[This account of “The Wild Woman of the Navidad” has been supplied from
her father’s manuscripts by Mrs. Margaret Kenney Kress, Instructor in
Romance Languages in the University of Texas.
The line between history and legend is not always definitely drawn. Mr.
Kenney called his narrative “a true story”: it is “true” in that it
sets down many of the speculations and some of the probably
unsubstantiated tales connected with “The Wild Woman.” Herein, the
derivation of legend from fact is admirably illustrated, for I must
think that all legends, even such improbable ones as that of Romulus
and Remus, have their inception in fact. The universal practice of
transferring legendary lore concerning one place or person to another
place or person does not disprove the theory that fact is at the basis
of legend.
The theme of the wild man or the wild woman is not uncommon in legend.
People want wild men or wild women to thrill their imaginations.
Twenty-five years ago a number of the inhabitants of Live Oak County,
Texas, were aroused over tales of a “wild woman.” Two or three deputy
sheriffs on her trail stayed at our house one freezing night. The next
day they found her huddled in a Mexican jacal—an addle-brained negro
woman who was trying to get through the country afoot. Fifteen years
later stories in the same county circulated about a “wild cave man.”
His diet, according to the tales, was as miraculous as that of the
fabled chameleon; his elusive powers as incomprehensible as those of
Fortunatus. Rumor grew riotous and fearsome. Finally, some cowpunchers
rode the “wild man” down and roped him. He proved to be a Mexican moron
who was in hiding for having murdered another Mexican.
Mr. Kenney gives 1837 and 1850 as the dates between which “The Wild
Woman of the Navidad” flourished. Victor M. Rose, who treats of the
subject sketchily, gives the dates as 1840 and 1850. [142] Both speak
of the wide newspaper publicity given the “woman”; and it is
interesting to note that during this time of publicity other sections
were claiming their “wild men.” Marryat, who cribbed most of his wild
west material from current newspapers, published in 1843 an account of
a purported “wild man” on Red River.
“One day,” he says, “a report was spread in the neighborhood of Fort
Gibson, that a strange monster, of the ourang-outang species, had
penetrated the cane-brakes upon the western banks of the Mississippi.
Some negroes declared to have seen him tearing down a brown bear; an
Arkansas hunter had sent to Philadelphia an exaggerated account of this
recently discovered animal, and the members of the academy had written
to him to catch the animal, if possible, alive, no matter at what
expense.” [143]
The man, it seems, had endured all manner of adventure, which he
related to some hunters who shot him. Later he became a wealthy river
captain, but probably tales about him as a “wild man” grew even after
his death.
Again, in 1851 there was a “wild man” in the Arkansas woods. On May
26th of that year, the Galveston Weekly Journal reprinted a report from
the Memphis Enquirer of May 9th, concerning this “wild” being. He is
described as long-haired, gigantic in frame, with a footprint thirteen
inches in length.—Editor.]
Rising in the gentle hills, between the Colorado and Lavaca rivers, the
Navidad River, after a short course, expands into a deep stream which
creeps sluggishly through the wide and dense forests that cover the
alluvial lands near the sea. Some of the earliest settlements in Texas
were made on the Navidad. The dense growth of trees and cane in the
river bottom was the haunt of all species of wild animals, which,
through fear or ferocity, seek the recesses of the forest.
About the year 1837 there appeared in the settlements of the lower
Navidad a phenomenon. The barefoot tracks of two human beings were
frequently seen, but the persons who made them kept themselves
carefully from sight. It was inferred from the size of the tracks that
one was made by a boy and the other by a girl or woman of delicate
feet. The two sometimes invaded the sweet potato fields and sometimes
helped themselves to a few ears of corn, but seemed to avoid any
mischief and took only something to eat. Many conjectures were made,
and abandoned as fast as made, as to who they could be. At first they
were thought to be runaway slaves. But the size of the tracks
demonstrated that they were not negroes, and they avoided making
themselves known to the negroes of the country. Then it was supposed
that they were some wandering remnant of Indians, and this conjecture
was favored by the smallness of the feet. But their conduct was foreign
to the Indian character. Indians would not have been so secluded; they
would have committed more mischief—or less. The most probable
conjecture seemed to be that they were lost children who had become
separated from their friends during the hurried retreat of the American
settlers from the invading army of Mexico in 1836. It was supposed that
they had become so alarmed that, believing the whole world hostile,
they kept themselves in innocent ignorance secluded from mankind. But
there were grave objections to this theory also. If the supposed lost
children had been old enough to maintain themselves in the wilderness,
they would not have lacked discretion to make themselves known when
their friends returned. Altogether, the riddle remained unsolved. After
some years the larger track was no more seen, but the small and slim
track frequented the country. Some time later a party of hunters
noticed some bones protruding from a pile of sticks and leaves in the
woods, and upon investigation discovered there the skeleton of a man.
