Chapter VI

San Antonio.--Work of Jesuit Missionaries.--Street Ramble.--The Old Cathedral.--Evenings in our Car.--A Mission Car.--The Tired Clergyman with his Renewal of Vigor.--The Alamo.--The Siege Sustained by Colonel Travis and his Men.--The Tragedy.--Hymn of the Alamo.--The Western Texas Military Academy.

After a glorious day along the southern line of Texas, at some points being very near the Mexican frontier, we reached San Antonio at tea time. Soon after, we were all ready, just in the gloaming, for a leisurely stroll through the streets of the beautiful and interesting town.

San Antonio had among its Spanish founders some Jesuit missionaries, and these wise Fathers set their Indian converts at once at good works which took practical shape in the deep water courses which still line the streets at each side to this day, and bring to every man's door water for irrigation, an absolute necessity in this dry climate. This accounts for the wealth of roses which embower the trees and houses. It is a paradise of sweet, flowery shrubs, and the air is vocal with the songs of the happy birds. "Never," says Mrs. Morgan in her diary, "Never have I heard such a wealth of bird music as here. Here, too, I first saw the Mexican red bird in its wild condition."

It has quite a charm to saunter round in a strange town, and mingle all unknown in the crowd. Thus we went in and out among them. The shops we found were attractive, especially those of the saddlers and harness makers, where the ingenious and practical shape of the goods, and their rich ornamentation in Mexican style, were quite interesting.

Just at dusk I entered the old Cathedral, a relic of Spanish times. The choir had in it the bishop's throne, and stalls for choristers. There were some paintings, also, which looked as if they might, in a better light, be worth seeing. But there was one thing there that possessed more interest than aught else. It was a body, waiting for burial, covered with a pall, and placed at the head of the centre aisle. It was a message from another world, a _memento mori_, which could not be thrust aside. How solemn it looked! and one thought of the long night watches, and of those who would remain by its side until the light of the next day should dawn, the Mass be said, and the grave receive the clay until the vivifying morning of the Resurrection.

Leaving the Cathedral we again mingled in the crowded streets, brilliant with electric lights, really now to be met with everywhere. In our stroll we saw the outside of the Alamo, which has quite a history. All had to wait, however, until next morning.

Here I may mention that our evenings on our car were always evenings at home. We had many a pleasant hour together in fun and frolic, in story-telling, in playing games, such as consequences and nonsense verses; in occasional singing, and music on the reed organ, part of our car belongings; but whatever we engaged in, we always brought our day to a close with family prayers and the singing of one or two hymns, as an act of devotion. When our closing hymn rang out from our car that night, at the depot grounds in San Antonio, doubtless many were curious to know just what we were. Since my return from our "Flight in Spring," it has occurred to me that much real pleasure and spiritual profit could be had by a mission band of clergymen making just such a tour as we made, but with the special end in view to hold services for one or more days at the points visited. I think the clergy would hail such a mission with gladness, judging from the hungry way in which Dr. Morgan and myself were constantly importuned to "stay over and preach."

One dear old brother made such a pitiful appeal, and seemed so feeble, that Dr. Morgan defied the injunction of his Vestry not to use his throat while away, and disregarded even the appealing advice of his dear wife, and did actually preach. The Doctor said that, of course, I would do the same at night. Of course, I had to consent. Then a miracle took place: our dear old brother seemed to have a new lease of life the moment his two Sunday sermons were off his conscience. He was so spry that on Sunday afternoon he suggested a Sabbath day's drive among some orange groves, which we took behind two spanking bays, the ribbons being held by our erewhile feeble brother, now in all the vigor of hearty old age, warming up to the exciting drive. On and on we went until I suggested that it would be well to turn back, as I wanted a little quiet time before church to gather my thoughts together before preaching. In the blandest way the old gentleman told us he had lost his way, and was looking for a place to turn back. I thought we never should get home; but I made the best of it, and brooded all the return way on recent events at the Philippines, of Dewey and his watchword: "Keep cool and obey orders," and at night I gave a patriotic sermon on the text: "But thanks be to God which giveth us the victory."

I felt sure that if we remained over until next Sunday, our dear brother would be again as feeble as ever, and that in our charity we could not but preach, even though we might suspect. We did not leave San Antonio until after five o'clock the next day, and that gave us a little more pleasurable time there. It is such a flowery, bright, and cheerful place, that it quite attracted us.

