As circumstances, which I have yet to relate, have prevented my return to the Shoshones, and I shall have no more to say of their movements in these pages, I would fain pay them a just tribute before I continue my narrative. I wish the reader to perceive how much higher the Western Indians are in the scale of humanity than the tribes of the East, so well described be Cooper and other American writers. There is a chivalrous spirit in these rangers of the western prairies not to be exceeded in history or modern times.
The four tribes of Shoshones, Arrapahoes, Comanches, and Apaches never attempt, like the Dacotah and Algonquin, and other tribes of the East, to surprise an enemy; they take his scalp, it is true, but they take it in the broad day; neither will they ever murder the squaws, children, and old men, who may be left unprotected when the war-parties are out. In fact, they are honourable and noble foes, sincere and trustworthy friends. In many points they have the uses of ancient chivalry among them, so much so as to induce me to surmise that they may have brought them over with them when they first took possession of the territory.
Every warrior has his nephew, who is selected as his page: he performs the duty of a squire, in ancient knight errantry, takes charge of his horse, arms, and accoutrements; and he remains in this office until he is old enough to gain his own spurs. Hawking is also a favourite amusement, and the chiefs ride out with the falcon, or small eagle, on their wrist or shoulder.
Even in their warfare, you often may imagine that you were among the knights of ancient days. An Arrapahoe and a Shoshone warrior armed with a buckler and their long lances, will single out and challenge each other; they run a tilt, and as each has warded off the blow, and passed unhurt, they will courteously turn back and salute each other, as an acknowledgment of their enemy's bravery and skill. When these challenges take place, or indeed in any single combat without challenge, none of these Indians will take advantage of possessing a superior weapon. If one has a rifle and knows that his opponent has not, he will throw his rifle down, and only use the same weapon as his adversary.
I will now relate some few traits of character, which will prove the nobility of these Indians[18].
[18]There is every prospect of these north-western tribes remaining in their present primitive state, indeed of their gradual improvement, for nothing can induce them to touch spirits. They know that the eastern Indians have been debased and conquered by the use of them, and consider an offer of a dram from an American trader as an indirect attempt upon their life and honour.
Every year during the season dedicated to the performing of the religious ceremonies, premiums are given by the holy men and elders of the tribe to those among the young men who have the most distinguished themselves. The best warrior receives a feather of the black eagle; the most successful hunter obtains a robe of buffalo-skin, painted inside, and representing some of his most daring exploits; the most virtuous has for his share a coronet made either of gold or silver; and these premiums are suspended in their wigwams, as marks of honour, and handed down to their posterity. In fact, they become a kind ofécusson, which ennobles a family.
Once during the distribution of these much-coveted prizes, a young man of twenty-two was called by the chiefs to receive the premium of virtue. The Indian advanced towards his chiefs, when an elder of the tribe rising, addressed the whole audience. He pointed the young man out, as one whose example should be followed, and recorded, among many other praiseworthy actions, that three squaws, with many children, having been reduced to misery by the death of their husbands in the last war against the Crows, this young man, although the deceased were the greatest foes of his family, undertook to provide for their widows and children till the boys, grown up, would be able to provide for themselves and their mothers. Since that time, he had given them the produce of his chase, reserving to himself nothing but what was strictly necessary to sustain the wants of nature. This was a noble and virtuous act, one that pleased the Manitou. It was an example which all the Shoshones should follow.
The young man bowed, and as the venerable chief was stooping to put the coronet upon his head, he started back and, to the astonishment of all, refused the premium.
"Chiefs, warriors, elders of the Shoshones, pardon me! You know the good which I have done, but you know not in what I have erred. My first feeling was to receive the coronet, and conceal what wrong I had done; but a voice in my heart forbids my taking what others have perchance better deserved.
"Hear me, Shoshones! the truth must be told; hear my shame! One day, I was hungry; it was in the great prairies. I had killed no game, and I was afraid to return among our young men with empty hands. I remained four days hunting, and still I saw neither buffaloes nor bears. At last, I perceived the tent of an Arrapahoe. I went in; there was no one there, and it was full of well-cured meat. I had not eaten for five days; I was hungry, and I became a thief, I took away a large piece, and ran away like a cowardly wolf. I have said: the prize cannot be mine."
A murmur ran through the assembly, and the chiefs, holy men, and elders consulted together. At last, the ancient chief advanced once more towards the young man, and took his two hands between his own. "My son," he said, "good, noble, and brave; thy acknowledgment of thy fault and self-denial in such a moment make thee as pure as a good spirit in the eyes-of the great Manitou. Evil, when confessed and repented of, is forgotten; bend thy head, my son, and let me crown thee. The premium is twice deserved and twice due."