Nothing was noticed by which his race or nation could be determined;
indeed, but little was thought of the matter at the time, but afterward
it was concluded that the larger of the two strange recluses, who was
probably a man, had died, and that his weaker mate, covering his body
with sticks and leaves, had furnished as best she could his primitive
shroud and sepulture.
However this might be, the small track was often found in the potato
fields, where the strange wild being frequently came by night and,
after grappling a few potatoes with the hands, went away as stealthily
as she came. From the impress of the fingers left in the garden mould
it was judged that the hands were small and slim; and from the tracks,
which were only a span long, it seemed certain that the author of these
little depredations was a woman, and not of the black race, whose feet
are all large, flat, and ill-shaped. She was now called “The Wild
Woman,” though some called her “It.”
Curious to know what manner of being she was, some young men set a
watch at a potato patch where were the signs of her recent
depredations. As she was harmless and possibly ignorant of speech, they
planned to seize her with their hands, and for this purpose they
concealed themselves between the high ridges of the potato vines and
waited in silence. At a late hour she came, and as near them as they
had expected. The night was dark, but they could see the shadowy form.
It was slim and apparently unclothed, but the color could not be
distinguished. They sprang out to seize her, but, though they were
active young men, she was more agile still, and bounded away as
silently and quickly as the flitting of a shadow, and was instantly
lost in the darkness.
For a long time she was not heard of. But at length fresh signs of her
appeared in a manner that raised curiosity. The settlers were obliged
to keep vigilant and fierce dogs to protect the houses and domestic
animals against beasts of prey. Trained to guard against the stealthy
approach of wild cat and cougar, and accustomed to battle with bear and
panther, the dogs were trusted security against the clandestine
approach of man or beast. The houses of the early settlers were
constructed on the general plan of two log pens connected by a wide
porch or hall open at both ends, all under one roof, shade and
ventilation being the chief requisites in the southern climate. The
saddles, ropes and other horse-gear hung against the wall in the porch;
the guns were stacked in the corners of the rooms or rested in racks
over the mantels and doors, ready for instant service; and the inmates
of the house, skilled in the use of weapons, were scarcely less
vigilant than their dogs. Thus guarded, they felt secure from prowling
beasts, and confident that no human being would be foolhardy enough to
venture clandestinely upon the premises. In the summer time the doors
and windows stood open day and night, and all wayfarers coming in good
faith were welcome.
To such a house in summer, on a bright moonlight night, when everything
was still and the inmates were asleep, The Wild Woman came and entered,
stepping over dogs, it would seem. What other search or exploration she
made is not known, but she entered the dining room, in which there was
an open cupboard containing a plate of meat and a loaf of bread. She
took part of the meat, and, breaking the bread in two, she took one
half and left the other; and with this mute explanation of her motive,
she departed as silently as she came. Not a dog whimpered, and the
people of the house were none the wiser until the morning, when this
excusable theft excited their curiosity and compassion. But they
wondered at the dereliction of the dogs.
The woman did not return to that house for a long time. But she soon
entered another house of the same style, guarded by particularly
vigilant dogs. In this her search was extended, as shown by the things
she moved; but it was also obvious that her motives were not venal.
There were gold watches hanging over the mantel, where she moved
bottles and powder flasks, and she must have seen them, as the moon was
shining brightly in the room. There was silverware in the cupboard, but
she took only some scraps of food, taking, as before, only half and
leaving half; and she effected her departure without disturbing man or
dog. She afterward entered numerous houses in the same strange manner;
not a dog would notice her. The negroes became superstitious about her.
They called her “that thing that comes,” and for her they used the
neuter pronoun.
One winter it was found that she was in the habit of taking corn from a
crib. The amount she took was wholly trifling; but from motives of
curiosity the opportunity was taken to capture her. All that needed to
be done was to watch when she entered the crib, then close the door.
