MEXICO[1]
1846 On June 30, 1846, Jackson received the brevet rank of second
lieutenant of artillery. He was fortunate from the very outset of his
military career. The officers of the United States army, thanks to the
thorough education and Spartan discipline of West Point, were fine
soldiers; but their scope was limited. On the western frontier, far
beyond the confines of civilisation, stood a long line of forts, often
hundreds of miles apart, garrisoned by a few troops of cavalry or
companies of infantry. It is true that there was little chance of
soldierly capacity rusting in these solitary posts. From the borders of
Canada to the banks of the Rio Grande swarmed thousands of savage
warriors, ever watchful for an opportunity to pay back with bloody
interest the aggression of the whites. Murder, robbery, and massacre
followed each other in rapid succession, and the troops were allowed
few intervals of rest. But the warfare was inglorious—a mere series of
petty incidents, the punishment of a raid, or the crushing of an
isolated revolt. The scanty butcher’s bills of the so-called battles
made small appeal to the popular imagination, and the deeds of the
soldiers in the western wilderness, gallant as they might be, aroused
less interest in the States than the conflicts of the police with the
New York mob. But although pursuits which carried the adversaries half
across the continent, forays which were of longer duration than a
European war, and fights against overwhelming odds, where no quarter
was asked or given, kept the American officers constantly employed,
their
training was hardly sufficient for the needs of a great campaign. In
the running fights against Apache or Blackfoot the rules of strategy
and tactics were of small account. The soldier was constrained to
acknowledge the brave and the trapper as his teachers; and Moltke
himself, with all his lore, would have been utterly baffled by the
cunning of the Indian. Before the war of 1845–6 the strength of the
regular army was not more than 8,500 men; and the whole of this force,
with the exception of a few batteries, was scattered in small
detachments along the frontier. The troops were never brought together
in considerable bodies; and although they were well drilled and under
the strictest discipline, neither the commanders nor the staff had the
least experience of handling men in masses. Many of the infantry
officers had never drilled with a whole battalion since they left West
Point. A brigade of cavalry—that is, two or three regiments working
together as a single unit—had never been assembled; and scarcely a
single general had ever commanded a force composed of the three arms,
either on service or on parade. “During my twenty years of service on
the frontier,” said one of the most famous of the Confederate
leaders,[2] “I learned all about commanding fifty United States
dragoons and forgot everything else.”
Nevertheless, this life of enterprise and hard work, the constant
struggle against nature, for the illimitable space of the inhospitable
wilderness was a more formidable antagonist than the stealthy savage,
benefited the American soldier in more ways than one. He grew
accustomed to danger and privation. He learned to use his wits; to
adapt his means to his end; to depend on his intelligence rather than
on rule. Above all, even the most junior had experience of independent
command before the enemy. A ready assumption of responsibility and a
prompt initiative distinguished the regular officers from the very
outset of the Civil War; and these characteristics had been acquired on
the western prairies.
But the warfare of the frontier had none of the glamour
of the warfare which is waged with equal arms against an equal enemy,
of the conflict of nation against nation. To bring the foe to bay was a
matter of the utmost difficulty. A fight at close quarters was of rare
occurrence, and the most successful campaign ended in the destruction
of a cluster of dirty wigwams, or the surrender of a handful of
starving savages. In such unsatisfactory service Jackson was not called
upon to take a part. It is doubtful if he ever crossed the Mississippi.
His first experience of campaigning was to be on a field where gleams
of glory were not wanting. The ink on his commission was scarcely dry
when the artillery subaltern was ordered to join his regiment, the
First Artillery, in Mexico. The war with the Southern Republic had
blazed out on the Texan border in 1845, and the American Government had
now decided to carry it into the heart of the hostile territory. With
the cause of quarrel we have no concern. General Grant has condemned
the war as “one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger against a
weaker nation.”[3] Be this as it may, it is doubtful whether any of
Grant’s brother officers troubled themselves at all with the equity of
invasion. It was enough for them that the expedition meant a struggle
with a numerous enemy, armed and organised on the European model, and
with much experience of war; that it promised a campaign in a country
which was the very region of romance, possessing a lovely climate,
historic cities, and magnificent scenery. The genius of Prescott had
just disentombed from dusty archives the marvellous story of the
Spanish conquest, and the imagination of many a youthful soldier had
been already kindled by his glowing pages. To follow the path of
Cortez, to traverse the golden realms of Montezuma, to look upon the
lakes and palaces of Mexico, the most ancient city of America, to
encamp among the temples of a vanished race, and to hear, while the
fireflies flitted through the perfumed night, the music of the
black-eyed maidens of New Spain—was ever more fascinating prospect
offered to a subaltern of two-and-twenty?
