It was not until 1782, however, that the long-delayed
purpose was at length accomplished. The site chosen
was at the southeastern extremity of the channel,
and close to an Indian village, or ranchería to which
Portalà’s expedition in 1769 had given the name
of Ascencion de Nuestra Señora, or, briefly, Assumpta.
A little later on, in pursuance of the same plan,
the then governor, Filipe de Neve, took formal possession
of a spot some ten leagues distant, and there began
the construction of the presidio of Santa Barbara.
It was Junipero’s earnest desire to proceed
at once with the adjoining mission. But the governor,
for reasons of his own, threw obstacles in the way,
and in the end this fresh undertaking was left to other
hands.
For we have now come to the close of Father Junipero’s
long and strenuous career; and as we look back over
the record of it, our wonder is, not that he should
have died when he did, but rather that he had not
killed himself many years before. His is surely
one of those cases in which supreme spiritual power
and sheer force of will triumph over an accumulation
of bodily ills. Far from robust of constitution,
he had never given himself consideration or repose,
forcing himself to exertions which it would have appeared
utterly impossible that his frame could bear, and
adding to the constant strain of his labours and travels
the hardships of self-inflicted tortures of a severe
ascetic régime. He had always been much troubled
by the old ulcer on his leg, though this, no matter
how painful, he never regarded save when it actually
incapacitated him for work; and for many years he had
suffered from a serious affection of the heart, which
had been greatly aggravated, even if it was not in
the first instance caused, by his habit of beating
himself violently on his chest with a huge stone, at
the conclusion of his sermons — to the natural
horror of his hearers, who, it is said, were often
alarmed lest he should drop dead before their eyes.
The fatal issue of such practices could only be a
question of time. At length, mental anxiety and
sorrow added their weight to his burden — particularly
disappointment at the slow progress of his enterprise,
and grief over the death of his fellow-countryman
and close friend, Father Crespì, who passed to his
well-earned rest on New Year’s Day, 1782.
After this loss, it is recorded, he was never the same
man again, though he held so tenaciously to his duties,
that only a year before the call came to him, being
then over seventy, he limped from San Diego to Monterey,
visiting his missions, and weeping over the outlying
Indian rancherìas, because he was powerless to help
the unconverted dwellers in them. He died at
San Carlos, tenderly nursed to the end by the faithful
Palou, on the 28th August, 1784; and his passing was
so peaceful that those watching thought him asleep.
On hearing the mission bells toll for his death, the
whole population, knowing well what had occurred, burst
into tears; and when, clothed in the simple habit of
his order, his body was laid out in his cell, the
native neophytes crowded in with flowers, while the
Spanish soldiers and sailors pressed round in the hope
of being blessed by momentary contact with his corpse.
He was laid beneath the mission altar beside his beloved
friend Crespì; but when, in after years, a new church
was built, the remains of both were removed and placed
within it.
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