The Marqués de Rubí arrives at Los Adaes (DRAWING BY JACK JACKSON)
HARSH INSPECTOR AND FATHER OF EAST TEXAS
The Marqués de Rubí was a Spanish official sent to Texas in the late 1760s. His goal was to inspect the province known then as Tejas and to recommend ways for the king of Spain to save money. At this time, the presidio of Los Adaes, located in present-day Louisiana, was the capital of Texas. Nearby were three missions that were first set up by the Domingo Ramón-St. Denis expedition of 1717–1718.
As perhaps you remember from Chapter 8, the three missions were closed as a result of the Chicken War between France and Spain in 1719. The Marqués de Aguayo then refounded the missions and established the Los Adaes presidio in the early 1720s. Since that time, relations had improved greatly between Spain and France. In fact, the two countries became close allies against the English in America. In 1762 Louisiana passed from the French to the Spanish, so there certainly was no longer a threat from that territory. To the king of Spain, there seemed little reason to keep these expensive outposts, which were hundreds of miles from San Antonio. But what about Spaniards living on farms and ranches in the piney woods of East Texas and western Louisiana? Could they stay in their homes?
It may seem strange that a king in far-off Spain could tell Spaniards where they could live in America and where they could not. This, however, is exactly what happened. As a result of the Rubí inspection, everyone living near the presidio and three missions had orders to leave and move to San Antonio.
This chapter explains how recommendations by Rubí and the king’s orders upset the lives of many people, and how Antonio Gil Ibarvo gave these same people new hope. Rubí caused Spaniards to be “combed” out of East Texas. Ibarvo, by finding a way to win back their farms and ranches, became known as the Father of East Texas.
Just listing the seven names of this harsh Spanish inspector gives you an idea of his importance. He was Cayetano María Pignatelli Rubí Corbera y San Climent, as well as Marqués de Rubí. Born in Barcelona, Spain, around 1725, Rubí was the son of powerful Spanish nobles. His father was a three-star general in the king’s army; his mother was the second Marquesa de Rubí.
As a boy, young Cayetano liked math and science, and he had a quick mind. Perhaps because of his noble background and good education, Rubí often appeared cold to those who knew him. When he became an adult, people remarked unfavorably on his personality and commented that he was a man more to be feared than loved. It seems that the marqués was undiplomatic (blunt) but a totally honest man. What is certain is that he could not overlook dishonesty in others. People in Texas came to hate Rubí, but then he was not there to please them. His purpose was to serve the king first and foremost. Traveling with don Cayetano was a mapmaker and engineer named Nicolás de Lafora, who was just as blunt and sharp-tongued as Rubí.
Rubí was about forty-two years of age when he arrived at the Los Adaes presidio in 1767. His king had ordered don Cayetano to inspect all presidios on New Spain’s northern frontier. These military posts were scattered from the Gulf of California in the west to Los Adaes in the east. Especially important was how to protect Spanish Louisiana. Also important was what to do about Texas, now that Louisiana would act as a buffer and protect it from invasion.
An older problem was what to do about Indians who attacked Spanish settlements. These attacks took place all along the northern frontier. The raids by Native Americans killed civilians and drove off their livestock. In the minds of Spanish officials, the Lipan Apaches were the worst of all the raiders.
Rubí had started his tour in the western region of the frontier in 1766. From there he worked his way east so that Texas was one of the last provinces he visited. He was well aware that Texas had not been visited by a royal official since the Pedro de Rivera inspection in the late 1720s. Perhaps it was not surprising to him that there were problems that needed correction.
Over the previous forty years, military commanders at Texas’s presidios had been guilty of serious abuses. Instead of paying their soldiers in cash, they paid them only in food and clothing. In doing so, the poor presidio soldier was charged much more than the true value of the items. He was always in debt to his commander, because his wages amounted to less than the cost of goods supplied to him. Furthermore, no soldier could leave his post without his captain’s permission. Life for the common soldier was one of poor food, bad clothing, and hard labor that generally lasted until his death.
Rubí had entered Texas in the west, so that one of the first presidios to be inspected was Felipe de Rábago’s old garrison at San Sabá. The inspector did not like what he found there. He thought the buildings were badly constructed. The fort was “as barbarous as the enemy [Indians] who attack it.” He would later report that San Sabá served no more useful purpose than “a ship anchored in mid-Atlantic would afford in preventing foreign trade with America.”
