We ordain and command that for no cause of war nor any other whatsoever, though it be under the title of rebellion, nor by ransom nor in other manner can an Indian be made a slave, and we will that they be treated as our vassals of the Crown of Castile since such they are.3
In the late sixteenth and for most of the seventeenth century, exploration and information gathering continued apace, but a major revolt in 1680 by the Pueblo Indians of the northwest resulted in the loss of New Mexico. The main cause of the rebellion was religious oppression by the Spaniards, whose frustration at failing to convert the Pueblo to Catholicism by peaceful or violent means had led to a policy of ruthless persecution, provoking the Indians to insurrection.
Though not fully explored, let alone occupied, Texas received its first Spanish provincial Governor, Domingo Teran de los Rios, in 1691. An attempt to establish missions in East Texas proved slow and difficult, and Spain temporarily lost control of the region. To the west of Texas, however, New Mexico was reclaimed for Spain from the Pueblos by Diego de Vargas between 1692 and 1696.
During the early decades of the eighteenth century Spain’s stuttering consolidation of its presence in Texas continued, and by 1722, largely as a result of the determination of the third Governor, the Marques de San Miguel de Aguayo, many new missions and garrisons had been established in East Texas. Previously strained relations between Spain and France, Spain’s main competitor in North America for land and trade, had improved, in part reflecting the alliance in Europe during the War of the Spanish Succession (1701–14) between France and the Spanish supporters of Philip of Anjou, who had prevailed and succeeded to the Spanish throne.
There were failures, but the founding of new missions gained some impetus in the 1740s and 1750s. Intermarriage and Indian conversions to Roman Catholic Christianity became widespread, and by the early 1760s San Antonio’s position as the chief town in southeast Texas was well established. The Spanish presence in southern North America was further extended by the provisions of the 1763 Treaty of Paris which determined the distribution of territories worldwide between the former combatants in the Seven Years War. While Britain as the victorious power (over France and Spain) was the main beneficiary, the Treaty provided that Louisiana west of the Mississippi should be transferred from France to Spain.4
British interest in North America, where its possessions included the whole of the eastern seaboard from Maine to Georgia and its hinterland, extended southwards with the signing of the 1763 Treaty. In giving up Havana to Spain, Britain now acquired East and West Florida, territories whose geographical position made the British a direct threat to Spanish territory in North America (New Spain). That was certainly how the Spanish saw things, taking such steps as their resources allowed to strengthen their presence along the Gulf coast of Mexico and Texas against possible British attack. Their suspicions were justified; there was no invasion, but the British lost no opportunity to try to assess Spanish military preparedness in the region.5 Though France and Spain allied themselves with the colonists of North America during the 1775–83 American War of Independence, one consequence of its outcome was to strengthen the hand of the newly formed United States in their aspirations for further territorial acquisition to the south and west.
The last two decades of the eighteenth century in Texas saw the Spanish continuing to deal with the problem of Indian raids and seeking to establish alliances which would allow the peaceful development of their settlements. Texas Governor Domingo Cabello y Robles’s inclination was to deal harshly with the Texas Indians, but he was aware of the need to establish a basis for more stable coexistence, and to that end courted the Comanches (whom he considered the lesser of the two evils) to form an alliance with Spain which would enable the Apaches better to be kept at bay.
The Viceroy of New Spain, his commandant general and his governors were much preoccupied during this period, as often before, with the international political situation, marked by the changing pattern of hostilities and alliances in Europe and its consequences for North America. The Spanish authorities at home and abroad became fearful of the republicanism and radical thought spreading throughout Europe in the wake of the French Revolution, seeing the French in North America as a subversive threat to the Indians living under Spanish jurisdiction, many of whom were recent converts to Roman Catholicism. The perceived French threat died down but was quickly superseded by equally agitated concern that the United States and Britain, which had in 1794 signed a trade and friendship agreement aimed at resolving outstanding issues (the Jay Treaty), were to mount a joint operation against Spanish Territories. Brigadier General Pedro de Nava, commandant general, wrote to Governor Muñoz of Texas in 1795:
The King has been informed on good authority that the United States has ordered emissaries to move here and subvert the population…. For this reason you are to exercise the utmost diligence and care to avoid the entry of any foreigner or suspected person…. Especially exercise care to see that no foreigner go among the Indian nations who are our allies.6
The fear persisted. In 1797 the word spread that the United States and Britain intended to invade Louisiana. While no such invasion occurred, Spanish anxieties were not entirely without foundation. Following the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, when Napoleon sold Louisiana to the United States to help, among other things, defray the cost of France’s escalating war with Britain, a large and vocal body of American opinion held that the Louisiana territory they had acquired included Texas. The dispute ended in 1806 with the Neutral Ground Agreement, under which territory between the Sabine River to the west and the Calcasieu River to the east would belong to neither side.
