Travels and Adventures of Monsieur Violet Read online

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  Every point having been arranged, I received my final instructions, andletters for the Governor of Monterey, to which was added a heavy bag ofdoubloons for my expenses. I bade farewell to the Prince and my father,and with six well-armed Indians and the Padre Marini, I embarked in along canoe on the Buona Ventura river, and carried away by the current,soon lost sight of our lonesome settlement.

  We were to follow the stream to the southern lakes of the Buona Ventura,where we were to leave our Indians, and join some half-bredWachinangoes, returning to Monterey, with the mustangs, or wild horses,which they had captured in the prairies.

  It was a beautiful trip, just at the commencement of the spring; bothshores of the river were lined with evergreens; the grass was luxuriant,and immense herds of buffaloes and wild horses were to be seen grazingin every direction. Sometimes a noble stallion, his long sweeping maneand tail waving to the wind, would gallop down to the water's edge, andwatch us as if he would know our intentions. When satisfied, he wouldwalk slowly back, ever and anon turning round to look at us again, as ifnot quite so convinced of our peaceful intentions.

  On the third night, we encamped at the foot of an obelisk in the centreof some noble ruins. It was a sacred spot with the Shoshones. Theirtraditions told them of another race, who had formerly lived there, andwhich had been driven by them to the south. It must have been agesback, for the hand of time, so lenient in this climate, and the hand ofman, so little given to spoil, had severely visited this fated city.

  We remained there the following day, as Padre Marini was anxious todiscover any carvings or hieroglyphics from which he might draw someconclusions; but our endeavours were not successful, and we could nottarry longer, as we were afraid that the horse-hunters would break uptheir encampments before we arrived. We, therefore, resumed ourjourney, and many were the disquisitions and conjectures which passedbetween me and the holy father, as to the high degree of civilisationwhich must have existed among the lost race who had been the architectsof such graceful buildings.

  Four days more brought us to the southern shore of the St. Jago lake.We arrived in good time, dismissed our Indians, and having purchased twoexcellent mules, we proceeded on our journey, in company with thehorse-hunters, surrounded by hundreds of their captives, who were loudlylamenting their destiny, and shewed their sense of the injustice of thewhole proceeding by kicking and striking with their fore-feet atwhatever might come within the reach of their hoofs. Notwithstandingthe very unruly conduct of the prisoners, we arrived at Monterey on thesixth evening.

  The reader will discover, as he proceeds, that my adventures are aboutto commence from this journey to Monterey; I therefore wish to remindhim that I was at this time not eighteen years old. I had a remembranceof civilisation previous to my arrival among the Indians, and as weenjoyed every comfort and some luxuries at the settlement, I still had aremembrance, although vague, of what had passed in Italy and elsewhere.But I had become an Indian, and until I heard that I was to undertakethis journey, I had recollected the former scenes of my youth only todespise them.

  That this feeling had been much fostered by the idea that I should neveragain rejoin them, is more than probable; for from the moment that Iheard that I was to proceed to Monterey, my heart beat tumultuously andmy pulse was doubled in its circulation. I hardly know what it was thatI anticipated, but certainly I had formed the idea of a terrestrialparadise.

  If not exactly a paradise, Monterey is certainly a sweet place; 'tiseven now a fairy spot in my recollection, although sobered down, and, Itrust, a little wiser than I was at that time. There certainly is anair of happiness spread over this small town. Every one is at theirease, every body sings and smiles, and every hour is dedicated toamusement or repose.

  None of your dirty streets and sharp pavements; no manufactories withtheir eternal smoke; no policemen looking like so many knaves of clubs;no cabs or omnibuses splashing the mud to the right and to the left;and, above all, none of your punctual men of business hurrying to theirappointments, blowing like steam-engines, elbowing every body, andcapsizing the apple-stalls. No; there is none of these at Monterey.

