REMINISCENCES OF MRS. ANNIE FAGAN TEAL
[These "Reminiscences" are contributed by Mrs. Thomas O'Connor, of
Victoria, Texas. They were published in Victoria in 1897, in a local
magazine, entitled "By the Way." "By the Way" was published by Dr.
Geo. McA. Tyng, and he consents to the republication of the article in The
QUARTERLY. The "Reminiscences" were compiled originally by Mrs. T.
C. Allan. The notes in the present edition are supplied by Mrs.
O'Connor.]
In 1816, when two years of age, Annie, daughter of Nicholas
Fagan, came with her parents from Ireland to New York, where
they lived four years, and then moved to Philadelphia. From there
they drifted to Pittsburg, Cincinnati and St. Louis, and later to
a point above the last named city, where they lived three years.
That country being thinly settled by whites, Sioux Indians form-
ing the greater part of the population, the climate cold and no
Catholic church near, the mother was anxious to leave and find
a home where her children could be brought up under the influ-
ences of her own church. New Orleans was selected, the trip be-
ing made in a flat boat. The mother died soon after arriving at
their destination, and the father and children were stricken with
yellow fever. Strangers in a strange country, their situation was
pitiful. But as in the days of the early Disciples a "good Samar-
itan" passed by--a wealthy lady, Mrs. Duplice, learning their
condition, sent a Mexican nurse to attend them. As soon as they
could be moved in safety she had the children conveyed to her
home, where she kindly cared for them until the father called
them home after a second marriage.
In 1829 the family came out to Texas on the Panoma, in
charge of Captain Prietta, a Spaniard, who got a special permit
to land them at Copano. Beaching there, he asked what could
have induced them to seek a home in so desolate a country with
only Mexicans and Indians for neighbors. He was afraid to go
ashore, and said that was his first and would be his last trip to
the "wild" country. Mr. Edward McDonough and wife, father
and mother of Mrs. James Warden, came over on the same boat
from New Orleans. The Fagan party left Copano one beautiful,
bright sunny morning, traveled all day, and went into camp un-
der shining stars. During the night a "norther," a thing un-
known to the travelers, came up with, rain and sleet, wetting and
chilling most thoroughly the little party, in which were two
young babes. Next morning the oxen could not be found; fright-
ened and driven by the storm they had wandered away. The men
went in search of them, leaving the women and children alone
on the cold wet prairie, where they were detained two days until
the searching party returned with most of the missing animals.
The tired, discouraged travelers hurried on, leaving one man to
guard the wagon left behind until the men could return and re-
new the search.
They pitched their tents on the San Antonio River, the waters
of which must have the same influence in entrancing strangers
as that of the Guadalupe, for they have never left the country of
their adoption. In this new home they found but one white--a
man named Shaw, who, though quiet and inoffensive, was forced
by the Mexican authorities to leave, as no Protestant was allowed
to live in the country. It was the plan of the Mexican govern-
ment to get three hundred families from Ireland and settle an
Irish Catholic colony. Only those who brought papers from the
civil authorities and priests of their former homes, certifying to
their good character as citizens and Roman Catholics, were al-
lowed to remain over twenty-four hours in the country. The Irish
emigrants were on their way out when cholera broke out among
them; many died on board the vessel, and others succumbed after
landing. So rapidly did the dreadful disease spread, and so many
of the wealthy Spaniards died, that the colonization idea was
given up. Carlos, a rich Mexican of the well-known Carlos ranch,
sold a herd of cattle, and his son, a young man, met the buyers
at Mrs. Teal's home to receive the purchase money. While en-
gaged in counting the money a messenger rushed into the room
with news of the epidemic, causing the people to flee in alarm.
Young Carlos hurried out of the house and hastily buried the
money. He, with fourteen others of his family, died with cholera
and the hiding place of the money was never known. As is so
often the case, the richest and most beautiful were among the vic-
tims. So few people were left in the country that the govern-
ment was petitioned to allow any and all to settle there.
Mrs. Teal's father was a cousin of Sir Edward Pakenham.
When a boy of fifteen years of age, full of the Pakenham fight-
ing blood, he wanted to go aboard a man-o'-war; opposed by his
parents, he ran away from home, went to Dublin and wandered
around with a few cents in his pocket seeking a lodging place.
