Post #4- Revolution
A revolution is an idea which has found its bayonets.-Napoleon Bonaparte
Nearly alone among the former Mexican officials of Alta California, governor Juan Bautista Alvarado had fled when the French had arrived in Monte Rey. Adrift without any authority Alvarado went as far from the nucleus of French authority as he could; distant southern California. He soon ended up in sleepy San Diego, where he set to work building up relationships with the local power brokers. His main ally was a former Commandant of San Diego and Indian fighter, Pablo de la Portilla. Portilla, a hot blooded warrior with no patience for far off authority, easily fell in with Alvarado’s anti-French attitude. This was easier said than done since his former political strength had been based in northern California. Still over the next five years he slowly built up a new network of political power and support, a sort of shadow government which flourished in the years of France’s still newborn rule. Here, far away from Montravel and his growing court of imported officials, rich Californios and ranchers could still hold back the clock and pretend nothing had changed since the 1830’s. That every ranch and vineyard was a private kingdom, run as these elite saw fit. Nothing had changed and nothing ever would. Unlike in the north, where the rich elite was forced to come to terms with the French in various ways, in the south they never did, instead clinging to dreams and hopes peddled by Alvarado of a ‘California for Californios’.
By 1845 however, the beguiling illusion was becoming increasingly harder to maintain. French influence was growing ever stronger, sending tendrils up and down the coast, in the form of custom officials, tax collectors and land surveyors. Even backwater San Diego, a district with less than one thousand Eurpoeans, now had a garrison of French troops near the wharves. Granted it consisted of a grand total of six French marines and a customs man but it presaged greater changes to come. Already titles and deeds were being called for, copies demanded . So far such demands had been safely ignored but the tensions were rising. Worse, French taxes were being imposed and even if they were actually lower than the old Mexican ones, Alvarado and his supporters felt this was merely the thin edge of the wedge. Alvarado felt that something had to be done before French control became unquestioned and unchallengeable, to have a hope for success. The man had experience with such direct action, having led an abortive bid for Alta Californian independence against Mexico in 1836. In the fall of 1845, circumstances seemed to hand the would-be revolutionary a golden chance to try his hand against the French.
American interest in California had been growing for years, of which Fremont’s expeditions had only been one side-effect. Another was the Pacific Squadron, an American naval force based in the eastern Pacific. Founded in 1820 it had previously been more concerned with South American politics but, as American expansionist ideals had stretched westward, became increasingly attracted to California. The current commander, Thomas ap Catesby Jones, was a particularly aggressive proponent of American interests and unafraid of using force in order to further American aims (as he saw them). In October he had docked in San Diego with two ships, the USS Savannah and Cyane, on a seemingly routine patrol up the coast. Upon arrival however the American commander became instantly enmeshed in Californian politics and soon was in deep talks with Alvarado. Jones saw the former Mexican official’s plan for revolt as an obvious tool for his own ends, the eventual American annexation of California. French control over the area had always been seen as a violation of the old Monroe Doctrine by many Americans and a province mired in divided revolt would be much easier to purchase, or steal, when the time was right.
Hence, on a dark October night in 1845, a number of American seamen unconvincingly dressed as ‘Mexicans’, attacked and captured the tiny French garrison in San Diego. The sailors also stormed the customs house, a tax office and destroyed several local businesses run by known French ‘sympathizers’. The damage done, their captives were quickly turned over to Alvarado’s handful of rebels and the Americans retreated to their ships. As the sun rose on San Diego, Alvarado was in control of the city with two American ships generally menacing the incoming roads into the harbor. The first serious revolt against the French in Californie had begun, with startling success.
The American’s aid had strengthened Alvarado’s hand significantly. Before, he had merely been an exiled former official on the run, head of a handful of mildly irritated landlords more concerned about raised taxes than anything else. He had lacked the manpower or organization to truly test French power, even here on the fringe. Now however, he controlled an entire (if small) city and had the most potent of revolutionary auras: bloodless victory. A large crowd flocked to the Fort of San Carlos when Alvarado arranged to have his old Flag of California flown over it. Dozens from the crowd joined the impromptu growing militia, which was further buttressed by the various hired hands from the ranchers estates. Seemingly out of nothing, Alvarado had his movement.
It took days for the news to reach Monte Rey but when it did, it struck the French officials like a thunderbolt. The rumors ran wild, growing by the mile traveled. Some claimed Mexico had invaded California, hoping to undo the 1840 cession and regain the province. Others claimed it was agitated ranchers while still others blamed the Americans. Montravel and Lavaud had no precise idea what to make of these rumors but one thing seemed clear enough. French authority was being challenged in San Diego, probably by force and perhaps involving some outside power. Clearly something needed to be done, but what? Charles Lavaud, the governor, was as useless in a crisis as ever so it fell on Montravel to act.
