Daily National Intelligencer

ON THE TEXAS EXPEDITION.

FROM THE NEW YORK COLUMBIAN.

NEW YORK, AUG. 3, 1819.

The existing state of our relations with Spain—the revolutionary state of the Spanish colonies in both the Americas—the part which many of our citizens have taken in that struggle—and, finally, the policy which our government has and may continue to pursue; all tend to render interesting every subject connected with the Spanish colonies, particularly those in North America.

The enclosed brief history of an expedition in 1812 and in 1813 from Louisiana into the Texas, was written by me at Opelousas, in the latter country, about one month after the battle of St. Antonio. The manuscript has remained unpublished amongst my papers ever since. Recent movements in Texas may give this sketch some interest, and if you consider its contents of sufficient value, you can publish them in your paper.

I beg leave, however, to preface its publication by a condensed view of what does in fact constitute Texas.

Las Texas is a general term for the vast triangle included between the Rio Grande del Norte, Red River, Louisiana, and the Gulf of Mexico, containing about 240,000 square miles, and extending from 20 to 38 degrees of North latitude.

It is generally, tho' very erroneously, believed in the United States that Texas forms a part of the viceroyalty of Mexico; it belongs, if not to Louisiana, in reality to the captain general of the Provincias Internas, or Internal Provinces—over which the viceroy of Mexico has no authority. The captain general resides at Chihuahua, west of Rio Grande, about 30 degrees North latitude. Part of the country west of Rio Grande, and north of the viceroyalty, is tolerably well peopled; but Texas is generally a wilderness, though in many respects one of the finest regions of America. Taken as a whole it cannot be called a fertile country; but, in point of healthy air, I am doubtful if the earth affords its equal upon so wide an extent. The value of this truly fine country is unknown at the court of Madrid, or the king of Spain would rejoice to exchange the pine barrens of Florida for an unqualified cession of a region of five times the extent, and more than ten times the value; a region that must ere long be peopled with either Spanish Creoles or Anglo-Americans; and a region that will be the impassable rampart of whichever country gains its possession. Politicians, like other men, are ruled more by the trifles of a moment, than by objects of magnitude in future. The possession of the right bank of Red river, by a Spanish population, must deprive the United States of one of the greatest points of security for Louisiana. It must be a subject of regret that any river, discharging its waters into the Mississippi, should be suffered to remain foreign to the United States. Before the cession of Texas to Spain, we could boast of having the entire area drained by the largest stream upon the globe, included within one sovereignty. This was not an empty vaunt; such a possession gave us many solid and permanent advantages, which cannot be easily compensated.

Contrary to what is generally thought, Red River is a large navigable stream, many hundred miles above what would be the Spanish limit by the late treaty. What is called the raft above Natchitoches, is passable with twenty oar and forty ton barges; one such passed it at the time I was engaged surveying opposite the same raft. In fact, where the intended line will intersect the river, it is as large if not more so than the Ohio at Cincinnati, and little less, if any, navigable, with many confluent streams above.

We unreasonably undervalue the Spanish nation: we in fact cast upon the people that odium to which their ecclesiastical and political government are exclusively entitled, and to which the indignant feelings of other nations ought to be directed. The character I have given Illefondo, though founded upon undeniable facts, will, I know, rather revolt the prejudices of many persons, who connect every detestable trait with the name of a Spanish royal officer. It is morally impossible for man to contemn more cordially than I do that system of fraud, hypocrisy, duplicity, and cruelty, under which the Spaniards and several other nations have groaned, and continue to suffer, under the name of monarchy. But I am conscious that many brave and humane men have been made, from various causes, the ministers of those deceptions and outrages; but who have, as far as in them lay, mitigated the horrors of war, oppression, and violence. Civil war, without such men, would be frightful indeed.

The opinion I have entertained six years ago, I have found no reason to change; roving bands of men, unauthorised by their own government, can do no good, and must injure any cause in which they are engaged. In fact, so ignorant are most of those persons as to expect themselves at the gates of Mexico when at St. Antonio de Bejar, though 11 degrees of latitude lie between the two places, and much of the intermediate distance filled with a dense population; in the mass of which, admitting a co-operation, those foreigners would be lost like a drop in an ocean.

No man, of moderate information, can for a moment doubt the final emancipation of the Spanish colonies. Their chains will crumble before increasing instruction, gained amidst and from their struggle; these men can only be slowly fitted for the management and enjoyment of a rational system of domestic policy. If Spain was at this moment to acknowledge their independence, it is doubtful whether their own chiefs would not assume the place and power of the Spanish authorities.