  There is a bay, blue and bottomless, with shores studded with tallbeautiful timber. There is a prairie lawn, spread like a carpet inpatterns composed of pretty wild flowers. Upon it stand hundreds ofcottage-built tenements, covered with the creeping vine. In the centre,the presidio, or government-house; on one side the graceful spire of achurch, on the other the massive walls of a convent. Above, all is asky of the deepest cobalt blue, richly contrasting with the dark greenof the tall pines, and the uncertain and indescribable tints on thehorizon of these western prairies.

  Even the dogs are polite at Monterey, and the horses, which are alwaysgrazing about, run up to you, and appear as if they would welcome you onyour arrival; but the fact is, that every traveller carries a bag ofsalt at his saddle-bow, and by their rubbing their noses against it, itis clear that they come to beg a little salt, of which they are veryfond. Every body and every animal is familiar with you, and, strange tosay, the English who reside there are contented, and still more strange,the Americans are almost honest. What a beautiful climate it must be atMonterey!

  Their hospitality is unbounded. "The holy Virgin bless thee," said anold man, who watched our coming; "tarry here and honour my roof."Another came up, shook us by the hand, his eye sparkling with kindfeelings. A third took our mules by the bridles and led us to his owndoor, when half-a-dozen pretty girls, with flashing dark eyes and longtaper fingers, insisted on undoing our leggings and taking off ourspurs.

  Queen city of California! to me there is poetry in thy very name, and sowould it be to all who delight in honesty, bonhommie, simplicity, andthe dolce far niente.

  Notwithstanding the many solicitations we received; Padre Marini went tothe convent, and I took up my quarters with the old governor.

  All was new to me, and pleasant too, for I was not eighteen; and at sucha time one has strange dreams and fancies of small waists, and prettyfaces, smiling cunningly. My mind had sometimes reverted to formerscenes, when I had a mother and a sister. I had sighed for a partner todance or waltz with on the green, while our old servant was playing onhis violin some antiquated en avant deux.

  Now I had found all that, and a merry time I had of it. True, the sackof doubloons helped me wonderfully. Within a week after my arrival, Ihad a magnificent saddle embossed with silver, velvet breeches insteadof cloth leggings, a hat and feathers, glossy pumps, red sash, velvetround-about, and the large cape or cloak, the eternal, and sometimes theonly, garment of a western Mexican grandee, in winter or in summer, bynight or by day. I say it was a merry time, and it agreed well with me.

  Dance I did! and sing and court too. My old travelling companion, themissionary, remonstrated a little, but the girls laughed at him, and Iclearly pointed out to him that he was wrong. If my English readersonly knew what a sweet, pretty little thing is a Monterey girl, theywould all pack up their wardrobes to go there and get married. It wouldbe a great pity, for with your mistaken ideas of comforts, with yourlove of coal-fire and raw beef-steak, together with your severe notionsof what is proper or improper, you would soon spoil the place, andrender it as stiff and gloomy as any sectarian village of the UnitedStates, with its nine banks, eighteen chapels, its one "a-b-c" school,and its immense stone jail, very considerately made large enough tocontain its whole population.

  The governor was General Morreno, an old soldier, of the genuineCastilian stock; proud of his blood, proud of his daughters, of himself,of his dignities, proud of every thing--but, withal, he was benevolenceand hospitality personified. His house was open to all (that is to say,all who could boast of having white blood), and the time passed there incontinual fiestas, in which pleasure succeeded to pleasure, music todancing; courting with the eyes to courting with the lips, just aslemonade succeeded to wine, and creams to grapes and peaches. Butunhappily, nature made a mistake in our conformation,
and, alas! manmust repose from pleasure as he does from labour. It is a great pity,for life is short, and repose is so much time lost; at so thought I ateighteen.

