I ended up telling him my entire life story! Then the most dashing member of the entourage, a young artist, asked if he could paint my portrait. It flatters me more than I deserve, but how I wish you could see it, Mother.

Don Pedro and I were more united in those days than we have been in many years.
In the end, it was not the priests' harsh intervention, nor even the birth of another child, but the introduction of some society that made all the difference. It confirmed for me what I've said all along, that if only we could live in a civilized place, we might be happy.
But rest assured, dear Mother, that all is
as
well
as can be expected
. I still long for the day when I may return to Mexico City and see you again …

IV.
From Fray Ferm
í
n Francisco de Lasu
é
n, President of the California Missions and Head of the Mission of San Carlos Borromeo of Monterey in Carmel, to the Reverend Father Guardian Fray Francisco Pal
ó
u, Guardian of the Apostolic College of San Fernando, Mexico City

Dominus det tibi Pacem.
I thank Your Reverence for the letter of April 20 and congratulate you on your election to the guardianship of the college. I thank you also for the supplies, especially the books. They will be my boon companions this next long year.

The three new priests also arrived safely. I will confess that at first I felt considerable unease as to their fitness for life in California. Fray Faustino Sol
á
gave me most cause for concern. I know he left Your Reverence and the College filled with faith and confidence in the love of our Lord, but he grew strangely dejected during the voyage from San Blas. Captain Mart
í
nez told me that his officers feared for Fray Sol
á
's sanity, although the good captain is inclined to exaggerate. It was true, however, that Fray Sol
á
arrived looking like a haunted and hunted man. Several weeks after his arrival, he had progressed no further than taking solitary walks in the mission gardens and was unable to perform any priestly duties. I had nearly determined to send him back to Mexico with the supply ships when an event occurred that was a source of delight and novelty to everyone in our mission community and that effectively distracted Fray Sol
á
out of his torpor.

This memorable event was the visit, in September, of a French scientific and exploratory expedition commanded by the Count de Lap
é
rouse. When the news came that two French frigates had sailed into the bay, we hurried to make our humble mission as presentable as possible. Even the Indians, usually so indolent, bestirred themselves to greater industry. Fray Mat
í
as Noriega informed me with joy that he hardly needed the lash at all in the weeks before and during the Frenchmen's visit, as the Indians attended Mass more faithfully, ground more corn than their daily quotas, and repaired and swept out their dwellings when they saw us attending to ours.

The mission soldiers were not at first inclined to escort us to the presidio to meet our guests when they arrived, saying they had no orders from the governor to do so. But their own curiosity to see the visitors prevailed, so we—Fray Noriega, the three new priests, and myself—were on hand to greet the commander and his officers when they came ashore. Don Pedro was not altogether pleased to see us, particularly as it meant he was then bound by decorum to invite us to the reception at his home that evening. Even less happy to see us was his wife, Do
ñ
a Eulalia, who was, as Your Reverence will no doubt recall from last year's dispatches, a most unwilling inmate of our mission for some months last year after her scandalous and insubordinate behavior.

Under ordinary circumstances we would have declined such a reluctant invitation: indulging the pleasures of a table overseen by one of the most impudent, stiff-necked women in all of Christendom can edify no one. However, these were extraordinary circumstances. I wished to learn in person what spiritual or material needs our guests might have and to ensure that the mission was not denied the opportunity to extend Christian hospitality and assistance to them. They readily accepted our invitation to visit the mission. Their eagerness to see for themselves our work among the Indians was naturally gratifying to me and the other priests. It also had the salutary effect of calming the almost unseemly high spirits of Don Pedro and Do
ñ
a Eulalia. One would never have guessed that only a year earlier their home had been riven and shamed by a discord so public and indecent that all of Alta California fairly buzzed with it. Curiously, they are like patients who resent the doctor who has healed them. Indeed, their hostility toward me and even more toward Fray Noriega is so marked that it will not surprise me if Don Pedro acts against us in some way. If this should occur, I hope I may rely on Your Reverence's intercession on our behalf.

But to return to my account: two days after the reception, we were honored by the arrival of the French delegation, consisting of the count, his senior officers, and a distinguished group of savants that included astronomers, physicists, botanists, linguists, and artists. Among the naturalists were two priests who, I fear, regard themselves as men of science first and men of God second, but for all that, they were men of breeding, wit, and generosity. They expressed the most kindly interest in our endeavors, applauded our spiritual conquest of the Indians, and did not balk at the primitive conditions in which we currently live. I was nevertheless grateful that their visit so closely followed the arrival of the supply ships, as it meant we did not want for wine or cheese or candles. The demands of hospitality will necessarily mean some privation for us later, especially as we were compelled once again to accept a smaller share of wine than was our due from the supply ship, but I cannot regret sharing our bounty.

For all their suavity, our visitors carried with them a great burden of grief over the loss of twenty-one shipmates killed in Alaska in July. Several of the officers and even one of their naturalists sought me out, desirous of confession or spiritual solace. One young officer had lost not only his cabinmate in the accident in Alaska but, during the subsequent passage south, his servant, a man who'd been at his side since infancy. He attended Mass every day.

The ministry was not one-sided, however, for the visit raised our spirits as well. The most notable change was, as mentioned earlier, in Fray Sol
á
, who, after meeting the Frenchmen, seemed suddenly to remember himself, becoming the amiable and energetic man described in Your Reverence's letter. He befriended a young botanist from the expedition who expressed interest in our gardens and in the native plants of the area. Fray Sol
á
gave him a tour of the gardens he had come to know during his convalescence and even organized a botanizing expedition outside the mission. The next day he performed his first Mass. I rejoice that the Lord in His infinite mercy has seen fit to restore this young and able priest to the right use of his faculties. Most recently he has been ill, but Fray Noriega, who has taken upon himself the role of spiritual adviser to our new arrivals, assures me that it is but a minor stomach complaint and will soon pass. It is my hope that once he is fully recovered, he may serve in San Luis Obispo.

The Frenchmen left us with many tangible gifts as well. The young botanist gave us plants for our gardens—seed potatoes, grapevines, fig trees, and seeds for celery, artichoke, and melons—all miraculously preserved for over a year in the hold of his ship. The expedition artist completed a pencil drawing of their arrival at the mission and was kind enough to present it to me. Another gift came from the Viscount de Langle, who donated a small grinding stone to ease the work of the neophyte women. Regrettably, Fray Noriega reports that the women refuse to use it, preferring their traditional method of grinding corn, although it is more laborious and less effectual. I am no longer surprised by the neophytes' ignorance, but I find I am not yet inured to disappointment.

With this I conclude my report. I have enclosed a list of our requests for next year. May God our Lord keep Your Reverence many years in His holy grace.

V.
From Jean-Fran
ç
ois de Galaup de Lap
é
rouse, Captain of the
Boussole
and Commander of the Expedition Ordered by His Majesty King Louis XVI, to his wife,
É
l
é
onore de Lap
é
rouse, Albi, France