But Rubí did like the presidio at San Antonio. He also liked the appearance of the five missions there with their large number of Indian neophytes (religious beginners). As it turned out, this was just about his last favorable impression of things he saw in Texas.
When Rubí reached the mission at present-day Nacogdoches, he could hardly believe his eyes. The priest there had nothing to do. Don Cayetano remarked that for forty-six years missionaries at this religious outpost had “little more to do than baptize a few of the dying [Indians].” Nicolás Lafora was equally unimpressed. He claimed there was not one Indian living at the mission, nor had there ever been one.
Father Antonio Margil’s old mission near present-day San Augustine, Texas, did not appear any better to either Rubí or Lafora than the one they had just visited. Worse, in Rubi’s words, the two priests there “hid themselves upon our arrival” and refused to talk to him. Lafora thought things to be actually worse there, because the king had to pay the salary of two priests rather than just one.
The mission near the Los Adaes presidio was the third one that Rubí visited in East Texas. The two Franciscan priests at this location had accomplished “as little as those two previously cited [mentioned], for there is not one single Indian in the mission.”
Rubí also described the people living near Los Adaes, which was then the capital of Texas. There were only twenty-five families located on “little ranches … cleared of trees and brush for that purpose.” Crops grown without irrigation were so poor that the settlers did not have enough to eat. Worse, the water wells were so bad that they hardly provided enough volume for drinking.
Rubí next inspected a presidio and mission located on the lower Trinity River. While traveling there, he and Lafora ran into heavy rains that turned the lowlands into swamps “in which horses sank up to their chests.” The presidio had the worst location in all of Texas. Heat and humidity along the Gulf Coast made it impossible to store food for more than a few hours without it spoiling. The nearby mission likewise contained not a single Indian neophyte.
At La Bahía, Rubí finally found another presidio that he liked. He approved of its location and the condition of the buildings. At nearby Mission Espíritu Santo, the inspector found the first Indians living among priests since he left San Antonio several weeks before. Most of the neophytes were Karankawas and other tribes from along the Gulf Coast.
From La Bahía, Rubí and Lafora set out for Laredo, which had been founded about a dozen years earlier by one of José de Escandón’s officers. This poor settlement contained only “twelve huts made of branches and leaves.” It left the inspector and his engineer wondering how people could live under such miserable conditions in what was called a villa, or small town.
When he left Texas, Rubí traveled to San Juan Bautista, south of the Río Grande. There he inspected the gateway presidio and found it to be in good order. In the following weeks, the Marqués de Rubí made the long journey back to Mexico City. During his inspection, don Cayetano had spent twenty-three months on the northern frontier, and he had covered some 7,600 miles!
In the capital of New Spain, Rubí set to work. His report on the northern frontier would be sent to the king, who was always eager to save money. Don Cayetano thought the twenty-three presidios he had inspected to be largely worthless. In Texas, for example, he would keep only the ones at San Antonio and La Bahía.
Rubí also asked why missions that cost the king a lot money should be kept open when they contained not a single Indian. Outposts such as those in East Texas and on the lower Trinity River should be closed as soon as possible. He also recommended that the capital of Texas be moved to San Antonio, along with all the settlers living in East Texas and western Louisiana.
During his inspection, don Cayetano had closely studied the Indians of Texas. He believed that, of all Native Americans, the Lipan Apaches were the greatest problem for Spain. They did not keep their promises to Spaniards, they were known to be thieves, and they belonged to a warlike tribe. Indeed, Rubí told his king that these Indians must be made to change their ways or suffer harsh punishments for not doing so.
Since Rubí did not really think that the Lipans would ever behave as the Spaniards wished, he advised that Spain form alliances or sign treaties with their enemies—the Comanches and Nations of the North. If this happened, the Apaches would be caught in a huge trap. Their Indian enemies would be in the north, while Spanish soldiers would be in the south. At some point the Lipans would have to surrender. Since the Spanish could never trust them, these Native Americans should not be placed in missions on the frontier. Instead, the Spaniards should move them from their native lands and send them far into the interior of New Spain.
