The Captured Read online

  The governor pro tempore of Texas, Albert C. Horton, realized that the racial problems in the state were potentially explosive. The Indian, Anglo, and Mexican inhabitants of Texas had enjoyed sporadically peaceful relations during the 1840s, but any balance they’d achieved had been both hard-won and fragile. On June 1, 1846, Hor-ton issued a proclamation imploring Texans to “abstain from trespassing” on debatable lands, that is, “all the territory above and bordering on our present Settlements.” Horton thought it was “of vital importance to the peace of our frontier” that “no collision should take place between our citizens” and the Native American tribes in Texas.3

  Horton’s proclamation came on the heels of an alarming development. Only three weeks earlier, a small group of German immigrants had started a new settlement called Fredericksburg on the southern fringe of Comanche hunting grounds.4 Most of the founders of the village were impoverished but industrious artisans and farmers who had left Germany for a number of reasons, including overpopulation, crop failures, and the desire to avoid conscription. They’d been lured to the wilderness of Texas by the enthusiastic promises of the Verein zum Schutze deutscher Einwanderer in Texas (Society for the Protection of German Immigrants in Texas), an organization of idealistic noblemen that brought more than seven thousand immigrants to start a colony in Texas between 1844 and 1846.

  The Germans hadn’t been in Fredericksburg long before a few Comanches ventured into their midst, observing the settlers with wary curiosity. The native people camped in the village and gaped at its inhabitants: strange, frightened, unhealthy men and women in comical attire, clearing timber in the heat of the day. To the Comanches, who were able to satisfy their own needs from the land without taming it, the Germans seemed pitiful and pigheaded, waging war on nature rather than simply enjoying its bounty. Their scraggly beards repelled the Comanches, whose own men fussed over their appearance and were careful to pluck all their facial hair. The Comanches also thought the white people had strong body odor.

  Before long the Comanches discovered that they could trade with the Germans. They brought fresh deer and buffalo meat into the village, which the Germans purchased “for the most trifling considerations.” They also sold the Germans horses, mules, deer hides, honey, and other goods. The trade that developed was enormously beneficial to the immigrants, who otherwise might have starved during that first miserable year.

  By founding Fredericksburg, the Germans had taken one tentative step over the line (which was still not officially defined) into Comanche territory. That was nothing compared to what they planned to do. The Society for the Protection of German Immigrants in Texas had purchased rights to settle German colonists throughout the Fisher-Miller Land Grant, a tract of over six thousand square miles of semiarid country in west central Texas. The grant was bounded by the Colorado River on the north and the Llano River on the south, extending westward from the junction of those two streams almost to the Pecos River. That land comprised the principal hunting grounds of the Penateka Comanches. Fredericksburg, located south of the grant, was merely a way station for German immigrants who intended to penetrate the vast expanse of Comanche land and make their homes there.

  Once they arrived in the Texas Hill Country, the Germans realized that they couldn’t go ahead with their plans for a colony unless they reached some sort of agreement with the dreaded Comanches. Timing was critical; the contract required the Germans to survey the grant by the first of September 1847. One immigrant, Alwin Sörgel, summed up the fears of many of his fellow colonists when he wrote: “What tribe the size of the Comanches has ever relinquished its hunting grounds without a fight so the white men can plow it or an increasing number of palefaces can kill off or drive away the wild life, their chief source of sustenance?… How are the Germans, unfamiliar with warfare, to resist them?”

  Since the Comanches could easily overrun and annihilate the small German settlements, diplomacy was the immigrants’ only option. On January 22, 1847, an expedition of about forty men left Fredericksburg to explore the wilderness north of the Llano River and try to meet with some Comanche leaders.5 For an interpreter, the Germans hired Lorenzo de Rozas, a Mexican who had been kidnapped by the Comanches as a child and was familiar with their ways. He was probably the first Indian captive the Germans ever met.