A Shoshone warrior possessed a beautiful mare; no horse in the prairie could outspeed her, and in the buffalo or bear hunt she would enjoy the sport as much as her master, and run alongside the huge beast with great courage and spirit. Many propositions were made to the warrior to sell or exchange the animal, but he would not hear of it. The dumb brute was his friend, his sole companion; they had both shared the dangers of battle and the privations of prairie travelling; why should he part with her? The fame of that mare extended so far, that in a trip he made to San Francisco, several Mexicans offered him large sums of money; nothing, however, could shake him in his resolution. In those countries, though horses will often be purchased at the low price of one dollar, it often happens that a steed, well known as a good hunter or a rapid pacer, will bring sums equal to those paid in England for a fine racehorse.
One of the Mexicans, a wild young man, resolved to obtain the mare, whether or no. One evening, when the Indian was returning from some neighbouring plantation, the Mexican laid down in some bushes at a short distance from the road, and moaned as if in the greatest pain. The good and kind-hearted Indian having reached the spot, heard his cries of distress, dismounted from his mare, and offered any assistance: it was nearly dark, and although he knew the sufferer to be a Pale-face, yet he could not distinguish his features. The Mexican begged for a drop of water, and the Indian dashed into a neighbouring thicket to procure it for him. As soon as the Indian was sufficiently distant, the Mexican vaulted upon the mare, and apostrophized the Indian:--
"You fool of a Red-skin, not cunning enough for a Mexican: you refused my gold; now I have the mare for nothing, and I will make the trappers laugh when I tell them how easily I have outwitted a Shoshone."
The Indian looked at the Mexican for a few moments in silence, for his heart was big, and the shameful treachery wounded him to the very core. At last, he spoke:--
"Pale-face," said he, "for the sake of others, I may not kill thee. Keep the mare, since thou art dishonest enough to steal the only property of a poor man; keep her, but never say a work how thou earnest by her, lest hereafter a Shoshone, having learned distrust, should not hearken to the voice of grief and woe. Away, away with her! let me never see her again, or in an evil hour the desire of vengeance may make a bad man of me."
The Mexican was wild, inconsiderate, and not over-scrupulous, but not without feeling: he dismounted from the horse, and putting the bridle in the hand of the Shoshone, "Brother," said he, "I have done wrong, pardon me! from an Indian I learn virtue, and for the future, when I would commit any deed of injustice, I will think of thee."
Two Apaches loved the same girl; one was a great chief, the other a young warrior, who had entered the war-path but a short time. Of course, the parents of the young girl rejected the warriors suit, as soon as the chief proposed himself. Time passed, and the young man, broken-hearted, left all the martial exercises, in which he had excelled. He sought solitude, starting early in the morning from the wigwam, and returning but late in the night, when the fires were out. The very day on which he was to lead the young girl to his lodge, the chief went bear-hunting among the hills of the neighbourhood. Meeting with a grizzly bear, he fired at him: but at the moment he pulled the trigger his foot slipped, and he fell down, only wounding the fierce animal, which now, smarting and infuriated with pain, rushed upon him.
The chief had been hurt in his fall, he was incapable of defence, and knew that he was lost. He shut his eyes, and waited for his death-blow, when the report of a rifle and the springing of the bear in the agonies of death made him once more open his eyes; he started upon his feet, there lay the huge monster, and near him stood the young warrior who timely rescued him.
The chief recognized his rival, and his gratitude overpowering all other feelings, he took the warrior by the hand, and grasped it firmly.
"Brother," he said, "thou hast saved my life at a time when It was sweet, more so than usual. Let us be brothers."
The young man's breast heaved with contending passions; but he, too, was a noble fellow.
"Chief," answered he, "when I saw the bear rushing upon thee, I thought It was the Manitou who had taken compassion on my sufferings, my heart for an instant felt light and happy; but as death was near thee, very near, the Good Spirit whispered his wishes, and I have saved thee for happiness. It is I who must die! I am nothing, have no friends, no one to care for me, to love me, to make pleasant in the lodge the dull hours of night. Chief, farewell!"
He was going, but the chief grasped him firmly by the arm,--
"Where dost thou wish to go? Dost thou know the love of a brother? Didst thou ever dream of one? I have said we must be brothers to each other. Come to the wigwam."