Not having money enough to pay for a night's lodging he was
turned off; a son of the landlady, with a younger and more tender
heart than his mother, followed the boy, made up the amount,
and took him back to the house. The woman questioned him as
to his name, plans, etc., which he candidly confessed to her; she
wisely discouraged his going on board a war ship, and advised
him to return to his parents, which he did.
Coming to his Western home, Mr. Fagan sawed the logs with
which to build his house with a "whip-saw"; so heavy were some
of these that six yokes of oxen were required to draw them; he
made the shingles by hand. The house was put together so
strongly with heavy bolts, that it could not be entirely taken
apart. The upper story was arranged for a chapel, with altar,
confessional, and priest's room. An old bell,
1 one of four which
had belonged to the beautiful "Church of Refuge," or Mission
church, so injured by a storm that it had to be taken down was
hung on the upper gallery and sounded the hours for service in
the little chapel. The other three bells were left on the road near
the river, where they lay undisturbed. One day a horseman tied
his horse to one which bore the date 1722; the animal, becoming
frightened, ran away, dragging the bell several miles, where it
was left with the rim broken off. When negroes entered the neigh-
borhood and built Mt. Zion Church, they took possession of this
bell.
The new-comers found not a bushel of corn in the country, for
the Indians would not allow the Mexicans to plant crops. The
settlers went in boats to Caney and bought corn and--weevils. Mr.
Fagan had brought millstones from New Orleans, and Mr. Mc-
Donough a steel hand-mill. Before they could grind this corn
they threw it on hot embers to drive the weevils out, and husked
the grains in lye. No objection was made to their planting corn
the next season; wheat was brought from Mexico. The govern-
ment offered to give three leagues of land to whoever would erect
a mill. Mr. Fagan built one, but having all the land he wanted,
never claimed the subsidy. The Sidick, Fagan, Teal and Mc-
Donough families formed a little colony of their own, living
quietly and peacefully on their ranches and in time became own-
ers of immense tracts of land and large herds of cattle. Houses
were ten or twelve miles apart, so the neighborly kindness ( ?) of
"borrowing a chunk of fire" was not often exchanged. Sur-
rounded by Mexicans and Indians, they learned to fear neither, as
they were never harmed during all the long years they lived
among them. Women and children went from house to house, or
roamed over the broad prairie without accident or harm. Soon
after coming to the country, Annie Fagan and two other young
girls passed a Caranchua camp; the Indians were making beer
and beckoned to the girls to come. Afraid to go, more afraid to
run away, they stood irresolute, until one, braver than the rest,
walked into the camp. Seeing she was not brained and scalped,
the others took courage and joined her. Although the calumet
was not passed to them, the beer was, which they cautiously drank
from the filthy cup, and so sealed their friendship with the tribe.
Annie Fagan and Peter Teal were married at her father's
home in Refugio County, Texas, in January, 1833. Among the
specially invited guests were Prudentia, an Indian chief, and
Rosa Marie (Rosemary) his wife. In the course of the evening
the latter was sipping from a glass, when Prudentia came to her,
and in Spanish said: "You are drinking too much." In the
same language she replied: "Well, it is the cowboys' feast."
After the ceremony the Mexicans fired a salute of ten guns. The
marriage services were concluded by a Mexican priest, before day-
light, at the church in La Bahia. This little town was settled
largely by wealthy, intelligent Spanish people. Among them was
a family named Hernandez, who always invited the colonists to
make their house a home whenever they came to the village to
church. The lady of the house, though with hosts of servants at
her command, would greet them and in her own soft language
say: "Pass on, ladies; I stay to serve you." Before going to
church, she would replace their sunbonnets with silken crepe
shawls. Mrs. Teal says she never in her life saw such hand-
somely dressed ladies as she once saw in this little village at
La Bahia. It was Independence Day of the Indians of Mexico
and was being celebrated on the 16th of September, 1832. In-
side a gaily decorated carriage sat a little Indian girl, dressed in
all the splendor of Indian royalty; long lines of white ribbons
were fastened to the carriage and held by twelve elegantly dressed
Spanish ladies who walked on either side, while the carriage was
pushed forward by officers of high rank, and soldiers marched in
front. The little girl represented the Indians of Mexico; she
afterwards became the wife of one Carlos— , who was killed
by a desperado, from whom he was trying to recover a stolen
horse and saddle. The child so honored is now an old woman,
still living at La Bahia. Mrs. Teal says the Spanish ladies were
dressed in silks that would stand alone, costly laces, jewels rich
and rare of beautiful Mexican workmanship.