  Meanwhile, the Comanches kept a suspicious eye on the white men once they crossed the Llano River and entered the grant. On February 5, 1847, about seven or eight Comanches carrying a white flag approached the Germans’ camp. Their leader was Ketumsee, a minor Penateka chieftain who would later become a principal band chief. Wasting no time with pleasantries, he demanded to know what the Germans were doing there. He announced that he believed the white men had come to wage war. He pointed out that he had notified his distant kinsmen of this intrusion, and that the Germans were surrounded by throngs of armed Comanches.

  Comanche-German relations might have ended in a bloodbath right there. Fortunately for everyone involved, the German expedition was headed by a thirty-four-year-old aristocrat named John O. Meusebach, who was well aware of the Comanches’ skill in battle and also took a genuine interest in their culture. Remaining calm, he announced that the Germans had come in peace and brought presents, and that if the Comanches came to visit Fredericksburg, they would be shown the same hospitality the Germans expected from the Comanches.

  Ketumsee was satisfied with Meusebach’s response. He invited the Germans to visit his camp on the San Saba River and promised to summon other Comanche chiefs in the area to a large peace council. Two days later, the Germans reached Ketumsee’s village, far from any American settlement. Over the next few days, the Germans were immersed in Comanche society, which they found both captivating and appalling. One of them complained that the Comanches were “very untidy,” picking lice off one another and then eating them. The immigrants became seriously concerned about their food supply, for “when we prepared our meals, they crowded in with such a ravenous hunger that we could scarcely satisfy our own hunger.” However, they were favorably impressed by the Comanches’ ceremonial attire, which they described as “indeed beautiful and in good taste.” They also admired the comfort and functionality of their hosts’ buffalo-hide tepees, which they thought offered more protection against wintry gales than their own log cabins.

  While they were in Ketumsee’s camp, the Germans met two Indian captives. That experience left them shaken. The first was Warren Lyons, a young white man from Fayette County, Texas, who had spent nearly a decade with the Comanches.6 He could still speak some English. The Germans tried to persuade him to go back with them. However, according to Ferdinand von Roemer, a young German scientist who had joined the expedition to study the geology of the region, Lyons “did not entertain our proposition and assured us several times that he liked his present condition very much and that he had no desire to return to the pale faces.” With Warren Lyons was a Mexican boy of about eight, who was suffering pitifully from cold and hunger. He was obviously Lyons’s slave. Roemer asked Lyons how the boy had come to be with the tribe.

  Lyons replied quietly, “I caught him on the Rio Grande.”

  Roemer was stunned: “This was said in a tone of voice as if he were speaking of some animal.”

  Even the most benevolent whites believed that the ultimate goal of contact between European-Americans and Native Americans was to elevate the latter. Yet here was a white boy, raised in a civilized home, who clearly preferred the natives’ way of life. Even worse, Lyons had adopted Indian customs to the point of taking a captive of his own. For the German idealists who hoped to live as one with the Comanches in the wilderness, Warren Lyons, the strapping white Indian, provided a sobering warning of what that might mean. If the two peoples ever truly blended, the resulting culture might be more aboriginal than Teutonic.

  The peace council took place on March 1 and 2, 1847, in another Comanche village located in a serene valley on the lower San Saba River. From a distance, the arriving Germans thought
they were approaching an army camp. Between twelve hundred and fifteen hundred Comanches had gathered for the event. They’d set up a long string of tepees along the water in the shade of live oaks and pecan trees. Comanche men, women, and children ran to gawk at the Germans as they entered the village.

  When it came time for the solemn council, the Comanches arranged buffalo hides in a circle around a smoldering fire that would be used to light the peace pipe. John Meusebach represented the Germans. About twenty Penateka chiefs and headmen participated in the council, although Mopechucope, Santa Anna, and Pochanaquarhip (Buffalo Hump) were the primary spokesmen.