In the morning I went to the Alamo and gave that thrilling place an hour or so, and it is well worth it. It has been the scene of a determined bravery of which any country might be proud, and there, also, a deep tragedy took place which has in it the true spirit of the daring and the heroic.

On the exterior the Alamo has quite an ancient appearance. The front, with its characteristic Spanish look and round-topped gable, is plain and massive, with quite a handsome entablature over the arched entrance, consisting of four fluted columns, on good bases, all supporting a horizontal cornice which extends over the main door, and over a recessed niche at each side for statues. It has all, a grandiose effect, quite interesting.

Passing in through the door, you find yourself in a well-proportioned church, long since disused as such, and now owned by the State and occupied as a museum, filled with relics of the fearful scenes which took place within the sacred place. Here, in the year 1836, a band of Texans fortified themselves against the attack of General Santa Anna and some four or five thousand Mexican soldiers bent on their destruction.

The siege was laid, and the commanding officer in the Alamo, Colonel Travis, determined to withstand it to the end. The same spirit filled the hearts of his brave men. He endeavored to arouse the energies of the Texans without to come to his relief, but for some reason they did not. Jealousies and bickerings among other leaders is hinted at as the cause. The letter which the brave colonel sent tells his story in his own words. Here it is:

"COMMANDCY OF THE ALAMO, Bexar,

February 24, 1836.

"Fellow-Citizens and Compatriots: I am besieged by a thousand or
more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have sustained a continued
bombardment for twenty-four hours, and have not lost a man. The
enemy have demanded a surrender at discretion; otherwise the
garrison is to be put to the sword if the place is taken. I have
answered the summons with a cannon shot, and our flag still waves
proudly from the walls. _I shall never surrender or retreat._
Then I call on you in the name of liberty, of patriotism, and of
everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid with
all despatch. The enemy are receiving reinforcements daily, and
will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five
days. Though this call may be neglected, I am determined to sustain
myself as long as possible, and die like a soldier who forgets not
what is due to his own honor and that of his country. Victory or
death!

"W. BARRET TRAVIS,
"_Lieutenant-Colonel Commanding_.

"P.S.--The Lord is on our side. When the enemy appeared in sight
we had not three bushels of corn. We have since found in deserted
houses eighty or ninety bushels, and got into the walls twenty or
thirty head of beeves.

"T."

When the commandant issued this letter he had not accurate information of the exact strength of the besieging force, but it would have made no difference with such a man.

When the full power of the besiegers was known, and the lines of attack became closer and closer, Colonel Travis assembled his men in the Alamo. Relief was not in sight, but the generous nature of Travis would not permit him to assign any other reason for this but the probability that his friends had been already cut off by the enemy.

After an impassioned speech to his men, referring to the failure to get relief, he thus concludes:

"Then we must die. Our business is not to make a fruitless effort
to save our lives, but to choose the manner of our death. But three
modes are presented to us. Let us choose that by which we may best
serve our country. Shall we surrender, and be deliberately shot
without taking the life of a single enemy? Shall we try to cut our
way out through the Mexican ranks, and be butchered before we can
kill twenty of our adversaries? I am opposed to either method....
Let us resolve to withstand our enemies to the last, and at each
advance to kill as many of them as possible. And when at last they
shall storm our fortress, let us kill them as they come! Kill them
as they scale our walls! Kill them as they leap within! Kill them
as they raise their weapons, and as they use them! Kill them as
they kill our companions! and continue to kill them as long as one
of us shall remain alive!... But leave every man to his own choice.
Should any man prefer to surrender ... or attempt to escape ... he
is at liberty to do so. My own choice is to stay in the fort and
die for my country, fighting as long as breath shall remain in my
body. This will I do even if you leave me alone. Do as you think
best; but no man can die with me without affording me comfort in
the hour of death."