After finishing his report, the Marqués de Rubí sailed to Spain from Veracruz in July 1768. In Europe he was in a position to explain and defend his suggestions for changes on the northern frontier, including Texas. Four years would pass before King Charles III decided what to do. His decision came in September 1772, and it had really important results for the future Lone Star State.
The king decided that the presidios at San Sabá and Los Adaes, as well as the one on the lower Trinity River, must be closed and the soldiers removed “at once.” The missions near these forts and “others that are maintained without any Indians in the shadow of the … presidios” were also to be eliminated immediately. “The few settlers who live around them” were to be moved to San Antonio. There every effort should be made to find land for them to farm and houses to live in, although no property could be taken from the five missions or settlers already at Béxar.
The viceroy of New Spain and the governor of Texas had to carry out the king’s orders. At San Antonio, Governor Barón de Ripperdá had the unhappy job of traveling to East Texas with the bad news. He had to inform the priests and settlers that they must give up their missions, farms, and ranches. Ripperdá did not want to do this, but he had no choice.
During his years as governor of Texas, Barón de Ripperdá had come to like the people living in the piney woods near modern Nacogdoches and Los Adaes. He knew that they had carved their farms and ranches out of the wilderness. He also knew that they were families who had lived in that frontier area of Texas for fifty years. He had also come to know and like Antonio Gil Ibarvo, the most famous and best-known man in East Texas and western Louisiana.
Born at Los Adaes in 1729 to Mathieu Antonio and Juana Hernández Ibarvo, young Antonio grew up among the French, Spanish, and Indian population of the region. He became a rancher-trader as an adult, and his business practices sometimes landed him in trouble. Other difficulties for don Antonio came from his wife, María Padilla, who was not always faithful to her husband. You will read her story later on, in Chapter 16.
In an earlier chapter, we mentioned that trade between Spanish Texas and French Louisiana was not permitted by the king of Spain. At the same time, individual settlers could not carry on direct trade with the Indians. The purpose of restrictions on trade with the French was to protect the king’s economic interests in America, a policy known as mercantilism. Equally important, by prohibiting trade with the Indians, Spain hoped to force Native Americans to give up their way of life and enter the missions, where they would receive gifts and instruction in the Catholic faith. The Spanish hoped that someday these neophytes would become tax-paying citizens, just like Spaniards.
Both goals had failed badly in East Texas. Settlers, when hungry, traded furs and buffalo hides to the French for food. As for the missions, Rubí and Lafora pointed out that they had not attracted even one Indian in all their years on the frontier.
Gil Ibarvo was the very best (or worst) at bending or actually breaking Spanish laws. At his ranch, called El Lobanillo (The Wart), he carried on trade with Indians, and he also traded with the French until Louisiana became a Spanish colony in the 1760s. Once Spain took hands-on control of Louisiana in 1769, Gil Ibarvo became a frequent visitor in New Orleans. While there, he was arrested. In his possession were horses and mules stolen from various missions and presidios, including San Sabá, La Bahía, and Béxar. Clearly, don Antonio had acquired these animals from Indian raiders.
For this offense, Gil Ibarvo was imprisoned for seven months. He was finally released, thanks to the efforts of his friend Governor Barón de Ripperdá of Texas. In fact, Ripperdá and Gil Ibarvo were on such good terms that the governor used the East Texan to illegally acquire hard-to-come-by items not found on New Spain’s northern frontier.
So it was difficult for Governor Ripperdá to have to carry bad news to Gil Ibarvo and others in East Texas. It was nevertheless his sad responsibility to tell the settlers that they must give up their homes and move to San Antonio where they would be strangers. Just imagine an order today from the president of the United States telling Texas ranchers that they must give up their land and move to Oklahoma! Well, of course, that cannot happen under our present system of government. In Spanish Texas, it could and did happen in 1773. The king’s orders had to be obeyed.
The settlers in East Texas were given only five days to prepare for the long march to San Antonio. Since the order came in June, they had no opportunity to gather their spring crops, and there was little time to round up scattered livestock. For some, the thought of leaving their homes for an uncertain future at San Antonio was just too awful to accept. Perhaps thirty-five settlers at Los Adaes fled into the woods, where they lived with their Indian friends. It seems an equal number did the same thing near Nacogdoches. But about four hundred East Texans did what the king ordered. They packed their most valuable possessions, left their houses and fields, and joined the march to Béxar.