The companies of the First Artillery which had been
detailed for foreign service were first transferred to Point Isabel, at
the mouth of the Rio Grande. Several engagements had already taken
place. Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and Monterey were brilliant
American victories, won by hard fighting over superior numbers; and a
vast extent of territory had been overrun. But the Mexicans were still
unconquered. The provinces they had lost were but the fringe of the
national domains; the heart of the Republic had not yet felt the
pressure of war, and more than six hundred miles of difficult country
intervened between the invaders and the capital. The American proposals
for peace had been summarily rejected. A new President, General Santa
Anna, had been raised to power, and under his vigorous administration
the war threatened to assume a phase sufficiently embarrassing to the
United States.
Jackson had been attached to a heavy battery, and his first duty was to
transport guns and mortars to the forts which protected Point Isabel.
The prospect of immediate employment before the enemy was small.
Operations had come to a standstill. It was already apparent that a
direct advance upon the capital, through the northern provinces, was an
enterprise which would demand an army much larger than the Government
was disposed to furnish. It seemed as if the First Artillery had come
too late. Jackson was fearful that the war might come to an end before
his regiment should be sent to the front. The shy cadet had a decided
taste for fighting. “I envy you men,” he said to a comrade more
fortunate than himself,[4] “who have been in battle. How I should like
to be in _one_ battle!” His longing for action was soon gratified.
Mexico had no navy and a long sea-board. The fleet of the United States
was strong, their maritime resources ample, and to land an army on a
shorter route to the distant capital was no difficult undertaking.
General Winfield Scott, who had been sent out as commander-in-chief,
was permitted, early in 1847, to organise a combined naval and military
expedition for the reduction of Vera Cruz, the principal port of the
Republic,
whence a good road leads to Mexico. The line of advance would be thus
reduced to two hundred and sixty miles; and the natural obstacles,
though numerous enough, were far less serious than the deserts which
barred invasion from the north.
1847 For this enterprise most of the regular regiments were withdrawn
from the Rio Grande; and General Taylor, the hero of Palo Alto and
Monterey, was left with a small army, composed principally of
volunteers, to hold the conquered provinces. Scott’s troops assembled
in the first instance at Tampico. The transports, eighty in number,
having embarked their freight, were directed to rendezvous in the road
stead of Lobos, one hundred and twenty miles north of Vera Cruz; and
when the whole had assembled, the fleet set sail for Los Sacrificios,
the island where Cortez had landed in 1520, three miles south of the
city. The army of invasion, in which the First Regiment of Artillery
was included, consisted of 13,000 men.
March 9 On the morning of March 9 the sun shone propitiously on the
expedition. The surf-boats, each holding from seventy to eighty men,
were quickly arrayed in line. Then, dashing forward simultaneously,
with the strains of martial music sweeping over the smooth waters of
the bay, they neared the shore. The landing was covered by seven armed
vessels, and as the boats touched the beach the foremost men leaped
into the water and ran up the sandy shore. In one hour General Worth’s
division, numbering 4,500 men, was disembarked; and by the same precise
arrangements the whole army was landed in six hours without accident or
confusion. To the astonishment of the Americans the enemy offered no
resistance, and the troops bivouacked in line of battle on the beach.
Little more than a mile north, across a waste of sand-hills, rose the
white walls of Vera Cruz. The city was held by 4,000 men, and its
armament was formidable. The troops, however, but partially organised,
were incapable of operations in the open field. The garrison had not
been reinforced. Santa Anna, on learning that the American army on the
Rio Grande had been reduced, had acted with
commendable promptitude. Collecting all the troops that were available
he had marched northwards, expecting, doubtless, to overwhelm Taylor
and still to be in time to prevent Scott from seizing a good harbour.