In fine, but one class of men from other nations can do them effective service; prudent, well-informed persons, content, and indeed only accepting a subordinate rank, who cautiously wean them from their prejudices, and who gain their confidence by studying their language, and adopting, in costume and manners, what may be found commendable, useful, or indifferent among the inhabitants. Military men of this description are to them a real and invaluable acquisition. Those of an opposite character are to them nuisances.

WILLIAM DARBY.

BRIEF HISTORY, &c.

The expedition carried on against the government of Spain in the province of Texas, which commenced in 1812 by a body of Americans, aided by malcontents in the country, is now at an end. Meeting with partial success on their first entrance into the province, the hopes of Americans were greatly inflated. Nacogdoches, La Bahia, and St. Antonio de Bejar, fell into their hands with but little opposition. The small body of natives and Europeans that opposed their advance were defeated and dispersed. Governor Salcedo, General Herrera, and a number of other officers, fell into their power, as prisoners of war.

Thus far the expedition succeeded beyond the hopes of the undertakers, and contrary to general opinion. Many of the inhabitants, instigated by discontent, or allured by hopes of gain, and the novelty of the scene, joined the assailing party; which, in the spring of 1813, was augmented to above 1200 men. Three hundred Americans, six hundred Spanish Creoles, and the residue of Indians, formed the motley band. No acts of violence had been exercised on the persons or property of the native inhabitants, or expressions uttered that could wound their feelings, or shock their prejudices. Those who judged from momentary events thought ultimate success scarce a subject of reasonable doubt; but reflecting men could not fail to anticipate the true issue of an undertaking, founded upon such slender boasts, and supported by such inadequate means. Without funds, except those drawn from depredation, without union, and without the aid or even countenance of the United States' government, the very idea of a completion of their object was temerity.

Not one of the least obstacles against which the republican party (as they called themselves) had to encounter, was the want of a leader of experience and capacity, who united political and military talents with commanding, conciliating manners. Such a man they had not. Bernardo, the nominal head, was an unlettered man, without talent or principle. The other officers were merely on the common level.

But, maugre their weakness, arising from their disunion, and their very small numbers, some of these extraordinary events might have occurred which often have decided the fate of empires, and by crowning the enterprize with success, give it a sanction in the view of mankind. The Spanish colonists, since the abdication of one of their monarchs, and the captivity of another, have been in a very unsettled state. The vast fragments of the once mighty monarchy of Spain seemed to have lost their cohesion, and approached to rapid dissolution. Many instances have occurred, where armies, laboring under similar or more insuperable difficulties than the American Spanish had to resist, and though opposed to a greater disparity of force, have, by prudence and good fortune, succeeded.

There is, however, happily a limit beyond which man can never advance with impunity; there are principles he cannot violate without deserving, and in most instances meeting, condign punishment. Governor Salcedo and general Herrera, with their companions, who submitted themselves prisoners of war, and were thenceforth consequently under the most solemn of all protections which the most sacred compact could afford, had a right to claim, and no doubt expected to receive, the treatment due to their rank and situation. The general custom of modern nations in their mild, generous, and humane conduct towards prisoners of war, is the most brilliant and useful remaining trait of the ages of chivalry, and does honor to modern improvement of manners. War is stripped of its worst horrors; and, when the tumult of battle is over, the victor and vanquished resume the warm intercourse of mutual conduct. Salcedo and Herrera, with several (eleven or twelve) of their unfortunate fellow prisoners, were massacred in cold blood near St. Antonio de Bejar, by, it is said, the orders of Bernardo! This inhuman and impolitic act sealed the fate of the enterprize. The human bosom shudders at the recital of such atrocious barbarity.

Most, if not all, of the Americans belonging to the expedition disclaimed any co-operation in the deed. Bernardo was removed, and the command given to another Spaniard; but a mortal wound was inflicted on the reputation and views of the party, that no skill could cure—confidence was at an end—discipline disregarded—and on the 18th of August, 1813, this ill assorted mass encountered, about 20 miles west of St. Antonio, a regular force, under brave and experienced leaders, and was in a moment routed.

The situation of the Americans was to the last degree hopeless and disastrous; 400 miles from the borders of the United States; a victorious and justly exasperated enemy on their rear; death, in all its accumulated terrors, presented itself to their terrified imagination, or, what was still more dreadful in their apprehension, a lingering captivity in Spanish dungeons seemed to be the only alternative; some, by exertions, almost super-human, traversed the wide expanse between St. Antonio de Bejar and the Sabine river, and escaped into Louisiana. But many fell into the hands of their pursuers. The situation of those captives was indeed deplorable; all hopes of revisiting their native country was banished from their expectations by the frightful pictures that had been presented to their minds of the Spanish nation. A protector unexpectedly appeared, to save from destruction this despairing remnant—to revive the drooping spirits of the desponding prisoners—and to restore to them their freedom and their homes. It was the Spanish general—displaying in the field the skill of an experienced captain, and in victory the qualities of the most amiable humanity towards men, that, without provocation or legitimate object, had invaded his country. Despising the narrow maxims of policy that lead to severity, the suspended sword was sheathed, and he presented himself to his captured enemies as a friend to solace them in their misfortunes, and to relieve their wants. The wounded were healed and the hungry fed, whilst the angry passions excited by war and revenge subsided. The sympathies of nature felt the most disinterested hospitality exercised, in despite of the prejudices of nation and religion.

