The Spanish word brazo means arm. The word, like its English
equivalent, has a wide pictorial use; thus the Spanish speak of un
brazo (an arm) of the sea, and as applied to streams the word may mean
fork or branch. The complete name of the great Texas river as given by
the Spanish was Los Brazos de Dios—The Arms of God. The name is
remarkable, and in attempting to explain its origin legend has been no
less remarkable. Old histories have contributed to the legend. At last,
the history of the naming of the stream is clear; yet the name itself
has something of mystery that will always provoke speculation.
According to Miss Eleanor Claire Buckley, [122] when the Spaniards of
the Aguayo Expedition in 1621 struck what is now called Little River,
in Bell County, they called it “Espíritu Santo (Holy Ghost), having
reached it on the eve of Pentecost. As will be remembered, the Brazos
had, in 1690, been given the name of Espíritu Santo or Colorado by De
León, who, however, had struck it before its branching (Diario, entry
for May 14). In the next expedition, 1691, Massanet, though he knew
that it had been called the Espíritu Santo, named it the San Francisco
Solano (Diario, entry for July 24); while Terán, ‘though the natives
called it the Colorado,’ named it the San Geronimo (Demarcación, entry
for July 25). Espinosa and Ramón, in 1716, crossed Little River just
above its junction with the Brazos. The former did not give it any
name; the latter called it la Trinidad. Both of them called the Brazos
proper la Trinidad, thinking doubtless that it was the river that De
León had named thus in 1690 (Diario and Derrotero, entries for June
14). Rivera called it the ‘Colorado o de los Brazos de Dios’ (Diario,
entry for August 30).” “It may be noted,” adds Dr. Bolton, “that the
name los Brazos de Dios was applied to the Little River and to the main
Brazos, and not to the main Brazos and the Little Brazos.”
But why the arms de Dios? asks legend. I have heard that Corpus Christi
was named through belief that the sacred words would act as a
protection against harm to the inhabitants of the place. Probably the
old custom, still maintained in Catholic countries, of giving holy or
sainted names had its origin in some such belief. Many other streams in
Texas than the Brazos were given holy names; as, the Trinidad
(Trinity), the Navidad (Nativity), and the Arroyo de las Benditas
Animas (Creek of the Blessed Souls). Thrall says that the Trinidad and
Navidad were so named because they were discovered on Trinity Sunday
and Christmas day respectively. [123] He offers no authority.
The version of the Brazos legend to be quoted presently from Mollie E.
Moore Davis’ Under the Man-Fig goes back at least a century to Austin’s
colonists, who, in all likelihood, derived it from the Spanish. It is
probably the source of all the other versions and seems to be by far
the best known. Incidentally, it appears in a book replete with
folk-lore—one of the half dozen best Texas novels. The scene of Under
the Man-Fig is Columbia, on the Brazos River, in Brazoria County. Now,
among the oldest inhabitants of Columbia is Mr. J. P. Underwood, whose
mother was one of the “first three hundred” of Austin’s colonists.
Acting upon a request, Mrs. V. M. Taylor of Angleton secured from Mr.
Underwood his version of how the Brazos got its name. Mrs. Taylor
writes:
“Hostile Indians were pursuing a body of Indians under the care of
the Catholics who were trying to reach the Tockanhono, ‘mighty
water of the Tejas.’ They reached it in time to gain the opposite
shore, but the hostiles trying to follow were swept away by a
mighty current. The joy of the padre and company was expressed by
their calling the Tockanhono (Indian name) ‘Los Brazos de Dios’—The
Arms of God. Mr. Underwood gave me the account as above, saying
that it is the true version of the origin of Los Brazos as he heard
it from old settlers of Austin’s colonies.”
It will be noted that Mr. Underwood says nothing of the “mission” that
figures so largely in Mrs. Davis’ account. There was no Spanish mission
on the Brazos; Nuestra Señora de la Luz was a mission on the not
distant Trinity, and at it there was a miraculous escape, but from
fire, not from water. [124] The mission is but ambiguously hinted in a
song entitled “Los Brazos de Dios,” [125] written years ago by Mrs.
Laura Bryan Parker, formerly of Houston, now of Washington City.
Another poetic version, [126] printed in 1897, makes use of the
mission, but the details of this poem seem to have been taken entirely
from Mrs. Davis’ narrative. It may be, after all, that the mission is
borrowed from the San Saba, and that the fifth and last version of the
legend given in this compilation is the oldest of all versions.
It is to be observed that in its lower reaches the Brazos does not come
down with a sudden sweep like a mountain canyon, a fact that would
still further indicate a borrowing from some upland stream, such as the
San Saba or higher Colorado.
But it is high time to get to Mrs. Davis’ complete, if somewhat
belletristic, tale. [127]
I