Landfalls by Naomi J. Williams

Author:Naomi J. Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374712471
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux

III. From Eulalia Callis de Fages, wife of Don Pedro Fages, Governor of California, to her mother, Doña 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 kindest 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 Lapérouse, 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,

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