They returned to the village in silence, and when they arrived before the door of the council lodge, the chief summoned everybody to hear what he had to communicate, and ordered the parents to bring the young girl.
"Flower of the magnolia," said he, taking her by the hand, "wilt thou love me less as a brother than as a husband? Speak! Whisper thy thought to me! Didst thou ever dream of another voice than mine, a younger one, breathing of love and despair?"
Then leading the girl to where the young warrior stood,--
"Brother," said he, "take thy wife and my sister."
Turning towards the elders, the chief extended his right arm, so as to invite general attention.
"I have called you," said he, "that an act of justice may be performed. Hear my words:--
"A young antelope loved a lily, standing under the shade of a sycamore, by the side of a cool stream. Dally he came to watch it as it grew whiter and more beautiful. He loved it very much, till one day a large bull came and picked up the lily. Was it good? No! The poor antelope fled towards the mountains, never wishing to return any more under the cool shade of the sycamore. One day he met the bull down, and about to be killed by a big bear. He saved him. He heard only the whisper of his heart. He saved the bull, although the bull had taken away the pretty lily from where it stood, by the cool stream. It was good, it was well! The bull said to the antelope, 'We shall be brothers, in joy and in sorrow!' and the antelope said there could be no joy for him since the lily was gone. The bull considered. He thought that a brother ought to make great sacrifices for a brother, and he said to the antelope, 'Behold, there is the lily, take it before it droops away. Wear it in thy bosom and be happy.' Chiefs, sages, and warriors, I am the bull: behold my brother the antelope. I have given unto him the flower of the magnolia. She is the lily that grew by the side of the stream, and under the sycamore. I have done well, I have done much, yet not enough for a great chief, not enough for a brother, not enough for justice! Sages, warriors, hear me all. The Flower of the Magnolia can lie but upon the bosom of a chief. My brother must become a chief. He is a chief, for I divide with him the power I possess: my wealth, my lodge, are his own; my horses, my mules, my furs, and all! A chief has but one life, and it is a great gift that cannot be paid too highly. You have heard my words. I have said!"
This sounds very much like a romance, but it is an Apache story, related of one of their great chiefs, during one of their evening encampments. An Apache having, in a moment of passion, accidentally killed one of the tribe, hastened to the chiefs to deliver himself up to justice. On his way he was met by the brother of his victim, upon whom, according to Indian laws, fell the duty of revenge and retaliation. They were friends, and shook hands together.
"Yet I must kill thee, friend," said the brother.
"Thou wilt!" answered the murderer, "it is thy duty; but wilt thou not remember the dangers we have passed together, and provide and console those I leave behind in my lodge?"
"I will," answered the brother. "Thy wife shall be my sister during her widowhood; thy children will never want game, until they can themselves strike the bounding deer."
The two Indians continued their way in silence, till at once the brother of the murdered one stopped.
"We shall soon reach the chiefs," said he; "I to revenge a brother's death, thou to quit for ever thy tribe and thy children, Hast thou a wish? Think, whisper!"
The murderer stood irresolute; his glance furtively took the direction of his lodge. The brother continued,--
"Go to thy lodge. I shall wait for thee till the setting of the sun, before the council door. Go! thy tongue is silent, but I know the wish of thy heart. Go!"
Such traits are common in Indian life. Distrust exists not among the children of the wilderness, until generated by the conduct of white men. These stories, and thousand others, all exemplifying the triumph of virtue and honour over baseness and vice, are every day narrated by the elders, in presence of the young men and children. The evening encampment is a great school of morals, where the red-skin philosopher embodies in his tales the sacred precepts of virtue. A traveller, could he understand what was said, as he viewed the scene, might fancy some of the sages of ancient Greece inculcating to their disciples those precepts of wisdom which have transmitted their name down to us bright and glorious, through more than twenty centuries.
I have stated that the holy men among the Indians, that is to say, the keepers of the sacred lodges, keep the records of the great deeds performed in the tribe; but a tribe will generally boast more of the great virtues of one of its men than of the daring of its bravest warriors. "A virtuous man," they say, "has the ear of the Manitou, he can tell him the sufferings of Indian nature, and ask him to soothe them."
