Goliad II

In my last post I talked about the Misión Nuestra Señora del Espíritu Santo de Zúñiga at Goliad. You can see the whole mission and even hike the nature trail in one morning, and then drive five minutes back to downtown for lunch next to town hall:

This leaves plenty of time in the afternoon to see Presido La Bahía, which is just a little down the road from the mission. In fact, you can see the mission from the presido parking lot:

The proximity surprises me a little. Although a presidio's purpose was to protect a mission, the padres often saw the soldiers themselves as the biggest threat. They feared that the soldiers would seduce or otherwise corrupt their neophytes, and probably with good reason. This would at least explain why the mission and the presidio had separate chapels: Spanish theater is full of romantic intrigues in churches. The presidio's chapel is both lovely and imposing.

It certainly looks more fortress-like than the mission chapel, but this may simply be because the foundation that maintains it has chosen not to restore the outer coating of adobe and whitewash. The rest of the compound, however, is unmistakably designed for defense.

The front entrance contains a museum that is mostly dedicated to La Bahía's place in Anglo-Texan history: the massacre of Colonel Fannin's troops. Although, as I mentioned in the previous post, I wish that there were more of a political and economic will to preserve sites for their Spanish heritage, I was impressed with this museum's relatively nuanced look at the Texas Revolution. There was some attention paid to the bigger picture of what was going on in Mexican politics at the time.

The foundation that maintains this site is a Catholic organization, so it is no surprise that they keep the presidio chapel in working condition.

The chapel wings, however, are used as additional museum space. Here is the bell that used to hang in the bell tower:

Across the street from the presidio is a replica of the home where Ignacio Zaragoza was born.

If that name doesn't ring a bell for you, you are not alone. Many North Americans mistakenly believe that Cinco de Mayo is Mexican independence day. It is in fact a celebration of Mexico's victory against the French at the Battle of Puebla in 1862. Ignacio Zaragoza was the general who led the Mexican forces to victory at that battle. Since he was born in what is now the United States, Cinco de Mayo has become a celebration of Mexican American culture. Near the replica of his first home is a monument to him:

The inscription, in typically romantic spirit, reads "Mexicans: the children of this generation were born free. We shall remain so or die demanding it."

Goliad is a small town but well worth the visit. It is also only about 1 1/2 hours from Corpus Christi, which, although lacking in missions, is rich in maritime history from almost the earliest days of Spanish exploration in the New World. More about that in the next post.

Goliad Part I

I may be a little cynical, but I can't help but think that much of the preservation efforts in the San Antonio missions have little to do with interest in our country's Hispanic heritage and a great deal to do with the Alamo's centrality to the Texas Revolution. Event though I don't have any love for the dictator/general Santa Anna and think he deserved to be humiliated at San Jacinto, I'm bothered that for so many the story of the Alamo has been reduced to a simple narrative of Anglo courage in the face of Mexican brutality, and that this narrative has become the primary draw for tourists in San Antonio. On the other hand, I'm glad that the Alamo and other Spanish missions there have been preserved and curated, so I guess I have to accept the reasons. I just wish that something important to the Texas Revolution had happened at the site of the original mission in Nacogdoches to that we could have a museum instead of an Auto Zone there.

"Remember the Alamo" is actually not the complete rallying cry for the "Texians" at San Jacinto; they also had the the massacre at Goliad fresh in their minds as they stormed Santa Anna's camp. Apparently the Mexican army had taken captive Colonel Fannin and his forces in the Battle of Coleto, and then Santa Anna had had them all executed. Here is a monument to them just outside of town:

Just as with the Alamo in San Antonio, the centrality of the Spanish sites in Goliad to the Texas Revolution has been a factor in motivating the government and private foundations to take an interest in their preservation, which is something to be grateful for.

Goliad itself is a small and pleasant town with a touristy central square where you can eat at the Blue Quail Deli between sightseeing. There are two main sites of interest there: Misión Nuestra Señora del Espíritu Santo de Zúñiga and the presidio that protected it, Presidio La Bahía. Both were moved there in 1747 from their previous locations, first at Matagorda Bay, then later in the area of what is now nearby Victoria. The mission is now part of a state park that also includes nature trails and campgrounds. It was abandoned around 1830, disintegrated into ruins, and was eventually restored and even partially reconstructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps. The result is exquisitely photogenic:

I was surprised at the recent whitewashing that had been done, because most of the pictures that I had seen before the trip showed it as gray and old-looking. I imagine that this restoration gives a fairly accurate idea of what the church would have looked like when the mission was operating. Here is model from the museum that I assume is based on historical and archaeological evidence:

Some of these buildings are still in ruins, but several have been converted into museum space. I was surprised that the chapel itself, although state property, has been restored as a functioning church. It is easy to see how the neophytes would have felt reverence in this place:

And I'm sure that the little memento moris right outside the chapel just added to the sense of awe:

I, however, felt the most awe-inspired by a small corner of the granary that is left unrestored to show how it was two hundred years ago:

The priests' quarters also have at least the appearance of originality, although I'm sure that there has been considerable renovation:

This iron work, for example, cannot possible be original, but it is quite lovely:

As I mentioned before, the mission is part of a state park that is actually quite appealing in its own right. There is a well-maintained nature trail that can be traversed in about twenty minutes:

This stone structure is on that trail. I meant to ask the rangers what it was, but I forgot to. It appears to be a chimney of some sort, but I don't know if it's from the Spanish era or just something build by the CCC or park service.