  Monterey is a very ancient city; it was founded in the seventeenthcentury by some Portuguese Jesuits, who established a mission there. Tothe Jesuits succeeded the Franciscans, who were a good, lenient, lazy,and kind-hearted set of fellows, funny yet moral, thundering againstvice and love, and yet giving light penalties and entire absolution.These Franciscans were shown out of doors by the government of Mexico,who wished to possess their wealth. It was unfortunate, as for thekind, hospitable, and generous monks, the government substituted agentsand officers from the interior, who, not possessing any ties atMonterey, cared little for the happiness of the inhabitants. Theconsequence is, that the Californians are heartily tired of these agentsof extortion; they have a natural antipathy against custom-houseofficers; and, above all, they do not like the idea of giving theirdollars to carry on the expense of the Mexican wars, in which they feelno interest. Some morning (and they have already very nearly succeededin so doing) they will haul down the Mexican flag from the presidio,drive away the commissarios and custom-house receivers, declare theirindependence of Mexico, and open their ports to all nations.

  Monterey contains about three thousand souls, including the half-breedsand Indians acting as servants in the different dwellings. Thepopulation is wealthy, and not having any opportunity to throw awaytheir money, as in the eastern cities (for all their pleasures andenjoyments are at no expense), they are fond of ornamenting theirpersons, and their horses and saddles, with as much wealth as they canafford. A saddle of 100 pounds in value is a common thing among thericher young men, who put all their pride in their steeds andaccoutrements.

  The women dress richly and with an admirable taste; the unmarried girlsin white satin, with their long black hair falling upon their shoulders;their brow ornamented with rich jewels when at home, and when out, theirfaces covered with a long white veil, through which their dark eyes willshine like diamonds.

  The married women prefer gaudy colours, and keep their hair confinedclose to their head by a large comb. They have also another delightfulcharacteristic, which indeed the men share with them; I mean a beautifulvoice, soft and tremulous among the women, rich, sonorous, and majesticamong their lords. An American traveller has said, "A commonbullock-driver on horseback, delivering a message, seemed to speak likean ambassador to an audience. In fact, the Californians appear to be apeople on whom a curse had fallen, and stripped them of every thing buttheir pride, their manners, and their voices."

  There is always much amusement in Monterey; and, what betwixtcock-fighting, racing, fandangoing, hunting, fishing, sailing, and soforth, time passes quickly away. Its salubrity is remarkable; there hasnever been any disease--indeed sickness of any kind is unknown. Notoothache nor other malady, and no spleen; people die by accident orfrom old age; indeed, the Montereyans have an odd proverb, "El quequiere morir que se vaya del pueblo"--that is to say, "He who wishes todie must leave the city."

  While remaining there I had rather a perilous adventure. I had gonewith some of my friends to great fishing party at the entrance of thebay, which, by the bye, is one of the finest in the world, beingtwenty-four miles in length and eighteen in breadth. The missionary,Padre Marini, not being very well, had an idea that the sea-air would dohim good, and joined our company. We had many boats; the one in whichthe Padre and I embarked was a well-shaped little thing, which hadbelonged to some American vessel. It was pulled with two oars, and hada small mast and sail.

  Our fishing being successful, we were all in high glee, and we went onshore to fry some of our victims for our afternoon's meal. During theconversation, somebody spoke of some ancient ruins, fifteen miles north,at the entrance of a small creek. The missionary was anxious to seethem, and we agreed that our companions should return to Monterey whilehe and I would pass the night where we were, and proceed the nextmorning on an exploring expedition to the ruins. We obtained fromanother boat a large stone jug of water, two blankets, and adouble-barrelled gun. As soon as our companions quitted us, we pulledthe boat round to the northern point of the bay, and having selectedproper quarters for the night, we made a kind of shelter on the beachwith the oars, mast, and sail, and lighted a fire to make ourselves morecomfortable. It was one of those beautiful mild evenings which can befound only in the Bay of Monterey; the gentle and perfumed breeze softlyagitated the foliage around and above us, and as night came on, with itsmyriads of stars and its silvery moon, the missionary having, for sometime, raised his eyes above in silent contemplation, reverted to scenesof the past, and of other climes.

