It was during my convalescence that the fate of the Texian expedition to
Santa Fe was decided; and as the real facts have been studiously
concealed, and my intelligence, gained from the Indians, who were
disinterested parties, was afterwards fully corroborated by an Irish
gentleman who had been persuaded to join it, I may as well relate them
here. Assuming the character of friendly traders, with some hundred
dollars' worth of goods, as a blind to their real intentions, which were
to surprise the Mexicans during the neutrality which had been agreed
upon, about five hundred men were collected at Austin, for the
expedition.
Although the report was everywhere circulated that this was to be a
trading experiment, the expedition, when it quitted Austin, certainly
wore a very different appearance. The men had been supplied with
uniforms; generals, and colonels, and majors were dashing about in every
direction, and they quitted the capital of Texas with drums beating and
colours flying. Deceived by the Texians, a few respectable Europeans
were induced to join this expedition, either for scientific research or
the desire to visit a new and unexplored country, under such protection,
little imagining that they had associated themselves with a large band
of robbers, for no other name can be given to these lawless plunderers.
But if the force made a tolerable appearance on its quitting the
capital, a few hours' march put an end to all discipline and restraint.
Although the country abounded with game, and it was killed from mere
wantonness, such was their improvidence, that they were obliged to
resort to their salt pork and other provisions; and as, in thirty days,
forty large casks of whisky were consumed, it is easy to suppose, which
was indeed the fact, that every night that they halted, the camp was a
scene of drunkenness and riot.
During the last few days of the march through the game country, they
killed more than a hundred buffaloes, yet, three days after they had
quitted the prairies and had entered the dreary northern deserts, they
had no provisions left, and were compelled to eat their worn-out and
miserable horses.
A true account of their horrible sufferings would beggar all
description; they became so weak and so utterly helpless, that
half-a-dozen Mexicans, well mounted, could have destroyed them all.
Yet, miserable as they were, and under the necessity of conciliating the
Indians, they could not forego their piratical and thieving
propensities. They fell upon a small village of the Wakoes, whose
warriors and hunters were absent, and, not satisfied with taking away
all the eatables they could carry, they amused themselves with firing
the Indian stores and shooting the children, and did not leave until the
village was reduced to a heap of burning ashes. This act of cowardice
sealed the fate of the expedition, which was so constantly harassed by
the Wakoe warriors, and had lost already so many scalps, that afterwards
meeting with a small party of Mexicans, they surrendered to them, that
they might escape the well-deserved, and unrelenting vengeance of the
warlike Wakoes.
Such was the fate of the Texian expedition; but there is another portion
of the history which has been much talked of in the United States; I
mean the history of their captivity and sufferings, while on their road
from Santa Fe to Mexico. Mr Daniel Webster hath made it a government
question, and Mr Pakenham, the British ambassador in Mexico, has
employed all the influence of his own position to restore to freedom the
half-dozen of Englishmen who had joined the expedition. Of course they
knew nothing of the circumstances, except from the report of the Texians
themselves. Now it is but just that the Mexicans' version should be
heard also. The latter is the true one, at least so far as I can judge
by what I saw, what I heard upon the spot, and from some Mexican
documents yet in my possession.
The day before their capture, the Texians, who for the last thirteen
days had suffered all the pangs of hunger, came suddenly upon a flock of
several thousand sheep, belonging to the Mexican government. As usual,
the flock was under the charge of a Mexican family, living in a small
covered waggon, in which they could remove from spot to spot, shifting
the pasture-ground as required. In that country, but very few
individuals are employed to keep the largest herds of animals; but they
are always accompanied by a number of noble dogs, which appear to be
particularly adapted to protect and guide the animals. These dogs do
not run about, they never bark or bite, but, on the contrary, they will
walk gently up to any one of the flock that happens to stray, take it
carefully by the ear, and lead it back to its companions. The sheep do
not show the least fear of these dogs, nor is there any occasion for it.
These useful guardians are a cross of the Newfoundland and St. Bernard
breed, of a very large size, and very sagacious.
Now, if the Texians had asked for a hundred sheep, either for money or
in barter (a sheep is worth about sixpence), they would have been
supplied directly; but as soon as the flock was perceived, one of the
Texian leaders exclaimed, with an oath, "Mexicans' property, and a
welcome booty; upon it my boys, upon it, and no mercy." One of the poor
Mexicans who had charge was shot through the head, the others succeeded
in escaping by throwing themselves down among the thick ranks of the
affrighted animals, till out of rifle distance; then began a carnage
without discrimination, and the Texians never ceased firing until the
prairie was for miles covered with the bodies of their victims. Yet
this grand victory was not purchased without a severe loss, for the dogs
defended the property intrusted to their care; they scorned to run away,
and before they could all be killed, they had torn to pieces
half-a-dozen of the Texians, and dreadfully lacerated as many more. The
evening was, of course, spent in revelry: the dangers and fatigues, the
delays and vexatious of the march were now considered over, and high
were their anticipations of the rich plunder in perspective. But this
was the only feat accomplished by this Texian expedition: the Mexicans
had not been deceived; they had had intelligence of the real nature of
the expedition, and advanced parties had been sent out to announce its
approach. Twenty-four hours after they had regaled themselves with
mutton, one of these parties, amounting to about one hundred men, made
its appearance. All the excitement of the previous evening had
evaporated, the Texians sent out a flag of truce, and three hundred of
them surrendered themselves unconditionally to this small Mexican force.