But distance was against him, and his precautions were inadequate. Even
if he defeated Taylor, he would have to march more than a thousand
miles to encounter Scott, and Vera Cruz was ill provided for a siege.
It was difficult, it is true, for the Mexican general to anticipate the
point at which the Americans would disembark. An army that moves by sea
possesses the advantage that its movements are completely veiled. But
Vera Cruz was decidedly the most probable objective of the invaders,
and, had it been made secure, the venture of the Americans would have
been rendered hazardous. As it was, with Santa Anna’s army far away,
the reduction of the fortress presented little difficulty. An immediate
assault would in all likelihood have proved successful. Scott, however,
decided on a regular siege. His army was small, and a march on the
capital was in prospect. The Government grudged both men and money, and
an assault would have cost more lives than could well be spared. On
March 18 the trenches were completed. Four days later, sufficient heavy
ordnance having been landed, the bombardment was begun.
March 27 On the 27th the town surrendered; the garrison laid down their
arms, and 400 cannon, many of large calibre, fell into the hands of the
Americans.
The fall of Vera Cruz was brought about by the heavy artillery, aided
by the sailors, and the First Regiment was continuously engaged. The
Mexican fire, notwithstanding their array of guns, was comparatively
harmless. The garrison attempted no sortie; and only 64 of the
investing force were killed or wounded. Nevertheless, Jackson’s
behaviour under fire attracted notice, and a few months later he was
promoted to first lieutenant “for gallant and meritorious conduct at
the siege of Vera Cruz.”[5]
Scott had now secured an admirable line of operations; but the
projected march upon the city of Mexico was a far more arduous
undertaking than the capture of the port. The ancient capital of
Montezuma stands high above the sea. The famous valley which surrounds
it is embosomed in the heart of a vast plateau, and the roads which
lead to this lofty region wind by steep gradients over successive
ranges of rugged and precipitous mountains. Between Vera Cruz and the
upland lies a level plain, sixty miles broad, and covered with tropical
forest. Had it been possible to follow up the initial victory by a
rapid advance, Cerro Gordo, the first, and the most difficult, of the
mountain passes, might have been occupied without a blow. Santa Anna,
defeated by Taylor at Buena Vista, but returning hot foot to block
Scott’s path, was still distant, and Cerro Gordo was undefended. But
the progress of the Americans was arrested by the difficulties inherent
in all maritime expeditions.
An army landing on a hostile coast has to endure a certain period of
inactivity. Under ordinary circumstances, as at Vera Cruz, the process
of disembarking men is rapidly accomplished. The field-guns follow with
but little delay, and a certain proportion of cavalry becomes early
available. But the disembarkation of the impedimenta—the stores,
waggons, hospitals, ammunition, and transport animals—even where ample
facilities exist, demands far more time than the disembarkation of the
fighting force. In the present case, as all the animals had to be
requisitioned in the country, it was not till the middle of April that
supplies and transport sufficient to warrant further movement had been
accumulated; and meanwhile General Santa Anna, halting in the
mountains, had occupied the pass of Cerro Gordo with 13,000 men and 42
pieces of artillery. The Mexican position was exceedingly strong. The
right rested on a deep ravine, with precipitous cliffs; the left, on
the hill of Cerro Gordo, covered with batteries, and towering to the
height of several hundred feet above the surrounding ridges; while the
front, strongly intrenched, and commanding the
road which wound zigzag fashion up the steep ascent, followed the crest
of a lofty ridge.
The Americans reached the foot of the pass without difficulty. The
enemy had made no attempt to check their passage through the forest.
Confident in the inaccessibility of his mountain crags, in his numerous
guns and massive breastworks, Santa Anna reserved his strength for
battle on ground of his own selection.