His military options were limited as French power in Californie were still minuscule, ‘a mile wide and an inch deep’. The military commander had only a few hundred armed soldiers at his command leavened with a scratch force of locally recruited levees of dubious value in the event of actual violence. So far French forces had done very little except move into the vacant spaces left by their Mexican predecessors but the revolt exposed just how fragile French control really was. Paradoxically however, this meant that the response from Monte Rey had to be prompt and forceful. Any hesitation would merely exacerbate the problem and further reveal weakness. If not checked at once, a revolt may spiral out of control.
So Montravel commandeered the sole armed French ship in his harbor, an aged frigate posted to Californie as an alternative to retirement. Gathering up a force of forty men, all that could be spared, he placed them under the command of an eager young officer named Louis-Jules Trochu, new to the frontier. Capable and brave, if not highly experienced, Trochu promised a swift and sure victory over whatever might be waiting for them in the south. When Trochu left Monte Rey he carried the weight of the French colony with him, for if it failed this first test, it might be the last.
Trochu’s worst fears were realized when, upon reaching San Diego after several days at sea, he saw two American war vessels serenely overseeing the harbor. Worse still, the French commander was met by a small fishing vessel bearing ‘representatives of a free and independent California’. Alvarado himself did not come, of course, but these agents explained to Trochu that he was invading a newly born nation and would be resisted with force. The American ships were mentioned as ‘keepers of the peace’ and would surely intrude if any violence broke out. At a stroke, the French were deprived of their greatest advantage, naval seapower. A shoot out with the American navy was not something to undertake lightly, and might result in far worse things than a city in revolt. Disgusted, Trucho withdrew and landed his troops on an empty beach, several miles away from the city proper.
Assembling his troops, he marched on the city, hoping that the rebels would not dare stand against forty heavily armed and trained men. Greater insurrections had been quelled by less. His hopes were dashed however for his march, having been closely watched by Alvarado’s spies, was met on the outskirts of town by a hastily fortified farmhouse, bearing the single star of the nascent free California. After a brief but sharp fight, Trochu withdrew with three men injured and one man dead. That night, sitting in his tent, the French captain was confronted with a seemingly impossible dilemma. He did not have enough men to force the city, or to draw the rebels into open battle, and he surely lacked the forces to fully besiege the city. Besides, such a siege would be a farce with the American navy keeping the sea-lanes open. Trochu felt that most of the city's populace were probably apathetic to the revolt, but the longer he sat impotently, the worse matters would become. Asking for reinforcements was pointless, Montravel and Lavand had nothing else to send but from where else could he conjure the needed men?
Then the French officer had a most unexpected visitor. Chief Mata Whur at the head of a Kumeyaay warband, who had brought men, arms and his own scores to settle. The arrival of the Native Americans fighters promised to change the balance of power drastically….
Nearly alone among the former Mexican officials of Alta California, governor Juan Bautista Alvarado had fled when the French had arrived in Monte Rey. Adrift without any authority Alvarado went as far from the nucleus of French authority as he could; distant southern California. He soon ended up in sleepy San Diego, where he set to work building up relationships with the local power brokers. His main ally was a former Commandant of San Diego and Indian fighter, Pablo de la Portilla. Portilla, a hot blooded warrior with no patience for far off authority, easily fell in with Alvarado’s anti-French attitude. This was easier said than done since his former political strength had been based in northern California. Still over the next five years he slowly built up a new network of political power and support, a sort of shadow government which flourished in the years of France’s still newborn rule. Here, far away from Montravel and his growing court of imported officials, rich Californios and ranchers could still hold back the clock and pretend nothing had changed since the 1830’s. That every ranch and vineyard was a private kingdom, run as these elite saw fit. Nothing had changed and nothing ever would. Unlike in the north, where the rich elite was forced to come to terms with the French in various ways, in the south they never did, instead clinging to dreams and hopes peddled by Alvarado of a ‘California for Californios’.
By 1845 however, the beguiling illusion was becoming increasingly harder to maintain. French influence was growing ever stronger, sending tendrils up and down the coast, in the form of custom officials, tax collectors and land surveyors. Even backwater San Diego, a district with less than one thousand Eurpoeans, now had a garrison of French troops near the wharves. Granted it consisted of a grand total of six French marines and a customs man but it presaged greater changes to come. Already titles and deeds were being called for, copies demanded . So far such demands had been safely ignored but the tensions were rising. Worse, French taxes were being imposed and even if they were actually lower than the old Mexican ones, Alvarado and his supporters felt this was merely the thin edge of the wedge. Alvarado felt that something had to be done before French control became unquestioned and unchallengeable, to have a hope for success. The man had experience with such direct action, having led an abortive bid for Alta Californian independence against Mexico in 1836. In the fall of 1845, circumstances seemed to hand the would-be revolutionary a golden chance to try his hand against the French.