Even the Mexicans, who, of all men, have had most to suffer, and suffer daily from the Apaches[19], cannot but do them the justice they so well deserve. The road betwixt Chihuahua and Santa Fé is almost entirely deserted, so much are the Apaches dreaded; yet they are not hated by the Mexicans half as much as the Texans or the Americans. The Apaches are constantly at war with the Mexicans, it is true; but never have they committed any of those cowardly atrocities which have disgraced every page of Texan history. With the Apaches there are no murders in cold blood, no abuse of the prisoners. A captive knows that he will either suffer death or be adopted in the tribe; but he has never to fear the slow fire and the excruciating torture so generally employed by the Indians in the United States territories.
[19]What I here say of the Apaches applies to the whole Shoshone race.
Their generosity is unbounded; and by the treatment I received at their hands the reader may form an idea of that brave people. They will never hurt a stranger coming to them. A green bough in his hand is a token of peace. For him they will spread the best blankets the wigwam can afford; they will studiously attend to his wants, smoke with him the calumet of peace, and when he goes away, whatever he may desire from among the disposable wealth of the tribe, if he asks for it, it is given.
Gabriel was once attacked near Santa Fé, and robbed of his baggage, by some honest Yankee traders. He fell in with a party of Apaches, to whom he related the circumstance. They gave him some blankets, and left him with their young men at the hunting-lodges they had erected. The next day they returned with several Yankee captives, all well tied, to prevent any possibility of escape. These were the thieves; and what they had taken of Gabriel was, of course, restored to him, one of the Indians saying, that the Yankees, having blackened and soiled the country by theft, should receive the punishment of dogs, and as it was beneath an Apache to strike them, cords were given to them, with orders that they should chastise each other for their rascality. The blackguards were obliged to submit, and the dread of being scalped was too strong upon them to allow them to refuse. At first they did not seem to hurt each other much; but one or two of them, smarting under the lash, returned the blows in good earnest, and then they all got angry, and beat each other so unmercifully that, in a few minutes, they were scarcely able to move. Nothing could exceed the ludicrous picture which Gabriel would draw out of this little event.
There is one circumstance which will form a particular datum in the history of the Western wild tribes,--I mean the terrible visitation of the small-pox. The Apaches, Comanches, the Shoshones, and Arrapahoes are so clean and so very nice in the arrangement of their domestic comforts, that they suffered very little, or not at all; at least, I do not remember a single case which brought death in these tribes; indeed, as I have before mentioned, the Shoshones vaccinate.
But such was not the case with the Club Indians of the Colorado of the West, with the Crows, the Flat-heads, the Umbiquas, and the Black-feet. These last suffered a great deal more than any people in the world ever suffered from any plague or pestilence. To be sure, the Mandans had been entirely swept from the surface of the earth; but they were few, while the Black-feet were undoubtedly the most numerous and powerful tribe in the neighbourhood of the mountains. Their war-parties ranged the country from the northern English posts on the Slave Lake down south to the very borders of the Shoshones, and many among them had taken scalps of the Osages, near the Mississippi, and even of the great Pawnees. Between the Red River and the Platte they had once one hundred villages, thousands and thousands of horses. They numbered more than six thousand warriors. Their name had become a by-word of terror on the northern continent, from shore to shore, and little children in the eastern states, who knew not the name of the tribes two miles from their dwellings, had learned to dread even the name of a Black-foot. Now the tribe has been reduced to comparative insignificancy by this dreadful scourge. They died by thousands; whole towns and villages were destroyed; and even now, the trapper, coming from the mountains, will often come across numberless lodges in ruins, and the blanched skeletons of uncounted and unburied Indians. They lost ten thousand individuals in less than three weeks.
Many tribes but little known suffered pretty much in the same ratio. The Club Indians I have mentioned, numbering four thousand before the pestilence, are now reduced to thirty or forty Individuals; and some Apaches related to me that happening at that time to along the shores of the Colorado, they met the poor fellows dying by hundreds on the very edge of the water, where they had dragged themselves to quench their burning thirst, there not being among them one healthy or strong enough to help and succour the others. The Navahoes, living in the neighbourhood of the Club Indians, have entirely disappeared; and, though late travellers have mentioned them in their works, there is not one of them living now.
Mr. Farnham mentions them In his "Tour on the Mountains"; but he must have been mistaken, confounding one tribe with another, or perhaps deceived by the ignorance of the trappers; for that tribe occupied a range of country entirely out of his track, and never travelled by American traders or trappers. Mr. Farnham could not have been in their neighbourhood by at least six hundred miles.
The villages formerly occupied by the Navahoes are deserted, though many of their lodges still stand; but they serve only to shelter numerous tribes of dogs, which, having increased wonderfully since there has been no one to kill and eat them, have become the lords of vast districts, where they hunt in packs. So numerous and so fierce have they grown, that the neighbouring tribes feel great unwillingness to extend their range to where they may fall in with these canine hunters.