In the early years of nineteenth century New Spain, the conservative supporters of regal and viceregal rule, a system on which they depended for their status and livelihood, were opposed by American-born and much more numerous proponents of rule by junta, the interim form of government now in place in Spain. Plots and counter-plots with consequential violence characterised the years from 1808 to 1815. The most remembered insurgency was that led by Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla,7 a priest who was at the forefront of radical thought but ill-suited to the military leadership role in which he found himself. His ill-disciplined army was defeated at the Battle of Calderon Bridge in 1811.
Mexican (and with it Texan) independence from Spain finally came in 1821. As a result of an apparently improbable alliance between leading conservatives and revolutionaries, a plan ratified by the Treaty of Cordoba provided for an independent nation in which the Roman Catholic faith would be protected and, to address a long-standing problem of discrimination, Spanish citizens born in Spain and those born in America would be treated equally. What united the two sides was a desire for change. Both the radicals and the royalists believed that their respective aims – broadly, greater fairness and social justice and the retention of traditional government – were more likely to be achieved in an independent state than in one subject to Spanish rule.
Political and social tensions were much in evidence in the new nation. A short-lived monarchy was formally replaced by a republic in 1823, and though the five years to 1828 were a period of relative stability in the Federal Mexican Republic, geographical separation and cultural differences were building antagonisms between Mexicans and Anglo-Americans that would eventually lead to war.8
In addition to what they considered impossible immigration constraints, frustrations for Anglo-American settlers in Texas (and those from the US who wished to join them) included perceived deficiencies in the judicial system, unwarranted military privileges, and religious intolerance. On the last two, Stephen F. Austin, a major coloniser and de facto leader of the Anglo-American community in Texas, wrote in 1832 to General Teran, commandant general, that ‘These are two changes that are necessary and the man who shall carry them into effect will deserve the honored title of the Washington of Mexico’.9
More significant for Texas’s future, however, was the question of slavery. While the colonists were
clear that slave labour was crucial to the agricultural development of Texas – and to their own prosperity – government legislation, viewed over several years, was inconsistent. The Mexican authorities recognised the need to attract enterprising Anglo-American colonists for the future economic wellbeing of the country, but were also constrained by the anti-slavery principles espoused by the revolutionaries who had brought them to power.
Several years of uncertainty seemed to have ended in 1827 when the constitution of the newly formed combined state of Coahuila and Texas contained, at Article 13, a provision that ‘From and after the promulgation of the Constitution in the capital of each district, no-one shall be born a slave in the state, and after six months the introduction of slaves under any pretext shall not be permitted.’10 This clause, which had the effect of legalising existing slaveholdings, was well received by Austin and the colonial community, who had been expecting something more draconian; but it was still not the end of the matter. A presidential decree in 1829 abolishing slavery throughout Mexico was modified to give some exemption to Texas, but the following year the Mexican government, concerned at the growing confidence and influence of Anglo-American Texans, legislated to prohibit immigration from the United States. For Austin this was a much more serious setback than any of the earlier Mexican laws against slavery, since it put the whole future development of Texas at risk. In consequence he changed his position from advocacy of slavery for practical reasons to hostility to it on moral grounds, but then came under such pressure from the settlers that he reverted to his previous stance. Austin nevertheless contemplated the permanency of slavery in Texas with practical as well as moral misgivings. He wrote to a colleague in 1831: ‘I sometimes shudder at the consequences and think that a large part [of] America will be Santa Domingonised in 100 or 200 years. The wishes of my colonists have hurried me into this theory... and there is no retreat.’11
At the request of Austin, who had some tacit support from sympathetic local Mexican authorities, the overall ban on American immigration to Texas was lifted, but no slaves were to be brought in. The settlers had however been taking advantage of a decree of 1828 which sought to boost the size of the agricultural workforce by allowing labourers in other countries to accompany their emigrating employers to Texas. Slaves in the southern United States came to Texas formally as indentured workers under contracts which lasted more than a lifetime and they were, in practice, still slaves. Despite a law passed in 1832 limiting employment contracts to ten years, this device continued in operation throughout the remaining years of Mexican Texas.
Simmering discontent among the Anglo-American colonists escalated in the early 1830s. The imposition of customs dues, the establishment of Mexican garrisons in Texas, and what the colonists considered provocative behaviour by one of the garrison commanders, brought insurrection closer. There was some optimism when General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, with the expressed aim of re-establishing a liberal constitution, moved to oust the Mexican President. When Santa Anna fully assumed power in 1834 it rapidly became clear that far from adopting a more liberal form of government, Mexico was to be ruled autocratically and that much of the local authority possessed by its constituent states was to be removed.
Armed conflict began in October 1835, after another dispute about customs duties and unilateral action by militant Texans, which provoked an uncompromising crackdown by the commandant general. This time Austin saw no scope for negotiation, writing that ‘War is our only resource…. There is no other remedy but to defend our rights, ourselves, and our country by force of arms.’12 Texan resolve to resist the Mexicans was accompanied by nervousness about the slave population in the light of Santa Anna’s declared view that under the law of Mexico they should be given their freedom. The capture by Santa Anna in March 1836 of the Alamo, a mission station at San Antonio, and the massacre of its defenders, did nothing to calm these fears, but they were allayed some six weeks later by the decisive defeat inflicted on the Mexican army by General Sam Houston and his Texan force at San Jacinto.
