Chapter 0
Foreword
Texans cherish the immortal deeds and words of Lt. Col. William Travis on the eve of the fall of the Alamo: the line in the sand he drew with his sword and his call for his men to cross that line and die with him in battle for the independence of Texas. But many have had trouble crediting proof of those actions and utterances to Louis “Moses” Rose – the sole witness who could relate those events only because he did not stay to die with Travis and the others.
It almost seems like fiction. A Frenchman who fought alongside Napoléon until final defeat, fled to the United States where he took part in a plot to align with Mexico to free his Emperor, joined the Texas Independence struggle, fought bravely at the Alamo alongside Jim Bowie, Davy Crockett and William Travis . . . and then left them to escape – to a fate perhaps worse than that which befell his slain comrades.
Yet all of what follows is true, as is the documented history of France, Spain, Mexico and the early days of the United States, as relates to this story.
Not much is known about the Frenchman, Moses Rose, except for his “memoir” as told to a Texas couple, official documents from his East Texas home town and an oral history compiled by Texas historians. The ideas, thoughts and conversations of (and with) Rose recounted in this book – if not from those sources – are from letters and journals written by his contemporaries concerning the events he was involved in, such as the retreat from Moscow – and, of course, the fight for the Alamo.
Rose’s last days were recreated from my interviews with descendants (and contemporaries of deceased descendants) of the man who befriended the Frenchman in his final years, plus two pieces of tangible evidence uncovered by self-taught historians, who lived near the locale of Rose’s death.
The histories from the time of the Texas Revolution . . . and since are conflicting: not only amongst the versions of Texans and Mexicans – but also among historians: those who believe certain heroic deeds and improbable courageous feats occurred, and others who scoff at such accounts.
John Wayne, in his inspiring movie, The Alamo, left out the Rose episode entirely because the Frenchman didn’t fit neatly into Wayne’s black and white (all died for Texas) account of the epic turning point in Texas history.
“All the world’s a stage,” wrote William Shakespeare,“ . . . and one man in his time plays many parts.” The roles played by the actors on the Texas stage were highly complex and inconsistent. The Alamo story is one of courage and cowardice, self-sacrifice and selfishness, military brilliance and military incompetence, and integrity and treachery – at times by the same person.
It is this gray version of history, as exemplified and observed by Rose, that appeals to me and is the reason I have written this book.
Donald A. Jelinek
Berkeley, California
December 15, 1999