This disease, which has spread north as far as the Ohakallagans, on the borders of the Pacific Ocean, north of Fort Vancouver, has also extended its ravages to the western declivity of the Arrahuac, down to 30° north lat., where fifty nations that had a name are now forgotten, the traveller, perchance, only reminded that they existed when he falls in with heaps of unburied bones.
How the Black-feet caught the infection it is difficult to say, as their immediate neighbours in the east escaped; but the sites of their villages were well calculated to render the disease more general and terrible; their settlements being generally built in some recess, deep in the heart of the mountains, or in valleys surrounded by lofty hills, which prevent all circulation of the air; and it is easy to understand that the atmosphere, once becoming impregnated with the effluvia, and having no issue, must have been deadly.
On the contrary, the Shoshones, the Apaches, and the Arrapahoes, have the generality of their villages built along the shores of deep and broad rivers. Inhabiting a warm clime, cleanness, first a necessity, has become a second nature. The hides and skins are never dried in the immediate vicinity of their lodges, but at a great distance, where the effluvia can hurt no one. The interior of their lodges is dry, and always covered with a coat of hard white clay, a good precaution against insects and reptiles, the contrast of colour immediately betraying their presence. Besides which, having always a plentiful supply of food, they are temperate in their habits, and are never guilty of excess; while the Crows, Black-feet, and Clubs, having often to suffer hunger for days, nay, weeks together, will, when they have an opportunity, eat to repletion, and their stomachs being always in a disordered state (the principal and physical cause of their fierceness and ferocity), it is no wonder that they fell victims, with such predispositions to disease.
It will require many generations to recover the number of Indians which perished in that year; and, as I have said, as long as they live, it will form an epoch or era to which they will for centuries refer.
In the last chapter but one I stated that I and my companions, Gabriel and Roche, had been delivered up to the Mexican agents, and were journeying, under an escort of thirty men, to the Mexican capital, to be hanged as an example to all liberators. This escort was commanded by two most atrocious villains, Joachem Texada and Louis Ortiz. They evidently anticipated that they would become great men in the republic, upon the safe delivery of our persons to the Mexican Government, and every day took good care to remind us that the gibbet was to be our fate on our arrival.
Our route lay across the central deserts of Sonora, until we arrived on the banks of the Rio Grande, and so afraid were they of falling in with a hostile party of Apaches, that they took long turns out of the general track, and through mountainous passes, by which we not only suffered greatly from fatigue, but were very often threatened with starvation.
It was sixty-three days before we crossed the Rio Grande at Christobal, and we had still a long journey before us. This delay, occasioned by the timidity of our guards, proved our salvation. We had been but one day on our march in the swamp after leaving Christobal, when the war-whoop pierced our ears, and a moment afterwards our party was surrounded by some hundred Apaches, who saluted us with a shower of arrows.
Our Mexican guards threw themselves down on the ground, and cried for mercy, offering ransom. I answered the war-whoop of the Apaches, representing my companions and myself as their friends, and requesting their help and protection, which were immediately given. We were once more unbound and free.
I hardly need say that this was a most agreeable change in the state of affairs; for I have no doubt that had we arrived at our destination, we should either have been gibbeted or died (somehow or other) in prison. But if the change was satisfactory to us, it was not so to Joachem Texada and Louis Ortiz, who changed their notes with their change of condition.
The scoundrels; who had amused themselves with reminding us that all we had to expect was an ignominious death, were now our devoted humble servants, cleaning and brushing their own mules for our use, holding the stirrup, and begging for our interference in their behalf with the Apaches. Such wretches did not deserve our good offices; we therefore said nothing for or against them, leaving the Apaches to act as they pleased. About a week after our liberation the Apaches halted, as they were about to divide their force into two bands, one of which was to return home with the booty they had captured, while the other proceeded to the borders of Texas.
I have stated that the Shoshones, the Arrapahoes, and Apaches had entered into the confederation, but the Comanches were too far distant for us to have had an opportunity of making the proposal to them. As this union was always uppermost in my mind, I resolved that I would now visit the Comanches, with a view to the furtherance of my object.
The country on the east side of the Rio Grande is one dreary desert, in which no water is to be procured. I believe no Indian has ever done more than skirt its border; indeed, as they assert that it is inhabited by spirits and demons, it is clear that they cannot have visited it.