Several days were consumed in reconnaissance. The engineers, to whom
this duty was generally assigned in the American army, pushed their
explorations to either flank. At length the quick eye of a young
officer, Captain Robert Lee, already noted for his services at Vera
Cruz, discovered a line of approach, hidden from the enemy, by which
the position might be turned. In three days a rough road was
constructed by which guns could be brought to bear on the hill of Cerro
Gordo, and infantry marched round to strike the Mexicans in rear.
April 18 The attack, delivered at daylight on April 18, was brilliantly
successful. The enemy was completely surprised. Cerro Gordo was stormed
with the bayonet, and Santa Anna’s right, assaulted from a direction
whence he confessed that he had not believed a goat could approach his
lines, was rolled back in confusion on his centre. 1,200 Mexicans were
killed and wounded, and 3,000 captured, together with the whole of
their artillery.[6] The next day the pursuit was pushed with
uncompromising resolution. Amidst pathless mountains, 6,000 feet above
the sea, where every spur formed a strong position, the defeated army
was permitted neither halt nor respite. The American dragoons,
undeterred by numbers, pressed forward along the road, making hundreds
of prisoners, and spreading panic in the broken ranks.
May 15 The infantry followed, sturdily breasting the long ascent; a
second intrenched position, barring the La Hoya pass, was abandoned on
their approach; the strong castle of Perote, with an armament of 60
guns and mortars, opened its gates without firing a shot,
and on May 15 the great city of Puebla, surrounded by glens of
astonishing fertility, and only eighty miles from Mexico, was occupied
without resistance.
At Cerro Gordo the First Artillery were employed as infantry. Their
colours were amongst the first to be planted on the enemy’s
breastworks. But in none of the reports does Jackson’s name occur.[7]
The battle, however, brought him good luck. Captain Magruder, an
officer of his own regiment, who was to win distinction on wider
fields, had captured a Mexican field battery, which Scott presented to
him as a reward for his gallantry. Indian wars had done but little
towards teaching American soldiers the true use of artillery. Against a
rapidly moving enemy, who systematically forebore exposing himself in
mass, and in a country where no roads existed, only the fire-arm was
effective. But already, at Palo Alto and Resaca, against the serried
lines and thronging cavalry of the Mexicans, light field-guns had done
extraordinary execution. The heavy artillery, hitherto the more
favoured service, saw itself eclipsed. The First Regiment, however, had
already been prominent on the fighting line. It had won reputation with
the bayonet at Cerro Gordo, and before Mexico was reached there were
other battles to be fought, and other positions to be stormed. A youth
with a predilection for hard knocks might have been content with the
chances offered to the foot-soldier. But Jackson’s partiality for his
own arm was as marked as was Napoleon’s, and the decisive effect of a
well-placed battery appealed to his instincts with greater force than
the wild rush of a charge of infantry. Skilful manœuvring was more to
his taste than the mere bludgeon work of fighting at close quarters.
Two subalterns were required for the new battery. The position meant
much hard work, and possibly much discomfort. Magruder was restless and
hot-tempered, and the young officers of artillery showed no eagerness
to go through the campaign as his subordinates. Not so Jackson. He
foresaw that service with a light battery, under
a bold and energetic leader, was likely to present peculiar
opportunities; and with his thorough devotion to duty, his habits of
industry, and his strong sense of self-reliance, he had little fear of
disappointing the expectations of the most exacting superior. “I wanted
to see active service,” he said in after years, “to be near the enemy
in the fight; and when I heard that John Magruder had got his battery I
bent all my energies to be with him, for I knew if any fighting was to
be done, Magruder would be ‘on hand.’” His soldierly ambition won its
due reward. The favours of fortune fall to the men who woo more often
than to those who wait. The barrack-room proverb which declares that
ill-luck follows the volunteer must assuredly have germinated in a
commonplace brain. It is characteristic of men who have cut their way
to fame that they have never allowed the opportunity to escape them.
The successful man pushes to the front and seeks his chance; those of a
temper less ardent wait till duty calls and the call may never come.
Once before, when, despite his manifold disadvantages, he secured his
nomination to West Point, Jackson had shown how readily he recognised
an opening; now, when his comrades held back, he eagerly stepped
forward, to prove anew the truth of the vigorous adage, “Providence
helps those who help themselves.”