  Even though interpreters were present, the Comanches and the Germans didn’t communicate very well at the council. The problem wasn’t just the language barrier. As their remarks demonstrated, Indians and whites simply couldn’t understand one another’s ways of thinking. To start with, the two sides had very different ideas about who were the parties to their agreement. The Germans believed they were making a treaty with the “Comanche Nation.” There was no such thing. A Comanche chief only had the authority to speak for his group. The Germans didn’t understand that they were negotiating with the Penatekas, their nearest Comanche neighbors, and no one else.

  Meusebach got the council started on the right foot by telling the Comanches that the Germans were “united with the Americans; they are our brothers and all of us live under the same great father, the President.” Since he was still new to Texas, Meusebach may not have fully realized how fortuitous it was that he’d chosen the word “Americans” rather than “Texans.” The Comanches hated the Texans, whom they thought were treacherous murderers and land-grabbers, but they were willing to negotiate with the Americans. They didn’t fully grasp that the Texans had recently become Americans themselves.

  The terms of the Comanche-German agreement were simple, covering only a few basic points:

  The Germans were free to visit any part of the land grant between the Llano and San Saba Rivers.

  The Comanches were free to visit the German communities.

  The Comanches would not disturb the fledgling German settlement on the Llano River.

  Each side would help the other fend off marauding tribes and bring criminals to justice.

  The Comanches would allow the Germans to survey the uninhabited parts of the grant.

  The Germans would give the Comanches $3,000 worth of presents.

  Both sides would work to maintain peaceful relations.7

  The Comanches still had strong misgivings about settlers building homes inside the grant, their hunting ground. Meusebach assured them that he was not trying to force them from their land; the Germans and Comanches would live side by side. However, these promises of peaceful coexistence didn’t alleviate the Comanches’ true fear: farmers, by their mere presence, tended to drive out the wild game. Even though the Comanches might benefit marginally from trade with the settlers, they would gain no real advantage from sharing their territory with the Germans if that meant losing the buffalo and the deer.

  Meusebach more effectively allayed their fears by telling them that the amount of land the Germans needed was small, and that they would confine their settlements to the area along the Llano River, the southern edge of Penateka hunting grounds. Still, Mopechucope replied: “There is one thing which does not please my heart, if you set your wigwams along the water you call Llano.” He said he would need to consult with all his men before he could give a firm reply.

  Mopechucope went on to say, “I know that the people who call themselves Texans wish to draw a line of distinction between us and the pale faces.” Apparently, he was referring to his earlier discussions with Sam Houston about a boundary line across Texas, a line the Comanches still wanted for their own protection. Mopechucope would need to confer with other Comanche chiefs to see if they thought the proposed German settlements would interfere with the establishment of an acceptable dividing line.

  The Germans, misunderstanding Mopechucope’s remark, thought he was referring to a line of racial segregation rather than territorial demarcation. Meusebach replied: “I do not scorn the red brothers because they have a darker color, and do not regard the whites as noble because they are lighter in color. If our great father and president wishes to draw a line of distinction, let him do so. We shall not see the distinction because we are brothers and wish to live together as brothers.” The Germans went to great lengths to assure the chiefs that they regarded the native people as equals, not realizing that the Comanches’ real concern was land, not bigotry.

  Meusebach made a bolder suggestion, one that may have shocked some of his white colleagues: “After our people and yours have lived together for a time, it may happen that some will want to intermarry.” The chiefs didn’t respond to this proposal. They may have found it embarrassing, even offensive. Comanches normally didn’t condescend to marry people from outside the tribe, nor did they welcome adult white males into their families. Meusebach then qualified his proposal: “Soon our young warriors will speak your language and, if they are so inclined and can reach an agreement to marry, I know of no objections.” He made it clear that he was referring to his “warriors,” German men, taking Comanche brides and bringing them to the German settlements—not to German women going to live with native men in Comanche camps. The Germans had seen Warren Lyons and his Mexican captive; they knew what could happen to white people who lived too long among the Comanches.