Four different Indian tribes lived in the country: Lepans,
Tonquways, Comanches, and Caranchuas. The latter would hire
to the whites, Mr. Fagan employing them to harvest his crops, etc.
They valued their labor at so many jugs of whiskey, but were
wise enough to divide the "drunk"—half of the tribe getting
beastly drunk, while the others would stand guard, taking their
turn when the first had sobered up.
Mrs. Teal says the Comanches and Tonquways had a battle in
the neighborhood, the whites having given guns and ammunition
to the latter, who killed twelve of the enemy. Whenever the In-
dians happened to a misfortune in any place they would leave the
neighborhood and not return for several months, and sometimes
years. Before leaving, the Comanches sent for the white men to
come and see them go empty-handed, for they said the Tonqu-
ways would kill the settlers' stock and then blame them. Wiley
White had a fine American horse running on the prairies, which
followed the Indians. The owner took a gun and went alone to
bring the animal back. A few savage Wacos, who were with the
Comanches, wanted to kill him but they would not allow it. Mr.
White rode among them, caught his horse and returned home. A
different band of the same tribe, however, came into the neigh-
borhood one night and killed six men, among the unfortunates
being Captain Arno, who was mate of the vessel that brought the
Fagans over from New Orleans.
Mrs. Teal says the Indians would test the friendship of the
whites by sending one of their number, perhaps a young boy, to
a house at nightfall; he would claim to be lost, and ask for a
night's lodging. If he returned, the tribe would never harm that
family, but say: "He good white man; he no kill lone Indian."
But woe unto the house where one was killed. One went to the
house of Don Juan Hernandez one night, and unknown to the
family was killed by the Mexican hirelings on the place. Her-
nandez was compelled to flee the country, much of his property
was destroyed, and two Mexicans killed.
Mrs. Teal says a daughter of the house of Hernandez was so
very beautiful that all eyes were riveted upon her whenever she
appeared in public, but she married the homeliest, one-eyed Mexi-
can in the entire country—a man whom the father could never
tolerate.
The militia and troops followed on the trail of the Indians to
take revenge for the killing of the two Mexicans, but as soon as
they came up to the savages, whom Antonique, their chief, had
formed into a "V" to receive them, they retreated with celerity.
Again, in 1836, the Mexicans went to Caranchua to attack the
Indians, but the settlers forbid any disturbance.
In 1836, Mrs. Teal was at home one evening with two little
brothers, when about dusk the Tonquways came up to the house
and loitered around. Although not afraid of them, she told them
it was getting late and they must go home. All went but three
young Indians, who seated themselves on the fence; she ordered
them to leave, when they said, "Wait till we tell you about the
big fight." It seems the Caranchuas had gone to the Tonquways
with a proposition that they unite their forces for the purpose of
killing De Leon, a rich Spaniard, who had formed a colony called
by his name. He lived in the "Bound House,"
2 which stood on
the Catholic college block, in Victoria. De Leon, at the time,
was at his ranch near town. They agreed to join the expedition,
but proposed to start out with full stomachs; a repast was there-
fore provided, and while the Caranchuas were eating, their hosts
secretly cut their bow strings, then attacked them with knives,
killing eleven of the twelve men. The scalps were then taken to
Victoria, where the Indians celebrated their bloody work by "scalp
dance" on the market square. "But O," as they told Mrs. Teal,
"the Cranchs were brave, so brave; when we stick knife in they
drink their own blood." This was, indeed, a gruesome tale for
a young woman to listen to from the lips of savages, in the gath-
ering darkness and no other person except two little children
about the place.
Soon after this, Antonique, chief of the Caranchuas, learning
that a number of his late enemies were at Mr. Fagan's where
they came and went at will, walked over alone and unarmed. He
sat in their midst all day, neither taking any notice of the other.
At sunset he as quietly walked out from among them, nor was
he followed.