  He spoke of Hurdwar, a far distant mission in the north of India, closeto the Himalayas. The Hindoos call it the "City of a Thousand Palaces;"they say it was built by the genii on the very spot where Vishnu hadreposed himself for a few weeks, after one of his mystic transmutations,in which he had conquered Siva, or Sahavedra, the spirit of evil.Though not so well known, Hurdwar is a place still more sacred thanBenares; people assemble there once a year from all parts, andconsecrate several days to their ablutions in the purifying waters ofthe Ganges. In this noble city is also held one of the greatest fairsof India, indeed of all the world; and as its time is fixed upon thesame month as that in which the Hindoo devotees arrive at the city,numerous caravans from Persia, Arabia, Cashmere, and Lahore repair tothe spot, and erect their bazaars along the banks of the river, forminga street of many miles. The concourse collected at these times has beenascertained to number more than one million of souls.

  There the Padre Marini had remained as a missionary for some years, allalone. His flock of converts was but a small one; he had little to do,and yet his mind could not be arrested by the study of all the wondersaround him; his heart was sad; for years he had had a sorrow whichweighed heavily upon him, and he was wretched. Before he had embracedthe solitude of a monastic life, he had with him a younger brother, ofwhom he was very fond. The young man was a student in medicine, withfair capacity and an energy which promised to advance him in hisprofession. When Marini entered the convent, his brother went toTurkey, where men of his profession were always certain of a goodreception, and for a long time was never heard of. At last, when themissionary was ready to start for a distant mission, he learned thatwhich proved so destructive to his peace of mind. From Constantinople,his brother had gone to Persia, where he was residing in easycircumstances; but, ambitious of advancement, he had abjured the faithof his fathers and become a follower of Mahommed.

  It was a melancholy intelligence, and many were the tears of the goodmonk. The first year of his arrival at Hurdwar, he met with a Jewishmerchant who had accompanied a Persian caravan. That man knew hisbrother, the renegade, and informed the Padre that his brother hadfallen into disgrace, and as a punishment of his apostacy, was nowleading a life of privation and misery.

  Deep and fervent were now the monk's prayers to heaven; he imploredforgiveness for his brother, and offered penance for him. Poor man! hethought if he could but see him and talk to him, he would redeem himfrom his apostacy; but, alas! his duty was in Hurdwar, he was boundthere and could not move. One day (it was during the fair) he hadwandered at a distance from the river, that he might not witness thedelusions of Paganism, and his mind was intensely absorbed in prayer.Anon, unusual sounds broke on his ears; sounds well known, soundsreminding him of his country, of his beautiful Italy. They came from alittle bower ten steps before him; and as past scenes rushed to hismemory, his heart beat tremulously in his bosom; the monk recognised abarcarole which he had often sung in his younger days; but although theair was lively, the voice which sung it was mournful and sad. Steppingnoiselessly, he stood at the entrance of the bower. The strangerstarted and arose! Their separation had been a long one, but neitherthe furrowed cheeks and sallow complexion of the one, nor the turbanedhead of the other, could deceive them; and the two brothers fell in eachother's arms.

  O
n its return, the Persian caravan had one driver the less, for theapostate was on his death-bed in the humble dwelling of his brother.Once more a Christian, again reconciled to his God, he calmly awaitedhis summons to a better world. For two weeks he lingered on, repentinghis error and praying for mercy. He died, and in the little jessaminebower where he had met with the Mussulman, the monk buried theChristian; he placed a cross upon his grave and mourned him long; but aheavy load had been removed from his breast, and since that time he hadfelt happy, having no weight on his mind to disturb him in the executionof his sacred ministry.

  Having narrated this passage in his history, the Padre Marini bid megood night, and we prepared to sleep. I went to the boat, where,stretching myself at the bottom, with my face turned towards theglittering canopy above, I remained pensive and reflecting upon thenarrative of the monk, until at last I slept.