The American army was delayed long at Puebla. Several regiments of
volunteers, who had engaged only for a short term of service, demanded
their discharge, and reinforcements were slow in arriving.
August 7 It was not until the first week in August that Scott was able
to move upon the capital. The army now numbered 14,000 men. Several
hundred were sick in hospital, and 600 convalescents, together with 600
effectives, were left to garrison Puebla. The field force was organised
in four divisions: the first, under Major-General Worth; the second,
under Major-General Twiggs; the third, to which Magruder’s battery was
attached, under Major-General Pillow; the fourth (volunteers and
marines), under Major-General Pierce. Four field batteries, a small
brigade of dragoons, and a still
smaller siege train[8] made up a total of 11,500 officers and men.
During the three months that his enemy was idle at Puebla, Santa Anna
had reorganised his army; and 30,000 Mexicans, including a formidable
body of cavalry, fine horsemen and well trained,[9] and a large number
of heavy batteries, were now ready to oppose the advance of the
invaders.
On August 10 the American army crossed the Rio Frio Mountains, 10,000
feet above the sea, the highest point between the Atlantic and the
Pacific, and as the troops descended the western slopes the valley of
Mexico first broke upon their view. There, beneath the shadow of her
mighty mountains, capped with eternal snows, stood
The Imperial city, her far circling walls,
Her garden groves, and stately palaces.
There lay the broad plain of Tenochtitlan, with all its wealth of light
and colour, the verdure of the forest, the warmer hues of the great
corn-fields, ripening to the harvest, and the sheen and sparkle of the
distant lakes. There it lay, as it burst upon the awe-struck vision of
Cortez and his companions, “bathed in the golden sunshine, stretched
out as it were in slumber, in the arms of the giant hills.”
On every hand were the signs of a teeming population. White villages
and substantial haciendas glistened in the woodlands; roads broad and
well-travelled crossed the level; and in the clear atmosphere of those
lofty altitudes the vast size of the city was plainly visible. The
whole army of Mexico formed the garrison; hills crowned with batteries
commanded the approaches, while a network of canals on either flank and
a broad area of deep water enhanced the difficulties of manœuvre. The
line of communication, far too long to be maintained by the small force
at Scott’s disposal, had already been abandoned. The army depended for
subsistence on what it could purchase in the country; the sick and
wounded were carried with the troops, and
there was no further reserve of ammunition than that which was packed
in the regimental waggons. Cortez and his four hundred when they
essayed the same enterprise were not more completely isolated, for,
while the Spaniard had staunch allies in the hereditary foes of the
Aztecs, Scott’s nearest supports were at Puebla, eighty miles from
Mexico, and these numbered only 1,200 effective soldiers. The most
adventurous of leaders might well have hesitated ere he plunged into
the great valley, swarming with enemies, and defended by all the
resources of a civilised State. But there was no misgiving in the ranks
of the Americans. With that wholesome contempt for a foreign foe which
has wrought more good than evil for the Anglo-Saxon race, the army
moved forward without a halt. “Recovering,” says Scott, “from the
trance into which the magnificent spectacle had thrown them, probably
not a man in the column failed to say to his neighbour or himself,
‘That splendid city shall soon be ours!’”
The fortifications which protected Mexico on the east were found to be
impregnable. The high ridge of El Penon, manned by nearly the whole of
Santa Anna’s army, blocked the passage between the lakes, and deep
morasses added to the difficulties of approach. To the south, however,
on the far side of Lake Chalco, lay a more level tract, but accessible
only by roads which the Mexicans deemed impracticable. Despite the
difficulties of the route, the manœuvre of Cerro Gordo was repeated on
a grander scale.
August 16–18 After a toilsome march of seven-and-twenty miles from
Ayotla, over the spurs of the sierras, the troops reached the great
road which leads to the capital from the south. Across this road was
more than one line of fortifications, to which the Mexican army had
been hurriedly transferred. The hacienda of San Antonio, six miles from
the city, strengthened by field-works and defended by heavy guns,
commanded the highway. To the east was a morass, and beyond the morass
were the blue waters of Lake Chalco; while to the west the Pedregal, a
barren tract of volcanic scoriæ, over whose sharp rocks and deep
fissures neither horse nor vehicle could move, flanked the American
line of march. The morass was absolutely impassable. The gloomy
solitude of the Pedregal, extending to the mountains, five miles
distant, seemed equally forbidding; but the engineer officers came once
more to the rescue. A road across the Pedregal, little better than a
mule track, was discovered by Captain Lee.