Mrs. Teal was familiar with many of the customs of the dif-
ferent tribes around them. In 1830, the chief of one tribe hav-
ing been killed by the Comanches, the Indians at sunset placed
skin on the ground in effigy of their dead chief, stood around
and sung or wailed a mournful dirge all the night long, never
once sitting down, nor scarcely changing their position. She said
it sounded so plaintively sweet on the still night air. At sunrise
they sat around this effigy in three rows; the Indian highest in
office spoke to them earnestly, pointing towards heaven, then went
to each man, laid hands on his head and stroked it down. Soon
as this ceremony was over all arose, the skins were taken rever-
ently up and the whole tribe moved silently away nor returned
for many years. At their feasts, they would take the choicest
piece of meat, offer it to the "Great Spirit," then to the "Four
Winds," after which it was buried and so given back to "Mother
Earth," who gave them all of good. Mrs. Teal remembers the
Caranchuas as a comely set of people, similar to the Lepans, both
of whom dressed with some attempt at imitation of the whites;
the other tribes around retained their own peculiar dress. One
day her father, going into La Bahia alone, saw a body of Indians
approaching, whom he took to be Comanches or Wacos, the most
unfriendly tribe near; he dismounted and stood with his gun
cocked, determined to fight for his life. They proved to be
Lepans, and Castro, their leader, recognizing Mr. Fagan, ordered
his men to halt, while he advanced alone. He told Mr. F. he "was
a brave man to leave his horse and stand ready to fight, single-
handed, a whole tribe of Indians."
In 1838, a messenger was sent from San Antonio to notify
James Powers, the Impresario of his colony,
3 that 900 Indians
were coming down upon the people. They divided, however, part
going on the Rio Grande, while the others came on, killing and
destroying as they came. Mr. Fagan chanced to be out with a
little child when a riderless mule ran up and followed his wagon;
he knew the rider had been killed and that Indians were near,
but went on his way. The Indians crossed the river just ahead
of him, so he did not meet with them, or would have been killed,
as were Mr. Lawler, Howard and others of his friends. Mrs. Teal
saw her brother John and her nephew, Dennis O'Connor,
4 run-
ning from the Indians. The first had gone out with Howard,
who was killed; he outran them and so saved his life.
In 1842, from Indian depredations, drouth, etc., there was
great suffering among the people. No bread in the country for
three or four days and cattle were too poor to be eaten. For-
tunately, the pecan crop was large and brought good prices, which
prevented famine in the land. Mrs. Teal says that during and
just after the war with Mexico there was more distress and
trouble of every kind in the country than ever before, caused by
robbers and followers of the American army. Once a party of
Mexicans came across the border to sell a lot of horses; they staid
at her father's house three days, when having sold out set out for
their homes in the night. Next day some of these stragglers came
along, trailed and followed up the Mexicans, overtaking them
about nightfall, sat around their camp fire, drank of their coffee,
then attacked and killed all but one man, took their money and
horses.
When Fannin was organizing his little band, Mr. Fagan, Mrs.
Teal's father, said: "The Pakenhams were warriors by land and
warriors by sea; to run or stay away was a disgrace." He left
his home and family and offered his services and life, if need be,
to the brave Georgian. Having for so many years lived in peace
with the Mexicans, and being well known and liked by them, one
of them said to him: "We will speak a word for you." On the
day of the massacre a boy came up to Mr. Fagan and told him he
had orders to go into a certain orchard and remain until sent for.
Mr. F., thinking it a hoax, paid no attention to it. The same
message was delivered a second time and again was unheeded. A
third messenger arrived who hold Mr. Fagan the authorities or-
dered him to take a quarter of beef to Miller's orchard and for
him to stay there until ordered away. Mr. F., without under-
standing the strange command, did as he was told and had barely
reached the designated place when he heard the heartrending cries
of his comrades: "Don't shoot; for God's sake don't shoot me."
Shot after shot followed in quick succession till the last voice was
hushed—in eternal silence. Mr. Fagan's Mexican friends had
used this device to save his life. Some selfishness was mixed
with their friendship, for he was a fine blacksmith and wheel-
wright, and they could ill afford to lose his services. But had it
not been for the interposition of these Mexican friends he too
would have been one of the victims of the most barbarous treach-
ery and cruelty to be found in the annals of the world. "Good
in all and none all good," so again did a Mexican show kindness
to the enemies of his people. After the Fannin massacre he stole
away to the battle ground to see if perchance there might be any
left alive on the field. He found one man, Colonel Hunter, very
badly wounded, whom he took on his shoulder to the Coletto.
