His name was José de Gálvez, and his title visitador-general—which outranked Spain’s resident viceroy in Mexico City—was conferred by King Carlos himself. Though he occasionally lapsed into madness (such as his idea to import 600 apes from Guatemala, dress them as soldiers, and turn them loose thwart his enemies), nevertheless it was Gálvez’s extraordinary abilities and consuming ambitions that brought about Spain’s long-delayed settlement of California.
Born January 2, 1720, in southern Spain, he was the son of a minor nobleman. In his teens, his intelligence caught the eye of a visiting bishop, who offered him a scholarship at the University of Malaga. José de Gálvez became a lawyer. In 1750, his first wife having died, he married a French woman, and through her gained a post with the French diplomatic corps in Madrid. Slowly but surely, he rose through the ranks, in time attracting the attention of the king; which was, coincidentally, a time when Imperial Spain was re-evaluating its world position. The Seven Years’ War had stripped it of the Floridas, but awarded it the western half of north America’s Mississippi drainage, and it still claimed the continent’s Pacific Coast. Mexico, its first prize, was riddled with corrupt colonial administrators. Although just then Carlos III didn’t want more land to explore and defend, a revitalization of Mexico was doable.
Gálvez knew he was the king’s third choice for the job; but, granted the authority to impose whatever programs he deemed necessary, he accepted in the hope that success might lead to bountiful royal favor later on. As his ship crossed the Atlantic in 1765, he poured over every book and document available on Mexico, from Cortez’s conquest onward. One of his concerns was Spain’s northern frontier—uncolonized Alta California—vulnerable to attack despite Spain’s claim of ownership by discovery. His studies told him that, thus far, Spanish seafarers had only reached it by struggling against high winds and strong currents; and that no expeditions had gone to Monterey Bay, its remote harbor, since 1603. How might he turn this isolated province into something useful, and thereby bring glory to himself?
Reading on, he learned that, during the last century, Jesuit priests had managed to establish 14 outposts on Baja California, so it had resources. Also, a decades-dead priest stationed in Alta Pimería (today’s southern Arizona/northern Sonora) had raised the astonishing possibility of opening a land route from there. Hmm … The ambitious new Inspector-General had options to consider.
At first, Gálvez busied himself with instituting various “reforms.” Next, a miner’s riot in Sonora necessitated a military campaign with himself at the head, but just as troops were moving north in 1767, he received royal orders that the Jesuits were to be expelled from Mexico, as part of a multi-nation attack against the Order. Accordingly, Gálvez assigned Gaspar de Portolá, Baja’s newly appointed provincial governor, to expedite this task.
Then in April, 1768, word came from Spanish spies in Moscow that the Russians were planning to establish colonies in North America.
Immediately, Gálvez recognized this as his excuse to occupy Alta California—and it had to be done quickly—without waiting for the king’s approval. With Sonora still in turmoil, he would have to launch the expedition from Baja. There were many risks. He didn’t hesitate, yet he was careful to cover himself with the appearance of justification by summoning four distinguished diplomats, all of whom obligingly authorized his plan: One group of colonists, drawn from Baja’s pueblos, was to travel up the peninsula to the bay of Monterey with a herd of livestock. Another, also from Baja, would transport bulky supplies and equipment in two ships. Both were to be escorted by soldiers.
Of course, the effort must include missionaries to establish outposts, provide the colonists with their spiritual needs, and convert Alta California’s Indians to Christianity. As it happened, Franciscan friars, under the leadership of Father Junipero Serra, had recently moved into the Jesuit’s vacated premises; and Serra himself had volunteered to go along. Gaspar de Portolá, now named governor of both Californias, was put in charge of the entire undertaking.
Despite much upheaval, tremendous losses of lives, ships, and supplies; and Portolá’s initial failure to find Monterey Bay, José de Gálvez’s audacious plan succeeded. On July 16, 1769, the expedition founded the Royal Presidio of San Diego and Mission San Diego de Alcalá, the first of 21 flourishing missions. Around 1772, Gálvez was recalled to Madrid, where Carlos III did, indeed, reward him for his California triumph, by elevating him to a powerful new position on the king’s council. Later sent to administer other Spanish territories, Gálvez’s power and influence continued until his death in 1787.
As for keeping California’s tenuous new systems alive and functioning after Galvez returned to Spain, that was now the problem of Mexico City’s new viceroy, Antonio de Bucareli.
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