It was now a scene upon which the mind could dwell with pleasure; it was a display of the best emotions of the human heart; a noble performance of all the duties inspired by the most elevated sentiments of honor, or taught by the purest precepts of christianity. In a word, their invasion was forgiven by the injured party; their mistaken motives pitied; and the prisoners supplied with food, and sent to their native country in peace.

Such an exhibition of talents, bravery, greatness of mind, and generosity of sentiment, if made upon a theatre more within the view of mankind, would secure to Illefondo the meed of an immortal name; but if the remoteness of the scenes, and the small interest the human mind will take in the event, must consign to oblivion one of the noblest actions that ever did honor to human nature—there is one reward the world can neither enhance or diminish—it is the heart-felt consciousness of having performed an act that kings and conquerors have seldom equalled, and an act that affords reflections beyond all human praise! The name of this generous and magnanimous soldier will be dear to every feeling heart as long as his memory will be preserved. He has redeemed the character of man from the foul stigma thrown upon it by another nation, whose claims to more than a share of virtue and benevolence have been loud and incessant. But when a contrast is drawn between the scenes of the river Raisin and at Hamilton, with those at St. Antonio de Bejar, we no longer hesitate to bestow the palm of real generosity upon this beneficent Spaniard, who became the protector of men that the laws of nations had doomed to destruction.

It is not unworthy of remark, that this petty war has been rendered memorable by the greatest extremes our nature is capable of; crimes have been perpetrated, the very mention of which shocks the soul; and virtues have been exercised that exhilarates the heart to recite. This war, otherwise of little consequence in human affairs, deserves deep attention, as being the first instance where the two masses of civilized men, which inhabit North America, have come in contact. In the ordinary routine of human history, the fate of the Anglo-Americans, and Spanish population, on this continent, must be greatly influenced by the sentiment entertained by each other. The expanse that separates them is daily contracting, and, in no very distant period, there must be only a simple frontier line between them. A century past, France and Russia, which are now shaking the world by their gigantic contest, were perhaps less known to each other, and less connected than are now the United States and Mexico. England and France are conspicuous examples of the lasting hatred and mutual distress that national rivalry can engender. The ambitious incursions and absurd claims of the English monarchs, for ages past, enkindled the flames of that unextinguishable rage, that, at this moment, burns with such fury in both these great and powerful nations. No human foresight can predict the fatal consequences to unborn millions from the casual incursions we now permit to be made into the Spanish territories. Man is, too, prone to proudly contemn the distant danger, and to undervalue others; it has become cant to speak contumeliously of the Spaniards, though hourly experience demonstrates the falsity of the calumny. In after times, when our species has multiplied upon this continent, sufficient to fill every region with inhabitants, if a spirit of national animosity is fostered by mutual injuries, the Anglo-American and Spanish-Mexican people will exhaust their finances in destructive inroads upon each other; and the future history of these nations, like that of Rome and Carthage, Greece and Persia, and that of France & England, will be a tissue of folly and crimes. The apparent indifference with which the government and people of the United States have beheld the changes in Spanish America, is really a subject of wonder. We seem to regard with apathy, the incipient movements of a nation, which, in future times, must have the closest interest in common, or the most violent rivalry, with our own.

When it is reflected, that the effect that nations have upon each other really depends but little upon their respective forms of government; it may be a subject of minor importance to us, whether Mexico and the internal provinces should become a republic, or a monarchy. Men, under all forms of civil society, are prone to war, rapine, and violence. Noise, tumult, and revenge, are congenial to the human heart; and it demands all the restraints of power, the allurements of society, and the accustomed sweets of repose, to preserve the world from eternal strife. The best knowledge philosophy can instil, and the best duty that legislation can impose, or man can practise, is the principle of universal benevolence towards not his own countrymen alone, but also the whole human race. It is of primary importance, that in America man should profit from the sanguinary lessons that the tragic history of the East has afforded. Those know but little of human nature, or its interests, who teach the necessity of distrust. The dissimulation, hatred, and envy; natural to human beings, will always produce ample instances to put us on our guard against each other. Nations, like individuals, have a tendency to malignity. The most desolating wars have been undertaken as much, if not more, from revenge as ambition.

