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Auckland Times, Volume 1, Issue 7, 26 September 1842, Page 4

History of the Republic of Texas. By N. D. Millard, Esq. Smith, Elder & Co. Texas in 1840. By an Emigrant. Wiley & Putnam. There is no more striking characteristic of the present age, than the increased value of time. The labour, erewhile of years, is now consummated in an hour. A decade of modern existence is worth a century of “ the olden time”—for the true calculation of life is not by the number of Its clays, but by the number of its experiences. It is not alone in the mere arts and wants of life —not in the mere progress of invenljpn—that this rapidity of movement is perceptible. Beeper and mightier energies are at work, energies affecting our moral, am], v.u* political, well-being ; half the world has been converted into a crucible for experimentalizing on new social amalgams; and kingdoms and republics spring up around us, like so many volcanic islands ! Not the least remarkable of these modern formations is Texas—uniting, as it does, in its [ single self the double character of a rough, halfamalgamated colony, and an independent republic, concluding treaties of commerce and amity with the most powerful countries in the world. It is not to be wondered at that this new figure, which has so suddenly photographed itself among the worthies of the “ National Gallery,” should attract considerable attention. Several works on Texas have already issued from the English and American press, and the most remarkable of them (that by Mr. Kennedy) has been noticed at length in our columns (No. 708,) The works whose titles head this article, have no further claim, than the identity of their subject, to such close juxtaposition. In opinions and in character, they are diametrically at variance —they represent the pro and the con ; —the monarchical comfort-loving Englishman and the republican fortune-seeking American ; —the sole • relation between them is, what a logician would t call “ the relation of opposition.” We can well imagine a conntrv in the trans* w** state of Texas, presenting very contrary aspects to minds variously educated. The J Englishmen (and Mr. Malllard, albeit “ Bar-rister-at-Law, of Texas,” is an Englishman) who enters it with all his ideas screwed up to the ) pitch of his home “ proprieties’’ —political, social, 1 and domestic—will doubtless see nothing but } faults in the scrambling unsettled state of the new republic; while the American who visits f it in search of field for enterprise, wi'il rejoice in r the untilled soil, and the latitude of custom which L offer a ready opening for his wakeful energies. t Such would seem to have been the various moods in which Mr. Maillard and the “ Emigrant ’ 1 visited the transatlantic Parvenu. The lengthy o essay which the former has dignified with the title of “a History,” bears evident marks of being the product of “ one of the counsel for the e prosecution.” No favourable statement put foro ward by the admirers of Texas is left unqualified, s if not directly negatived. So strong, indeed, is this “learned” historian’s zeal, that we could L almost suspect the quondam editor of the Rich- > mond Telescope (such was Mr, Millard’s employ- I

ment during part of his sojourn in the nev republic) of having some private animosities to settle. We are not acquainted with the arnals of the Richmond, Telescope —but, judging from the bias its editor displays, as historian of I etas, towards the more antiquated political creel of the old world, we can well imagine that Mr. Maillard’s telescopic effusions proved altogeher unintelligible to his readers in the new. Be this as it may, there is an evidence of prejudice—a tendency to measure everything by a standard unduly elevated —which bids us )e----ware how we place confidence in this “ History.” It is, doubtless, more than probable, that a tiige of the El Dorado has crept into the very entieng descriptions of Texas, which have drawn so strong a current of emigration thither —but tie preponderance of favourable report is so greet, and statistical facts tell so plainly of a steady increase in the number of colonists, that we feel ourselves bound to give cautious audience to tie statements of Mr. Maillard. That gentlemai, indeed, takes occasion, in his preface, to express a hope that “reviewers will not allow his faults as a writer to prejudice them against his fdpis respecting Texas and the Texans —and Mr. Maillard doubtless believes that, in this sentence, he has given a prospective quietus to every unfavourable reviewer, review he ever so severely. But, after all, a fact, like a figure, has a ver; small positive value—its real weight is derived from relation and position : a fact isolated, O' only partially developed, may lead to a conclusion exactly the contrary of that to which il actually refers. Mr. Maillard gives a lengthy sketch of the history of Texas —“ from the earliest period down to the present time.” This is of some little value from the documents quoted therein —of none from its author’s workmanship. He elevates ' Santa Anna almost into a hero ; and while the most virtuous indignation is vented against our friend, the “ Emigrant,” for some half palliations of Texan cruelty towards the Indians, he calmly and deliberately takes up the defence of Santa Anna’s atrocities after the victory over : Col. Fanning 1 The massacre of San Antonio is recorded with a philosophic brevity, which seems to emulate Thucydides—although not exactly approaching his elegance of dictiou : “ On the night of the sixth, before any assistance could possibly reach him, Santa Anna attacked the Alamo, that now contained only 150 men, when a stubborn contest ensued, and the result was, that the Texans, at daylight, were obliged to cry for quarter, which was In this siege fell Razin Bowie, the inventor of the far-famed “ Bowie Knife.’’ Mr. Maillard’s account of its origin may interest: “ Bowie was a reckless drunkard who had squandered his property, and was subsequently obliged to fly from his country (the United States) for slaying a man in a duel. This fact is well known in Texas, and was thus told me by a friend of Bowie’s, who was present when Razin Bowie fought a duel with knives across a table at the Alamo, a few days before Santa Anna took it. His first duel was fought at Natchez, on the Mississippi, in the fall of 1834. A dispute arose at a card-table, in the middle of the day, between Bowie and a man named Black. The lie was given by Bowie by his opponent, and at the same moment drawing his knife (which was a case one, with a blade about four inches long, such as the Americans always carry in their pockets,) he challenged the man to fight, which was accepted, and Black having taken his seat opposite to Bowie, at a small square table, the conflict began. It had lasted about twenty minutes, during which both parties were severely cut, when Bowie rose from the table, and with a desperate oath, rushed upon his antagonist, who immediately fell dead at his feet. The inconvenience felt by Bowie on this occasion from the [smallness of the knife, having called forth the exercise of his debauched and sanguinary mind, he invented a weapon, which would enable him, to use his own words, ‘ to rip a rnan up right away.’ ” We have given room to this extract because it presents “the duel” in its naked barbarity and may thus lead some of our readers to a common sense view of that strange solecism in civilization. It is not our intention to follow Mr. Maillard through all his animadversions upon the circumstances attendant on the achievement of Texan independence,—but we cannot help pausing to question the soundness of his logic, when he argues that Great Britain ought not to have recognized the independence of Texas, because that country permits the unhallowed traffic in slaves. The question of the independence of a nation, we take to be perfectly distinct from the question of its internal policy. The mere fact of a country achieving independence, constitutes a sufficient title to its separate recognition for, I besides demonstrating.the inability of its original

guardian to take due care of his ward, it proves incontestibly, that the interests of the two are distinct —that a separation, therefore, is both expedient and necessary. Mr. Maillard has a very poor opinion of Texan society. He plainly assures us that—■ “ It is almost impossible to believe that the first elements of civilization will ever find their way to, and be cherished in Texas, a country filled with habitual liars, drunkards, blasphemers, and slanderers ; sanguinary gamesters, and cold blooded assassins; with idleness and sluggish indolence (two vices for which the Texans are already proverbial) ; with pride, engendered by ignorance and supported by fraud, the art of which, though of modern construction, is so well defined, and generally practised, that it retards even the developement of the spontaneous resources of the country.” This is certainly more like newspaper than historical writing. Texan society, according to Mr. Maillard, is divided into four distinct classes, “ despotic aristocratical Land-owners and Speculators, Usefuls, Contemptibles, and Laofers.” The first “ have not the least spirit of accommodation in them, and the simplest act of civility may be considered as a very great condescension from them.” The second are Overseers, Storekeepers, and Master tradesmen. The Contemptibles are those who are obliged to labour hard to get their daily bread ; these arc called “ white niggers.’’ “The Loafers are by far the most numerous class, and are those who go about from one dramshop to another, for the purpose of gaming and sponging on their friends, and not unfrequently on strangers; but this latter practice is by far too common in Texas to be confined or strictly applied to any one branch of tbe community.* * When you regard the Texans, either separately or en masse, they exhibit all the features of a ruffianized European mob, to whom, however, they are greatly inferior in social refinement, and much less formidable in a military point of view. The agriculturist being very deficient in his physical character, and totally ignorant of the manly exercises of the field ; the soldier, of the gentlemanly and professional acquirements of his calling; the merchant wanting in faith, stability and business habits ; and the mechanic, in that inventive genius and perseverance, for which the English nation is so justly famed.” Now it cannot be doubted that many solecisms in morality are to be met with in a country, formed from such materials as those of which Texas is composed. Made up of incoherent individualities. a colony of Hers wifl_ years before full assimilation obtains. These materials, moreover, must, almost necessarily, be of somewhat coarse texture —men formed for “ roughing’’ through the world—with probably a strong leaven of selfish adventurers, needy spendthrifts, and restless speculators. Such at ieast will be the aboriginal colonists-—but they possess an incentive to union, to sympathy, and consequently to morality, which cannot fail gradually to work out their regeneration. This ncentive is labour —a prerogative whose moral effects are not less decided than its physical although apparently beyond the range of our ‘ learned” historian’s vision. But Mr. Maillard’s genuine sympathies are •eserved for the Indians, The opening sentence of the chapter he has devoted to them almost boks like a translation from Emile. “ There is rot,’’ thus it runs, “ a more interesting branch cf the great human family, still in its primitive than the Indians of Texas, who, notwiths;anding the murderous depredations of their Christian brethren, are still free, and whose insitutions are not tainted with modern corruptions.’’ May we not fancy ourselves reading a free translation of the oft-refuted sentence “ Tout at bien sortant des mains de Vauteur des choses ; hut degenere entre les mains de Vhomme ?” With reference to the fate which seems to attend these foundlings of nature —with reference to the innate antagonism, which seemingly exists between the white and coloured races, and to the gradual disappearance of the latter from the face of the earth—these are dark and painful mysteries, which we cannot enter upon here, and on which Mr. Maillard’s speculations throw no light. We share his feelings of horror in narrating the deliberate cruelty with which these children of the desert are butchered by their “ Christian brethren.’’ But let it be recollected that this hatred, revolting as it is, is not unprovoked; and who shall say how far, in a state of society such as that of Texas at present, the tardy formalities of law may not be superseded by “ the wild injustice of revenge?” To give an instance of Mr. Maillard's one-sided handling of the subject, we will extract, as he has mutilated it, a quotation which, being taken from the very book we have coupled with his own at the head of this review, we have a ready opportunity of verifying : “At a little distance in the woods, stood two young men, loading their rifles. * * Their appearance was sufficiently rustic for every forest or

hunting purpose, and their language and versation smacked strongly of the spiri broader fighting and hatred to the Indians. had learned but a few hours before that Inc had been seen further up the country, (whe friendly or not they seemed not dispose! inquire,) and hence they were thus prepay for snch emergencies as they supposed likely transpire. In answer to a suggestu V 1 continues Mr. Maillard, abridging his —“ that the Indians mentioned by the might be a company of friendly Indians, and $ disposed to do mischief, the young with a mingled frown, sneer, and angry lau.ii ls answered— ‘ Friendly ? Yes, they will be frier yiS enough if they once come within the rangnflfl my rifle.’ This remark was received [by junior members of the family with a laugtf pleasure. ‘lt required but little penetratioi 1 discover that our hosts were accustomed to : vicissitudes attendant upon settlers , and thaL them, sporting and the killing of Indians, v merely synonymous terms.’ ” Here Mr. Maillard’s quotation ends, ci" taken as it stands, this passage must caus * thrill of hurror in every civilized breast. f*? let us turn to the Emigrant’s work and comp r , his narrative—as Mr. Maillard should, in cn»i mon fairness, have done : “ Alluding to what had before been said,” continues, “ our hostess, whose thin and i countenance, ! ter shining and unsteady cf ! eyes, grizz ed and c ishevelled hair, rendered' appearance almost haggard, remarked with g i: ' bitterness, ‘ I am afraid those cursed never give me peace more. I was in lib I had heard the last of them. My family been butchered, and I have been driven abil by them till my soul is sick of life.’ Bet asked if her family had suffered much from J savages, she replied, (turning her wild piercing eyes upon me,) ‘ Have they ?—Yes, ; my family have been murdered by them, exci these children. That boy,’ pointing to ,j younger of the men we found practising w their rifles, e had three balls planted within inch of his life. One of my sons, my two sist< and my old father and mother, were all to pieces on new year’s night a year ag (January Ist, 1839.)” Now we do not mean to affirm that these i ditional facts would justify the indiscrimin; butchery of the Indians, for which the t hunters appeared so coolly preparing ; hut, omitting them, Mr. Maillard lias repres-ir these persons as actual monsters —by restorif them, wc have at least raised them to rn<[ With such a specimen of Mr. Maillard’s “fact we must be excused if we caution our readi against receiving even his statistical data as \ controvertible. His attacks upon the author of Mr, Kennedy, and of the “Emigrant,” cannt with our present limited information, be appi ciated here. We can only express our opini that the internal evidence is rather in favour these latter than of Mr. Maillard, The little work ‘Texas in 1840’displays, already mentioned, views exactly opposed to o learned historian’s. It is a very pleasingly writt guide-book, bright with a good-humoured m vete, and manifesting an ease, if not an elegam of descriptive power which renders its pern: highly attractive. I f s statements may very p< sibly be ove.-coloured—but they baar every a pearance of being penned in sincerity, and such we should intrust ourselves to their u pretending guidance more readily, than to t pompous specialities of the Historian of Text All the same thing. Papa, what mea to cleave? —My dear, ir. means “to unite.” Pa, does Thomas unite our firewood, when cleaves it ?—Hem ! sometimes, my dear, it mea also “ to separate.”—Pa ! when a man “cleave to his wife, does he separate from her?—Thomi take this boy to his mother—l wish she woi not “iet him out.”