The establishment of the Republic of Texas followed a unilateral Declaration of Independence, and was formally recognised by the United States a year later in March 1837. The newly drafted constitution embedded slavery as an institution in Texas, stating that ‘All persons of color who were slaves for life previous to their emigration to Texas, and are now held in bondage shall remain in the like state of servitude: provided the said slave shall be the bona fide property of the person so holding said slave as aforesaid.’13 Under its first substantive president, Sam Houston, the government of Texas responded to popular will by soon seeking annexation to the United States.14
Ties of history and kinship and the prospect of commercial benefit were not enough to overcome the concerns of some members of the US Congress, not least over slavery, which former US President John Quincy Adams, among others, repeatedly advanced as an argument against annexation. After nearly two years without a positive response from the United States, Texas withdrew its request in 1838.
The fledgling Republic was not a stable environment. Potential settlers from the United States were wary of the disruption caused by the increasing incidence of attacks by Comanche Indians, and of the threat of military aggression from Mexico, which had never recognised Texan independence.
Houston’s successor, the nationalist (and expansionist) President Mirabeau B. Lamar, saw for Texas a more promising future in commercial alliances with European powers than in any close association with the United States, and was firmly against annexation. The Europeans were cautious about links with the new Republic and were slow to recognise it. France (January 1840) was the first to complete the process, followed by Britain in November 1840 (subject to ratification) and Holland in June 1841. British recognition took the form of three treaties; answering an enquiry in the House of Commons as to whether they had been ratified, Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel said
that there were three treaties with respect to which this country and the Government of Texas were concerned. The first was of a commercial character; the second had relation to the abolition of slavery; and the third referred to the guarantee for the payment of a loan from Texas to the Mexican Government under the mediation of this country. These treaties were to be ratified simultaneously. The day fixed for the ratification was the first of August [1842].15
In Texas, Lamar was succeeded as President by Sam Houston, who had been re-elected in 1841. His second term agenda focused on establishing peace with the Indians and on improving relations with Mexico; annexation was not among his priorities. The possibility was nevertheless a worry in Britain, where anxieties were expressed in Parliament about US expansion and the reinforcement of slaveholding. MPs raised questions on these matters during 1841 and 1842, particularly, wanting to be kept up to date with developments. Information concerning the treaties was clearly crucial, but there were other issues. The Member for the Montrose District of Burghs, Joseph Hume, asked ‘whether Captain Elliot was now consul-general of the Texas – where he was – whether he was now receiving pay from the Government – whether it was the intention of the Government to send him to the Texas, and when?’16 Peel replied:
Captain Elliot is Consul to Texas; he is at present in London; he is not in the receipt of pay, and will not be in the receipt of pay until he takes his departure; he is only detained at the instance of the Treasury, who are receiving explanations from him with respect to certain expenses incurred at Hong Kong.17
Hume did not follow up his enquiry, except to comment that he did not think Elliot was a fit person for the appointment. Peel’s evident irritation with the manner in which Hume had spoken caused him to refer to Elliot’s appointment again three weeks later, declaring that
If the hon. Gentleman had not so put his questions, he [Peel] should not have been prevented from making some observations; and from stating, that whatever might have been the conduct of Captain Elliot in the difficult situation in which he had been placed, he mus
t say, that although he did not know the hon. Gentleman before the intercourse he had since with him, he had every reason to place confidence in the integrity and ability with which he would perform his duties. This was a spontaneous intimation on his part, and he must declare that there was nothing in his correspondence with Captain Elliot to show that full confidence might not repose in his integrity and ability.18
Chapter Thirteen
‘This Raw Country’
From the start, Charles Elliot was not happy in Texas. He did not arrive in Galveston until 23 August 1842, after a voyage via Madeira and New Orleans. The seas had been rough for the latter stages, adding physical discomfort to the mental disquiet he continued to feel about the criticism of his actions in China. For most of the rest of the year he suffered from recurring bouts of illness. He was accompanied at this time only by his butler; Clara and the children remained in England.
In London, he had kept his spirits up, determined to show the world that he felt entirely confident about his achievements as Chief Superintendent and Plenipotentiary. Charles Greville, who met Elliot for the first time in November 1841, found him ‘very amusing with his accounts of China … animated, energetic, & vivacious, clever, eager, high-spirited & gay’.1 He also thought Elliot would be convincing in his own defence: ‘He, of course, makes his own case very good, &, whatever may be the merit or demerit of his conduct, taken as a whole, I am inclined to think he will be able to vindicate his latest exploit at Canton.’2 Henry Taylor, too, was positive, passing one of Elliot’s documents about China to Sir James Stephen, a mutual friend and Under Secretary of State for War and the Colonies.3 Stephen was in any case disposed to be sympathetic to Elliot, making his support explicit in a letter to Taylor in March 1842:
Captain Elliot and the Founding of Hong Kong Page 20