If to engender confidence, friendship, and reciprocal forbearance, be an indispensable duty, on those who regulate the conduct, or who form the morals of private persons; how much more incumbent is the obligation on the rulers of nations to preserve and foster a spirit of amity, probity, and urbanity, between contiguous states? The unlicensed plunderer, or marauder, that roams, at this moment, from the United States into Texas, prevents or retards the peaceable approach towards a general intercourse. Against Spain, the United States may have complaints that would warrant decisive measures, but with the natives of Mexico, or the Provincias Internas, (Internal Provinces,) our government has never been involved. The idea of one nation having either the right to attempt, or the power to effect, by force, any beneficial change in the condition of another, deserves contempt. The established opinions and customs of nations are too stubborn to yield an instant submission to reason, clad in its most seductive attire—much less to fall prostrate before a foreign armed force.

The relative position of the two great bodies of civilized men on this continent is peculiar, whilst their manners, habits, religion, and civil government, present an interesting contrast. In the United States, from the ancient establishments, coeval with the settlement of the country, there is diffused into the body of the society an extensive political knowledge, a strong sense of right, and a wakeful attention to the conduct of men in office. Religion, however it may conduce to amend the heart, or preserve the moral principles, rather tends to weaken than enforce a spirit of independence; but in the British colonies, by a single diversity from common occurrence, even religion inspired a strong opposition to the encroachments of power. The liberty of the press, though often tending to licentiousness, by continually reviving reflections on public affairs, excites universal attention to passing events. No measure of government can remain secret, or free from scrutiny. Consequently the people and their officers stand continually in awe of each other. The trial by jury, by constantly calling into courts of justice the common individuals of society, instils amongst them a knowledge of the complications of property, and the subtleties of legal disquisitions. This so much, and, in many respects, justly boasted of mode of trial, possesses no one advantage, however, so unequivocal over other forms of distributive justice, as the information it superinduces in societies of their duties and rights.

The extensive commerce always enjoyed by the United States has enhanced the value of landed, and created a vast accession of personal property;—and has given the whole community hopes of wealth and aggrandizement. Agriculture, the best pursuit of man, from its great profits, has carried the fondness for show, luxury, & accumulation, into the remotest region of our empire—In fine, no people perhaps ever possessed so extensively the benefits arising from independence of sentiment, unceasing enquiry, and possession of wealth, as do the inhabitants of the United States—whilst they have, and must continue to suffer the evils, and enjoy the benefits, of unlicensed expression of opinion, which controls and overawes public men, but, also, frequently distracts public councils; we must, also, feel the demoralizing consequences of sudden accumulation of wealth.

The people of New Spain are as different from those of the United States, as the circumstances of their history are variant. At the era of the discovery of America, the power of Spain had greatly augmented; the different kingdoms that had formerly existed, on the Spanish Peninsula, had been united by marriage, conquest, and other casualties, into two states; Portugal, and the one whom from its superior power, and extent of territory, had at that time assumed, and ever since preserved the prominent appellation of Spain. But a spirit of enquiry in the sciences, an enlightened, liberal system of government, and commerce, had never been introduced among the Spaniards. Slavish submission to the power of their monarchs and prelates, gradually obliterated all traces of that freedom their constitution inherited from its Gothic origin. Though rather more liberty was enjoyed in the colonies than in the mother country, the difference in favor of the former proceeded more from the local position of distant and unconnected settlements, than from any legal compact, either declarative or tacit, between the public functionaries and the people.

Thinking is artificial. In the United States, the routine of business, both public and private, superinduces & enforces sentiments of freedom; in the Spanish colonies rulers are either nobles or priests; public forms assume either a religious or military tone. Every exertion of power demands implicit obedience. None, or at least but few, of those tedious proceedings are there seen, where weakness, ignorance, and poverty, demand, and ultimately receive, reparation from power, chicanery, intelligence, and wealth. In traversing the most populous towns, you no where find in the hands of the people those bold, acute and daring investigations, into the conduct and views of legislative, judicial, or executive officers, which fill the columns of an United States' newspaper.

To be brief, so great is the difference in opinion between the Anglo-American and Creole-Spaniard, that no beneficial result will, in my humble opinion, arise from direct interference, on the part of citizens of the United States, in favor of the revolution in the Spanish colonies; but every sentiment of honor and humanity forbid the government of the United States from affording the most trivial aid in the struggle to the pretended legitimate government of European Spain.

The natives of America have been goaded and insulted into resistance against their transatlantic oppressors. Their chains are broken—may the links never again be united!