To proceed to the Comanches country it was therefore necessary that we should follow the Rio Grande till we came to the Presidio of Rio Grande, belonging to the Mexicans, and from there cross over and take the road to San Antonio de Bejar, the last western city of Texas, and proceed through the Texan country to where the Comanches were located. I therefore decided that we would join the band of Apaches who were proceeding towards Texas.
During this excursion, the Apaches had captured many horses and arms from a trading party which they had surprised near Chihuahua, and, with their accustomed liberality, they furnished us with steeds, saddles, arms, blankets, and clothes; indeed, they were so generous that we could easily pass ourselves off as merchants returning from a trading expedition in case we were to fall in with any Mexicans, and have to undergo an examination.
We took our leave of the generous Apache chiefs, who were returning homewards. Joachem Texada and Louis Ortiz were, with the rest of the escort, led away as captives, and what became of them I cannot say. We travelled with the other band of Indians, until we had passed the Presidio del Rio Grande, a strong Mexican fort, and the day afterwards took our farewell of them, having joined a band of smugglers who were on their way to Texas. Ten days afterwards, we entered San Antonio de Bejar, and had nothing more to fear, as we were now clear of the Mexican territory.
San Antonio de Bejar is by far the most agreeable residence in Texas. When in the possession of the Mexicans, it must have been a charming place.
The river San Antonio, which rises at a short distance above the city, glides gracefully through the suburbs; and its clear waters, by numerous winding canals, are brought up to every house. The temperature of the water is the same throughout the year, neither too warm nor too cold for bathing; and not a single day passes without the inhabitants indulging in the favourite and healthy exercise of swimming, which is practised by everybody, from morning till evening; and the traveller along the shores of this beautiful river will constantly see hundreds of children, of all ages and colour, swimming and diving like so many ducks.
The climate is pure, dry, and healthy. During summer the breeze is fresh and perfumed; and as it never rains, the neighbouring plantations are watered by canals, which receive and carry in every direction the waters of the San Antonio. Formerly the city contained fifteen thousand inhabitants, but the frequent revolutions and the bloody battles which have been fought within its walls have most materially contributed to diminish its number; so much indeed, that, in point of population, the city of San Antonio de Bejar, with its bishopric and wealthy missions, has fallen to the rank of a small English village. It still carries on a considerable trade, but its appearance of prosperity is deceptive; and I would caution emigrants not to be deceived by the Texan accounts of the place. Immense profits have been made, to be sure; but now even the Mexican smugglers and banditti are beginning to be disgusted with the universal want of faith and probity.
The Mexicans were very fond of gardens and of surrounding their houses with beautiful trees, under the shade of which they would pass most of the time which could be spared from bathing. This gives a fresh and lively appearance to the city, and you are reminded of Calabrian scenery, the lightness and simplicity of the dwellings contrasting with the grandeur and majesty of the monastic buildings in the distance. Texas had no convents, but the Spanish missions were numerous, and their noble structures remain as monuments of former Spanish greatness. Before describing these immense establishments, it is necessary to state that soon after the conquest of Mexico, one of the chief objects of Spanish policy was the extension of the authority of the Roman Catholic Church. The conversion of the Indians and the promulgation of Christianity were steadily interwoven with the desire of wealth; and at the time that they took away the Indian's gold, they gave him Christianity. At first, force was required to obtain proselytes, but cunning was found to succeed better; and, by allowing the superstitions of the Indians to be mixed up with the rites of the Church, a sort of half-breed religion became general, upon the principle, I presume, that half a loaf is better than no bread. The anomalous consequences of this policy are to be seen in the Indian ceremonies even to this day.
To afford adequate protection to the Roman Catholic missionaries, settlements were established, which still bear the name of missions. They are very numerous throughout California, and there are several in Texas. The Alamo, at San Antonio, was one of great importance; there were others of less consideration in the neighbourhood; as the missions of Conception, of San Juan, San Jose, and La Espada. All these edifices are most substantially built; the walls are of great thickness, and from their form and arrangement they could be converted into frontier fortresses. They had generally, though not always, a church at the side of the square, formed by the high walls, through which there was but one entrance. In the interior they had a large granary, and the outside wall formed the back to a range of buildings, in which the missionaries and their converts resided. A portion of the surrounding district was appropriated to agriculture, the land being, as I before observed, irrigated by small canals, which conducted the water from the river.