Because they had such a short time to get ready for the long march, the East Texans did not have much food to take along. They also had not had time to round up their best horses. Lack of rain and summer heat made them miserable at first, and then hard rains and swollen rivers made their trek even more difficult. Ten children died on the march, and most of the adults had to travel on foot until they reached the Brazos River.
At the Brazos, the footsore East Texans did better. Governor Ripperdá had sent them fresh horses to aid their travel on to Béxar, where they arrived on September 26. In all, more than thirty lost their lives on the ninety-day journey, and thirty more would soon die of illnesses caused by the march.
Although the king had ordered that these East Texas refugees be given new lands, the best farms and ranches had already been claimed for miles around San Antonio. No East Texas families wanted to live isolated by themselves, where they might be easy targets for Apache and Comanche arrows. Within eight days, seventy-eight men signed a petition (request) asking Governor Ripperdá to let them return to their homes in the piney woods. The baron was truly sympathetic but could do nothing—his hands were tied by orders of the king and the viceroy in Mexico City.
Antonio Gil Ibarvo’s name appears first on the list of seventy-eight signatures, and it seems likely that he wrote the petition himself. Don Antonio then asked the governor if he and another East Texan could carry their petition all the way to the capital in Mexico, some nine hundred miles away. Ripperdá agreed.
Joining Gil Ibarvo was Gil Flores and an important chieftain named Texita, a Tejas Indian who wanted the Spanish back in East Texas. The three men left Béxar in December for a two-month trek in the dead of winter. They reached Mexico City in February and arranged a meeting with the viceroy, Antonio María de Bucareli.
Viceroy Bucareli listened as the three men begged for permission to return to their homes. He then asked a junta (special committee) to give its advice. Its members saw the advantage of keeping in close contact with the Tejas, and the viceroy agreed. However, there was the matter of illegal trade between the settlers and Indians, as well as foreign agents operating at Natchitoches. Since Gil Ibarvo was perhaps most guilty of smuggling and engaging in illegal trade, this was a big concern.
The final decision was less than the three had hoped for but still something of a victory. Yes, the East Texans could return, but they could settle no closer than one hundred leagues (about 260 miles) from Natchitoches. This they could do immediately. In the meantime, the viceroy would write to Charles III with the hope that the king would agree to this compromise (middle course of action). As it turned out, the king and his advisers did not object.
The two Spaniards thanked the viceroy for giving them some money to live on in the capital, for they had none. They then hurried back to San Antonio with exciting news—the East Texans could at least go halfway home. Always looking for an edge, Gil Ibarvo asked Ripperdá if he could return to his ranch, El Lobonillo. But the Wart Ranch was too close to Natchitoches, and the governor of Texas could not change the viceroy’s orders.
The East Texans could, however, set up a town on the Trinity River at a place known as Paso Tomás. The new settlement would be named Nuestra Señora del Pilar de Bucareli. Part of the name, of course, honored Viceroy Bucareli who had made it all possible.
The new villa (town) was never very successful. It lasted for only five years. During that time, the settlers always hoped to return to their original homes to the east. Then, in 1779, they had a good excuse to move. In February of that year, much of the villa was washed away in a flood that also drowned most of the cattle. The finishing blow came when Comanches attacked the town and drove off the last of the cattle.
Everyone then moved east to the location of modern-day Nacogdoches, which they reached toward the end of April 1779. Not much was left at the old mission, where no one had lived for six years. The few broken-down buildings were quickly patched and then jammed with people anxious to have a roof over their heads. Unfortunately, the East Texans could not get a crop in the ground or scratch out gardens until May. So the first year there was one of hunger and discomfort.
Antonio Gil Ibarvo took charge of establishing good relations with the Indians, who helped the settlers get through the winter. In the following year, don Antonio remembered well the hunger of that first experience at Nacogdoches. To store food and supplies, don Antonio began construction of a large stone house that served as a granary. This building, now called the Old Stone Fort, is still in Nacogdoches and is one of the few buildings in Texas that date from the Spanish period.