The watch was kept for several nights without result, but at length the
desired opportunity occurred. The man on watch was inside the crib with
his hand on the door. He had fallen into a doze, when the stealthy
rustling of the corn husks awoke him. The thing had come. He had only
to push the door and call the people. But a superstitious horror seized
him. The thought of being shut up alone in the dark, even for a few
moments, with the mysterious creature was accompanied by a sudden dread
that he could not control. In his fright he cried out, and before he
could move a limb the creature was gone with a single bound through the
door into the enveloping night.
The compassion of the people arose with their curiosity. The poor
creature was welcome a hundred times to what she took in her little
forays, harmless to others but so dangerous to herself. Every means was
used to communicate with her. Diligent search was made in the canebrake
and in the great hollow trees, some of which afforded almost a house.
But all in vain; she avoided black and white alike, and no signs of her
dwelling could be found in the dark forests where she roamed like some
wild animal. Sometimes no sign of her would be seen for months or even
years, and the people would cease to think of her; then suddenly she
would appear with some trick, if it might be so called, more curious
and mysterious than any before.
On one of the plantations the woodworkers’ tools, essential to the
early settlers, were kept under an open shed where there was a rough
work-bench. From this the owner missed his handsaw, drawing knife, and
some other tools. At first he suspected some petty thief. But several
weeks afterward the tools were all found returned to their places, the
handsaw scoured and polished as bright as a looking glass. What could
this mean? It must have been the work of The Wild Woman. The polish put
on the saw was wonderful. No one knew before that this familiar metal
was susceptible of such a gloss, nor did anyone know the process by
which it could be effected. Why did the woman take these tools? Was she
building a hut or fixing her residence in some hollow tree? Was she
making weapons, rafts, boats? For any imaginable purpose the assortment
she took was incongruous, deficient, or superfluous. Why did she return
the tools so soon? What could be the meaning of the curious but useless
pains she had taken with the saw-blade? Was there some symbolic
meaning, a message? Thus speculation ran.
Some time afterward a neighbor missed a log chain. The negro teamster
gave it as his opinion that “dat thing what comes must have tuk it.”
But a chain twelve feet long weighing thirty pounds or more—what use
could that wild animal have for it? The owner said that if he ever
“whipped a nigger for being a fool,” he would “skin” that one. Not long
afterward, The Wild Woman did come to his house and made the usual
round among unconscious watch dogs and sleeping people to her usual
prize, the cupboard, where she found a pan of milk, two loaves of
bread, a plate of butter, and other things. She took half the plate of
butter, dividing it neatly, took one of the loaves, poured half the
milk out of the pan into a pitcher, and, taking the latter, departed.
Two or three weeks afterward, upon awakening one morning, the family
found the pitcher standing on the bare ground before the door and the
log chain coiled around it. The chain was scoured and polished as
bright as the saw had been. To bring this chain and coil it before the
door would seem to have been necessarily a somewhat noisy operation,
but the dogs had taken no notice.
The people ceased to wonder at the recusancy of the dogs; it had become
an established phenomenon. For seven years or more this strange
creature had haunted the country, and all sorts of dogs and several
generations of them had been tested. They were mysteriously insensible
to the coming of The Wild Woman.
Her next exploit surpassed all and set curiosity on tiptoe. A farmer
had a hog fattening in a pen near the house. A bear attempted one night
to take it off, but the dogs seized the beast and after a severe fight
killed it. The combative spirit of the dogs was so raised by this
occurrence that they kept a lively watch, especially on the hog pen;
and expecting every night to be treated to another bear fight, all were
fiercely alive to the slightest alarm. One night during this state of
matters, The Wild Woman brought a poor hog out of the woods and put it
in the pen, taking the fat one out and making off with it safely, and
not a dog barked or growled. The farmer said that he would have killed
every dog on his place if he had thought that they were at themselves
when “that thing” swapped hogs with him. There was but one explanation
possible: she had bewitched both hogs and dogs. There was no use in
fattening the new porker; the negroes would not have eaten a mouthful
of it short of starvation. During several years “the thing” repeated
this mysterious performance at numerous places. There was one
inconvenience attending it: the substituted hog was often the property
of a neighbor.
Numerous attempts were made to trail her with dogs, as it was thought
that she could not carry so heavy a burden as a fat hog to any great
distance. But the dogs always lost the trail as soon as the people
following were left out of sight. When the hog taking achievement had
ceased to be a wonder, some hunters came accidentally upon one of her
camps, and here was material for fresh curiosity. There were piles of
sugar cane, which abounded in the neighboring fields. Much of it had
been cut into short lengths and chewed; hence it was evident that she
knew the use of a knife. There were some curious strings twisted of the
outside bark of the cotton plant. There were no signs of fire and no
implements. A secret watch was kept on the camp for some time, but the
creature did not return. Sometime afterwards, fresh signs of her having
been seen, a general hunt was resolved upon. Dogs were procured that
had been trained to follow runaway negroes. They came upon the trail
and pursued eagerly enough; but the trail led through the ponds of
water that abounded in the swamp and soon put the dogs at fault.