The little pamphlet called "The Origin and Fall of the Alamo," which I bought within the walls, is my authority for what has preceded. I quote from it also the following simple, but telling story of what followed the speech of Colonel Travis:

"Col. Travis then drew his sword, and with the point traced a line
upon the ground extending from the right to the left of the file.
Then resuming his position in front of the centre, he said: 'I now
want every man who is determined to stay here and die with me to
come across that line. Who will be the first? March!' The first
respondent was Tapley Holland, who leaped the line at a bound,
exclaiming, 'I am ready to die for my country!' His example was
instantly followed by every man in the file, with exception of
Rose ----. Every sick man that could walk arose from his bunk, and
tottered across the line. Col. Bowie, who could not leave his bed,
said: 'Boys, I am not able to come to you, but I wish some of you
would be so kind as to move my cot over there.' Four men instantly
ran to the cot, and each lifting a corner carried it over. Then
every sick man that could not walk made the same request, and had
his bunk moved in the same way.

"Rose was deeply affected, but differently from his companions. He
stood till every man but himself had crossed the line. He sank upon
the ground, covered his face, and yielded to his own reflections. A
bright idea came to his relief; he spoke the Mexican dialect very
fluently, and could he once get out of the fort, he might easily
pass for a Mexican and effect his escape. He directed a searching
glance at the cot of Col. Bowie. Col. David Crockett was leaning
over the cot, conversing with its occupant in an undertone. After a
few seconds Bowie looked at Rose and said: 'You seem not to be
willing to die with us, Rose.' 'No,' said Rose, 'I am not prepared
to die, and shall not do so if I can avoid it.' Then Crockett also
looked at him, and said: 'You may as well conclude to die with us,
old man, for escape is impossible.' Rose made no reply, but looked
at the top of the wall. 'I have often done worse than climb that
wall,' thought he. Suiting the action to the thought, he sprang up,
seized his wallet of unwashed clothes, and ascended the wall.
Standing on its top, he looked down within to take a last view of
his dying friends. They were all now in motion, but what they were
doing he heeded not; overpowered by his feelings, he looked away,
and saw them no more.... He threw down his wallet, and leaped after
it."

I will now let the Mexicans tell how they made the attack and also the result to them, giving extracts from official documents and from the recital of Sergeant Becerra, a Mexican:

"A terrible fire belched from the interior. Men fell from the
scaling ladders by the score, many pierced through the head by
balls, others felled by clubbed guns. The dead and wounded covered
the ground. After half an hour of fierce conflict, after the
sacrifice of many lives, the column of Gen. Castrillon succeeded in
making a lodgment in the upper part of the Alamo to the northeast.
It was a sort of outwork. This seeming advantage was a mere prelude
to the desperate struggle which ensued. The doors of the Alamo
building were barricaded by bags of sand as high as the neck of a
man; the windows also. On top of the roofs of the different
apartments were rows of sand bags to cover the besieged.

"Our troops [the Mexicans], inspired by success, continued the
attack with energy and boldness. The Texians fought like devils. It
was at short range--muzzle to muzzle, hand to hand, musket and
rifle, bayonet and bowie-knife--all were mingled in confusion. Here
a squad of Mexicans, here a Texian or two. The crash of firearms,
the shouts of defiance, the cries of the dying and wounded made a
din almost infernal. The Texians defended desperately every inch of
the fort; overpowered by numbers they would be forced to abandon a
room. They would rally in the next, and defend it until further
resistance became impossible.

"Gen. Tolza's command forced an entrance at the door of the church
building. He met the same determined resistance without and within.
He won by force of numbers and great sacrifice of life.

"There was a long room on the ground floor. It was darkened. Here
the fight was bloody. It proved to be the hospital. A detachment of
which I had command had captured a piece of artillery. It was
placed near the door of the hospital, doubly charged with grape and
canister, and fired twice. We entered and found the corpses of
fifteen Texians. On the outside we afterwards found forty-two dead
Mexicans.

"On the top of the church building I saw eleven Texians. They had
some small pieces of artillery and were firing on the cavalry and
on those engaged in making the escalade. Their ammunition was
exhausted, and they were loading with pieces of iron and nails.

"The Alamo was entered at daylight; the fight did not cease till
nine o'clock....

"Gen. Santa Anna directed Col. Mora to send out his cavalry to
bring in wood. This was done. The bodies of the heroic Texians were
burned. Their remains became offensive. They were afterward
collected and buried by Col. Juan N. Seguin."