On one point the European nations have been much deceived, which is as
to the character of the Mexican soldier, who appears to be looked upon
with a degree of contempt. This is a great mistake, but it has arisen
from the false reports and unfounded aspersions of the Texians, as to
the result of many of their engagements. I can boldly assert (although
opposed to them) that there is not a braver individual in the world than
the Mexican; in my opinion, far superior to the Texian, although
probably not equal to him in the knowledge and use of fire-arms.
One great cause of the Mexican army having occasionally met with defeat,
is that the Mexicans, who are of the oldest and best Castile blood,
retain the pride of the Spanish race to an absurd degree. The sons of
the old nobility are appointed as officers; they learn nothing, know
nothing of military tactics--they know how to die bravely, and that is
all.
The battle of St. Jacinta, which decided the separation of Texas, has
been greatly cried up by the Texians; the fact is, it was no battle at
all. They were commanded by Santa Anna, who has great military talent,
and the Mexicans reposed full confidence in him. Santa Anna feeling
very unwell, went to a farm-house, at a small distance, to recover
himself, and was captured by half-a-dozen Texian robbers, who took him
on to the Texian army.
The loss of the general with the knowledge that there was no one fit to
supply his place, dispirited the Mexicans, and they retreated; but since
that time they have proved to the Texians how insecure they are, even at
this moment. England and other European governments have thought
proper, very hastily, to recognise Texas, but Mexico has not, and will
not.
The expedition to Santa Fe, by which the Texians broke the peace,
occurred in the autumn of 1841; the Mexican army entered Texas in the
spring of 1842, sweeping every thing before them, from St. Antonio di
Bejar to the Colorado; but the Texians had sent emissaries to Yucatan,
to induce that province to declare its independence. The war in Yucatan
obliged the Mexican army to march back in that direction to quell the
insurrection, which it did, and then returned to Texas, and again took
possession of St. Antonio di Bejar in September of the same year, taking
many prisoners of consequence away with them.
It was the intention of the Mexicans to have returned to Texas in the
spring of the year, but fresh disturbances in Yucatan prevented Santa
Anna from executing his projects. Texas is, therefore, by no means
secure, its population is decreasing, and those who had respectability
attached to their character have left it. I hardly need observe that
the Texian national debt, now amounting to thirteen millions of dollars,
may, for many reasons, turn out to be not a very profitable investment.
[See Note 1.]
But to return to the Santa Fe expedition. Texians were deprived of
their arms and conducted to a small village, called Anton Chico, till
orders should have been received as to their future disposition, from
General Armigo, governor of the province.
It is not to be supposed that in a small village of about one hundred
government shepherds, several hundred famished men could be supplied
with all the necessaries and superfluities of life. The Texians accuse
the Mexicans of having starved them in Anton Chico, forgetting that
every Texian had the same ration of provisions as the Mexican soldier.
Of course the Texians now attempted to fall back upon the original
falsehood, that they were a trading expedition, and had been destroyed
and plundered by the Indians; but, unfortunately, the assault upon the
sheep and the cowardly massacre of the shepherds were not to be got
over. As Governor Armigo very justly observed to them, if they were
traders, they had committed murder; if they were not traders, they were
prisoners of war.
After a painful journey of four months, the prisoners arrived in the old
capital of Mexico, where the few strangers who had been induced to join
the expedition, in ignorance of its destination, were immediately
restored to liberty; the rest were sent, some to the mines, to dig for
the metal they were so anxious to obtain, and some were passed over to
the police of the city, be employed in the cleaning of the streets.
Many American newspapers have filled their columns with all manner of
histories relative to this expedition; catalogues of the cruelties
practised by the Mexicans have been given, and the sympathising American
public have been called upon to give the unfortunate men who had
escaped. I will only give one instance of misrepresentation in the New
Orleans _Picayune_, and put in juxta-position the real truth. It will
be quite sufficient. Mr Kendal says:--
"As the sun was about setting those of us who were in front were
startled by the report of two guns, following each other in quick
succession. We turned to ascertain the cause, and soon found that a
poor, unfortunate man, named Golpin, a merchant, and who had started
upon the expedition with a small amount of goods, had been shot by the
rear-guard, for no other reason than that he was too sick and weak to
keep up; he had made a bargain with one of the guard to ride his mule a
short distance, for which he was to pay him his only shirt! While in
the act of taking it off, Salazar (the commanding officer) ordered a
soldier to shoot him. The first ball only wounded the wretched man, but
the second killed him instantly, and he fell with his shirt still about
his face. Golpin was a citizen of the United States, and reached Texas
a short time before the expedition. He was a harmless, inoffensive man,
of most delicate constitution, and, during a greater part of the time we
were upon the road, was obliged to ride in one of the waggons."