A long time followed during which she was not heard of; then her camp
was found again at a considerable distance from the former one; she had
removed to another section of the country. This fresh evidence raised
curiosity to fever heat. There were several things of her own
manufacture, baskets and a curious snare made from the fibrous bark of
the cotton plant, seemingly intended to catch rabbits or other small
animals. There were several articles taken from houses, a spoon, some
table knives, and a cup. There was no clothing; her bed was moss and
leaves; and there had been no fire. But what excited most curiosity was
several books, and these had keen kept dry. In one of the books was a
letter of old date, containing tender sentiments and addressed to Miss
——. One of the books was a Bible, and in it were the names of the
members of a well-known family in the neighborhood.
What then? Could this strange being not only talk but read? Was she
some too high-strung heart that had been so overstrained or embittered
in the buffets of the world as to renounce human society and resolutely
for many years keep herself secluded in the shadows of the forest? Was
it some wild romantic sentiment which had prompted her to seek the
savage life of the woods with a companion, and losing him to vow so
strange and rude a hermitage? And after so many years was the aching
heart seeking solace in the company of old books? Or was she seeking
for one book only, taking volumes at random in the dark until the light
of morning should reveal the name? Seeking one book, wherein from old
is written the way from this bad world to a better one? Such were a few
of the thousand questions and conjectures which the discovery of the
books suggested. The matter got into the newspapers.
Sympathy and curiosity rose together. If the creature could read, as it
seemed by her taking books that she could, why not write her letters
and place them where she would be most likely to find them? Letters
plainly written in simple language were posted at her recent camp and
other places entreating her to make herself known. Home and friends
were offered her.
This strange and serious drama was not without a comic side scene.
There was an eccentric old bachelor in this country at that time by the
name of Moses Evans, who had been nicknamed “The Wild Man of the
Woods.” Since there was now a veritable Wild Woman of the woods, it
seemed to the wits of the time an eligible match. Several love letters
notable for droll wit, over the signature of “Moses Evans, the Wild
Man,” addressed to the unknown Wild Woman, were published in the
newspapers and widely copied through the United States. But the letters
which had been posted on trees at the camp of the poor recluse remained
untouched, and nothing occurred to indicate that she understood them.
By this time a general resolution had grown up that this riddle must be
solved. A more systematic and cautious plan was adopted. A number of
hunters formed extended lines and drove through the woods with leashed
hounds, while others, well mounted and provided with lassos, took
“stands.” Several fruitless hunts were made, but at length the hunters
became satisfied late one evening that the woman was in a neck of woods
running out into a prairie something more than a quarter of a mile
wide. The men with the lassos took positions along the edge of this
prairie while others drove through the skirt of woods with the hounds.
It was night before the men were well arranged, but a bright moon
shone. It is well known that men accustomed to hunting with hounds, can
readily tell what kind of game they are pursuing by the nature of their
cry. Scarcely were the men at their posts when the hounds raised a cry
never heard before. They were following the track of some strange
creature. Presently the breaking of little sticks and the hurried
rustling of the brush near one of the lasso men announced the approach
of something, which immediately bounded with a light and flying step
into the open prairie in the bright light of the moon.
It was The Wild Woman. She ran directly across the prairie in the
direction of the main forest. The man was mounted on a fleet horse, and
it needed all his speed to bring his rider to an even race with the
object of his pursuit. But the horse was so afraid of the strange
creature that he could not be urged within reach of the lasso. Three
times he came up but each time shied to right or left too far for his
rider to throw, while the flying figure each time turned her course to
the opposite hand and ran with the speed of a frightened deer. They
were now nearing the black shadow of the great forest, which was
projected far on the plain. Spurring his horse with angry energy, the
pursuer came this time fairly within reach and threw his lasso; but at
the instant of throwing, his horse shied as before, and the rope fell
short. In an instant the pursued creature was in the shadow of a vast
forest and further pursuit was useless. Though disappointed in
capturing her, one point was gained: the man had a good look at her as
they ran together across the prairie for several hundred yards. She had
long hair that must have reached to her feet, but that flew back as she
ran. She had no clothes, but her body was covered with short brown
hair. The rider did not see her face, as she was between him and the
moon, so that whenever she turned toward him her face was in the
shadow. Once or twice he thought he caught a glimpse of wild eyes as
she cast a frightened glance over her shoulder. She had something in
her hand when he first saw her, but she dropped it either from fright
or to facilitate her escape. After the chase this was sought for and
found. It proved to be a club about five feet long, polished to a
wonder.