The Alamo is now in ruins, only two or three of the houses of the inner square being inhabited. The gateway of the church was highly ornamented, and still remains, although the figures which once occupied the niches have disappeared. But there is still sufficient in the ruins to interest the inquirer into its former history, even if he could for a moment forget the scenes which have rendered it celebrated in the history of Texan independence.
About two miles lower down the San Antonio river is the mission of Conception. It is a very large stone building, with a fine cupola, and though a plain building, is magnificent in its proportions and the durability of its construction. It was here that Bowie fought one of the first battles with the Mexican forces, and it has not since been inhabited. Though not so well known to fame as other conflicts, this battle was that which really committed the Texans, and compelled those who thought of terms and the maintenance of a Mexican connection to perceive that the time for both had passed.
The mission of San Jose is about a mile and a half further down the river. It consists, like the others, of a large square, and numerous Mexican families still reside there. To the left of the gateway is the granary. The church stands apart from the building; it is within the square, but unconnected. The west door is decorated with the most elaborated carvings of flowers, images of angels, and figures of the apostles; the interior is plain. To the right is a handsome tower and belfry, and above the altar a large stone cupola. Behind the church is a long range of rooms for the missionaries, with a corridor of nine arches in front. The Texan troops were long quartered here, and, although always intoxicated, strange to say, the stone carvings have not been injured. The church has since been repaired, and divine service is performed in it.
About half a mile further down is the mission of San Juan. The church forms part of the sides of the square, and on the north-west corner of the square are the remains of a small stone tower. This mission, as well as that of La Espada, is inhabited. The church of La Espada, however, is in ruins, and but two sides of the square, consisting of mere walls, remain entire; the others have been wantonly destroyed.
The church at San Antonio de Bejar was built in the year 1717; and although it has suffered much from the many sieges which the city has undergone, it is still used as a place of public worship. At the time that San Antonio was attacked and taken by Colonel Cooke, in 1835, several cannon-shots struck the dome, and a great deal of damage was done; in fact, all the houses in the principal square of the town are marked more or less by shot. One among them has suffered very much; it is the "Government-house," celebrated for one of the most cowardly massacres ever committed by a nation of barbarians, and which I shall here relate.
After some skirmishes betwixt the Comanches and the Texans, in which the former had always had the advantage, the latter thought it advisable to propose a treaty of alliance. Messengers, with flags of truce, were despatched among the Indians, inviting all their chiefs to a council at San Antonio, where the representatives of Texas would meet them and make their proposals for an eternal peace. Incapable of treachery themselves, the brave Comanches never suspected it in others; at the time agreed upon, forty of their principal chiefs arrived in the town, and, leaving their horses in the square, proceeded to the "Government-house." They were all unarmed, their long flowing hair covered with a profusion of gold and silver ornaments; their dresses very rich and their blankets of that fine Mexican texture which commands in the market from fifty to one hundred and fifty dollars a-piece. Their horses were noble animals, and of great value, their saddles richly embossed with gold and silver. The display of so much wealth excited all the worst propensities of the Texan populace, who resolved at any price to obtain possession of so splendid a booty. While the chiefs were making their speeches of peace and amity, a few hundred Texan blackguards rushed into the room with their pistols and knives, and began their work of murder. All the Indians fell, except one, who succeeded in making his escape; but though the Comanches were quite unarmed, they sold their lives dearly, for eighteen Texans were found among the slain.
I will close this chapter with a few remarks upon the now acknowledged republic of Texas.
The dismemberment of Texas from Mexico was effected by the reports of extensive gold-mines, diamonds, &c., which were to be found there, and which raised the cupidity of the eastern speculators and land-jobbers of the United States. But in all probability this appropriation would never have taken place if it had not been that the southern states of America had, with very different views, given every encouragement to the attempt.
The people of Louisiana and the southern states knew the exact value of the country, and laughed at the idea of its immense treasures. They acted from a deep, although it eventually has turned out to have been a false, policy. They considered that Texas, once wrested from Mexico, would be admitted into the Union, subdivided into two or three states, every one of which would, of course, be slave-holding states, and send their members to Congress. This would have given the slave-holding states the preponderance in the Union.
Events have turned out differently, and the planters of the south now deplore their untoward policy and want of foresight, as they have assisted in raising up a formidable rival in the production of their staple commodity, injurious to them even in time of peace, and in case of a war with England, still more inimical to their interests.