This story is, of course, very pathetic; but here we have a few lines
taken from the _Bee_, a New Orleans newspaper:--
"_January_, 1840. HORRIBLE MURDER!--Yesterday, at the plantation of
William Reynolds, was committed one of those acts, which revolt human
nature. Henry Golpin, the overseer, a Creole, and strongly suspected of
being a quadroon, had for some time acted improperly towards Mrs
Reynolds and daughters. A few days ago, a letter from WR was received
from St. Louis, stating that he would return home at the latter end of
the week; and Golpin, fearing that the ladies would complain of his
conduct and have him turned out, poisoned them with the juice of some
berries poured into their coffee. Death was almost instantaneous. A
pretty mulatto girl of sixteen, an attendant and _protegee_ of the young
ladies, entering the room where the corpses were already stiff, found
the miscreant busy in taking off their jewels and breaking up some
recesses, where he knew that there were a few thousand dollars, in
specie and paper, the produce of a recent sale of negroes. At first, he
tried to coax the girl, offering to run away and marry her, but she
repulsed him with indignation, and, forcing herself off his hold, she
ran away to call for help. Snatching suddenly a rifle, he opened a
window, and as the honest girl ran across the square towards the
negroes' huts, she fell quite dead, with a ball passing across her
temples. The governor and police of the first and second municipalities
offer one thousand dollars reward for the apprehension of the miserable
assassin, who, of course, has absconded."
This is the "_harmless and inoffensive man of delicate constitution, a
citizen of the United States_," which Mr Kendal would give us as a
martyr of Mexican barbarism. During the trip across the prairie, every
man, except two or three, had shunned him, so well did every one know
his character; and now I will describe the events which caused him to be
shot in the way above related.
Two journeys after they had left Santa Fe they passed the night in a
little village, four men being billeted in every house under the charge
of one soldier. Golpin and another of his stamp were, however, left
without any guard in the house of a small retailer of aguardiente, who,
being now absent, had left his old wife alone in the house. She was a
good hospitable soul, and thought it a Christian duty to administer to
the poor prisoners all the relief she could afford. She gave them some
of her husband's linen, bathed their feet with warm water mixed with
whisky, and served up to them a plentiful supper.
Before they retired to rest, she made them punch, and gave them a small
bottle of liquor, which they could conceal about them and use on the
road. The next morning the sounds of the drums called the prisoners in
the square to get ready for their departure. Golpin went to the old
woman's room, insisting that she should give them more of the liquor.
Now the poor thing had already done much. Liquor in these far inland
countries, where there are no distilleries, reaches the enormous price
of from sixteen to twenty dollars a gallon. So she mildly but firmly
refused, upon which Golpin seized from the nail, where it was hung, a
very heavy key, which he knew to be that of the little cellar
underground, where the woman kept the liquor. She tried to regain
possession of it, but during the struggle Golpin beat her brains out
with a bar of iron that was in the room. This deed perpetrated, he
opened the trap-door of the cellar, and among the folds of his blanket
and that of his companion concealed as many flasks as they could carry.
They then shut the street-door and joined their companions.
Two hours afterwards, the husband returned, and knocked in vain; at
last, he broke open the door, and beheld his helpmate barbarously
mangled. A neighbour soon told him about the two Texian guests, and the
wretched man having made his depositions to an alcade, or constable,
they both started upon fresh horses, and at noon overtook the prisoners.
The commanding officers soon ascertained who were the two men that had
been billeted at the old woman's, and found them surrounded by a group
of Texians, making themselves merry with the stolen liquor. Seeing that
they were discovered, to save his life, Golpin's companion immediately
peached, and related the whole of the transaction. Of course the
assassin was executed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. Perhaps the English reader will find it extraordinary that
Santa Anna, once freed from his captivity, should not have re-entered
Texas with an overwhelming force. The reason is very simple: Bustamente
was a rival of Santa Anna for the presidency; the general's absence
allowed him to intrigue, and when the news reached the capital that
Santa Anna had fallen a prisoner, it became necessary to elect a new
president. Bustamente had never been very popular, but having promised
to the American population of the sea-ports, that nothing should be
attempted against Texas if he were elected, these, through mercantile
interest, supported him, not only with their influence, but also with
their money.
When, at last, Santa Anna returned to Mexico, his power was lost, and
his designs upon Texas were discarded by his successor. Bustamente was
a man entirely devoid of energy, and he looked with apathy upon the
numerous aggressions made by the Texians upon the borders of Mexico. As
soon however, as the Mexicans heard that the Texians, in spite of the
law of nations, had sent an expedition to Santa Fe, at the very time
that they were making overtures for peace and recognition of their
independence, they called upon Bustamente to account for his culpable
want of energy. Believing himself secure against any revolution, the
president answered with harsh measures, and the soldiery, now
exasperated, put Santa Anna at their head forcing him to re-assume the
presidency. Bustamente ran away to Paris, the Santa Fe expedition was
soon defeated, and, as we have seen, the president, Santa Anna, began
his dictatorship with the invasion of Texas (March, 1842).