In the next post I'll talk about the Presidio La Bahía, which is literally just down the road from the mission.

Misión San Francisco de los Tejas

Texas highway 21 follows the route of the old San Antonio Road, also called El Camino Real de los Tejas. This road connected places like Natchitoches, Nacogdoches, and San Antonio with the road systems in Mexico.  If you follow it west from Nacogdoches, there are a number sites of interest along the way, including the Caddo Mounds near Alto, and Mission Tejas State Park, near Weches.

The justification for this park is the supposition that the first Spanish mission in East Texas, San Francisco de los Tejas, was located in this general area. 

It is not surprising that the precise location is unknown, since the mission was little more than a few log structures. We don't know exactly what any of these structures would have looked like, but there is a small log chapel there to help us imagine:

As you can see, the natural setting is rather stunning, especially in autumn. 

If the building is not really Spanish colonial, it's at least interesting. Notice the hatchet-style door handle:

The interior is charmingly rustic. 

As, you can see, there is space for worship services and other meetings. I imagine that it would be hard to fall asleep on those log benches! I'd like to someday convince some of my students to come out here and put on short plays from the Spanish Golden Age for campers. Since the original mission was established during the seventeenth century, I think it would be appropriate to give people a little taste of the entertainment of the period.

The builders of this replica obviously had some fun with it. Notice the image of a dove that appears in the masonry of the mantel:

No park in Texas is complete without a "lone star." This one is on the floor at the entrance to the log chapel:

There is at least one authentic Spanish construction in the park: a stretch of the original Camino Real that you can walk on.

For those who would rather fish, there is a little pond full of bream:

Finally, there is also a bit of authentic nineteenth-century Anglo-Texas history in this park. 

This is the Rice family home. Apparently they were involved in logging. The home was moved here at some point from its original location.

Even if the original site of San Francisco de los Tejas is unknown, Mission Tejas State Park is a fantastic place to imagine what it would have been like for the Spanish friars to try to establish a mission in an endless forest. I can't think of a better reason to visit a park. 

Los Ojos de Padre Margil

It has been quite a busy month since I last had time to post something! I presented a conference paper on Sor Juana at SFA's Latin American Studies conference, then another on Cervantes at the South Central MLA convention in Fort Worth. Not to mention all of the grading. My reward for enduring so many twelve-hour workdays was to make return trips to some of the interesting sites nearby. Today I'll write about Los Ojos de Padre Margil here in Nacogdoches, and next time I'll share some pictures of Mission Tejas State Park.

Padre Margil was quite a dynamic figure who founded several missions in Texas, including Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe de los Nacogdoches in 1716. Apparently, there was a drought going on that dried up the two creeks that frame Nacogdoches, Banita and La Nana. The story goes that Padre Margil, Moses-like, struck the bank of La Nana creek with a staff twice and water started to flow from those two spots. These new springs came to be known as Los Ojos de Padre Margil (The Eyes of Father Margil).

I of course wanted to go visit the site of this miracle that saved the first European settlement in the place where I now live. This proved a little trickier than I had anticipated. I found the registry of historical markers online, which indicated that it was located at the bridge over La Nana creek on Park Street. The marker was indeed there, next to an old African American cemetery. Down on the creek, however, I couldn't see anything that appeared to be a spring. I assumed that much had changed in the last 300 years and left it at that.

Months later I decided to take the kids to El Camino Real park on Main Street, where Liberty Hall is located.

I discovered that, behind that park, there is another park called Margil Park.

This was a surprise, since we were several blocks from the historical marker at Park St. Then I found another historical marker.

This location proved to be a lot more convincing. It's not actually on the creek, but it is easy to see that it once ran through there. There is a small pond fed by two springs on a small bluff next to it.

The city has built a pleasant walkway that goes over the springs.

Unfortunately, this walkway partially obscures the springs themselves!

Here are some views of the springs from the other side of the pond:

As I've mentioned before, I am not a trained archaeologist or historian, so I really don't if the real site of the Ojos is at Margil park or on Park St.  Please comment if you know more about it. But I do know that Margil park is one of the loveliest places to visit in Nacogdoches.