American interest in California had been growing for years, of which Fremont’s expeditions had only been one side-effect. Another was the Pacific Squadron, an American naval force based in the eastern Pacific. Founded in 1820 it had previously been more concerned with South American politics but, as American expansionist ideals had stretched westward, became increasingly attracted to California. The current commander, Thomas ap Catesby Jones, was a particularly aggressive proponent of American interests and unafraid of using force in order to further American aims (as he saw them). In October he had docked in San Diego with two ships, the USS Savannah and Cyane, on a seemingly routine patrol up the coast. Upon arrival however the American commander became instantly enmeshed in Californian politics and soon was in deep talks with Alvarado. Jones saw the former Mexican official’s plan for revolt as an obvious tool for his own ends, the eventual American annexation of California. French control over the area had always been seen as a violation of the old Monroe Doctrine by many Americans and a province mired in divided revolt would be much easier to purchase, or steal, when the time was right.
Hence, on a dark October night in 1845, a number of American seamen unconvincingly dressed as ‘Mexicans’, attacked and captured the tiny French garrison in San Diego. The sailors also stormed the customs house, a tax office and destroyed several local businesses run by known French ‘sympathizers’. The damage done, their captives were quickly turned over to Alvarado’s handful of rebels and the Americans retreated to their ships. As the sun rose on San Diego, Alvarado was in control of the city with two American ships generally menacing the incoming roads into the harbor. The first serious revolt against the French in Californie had begun, with startling success.
The American’s aid had strengthened Alvarado’s hand significantly. Before, he had merely been an exiled former official on the run, head of a handful of mildly irritated landlords more concerned about raised taxes than anything else. He had lacked the manpower or organization to truly test French power, even here on the fringe. Now however, he controlled an entire (if small) city and had the most potent of revolutionary auras: bloodless victory. A large crowd flocked to the Fort of San Carlos when Alvarado arranged to have his old Flag of California flown over it. Dozens from the crowd joined the impromptu growing militia, which was further buttressed by the various hired hands from the ranchers estates. Seemingly out of nothing, Alvarado had his movement.
It took days for the news to reach Monte Rey but when it did, it struck the French officials like a thunderbolt. The rumors ran wild, growing by the mile traveled. Some claimed Mexico had invaded California, hoping to undo the 1840 cession and regain the province. Others claimed it was agitated ranchers while still others blamed the Americans. Montravel and Lavaud had no precise idea what to make of these rumors but one thing seemed clear enough. French authority was being challenged in San Diego, probably by force and perhaps involving some outside power. Clearly something needed to be done, but what? Charles Lavaud, the governor, was as useless in a crisis as ever so it fell on Montravel to act.
His military options were limited as French power in Californie were still minuscule, ‘a mile wide and an inch deep’. The military commander had only a few hundred armed soldiers at his command leavened with a scratch force of locally recruited levees of dubious value in the event of actual violence. So far French forces had done very little except move into the vacant spaces left by their Mexican predecessors but the revolt exposed just how fragile French control really was. Paradoxically however, this meant that the response from Monte Rey had to be prompt and forceful. Any hesitation would merely exacerbate the problem and further reveal weakness. If not checked at once, a revolt may spiral out of control.
So Montravel commandeered the sole armed French ship in his harbor, an aged frigate posted to Californie as an alternative to retirement. Gathering up a force of forty men, all that could be spared, he placed them under the command of an eager young officer named Louis-Jules Trochu, new to the frontier. Capable and brave, if not highly experienced, Trochu promised a swift and sure victory over whatever might be waiting for them in the south. When Trochu left Monte Rey he carried the weight of the French colony with him, for if it failed this first test, it might be the last.
Trochu’s worst fears were realized when, upon reaching San Diego after several days at sea, he saw two American war vessels serenely overseeing the harbor. Worse still, the French commander was met by a small fishing vessel bearing ‘representatives of a free and independent California’. Alvarado himself did not come, of course, but these agents explained to Trochu that he was invading a newly born nation and would be resisted with force. The American ships were mentioned as ‘keepers of the peace’ and would surely intrude if any violence broke out. At a stroke, the French were deprived of their greatest advantage, naval seapower. A shoot out with the American navy was not something to undertake lightly, and might result in far worse things than a city in revolt. Disgusted, Trucho withdrew and landed his troops on an empty beach, several miles away from the city proper.
Assembling his troops, he marched on the city, hoping that the rebels would not dare stand against forty heavily armed and trained men. Greater insurrections had been quelled by less. His hopes were dashed however for his march, having been closely watched by Alvarado’s spies, was met on the outskirts of town by a hastily fortified farmhouse, bearing the single star of the nascent free California. After a brief but sharp fight, Trochu withdrew with three men injured and one man dead. That night, sitting in his tent, the French captain was confronted with a seemingly impossible dilemma. He did not have enough men to force the city, or to draw the rebels into open battle, and he surely lacked the forces to fully besiege the city. Besides, such a siege would be a farce with the American navy keeping the sea-lanes open. Trochu felt that most of the city's populace were probably apathetic to the revolt, but the longer he sat impotently, the worse matters would become. Asking for reinforcements was pointless, Montravel and Lavand had nothing else to send but from where else could he conjure the needed men?
Then the French officer had a most unexpected visitor. Chief Mata Whur at the head of a Kumeyaay warband, who had brought men, arms and his own scores to settle. The arrival of the Native Americans fighters promised to change the balance of power drastically….
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