A long time passed without anything further being seen of her. She
seemed to have disappeared. But during the severe winter of 1850, when
there was a great sleet and the ground was covered with snow, her camp,
or its camp, or the thing’s camp, was found in the brush of a tree that
had recently blown down in the tangled thicket of a canebrake in the
dark recesses of the woods. At this place there were large piles of
sugar cane, much of it chewed. There was a rude bed of moss and leaves,
but no fire. There was the strangest set of snares, made like those
found before, of the bark of cotton stalks, but these were much more
complex. The tracks in the snow were numerous and a span long. A watch
was set, but the creature had taken alarm and did not come back.
The winter passed, and some fresh signs being seen, another great
muster was made; and equipped with horses, hounds, and ropes, the
pursuers made a favorable start on the track. The men took up stations
in line and closed in from all sides. In the last resort, as was
expected, the creature climbed a tree and was soon looking down with a
frightened stare at the troops of baying dogs and the faces of the men
upturned in eager curiosity. But here was another disappointment.
Instead of the man-like ape to which the glimpse on the prairie had
directed general conviction, there was only the well known ape-like man
of tropic Africa. The wild creature they were pursuing had, it seemed,
by accident or design crossed the trail of a runaway negro; the dogs,
taking the latter scent, had been misled, and instead of the wonder
they expected the hunters had treed only a negro man. Now they could
remember that the cry of the dogs changed during the chase, and it was
thought that by going back in time the trail might be recovered.
But this negro was somewhat of a curiosity himself, and they stopped to
investigate him. He was entirely nude, an unknown condition for
runaways. The hunters bade him come down, but he made no sign of
obeying. They asked him to whom he belonged, but he made no answer.
They threatened him, but he did not seem to understand. To frighten him
into obedience they pointed guns at him, pretending that they would
shoot him, but he motioned with his hand for them to desist and go
away. They then climbed the tree and took him down by force. He
trembled, but said nothing. While looking at him they observed his feet
and hands. Could it be, after all, that this was the wild being who had
so long evaded the sight of man! They led him through a muddy place to
see the track he made. It was measured and found to agree with the
measure often taken of the strange wild one. The man was kept confined
for some time, and the news of his strange capture was published far
and wide. But no owner came forward nor could anything be learned
concerning him.
At length a wandering sailor came that way who had been at one of the
Portuguese missions on the coast of Africa, and knew the captive’s
tribe and spoke enough words of his barbarous language to learn his
history. The negro had, when a boy, been sold by his parents for “knife
and tobacco” to slave traders, who had him with many others for a long
time in a ship at sea. They came at last into a river, where they were
landed and kept for some days in a large house, where they had plenty
of sugar and sugar cane. He and another, a grown man of his tribe, made
their escape and wandered for a long time in the woods, crossing a
great many rivers and prairies, he did not know how many. Often they
were nearly starved to death, but his companion, skillful to throw the
club, had as often taken some animal with which they sustained life. At
length they came into the section of the country where he afterwards
remained so long. They saw the people passing about, and they saw that
some of them were negroes, but were afraid of their clothes; they
feared that the negroes were cannibals. His companion died after
several years, and ever since he had been alone.
As he was now a man in middle life, he had probably been brought across
the sea between 1820 and 1830. His small feet received some
explanation. It appears that there is a tribe on the west coast of
Africa, perhaps more than one, which have very small feet. We learned
from the savage what we did not know before, that there is a certain
hour in the night, which varies somewhat with the moon, when the most
watchful dogs are sunk in insensible sleep, and a man may walk among
them and step over them with impunity. His most extraordinary feat of
exchanging the hogs was very simple, but if made known it might get
some of his improvident race into trouble.
He was advertised as a stray negro and sold on public account. The
purchaser turned him loose among his other negroes, and according to
the nature of his race, he remained contented in his new home. The Wild
Woman was never afterwards heard of. Public curiosity speedily died
away, and nothing more being heard from the negro, he also disappears
from history and legend.