Afraid to keep him with him, he consulted with Mr. Sedick and
Dan Wright as to what should be done with him, as without at-
tention he would die. It was decided to conceal him in a field
near Mr. Wright's home, which was done, and Mrs. Wright,
5
grandmother of Mrs. Fox, of Victoria, fed and attended to his
wants until he had sufficiently recovered to go to his friends.
Colonel Hunter lived to tell the wondrous story of his escape
from death to children and grandchildren, for fifty years more
on earth were given him.
Mrs. Teal says that, just before Santa Anna was taken prisoner,
men mounted on fine horses rode through the country, crying:
"Run, run for your lives; Mexicans and Indians are coming, burn-
ing and killing as they come." A panic ensued; men, women
and children on foot, on horses, with or without saddles, fled the
country. She with others and with a child on her lap, made for
Sabine, riding all day over the prairie, through woods or water.
Many sickened and died on the road. They were met by a small
band who took their guns from them. The alarm given the set-
tlers proved to be a plan concocted to rob and pillage the coun-
try, which was done on a magnificent scale; as of all the cattle
owned by this colony, one cow only was left them, she proved
to be too refractory to drive. Mrs. Teal's party went further
east into Louisiana; their friends there convinced them that it
would be foolish to hasten home and find nothing to eat, and per-
suaded them to plant a crop there and raise corn to take back
with them, which course they followed, the wisdom of which was
proven to them on their return to their desolated homes. On her
way back, Mrs. Teal saw the genuine, famous "Jim Crow," was
in his tent, but said she was glad to get out of so filthy a place.
Going home she found a sister had died during her absence, and
her father almost alone in the country. The robbers were still
at work; she saw load after load of elegant, richly carved Mahog-
any furniture taken from the deserted homes of rich Mexicans.
Mrs. Teal enjoys recalling the jokes of old friends and yet
laughs heartily at a saying of one Jack Williamson, an Irishman,
who on his way to America met an old friend in London who
hailed and asked where he was from. Jack's answer was: "I am
from everywhere and will be from this place as soon as I
can cross that river." He wandered out to Texas and during
the war with Mexico acted as spy for the United States govern-
ment. To Mrs. Teal he left by will all his personal effects, his
"soldier rights" from beginning to end of war, auditor's scrips,
good as bank notes. To her brother, John Fagan, a quarter of
a league of land. Williamson died; his papers were left in hands
of a man who disappeared, so the legatees secured nothing from
his estate. Mr. Teal was left a large property by a will of his
uncle. Spurious heirs were brought into the country who claimed
the property and they contested the will. The case was carried into
court, where it staid for forty years before a settlement was brought
about. Thousands of dollars were spent on the case. The Teals
lost their home and many hundreds of acres of land, reclaiming
just one-half of the property. This long strife broke up the
friendship and peace of a once happy, peaceful neighborhood.
When Mrs. Catharino Allan was married in 1839, Mrs. Teal
dressed her for her wedding. During the Civil War, Mrs. Allan
being in the neighborhood, Mrs. T. rode over to visit this old
friend of her youth. As she had not seen her in several years,
she expected a cordial greeting, but was much distressed at her
cool reception. The dignified matron was so unlike the little fif-
teen-year-old bride she had helped to dress, Mrs. Teal did not
recognize in her an old friend, but supposed her to be one of the
"law-suit folks" who annoyed her so continually.
nursery tale, Father Weyer's recollections of the old country are
as fresh and green as his own Emerald Isle. Mr. Dennis O'Con-
nor, the big stockman, is a nephew of Mrs. T., his mother hav-
ing been her sister. Few people can claim to have lived under
five different governments, but England, United States, Mexico,
Republic of Texas and the Confederacy have all claimed Mrs.
Teal; her experiences have been many and varied; she has seen
much of the world--many people of many nations. She has
studied human nature in all its phases, under all circumstances,
and bitter as have been her experiences she has never lost faith in
God or man. It is wonderful to hear her relate incident after
incident, giving names of persons and place, dates, the year,
month or day without hesitation. She spent a day with the
writer not long since and she was surprised at her lively interest
in current events, her clear conceptions, thoughts so forcibly ex-
pressed, a vein of Irish humor running through her most serious
talk, then her laugh is as hearty and merry as a young girl's.