Gil Ibarvo became lieutenant governor of Nacogdoches and chief judge of criminal cases in October 1779. In the following year, he was appointed as a judge in charge of handling smuggled goods. When one considers his past record as a trader in East Texas, this was like choosing a fox to guard a henhouse! In the years to come, he would be accused of illegally trading with Americans east of the Mississippi River.
Don Antonio served as lieutenant governor for a dozen years. In looking at his governorship, one gets an interesting view of what life was like in a raw East Texas town. By looking at the laws that he drafted, you can know the kinds of illegal activities that concerned this Nacogdoches official.
Gil Ibarvo noted that “crimes of every description” were occurring, and “disorders of all kinds” were spreading “amongst persons of both sexes.” To deal with such lawless behavior, the lieutenant governor issued fifty-four laws. They prohibited swearing in public, saying unkind things about the king, setting fires, and committing murders. The punishment for murder was being hanged and quartered (carved into four pieces). Other offenses covered by law included practicing witchcraft, dueling, mistreating women, breaking and entering houses, stealing livestock, breaking out of jail, resisting arrest, drinking and gambling, conducting illegal lotteries, protecting criminals, failing to clean soot from one’s chimney once every fifteen days (to prevent houses from catching on fire), and selling liquor to Indians.
Despite laws that seemed to cover every possible offense, Gil Ibarvo had trouble keeping order in Nacogdoches. His records show that he had to deal with a master criminal and escape artist named Juan José Peña. Like many lawbreakers, Peña had various aliases (fake names), including the Little Braggart and Sky-Blue Breeches.
Peña first appeared in Nacogdoches in 1789 when he robbed a trader and stole six horses from different owners. Caught by hunters, he was brought before don Antonio, who placed him in handcuffs and leg irons. The Little Braggart broke loose, stole a gun and another horse, and then killed a milk cow. While still on the loose, Peña mistreated an Indian woman. Other Indians came to her aid, captured the criminal, and turned him over to Gil Ibarvo for punishment.
This time, the judge placed Peña in stocks (a wooden frame with holes for securing ankles and sometime wrists), added ball and chains, and then placed him inside the town jail! In Gil Ibarvo’s words, “By some miraculous way he escaped again.” Once again, the arch criminal committed crime after crime—including stealing three horses. But he was soon captured and turned over to don Antonio, who threw him in jail. Several days later, in Gil Ibarvo’s words, “By the same miracles that freed him before, he once more evaded the law.”
Antonio Gil Ibarvo punishes juan josé Peña (DRAWING BY JACK JACKSON)
Bent on revenge, for he had made public threats against the lieutenant governor, Peña broke into Gil Ibarvo’s house at night. Luckily, don Antonio was awake and drove the Little Braggart from his sleeping quarters. However, he could not catch the housebreaker, who fled into the country. With the help of citizens from Nacogdoches, Gil Ibarvo again caught this arch criminal. On this occasion, he said, he “took particular care that the thief was securely detained.” Yet Peña escaped again, and stole three horses before he was again arrested!
More than a little angry, Gil Ibarvo “took the greatest precaution of placing the evildoer in double handcuffs and double ankle-chains.” Peña escaped again, taking the handcuffs and ankle-chains with him! This time, the thief remained at large for about four months, during which he stole more horses, broke into more houses, and walked off with personal possessions.
At last, Peña was captured again. In Gil Ibarvo’s words, “This time … I took all the means of precaution in my power to guard against his escape, and I my own self took charge of the jail and guarded him.” Don Antonio finally rid Nacogdoches of this evil man by sending him under heavy armed guard to San Antonio. There he apparently met his end. At least he was no longer a problem for Gil Ibarvo and the people of Nacogdoches.
As the years passed, Gil Ibarvo grew tired of his duties in Nacogdoches. In March 1791 he described himself to the governor of Texas as “now worn out by my advanced age, which exceeds sixty years.” Although he still wished to serve his king in Spain, he could not do so because of ill health. He asked for retirement pay, but that request was not granted.
Suspected of being an illegal trader, Gil Ibarvo was placed under arrest in early 1792 and taken to San Antonio. After four years of trial, he was declared innocent of all charges. However, he was told that he could never return to Nacogdoches. His presence there was thought to be against the best interests of its citizens.