Sergeant Becerra said:

"There was an order to gather our own dead and wounded. It was a
fearful sight. Our lifeless soldiers covered the ground surrounding
the Alamo. They were heaped inside the fortress. Blood and brains
covered the earth and the floors, and had spattered the walls. The
ghastly faces of our comrades met our gaze, and we removed them
with despondent hearts. Our loss in front of the Alamo was
represented at two thousand killed, and more than three hundred
wounded. The killed were generally struck on the head. The wounds
were in the neck or shoulder, seldom below that. The firing of the
besieged was fearfully precise. When a Texas rifle was levelled on
a Mexican, he was considered as good as dead. All this indicated
the dauntless bravery and the cool self-possession of the men who
were engaged in a hopeless conflict with an enemy numbering more
than twenty to one. They inflicted on us a loss ten times greater
than they sustained. The victory of the Alamo was dearly bought.
Indeed, the price in the end was well-nigh the ruin of Mexico."

The tragic heroism displayed in the Alamo caused intense excitement in the United States, and, indeed, throughout the civilized world. Lovers of liberty knew that the men were inspired both by their love of freedom and the consciousness of the horrible fate which would await them if they fell alive into the hands of Santa Anna and his men. The pamphlet tells us that:

"An Englishman named Nagle had the honor of originating the
'Monument Erected to the Heroes of the Alamo.' It stood at the
entrance of the Capitol at Austin. This building was burned in
1880, and the monument suffered injury. On the top of each front
were the names of Travis, Bowie, Crockett, and Bonham. The
inscription on the north front was: 'To The God Of The Fearless And
The Free Is Dedicated This Altar Of The ALAMO.' On the west front:
'Blood of Heroes Hath Stained Me. Let The Stones Of The Alamo
Speak, That Their IMMOLATION Be Not FORGOTTEN.' On the south front:
'Be They Enrolled With LEONIDAS In The Host Of The Mighty Dead.' On
the east front: 'Thermopylae Had Her Messenger Of DEFEAT, But The
ALAMO Had None.'"

After seeing the Alamo and penetrating its historic recesses, I was in no mood for much further sightseeing. Some of our party drove to a most interesting Mission on the outskirts of the town, others contented themselves with a distant view of it from the street cars. The weather was too hot for much further exertion, and it was with a sense of restful enjoyment that we reclined in our car "Lucania" as we speeded westward in the evening hour. We got a charming view of San Antonio, a mile or so out from the town, glowing in the radiance of the setting sun, and looking as neat, thriving, and attractive as we found it in our experience. It seemed to deserve the added splendor of the sunset glow; and as a light of historic glory, and of a fame which can never set, we here insert a few striking lines called the "Hymn of the Alamo."

HYMN OF THE ALAMO

BY CAPTAIN REUBEN M. POTTER, U.S.A.

Rise! man the wall--our clarion's blast
Now sounds the final reveille;
This dawning morn must be the last
Our fated band shall ever see.
To life, but not to hope, farewell;
Your trumpet's clang, and cannon's peal,
And storming shout, and clash of steel
Is ours, but not our country's knell.
Welcome the Spartan's death--
'Tis no despairing strife--
We fall--we die--but our expiring breath
Is Freedom's breath of life.

"Here on this new Thermopylae
Our monument shall tower on high,
And 'Alamo' hereafter be
On bloodier fields the battle cry."
Thus Travis from the rampart cried.
And when his warriors saw the foe
Like whelming billows move below,
At once each dauntless heart replied:
"Welcome the Spartan's death--
'Tis no despairing strife--
We fall--we die--but our expiring breath
Is Freedom's breath of life!"

They come--like autumn leaves they fall,
Yet hordes on hordes they onward rush;
With gory tramp they mount the wall,
Till numbers the defenders crush.
The last was felled--the fight to gain--
Well may the ruffians quake to tell
How Travis and his hundred fell
Amid a thousand foemen slain.
They died the Spartan's death,
But not in hopeless strife;
Like brothers died--and their expiring breath
Was freedom's breath of life.

Among the many pleasant incidents of our stay in San Antonio was the meeting with some of the students of the West Texas Military Academy, of which my young friend the Rev. A. L. Burleson is the rector. They were splendid young fellows. It was a regret that I could not visit the school and pay my respects to one who bears the honored name of Burleson.

To look at those young students was a delight; and to know that the seed sown at Racine, under De Koven, where the Rev. Mr. Burleson graduated, was here, in this great Southwest, bearing such good fruitage, was a delightful memory to bring away from San Antonio.