Texas has an unpublished history, as interesting as it is real, hidden within the dusty leaves of the past, which should be recovered and perpetuated by the State at any cost; for without it the early life of the young Republic and the State will never be seen exactly as it was. Much of it is to be found in the memory of the survivors of that time, and there are lying scattered in waste places many of its fragments in written material which could be had for the asking, or at any rate for a very small consideration. But the opportunities to preserve it that now exist will soon be lost, for the old Texans are fast passing away, and old letters and journals are being continually thrown aside or destroyed as waste paper by owners who do not appreciate their historical value. With the burning of the old capitol in 1881, the people of Texas have to deplore the loss of valuable archives and public documents containing information relative to the leading men and events of its history, which can never be fully reclaimed.
When I first knew Austin, during the '40's, it was a little country town on what was then the Texas frontier, and had only a few hundred inhabitants. Those were the log cabin days of the Republic. General Houston lived in one of the Austin log cabins, which he called his wigwam, and up and down Congress avenue on either side were scattered others in which were located the headquarters of the various departments of the government. At that time houses in Texas had no parlors. There were “groceries,” so-called, in which liquor alone was sold, but there were no “saloons.” The country was without railroads, or even buggies; but some old rickety stage coaches plied irregularly between San Antonio and Houston by way of Austin, and the passenger who traveled in these had to work his way by carrying a fence rail on his shoulder for long distances and helping to pry the vehicle out of mudholes, in order to reach his destination at all.
The Bastrop highway ran along where Pecan street now is. The war-cry of the Indians could be heard in the night-time within the very gates of the capital. It was not safe for any man to go alone or without his gun beyond the limits of the town; for there was great danger of being shot or captured by the redskins who lay waiting in the mountains around for an opportunity to steal, rob, or murder. Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell were the only places of resort for the citizens. The old Congress Hall sat on the hill just south of the present Governor's Mansion, on the spot where the City Hall now stands—a spot sacred to all old Texans, for there the fathers of Texas met to deliberate on the weighty affairs that demanded their attention.
It was within this weather-beaten, consecrated old building that I made my political d⁁ebut in 1849 as Representative from Rusk and Panola. Later I sat within the same walls as Senator from Shelby and Panola. When I entered the House of Representatives I was one of the youngest, if not in fact the youngest, member of the Legislature. To-day I am, according to the best of my knowledge, the oldest living member of the Senate to which I belonged, and, with the exception of Hon. Guy M. Bryan and Hon. W. H. Martin, the only member of that honorable body still alive. Both of these gentlemen subsequently occupied seats in the United States Congress.
In 1842-3, President Houston, fearing an attack by Santa Anna upon the city of Austin, transferred his administrative headquarters first to Houston and then to Washington on the Brazos, where the seat of government had been located temporarily in earlier times. The town is now nearly extinct. Washington was a small village, and it was difficult for the government to obtain suitable rooms for Congress. About the biggest building in the town was Hatfield's “grocery,” or saloon as we now say; but that was a very important place of resort, where congressmen and strangers were most in the habit of congregating. It was in fact too important a place to give up for other purposes; but it was finally yielded to the House of Representatives. The saloon itself was not surrendered; but there was a large hall above it used for gambling purposes, and this hall was rented by the government. In order to accommodate the convenience of the members and to protect them from temptation, it was thought advisable to move the stairway from the inside of the building to the outside—at least for the time. So it was removed, and the opening where it had passed up into the hall above was temporarily floored over, the boards not being nailed.
In the hall thus prepared occurred the ball at the inauguration of President Anson Jones in 1845, the first and last inaugural ball, as I believe, that was held in Texas during the days of the Republic. The attendance of prominent men and beautiful women was very large, and the ball-room was densely packed. In the course of the evening there happened a contretemps of a rather ridiculous nature, the story of which may not be without interest here.
During one of the intervals in the dancing I was sitting beside a young lady, and we were waiting for the tap of the fiddle to take our places on the floor and join the dance. She was rather large, very attractive, and to judge from the marked attention of the distinguished men who surrounded her, very popular also. She seemed to be particularly admired by Gen. T. J. Chambers, who had escorted her to the ball, and who stood beside her while we waited. When the signal came we sprang up to take our places, but I observed that she was pulling back; and on looking around I saw that she was sinking through the floor into the saloon below. I had just time to catch her by one arm. General Chambers lent his assistance, and together we drew her up and relieved her from her awkward position and the prospect of a dangerous fall. Our rising had disarranged the carelessly laid planks over the opening of the staircase, and they had given way beneath her. The delay, however, occasioned by the accident was but momentary; we took position at once, and the dance went merrily on.
In the same hall, some years before, occurred another incident that may be worth relating. A large body of gamblers and like characters had gathered in the town and held complete sway. The citizens were cautious of what they said and to whom they said it, for these men defied all law. While things were in this condition, Rev. Robert Alexander, whom the Methodist church had sent along with Rev. Littleton Fowler and a Rev. Mr. Wilson to preach the gospel in Texas, stopped in Washington. He at once engaged the room over Hatfield's saloon and announced that he would preach there on the following Sunday. The gamblers sent him word that he could not use that hall, that it was employed for other purposes, and that they would not allow him to preach in it. Mr. Alexander was a man of gigantic frame, being nearly seven feet in height, and had courage in proportion to his size. He repeated his announcement and was there on time. He walked leisurely into the hall and spoke courteously to the men there assembled. Assuming that they were there to hear him, though he knew that it was not so, and that they were getting ready for their usual game, he affected not to notice the cards that he saw them slipping into their seats behind them, and made preparations to begin his sermon. He arose, and some of the more determined men in the crowd made demonstrations as if to rise also, but did not. He opened his Bible and laid it on the billiard table, then remarked that if there were those present who did not wish to hear him they could leave. None left. He said he had come to preach, and he meant to do it. He again remarked that if any were present who did not desire to hear the gospel he wished them to leave. Still nobody went. He then proceeded with a fire and brimstone sermon. Soon after beginning he discovered a little commotion among his hearers. He paused and simply said that he wished their attention, and order was restored at once. When he got through the men came forward, shook his hand and thanked him heartily, made up a purse for him, told him if he ever needed more money to call on them, and sent him on his way rejoicing.
Mr. Alexander continued to preach all over Texas to the time of his death, which occurred at his home in Chappell Hill only a few years ago; but he never lived outside of Washington county. He was honored and loved not only by his own church, but by all denominations.
How to cite:
Holland, J. K., "REMINISCENCES OF AUSTIN AND OLD WASHINGTON ", Volume 001, Number 2, Southwestern Historical Quarterly Online, Page 92 - 95. http://www.tsha.utexas.edu/publications/journals/shq/online/v001/n2/article_5.html
[Accessed Mon Dec 1 18:06:23 CST 2008]