Meanwhile, his first wife had died. While still in San Antonio, don Antonio married a second time to María Guadalupe Herrera. He and doña María were permitted to visit Nacogdoches in 1799 and pick up their belongings. Even then, a royal agent looked at every piece of furniture and every brand on the cattle, horses, and mules. In his view, Gil Ibarvo was still not to be trusted.
The last ten years of life for Antonio Gil Ibarvo were filled with bad health and problems of old age. Worse, children from his two marriages quarreled over the few possessions still left in the Gil Ibarvo household. Near his death, Spanish officials finally permitted don Antonio to return to the Nacogdoches area, where he died in 1809. His family descendants still live in East Texas and elsewhere in the United States. The modern family name has many different spellings—including Ybarbo, Ybarvo, and Ibarbo.
Antonio Gil Ibarvo certainly deserves to be known as an important person in Texas history. He was a skillful but not always legal trader. He bent the law by taking advantage of market opportunities in French and Spanish Louisiana. He was also a successful rancher at El Lobonillo for many years. And he was the main founder of modern Nacogdoches.
It is clear that he and the Marqués de Rubí were very different men. One had no sense of humor. He is what we call a bottom-line official, meaning the only thing that mattered to him was to follow laws and save money for the king. Gil Ibarvo, on the other hand, learned to make do on a distant frontier. He was an excellent example of a pioneer leader and organizer.
Perhaps Gil Ibarvo’s finest moment was a decision to make an nine-hundred-mile trip to Mexico City, where he met with Viceroy Bucareli, the highest official in New Spain. At that time, don Antonio had no money and not much experience in such matters. How could a rancher from East Texas without the best record for honesty hope to change the decision of the king of Spain? Yet, he did just that. True, he did it for himself, but at the same time he helped his fellow East Texans, who were stuck at San Antonio without hope and without their homes and ranches.
More than anyone else, Gil Ibarvo found a way to reoccupy East Texas after the king decided to accept the recommendations of the Marqués de Rubí—the Harsh Inspector on the Texas scene. On a remote frontier, he also established a fine record of helping fellow settlers when their lives had been upset in the interest of saving money for a king in far-off Spain. Don Antonio’s legacies (things to remember him by) include a fine city in East Texas where Stephen F. Austin State University is located.
Father José de la Garza, a longtime missionary at Nacogdoches, offered a stirring tribute (compliment) to their lieutenant governor in 1787. In his view, the settlers in East Texas thought of Antonio Gil Ibarvo as “the father, protector, and comforter of their recovered homeland.” Yes, he was not perfect in his personal conduct and honesty. Leaders, whether Anglo-American or Spanish, have the same faults that we all share. In the long run, the people of East Texas remember the Father of East Texas for his accomplishments, not for the flaws in his character.
Materials used in preparing this chapter are described below. You can find more information about these sources in the Bibliography at the end of the book.
Imaginary Kingdom: Texas as Seen by the Rivera and Rubí Military Inspections, 1727 and 1767, edited by Jack Jackson and annotated by William C. Foster, is the best source for the Rubí inspection. Donald E. Chipman’s Spanish Texas, 1519–1821 has a useful overview of Rubí and Gil Ibarvo’s role in Texas history, while Donald E. Chipman and Harriett Denise Joseph’s Notable Men and Women of Spanish Texas contains biographical sketches of the two men.
Quotes in this chapter are from the following sources: Jack Jackson, editor, and William C. Foster, annotator, Imaginary Kingdom: Texas as Seen by the Rivera and Rubí Military Inspections, 1727 and 1767; Carlos E. Castañeda, Our Catholic Heritage in Texas, 1519–1936, volume 4; Sidney B. Brinckerhoff and Odie B. Faulk, Lancers for the King: A Study of the Frontier Military System of Northern New Spain, with a Translation of the Royal Regulations of 1772; A Criminal Code for Nacogdoches, 1783, Robert Bruce Blake Collection, Center for American History, Austin, volume 45; “Gil Ibarbo,” Blake Collection, volume 45; Letter from Gil Ibarvo to Manuel Muñoz, March 22, 1791, Blake Collection, volume 52; and Father José de la Garza’s Affidavit on the Character and Service of Gil Ibarvo, November 14, 1787, Béxar Archives Translations, Reel 17.