A Territory in Transition in 1825: Alta California and the Birth of the Mexican Republic
California
"Unfortunately the instructions to Governor Echeandía, on which the junta reported January 3, 1825, are not extant. In the suggestions made, especial importance is attached to the obtaining of accurate information about the country, its people, and its productions."— Hubert Howe Bancroft
In the early months of 1825, Governor Luis Antonio Argüello received a package that would formally reshape the political standing of Alta California. Inside was the new Federal Constitution of the Mexican Republic, adopted by Mexico's new Congress on October 4, 1824, and dispatched to the states and territories two days later. By this law, Alta California was designated a territory, not yet possessing the forty thousand residents required for statehood but entitled to send a delegate—a diputado—to Congress, albeit one without a vote.
The document, modeled closely after the United States Constitution (Mexico itself being referred to as the United States of Mexico), made no explicit provisions for governing the territories, leaving key questions unanswered: On what authority had the President appointed a governor? What legal basis permitted the continued existence of the diputación, Alta California’s local governing body? Perhaps most curiously, by what right had Alta and Baja California been placed under a single administration?
Yet, while these ambiguities remained unresolved, the national government did take some action. The first Mexican president, Guadalupe Victoria, made a commendable effort to establish control in California’s far-flung frontier. He appointed officials and sent troops, supplies, arms, and even a modest sum of money—though the latter would never be enough. Mexican leaders recognized the need for better governance and formed a special advisory body, the Junta de Fomento de Californias.
This board, composed of shifting membership over its brief tenure, was tasked with proposing policies for the territory. The former governor of Alta California, Pablo Vicente de Solá, was among its members, though he played an insignificant role. The junta never achieved the force of law, but its reports on governance, colonization, and the mission system would leave a lasting mark on Alta California’s future.
Of particular note was the junta’s early report of January 3, 1825, now lost, emphasizing the importance of gathering accurate information about the land and its people. References to earlier explorers—Vizcaíno, Venegas, and Humboldt—suggest that the board relied on outdated sources rather than the wealth of existing missionary and governmental reports. There was also a troubling lack of clarity in distinguishing between Alta and Baja California. The mission system and the treatment of Indigenous peoples were recognized as delicate matters, requiring careful reform. The junta spoke wisely about these challenges but left the details of implementation to a future report, issued in April of that same year.
Land distribution was another pressing concern. Rather than taking immediate action, the junta recommended that the governor focus on surveying the territory and compiling reports. Meanwhile, in Mexico City, government officials were growing increasingly anxious about foreign encroachments, particularly from the Russians in the north and the Americans along the Pacific. Though it was uncertain whether Mexico had formally recognized the 42nd parallel as its northern boundary, officials insisted that it must be defended at all costs. To that end, a naval force for Alta California’s upper coast was deemed an urgent necessity—though one that never fully materialized.
The junta’s most ambitious proposal came on April 21, 1825: a grand plan for foreign colonization. Although it never took effect in its original form, many of its principles were incorporated into the colonization laws of 1828. A similar plan, issued on May 30, aimed to encourage Mexican settlers by offering them land, travel expenses, food rations, and financial support for a period of three years. Farmers would receive livestock and tools; tradesmen, a house lot, and supplies.
To fund this initiative, the junta suggested tapping into the accumulated wealth of the missions—a proposal sure to ignite tensions with the Franciscan friars. Another intriguing, if untested, idea was to settle coastal islands and establish one as a penal colony—not for Mexico as a whole, but specifically for Alta California’s criminals. All of these actions would lead to the furthering of tensions between soldiers, settlers, clergy, the government, and Indigenous populations.
Perhaps the most audacious scheme of all was a commercial enterprise: the creation of a powerful trading company, the Compañía Asiático-Mexicana, aimed at making Alta California the commercial hub of the Pacific. Under this vision, Monterey would become the nerve center of trade. Through Alta California's port of Monterey, Mexico would reclaim the lucrative commerce that had long been dominated by the British and Americans—"trade of the Pacific was to be wrested from American and English hands, aimed at a revival of the old Philippine trade."
The plan’s chief architect, Francisco de Paula Tamariz, painted a vision of Alta California as a land of boundless potential—a promised land, rich in resources and perfectly positioned to dominate Pacific trade. “Fortunate the Californians,” he wrote, “in the midst of the promised land; happy the provinces that adjoin that land; lucky even the hemisphere that contains it.” His enthusiasm was boundless, but reality was less forgiving. Although the project initially received support in Mexico City, it faded into obscurity by 1827.
The new Constitution arrived in Alta California, and Governor Argüello wasted no time calling the diputación to convene. However, heavy rains had swollen the rivers, preventing the southern representatives from reaching Monterey. Nevertheless, on March 26, four members of the Castro family, along with the president and secretary, assembled to ratify the nation's new organic law formally.
Secretary Torre read the document aloud, and Argüello took the oath, followed by the diputados. Later, the ceremony was repeated in the plaza before the garrison and gathered citizens. A volley of artillery fire, pealing bells, and shouts of acclamation echoed for three days. But in a telling sign of shifting allegiances, there was no Mass, no sermon, no religious ceremony of any kind. Prefect Vicente Francisco de Sarría, Alta California’s highest-ranking ecclesiastical official, had refused to lend his blessing to republicanism.
Copies of the Constitution were promptly sent to presidios and pueblos throughout the territory, where similar ceremonies took place. Padre Esténega performed the traditional religious rites at San Francisco, though it remains unclear whether he swore allegiance. At San Diego, as in Monterey, the friars took no part in the event. In other places, the record is silent on their response.
On April 7, the diputación met for the last time before its dissolution, debating whether recalcitrant friars should be stripped of control over mission lands. Then, on May 2, Argüello suspended the assembly’s sessions indefinitely. His reasoning was straightforward: the body had been created under the Spanish Constitution, and now, under Mexican law, there was no provision for a territorial legislature. Until Mexico issued further instructions, Alta California would remain in a state of political limbo—a territory of the republic, but one whose governance remained uncertain.
Thus, in 1825, Alta California found itself at a crossroads. It had a constitution but no functioning government, laws with little enforcement, and ambitious plans without sufficient funding. The promise of prosperity and progress remained just that—a promise, waiting for a future yet to come.
🦶🎵s:
Hubert Howe Bancroft, The Works of Hubert Howe Bancroft, Volume XX: History of California, Vol. III, 1825-1840 (San Francisco: A. L. Bancroft & Company, Publishers, 1885). Pages 1-6.