It is much to be lamented that Texas had not been populated by a more deserving class of individuals; it might have been, even by this time, a country of importance and wealth; but it has from the commencement been the resort of every vagabond and scoundrel who could not venture to remain in the United States; and, unfortunately, the Texan character was fixed and established, as a community wholly destitute of principle or probity, before the emigration of more respectable settlers had commenced. The consequences have been most disastrous, and it is to be questioned whether some of them will ever be removed.
At the period of its independence, the population of Texas was estimated at about forty thousand. Now, if you are to credit the Texan Government, it has increased to about seventy-five thousand. Such, however, is not the fact, although it, of course, suits the members of the republic to make the assertion. Instead of the increase stated by them, the population of Texas has decreased considerably, and is not now equal to what it was at the Independence.
This may appear strange, after so many thousands from the United States, England, and Germany have been induced to emigrate there; but the fact is, that, after having arrived in the country, and having discovered that they were at the mercy of bands of miscreants, who are capable of any dark deed, they have quitted the country to save the remainder of their substance, and have passed over into Mexico, the Southern United States, or anywhere else where they had some chance of security for life and property.
Among the population of Texas were counted many thousand Mexicans, who remained in the country, trusting that order and law would soon be established: but, disappointed in their expectations, they have emigrated to Mexico. Eight thousand have quitted San Antonio de Bejar, and the void has been filled up by six or seven hundred drunkards, thieves, and murderers. The same desertion has taken place in Goliad, Velasco, Nacogdoches, and other towns, which were formerly occupied by Mexican families.
It may give the reader some idea of the insecurity of life and property in Texas, when I state, that there are numerous bands of robbers continually on the look-out, to rifle and murder the travellers, and that it is of frequent occurrence for a house to be attacked and plundered, the women violated, and every individual afterwards murdered by these miscreants, who, to escape detection, dress and paint themselves as Indians. Of course, what I have now stated, although well known to be a fact, is not likely to be mentioned in the Texan newspapers.
Another serious evil arising from this lawless state of the country is, that the Indians, who were well inclined towards the Texans, as being, with them, mutual enemies of the Mexicans, are now hostile, to extermination. I have mentioned the murder of the Comanche chiefs, in the government-house of San Antonio, which, in itself, was sufficient. But such has been the disgraceful conduct of the Texans towards the Indians, that the white man is now considered by them as a term of reproach; they are spoken of by the Indians as "dogs," and are generally hung or shot whenever they are fallen in with. Centuries cannot repair this serious evil, and the Texans have made bitter and implacable foes of those who would have been their friends. No distinction is made between an American and a Texan, and the Texans have raised up a foe to the United States, which may hereafter prove not a little troublesome.
In another point, Texas has been seriously injured by this total want of probity and principle. Had Western Texas been settled by people of common honesty, it would, from its topographical situation, have soon become a very important country, as all the mercantile transactions with the north central provinces of Mexico would have been secured to it.
From the Presidio del Rio Grande there is an excellent road to San Antonio de Bejar; to the south of San Antonio lies Chihuahua; so that the nearest and most accessible route overland, from the United States to the centre of Mexico, is through San Antonio. And this overland route can be shortened by discharging vessels at Linville, or La Bacca, and from thence taking the goods to San Antonio, a distance of about one hundred and forty miles. The western boundary line of Texas, at the time of the declaration of its independence, was understood to be the river Nueces; and if so, nothing could have prevented San Antonio from becoming an inland depot of much commercial importance.
Numerous parties of Mexican traders have long been accustomed to come to San Antonio from the Rio Grande. They were generally very honest in their payments, and showed a very friendly spirit. Had this trade been protected, as it should have been, by putting down the bands of robbers, who rendered the roads unsafe by their depredations and atrocities, it would have become of more value than any trade to Santa Fé. Recognized or unrecognized, Texas could have carried on the trade; merchants would have settled in the West, to participate in it; emigrants would have collected in the district, where the soil is rich and the climate healthy. It is true, the trade would have been illicit; but such is ever the inevitable consequence of a high and ill-regulated tariff. It would, nevertheless, have been very profitable, and would have conciliated the population of Rio Grande towards the Texans, and in all probability have forced upon the Mexican government the establishment of friendly relations between the two countries.
But this trade has been totally destroyed; the Indians now seize and plunder every caravan, either to or from San Antonio; the Texan robbers lie in wait for them, if they escape the Indians; and should the Mexican trader escape with his goods from both, he has still to undergo the chance of being swindled by thesoi-disantTexan merchant.
If ever there was a proof, from the results of pursuing an opposite course, that honesty is the best policy, it is to be found in the present state of Texas.