Indeed, the day was a most pleasant one, and the recurring
thought was, "what a wonderful woman!"
The many changes time has made in the sixty-eight years since
Mrs. Teal landed on Texas soil have never effaced from her mem-
ory the beautiful landscape her eyes rested upon as she neared
her future home on San Antonio River. So lovely was the scene
even the slow, toiling wagons moved too fast for her; she and her
father alighted and bade the others drive on while they drank in
the beauteous scene so new to them. She says: "O, it was Para-
dise ! such a beautiful country, green grass and trees in mid-win-
ter, horses running and playing over the vast prairies, deer graz-
ing quietly or peeping curiously through the bushes, while birds
were so numerous the very air seemed alive with them." They
came to a lake known as Mill Peat, the loveliest spot her eyes
ever rested on, the water of which was clear and deep, geese and
ducks swimming on the surface or diving underneath, Spanish
daggers growing singly or in groups all around the edge. Again
and again she repeats: "It was a beautiful country--a land flow-
ing with milk and honey; at peace with ourselves and all the
world, what more could we ask for? Until robbers came into the
country it was a happy, glorious time." Of all that happy little
colony, only Mrs. Teal herself, Mrs. Sidick, a half-sister, who still
lives in the old neighborhood, and John Teal, a brother-in-law,
who is almost a centenarian, whose home is in Tilden, Texas,
only these three are left. Mr. Teal, her husband, died in 1853.
Long past her three score years and ten, she is still a loved and
honored member of her daughter's (Mrs. M. Murphy) household.
Though she has lived in Victoria ten years she does not like town
life; she says she loves nature's works too well to enjoy looking at
houses only; she likes freedom, plenty of room, air and light. Of
her ten children, she has two, Mrs. Murphy, her daughter, and
her son, James. Her eldest son, Nicholas, contracted measles in
the army, was given a furlough and went home to die, living one
week after reaching his home. During the war, two other sons,
John and Willie, lay dead in the house at the same time. That
was a trying time to the mother; so few people in the country,
they had to be buried by kindred hands.
Her cup of sorrow was not yet full--soon after the close of the
war, her daughter, Rose, just budding into womanhood, sickened
and died. Another daughter, Mary, bade good-bye to the world
and went into the Convent at the Mission. She was later sent
to Galveston, when, on account of her failing health, she was
transferred to Fort Worth. Not regaining strength, she was sent
still further north into Missouri, where she died eight years ago.
Still again was this much bereaved mother called upon to part
with another beloved child. Four years since, after years of acute
suffering, her daughter, Kate, passed away. Ten children had
been given her, eight had been taken away, yet this Christian
mother murmured not, but silently bowed her head, saying:
"Thy will be done."
FOOTNOTES:
built a lovely little chapel at his ranch house, a few miles from the old
Fagan home, as a shrine for the old bell. It is still there. Dennis
O'Connor died in 1900.
of De Leon's son-in-law, Placedo Benevides.
son of Thomas, was born in 1839.
of the printers, Mrs. Teal has passed from earth forever. After three
weeks of suffering she died on the morning of June 24, 1897, at the home
of her daughter, Mrs. Murphy, of this city. Her patience during her
sickness was wonderful; no one of her nurses heard a murmur or com-
plaint from her lips, only when asked by her faithful physician or anxi-
ous friends, "how she felt," did she speak of her feelings, then would
give a quiet answer. She was perfectly rational to the end, responded
to the prayers said around her dying bed, held the crucifix in her hands
and raised it lovingly to her lips. She knew she was going, but had no
fears. As a little child lays its head on its mother's bosom and goes to
sleep, so she, with the same trusting love, fell asleep in the arms of her
Saviour.]
How to cite:
T. C. Allan, "Reminiscences of Mrs. Annie Fagan Teal", Volume 34, Number 4, Southwestern Historical Quarterly Online, http://www.tsha.utexas.edu/publications/journals/shq/online/v034/n4/contrib_DIVL4573.html
[Accessed Thu Dec 4 12:50:45 CST 2008]