  The strong personal bonds formed at the council of March 1847 would be more effective in keeping the peace than the actual terms of the agreement. The men primarily responsible for the treaty all hoped their very different peoples could coexist without either having to forgo its way of life, but that wasn’t really possible. Among the Germans, the only observer who took a clear-eyed, unsentimental look at the Comanches’ prospects for the future was the young scientist, Ferdinand von Roemer. After returning to Germany, he wrote in 1849:

  It is apparent that Indians of Texas, as well as the Red Race in North America, will be driven from their homes and eventually be exterminated. The most beautiful lands have already been taken from them, and restlessly moving forward, the white, greedy conqueror is stretching forth his hand to take their new hunting ground also.… The Comanches very likely will hold out longest in their stony plateau. The prevailing unfertility of the soil and the inaccessibility of their homes will serve to protect them more against extermination than their number and warlike disposition.8

  The treaty got off to a rocky start once the Germans began surveying the land grant. Around July 13, 1847, the leader of the surveying party went to check on four of his men who were working along the Llano River. All he found at their camp were their hats and the tracks of several horses. Afraid that the Indians had captured them, he immediately gave the alarm. Before the Germans could determine what had happened to the four missing surveyors, the Comanche chief Santa Anna, whose people had frequently paid friendly visits to the surveyors’ camps, inexplicably told them that they must leave. He said that his men wouldn’t allow any further surveys. Shortly afterward, he left the region “very suddenly and under suspicious circumstances with all the women and children of his tribe,” heading north at a rapid pace.

  The Germans were worried that their peace treaty had failed. Meusebach reportedly raised a militia of about sixty men to go into the grant and protect the surveyors if necessary. Two companies of Texas Rangers were stationed near Fredericksburg, prepared for an all-out war.

  In August Santa Anna returned to Fredericksburg expressing “every disposition to be friendly with the white people.” He wanted to explain his sudden departure the month before. At the time he’d delivered his threat to the surveyors, he wasn’t aware that four members of their party were missing. Later, when he heard about their disappearance and learned that the Texas Rangers were heading for Freder-icksburg, he realized that his people were prime suspects. He decided to move his women and children to a safe place until he could cle
ar the air.

  Santa Anna also brought tragic news. He reported that he had visited a camp of Waco Indians, who were holding a ceremonial dance around the scalps of the four surveyors. The Wacoes later denied this, protesting that none of their people had been in the region at the time. Instead, they blamed the Comanches. A cynical Houston journalist harrumphed that both tribes “are so treacherous that it is difficult to decide whether they depend upon their innocence or upon their adroitness in lying to exculpate themselves in this instance.”9

  Aside from this one tragedy in the summer of 1847, the arrangement between the Comanches and the Germans worked admirably, if not perfectly. The Comanches brought buffalo hides and tanned deerskins to Fredericksburg to trade for manufactured goods. Santa Anna and his brother, Sanaco, who later became a major war chief, were frequent visitors in the German village during 1847. The Comanche women constructed drums from leftover German cheese containers. Comanche children played with those of the immigrants and helped them gather acorns for their coffee.

  Although the Germans spoke glowingly of the Comanches as a people, most of them didn’t really enjoy dealing with the tribesmen one on one. Peace treaty or not, a Comanche warrior was still plenty frightening up close. The Germans were also irritated when the Comanches would show up at mealtime and expect unlimited hospitality, or when their women and children would pilfer small articles that the settlers could scarcely afford to replace. Clara Feller, who was living in Fredericksburg at the time, related a typical story: “The rascals had a habit of taking whatever they could easily get away with and not even returning thanks for it. One day while I was at home alone, in walked a big buck Indian. I had just made a successful bake of bread and was exceedingly proud of it.… The big scamp sized up everything, spied my bread, picked it up and walked off with it. My fear turned to helpless rage, to all of which the Indian paid no more attention than if I had been a bird chirping in a bush.”10