August 19 Under cover of a strong escort it was rapidly improved, and
Pillow’s and Worth’s divisions, accompanied by Magruder’s battery, were
directed to cross the waste of rocks. Beyond the Pedregal was a good
road, approaching the city from the south-west; and by this road the
post of San Antonio might be assailed in rear.
Overlooking the road, however, as well as the issues from the Pedregal,
was a high ridge, backed by the mountains, and held by 6,000 Mexicans.
Opposite this ridge the Americans came out on cultivated ground, but
all further progress was completely checked. Shortly after midday the
leading brigade, with Magruder’s battery on hand, reached the summit of
a hill within a thousand yards of the enemy’s breastworks. Magruder
came at once into action, and the infantry attempted to push forward.
But the Mexican artillery was far superior, both in number of pieces
and weight of metal, and the ground was eminently unfavourable for
attack. Two-and-twenty heavy cannon swept the front; the right of the
position was secured by a deep ravine; masses of infantry were observed
in rear of the intrenchments, and several regiments of lancers were in
close support. For three hours the battle raged fiercely. On the right
the Americans pushed forward, crossing with extreme difficulty an
outlying angle of the Pedregal, covered with dense scrub, and occupied
the village of Contreras. But elsewhere they made no impression. They
were without cavalry, and Magruder’s guns were far too few and feeble
to keep down the fire of the hostile batteries. “The infantry,” says
Scott, “could not advance in column without being mowed down by grape
and canister, nor advance in line without being ridden down by the
enemy’s numerous horsemen.” Nor were the Mexicans content on this
occasion to remain passively in their works. Both infantry and
cavalry attempted to drive the assailants back upon the Pedregal; and,
although these counterstrokes were successfully repulsed, when darkness
fell the situation of the troops was by no means favourable. Heavy
columns of Mexicans were approaching from the city; the remainder of
the American army was opposite San Antonio, five miles distant, on the
far side of the Pedregal, and no support could be expected. To add to
their discomfort, it rained heavily; the thunder crashed in the
mountains, and torrents of water choked the streams. The men stood in
the darkness drenched and dispirited, and an attack made by a Mexican
battalion induced General Pillow to withdraw Magruder’s battery from
the ridge. The senior subaltern had been killed. 15 gunners and as many
horses had fallen. The slopes were covered with huge boulders, and it
was only by dint of the most strenuous exertions that the guns were
brought down in safety to the lower ground.
A council of war was then held in Contreras Church, and, contrary to
the traditionary conduct of such conventions, a most desperate
expedient was adopted. The Mexican reinforcements, 12,000 strong, had
halted on the main road, their advanced guard within a few hundred
yards of the village. Leaving two regiments to hold this imposing force
in check, it was determined to make a night march and turn the rear of
the intrenchments on the ridge. The Commander-in-Chief was beyond the
Pedregal, opposite San Antonio, and it was necessary that he should be
informed of the projected movement.
“I have always understood,” says an officer present in this quarter of
the field, “that what was devised and determined on was suggested by
Captain Lee; at all events the council was closed by his saying that he
desired to return to General Scott with the decision, and that, as it
was late, the decision must be given as soon as possible, since General
Scott wished him to return in time to give directions for co-operation.
During the council, and for hours after, the rain fell in torrents,
whilst the darkness was so intense that one could move only by
groping.”
The Pedregal was infested by straggling bands of
Mexicans; and yet, over those five miles of desolation, with no guide
but the wind, or an occasional flash of lightning, Lee, unaccompanied
by a single orderly, made his way to Scott’s headquarters. This
perilous adventure was characterised by the Commander-in-Chief as “the
greatest feat of physical and moral courage performed by any individual
during the entire campaign.”
The night march, although it entailed the passage of a deep ravine, and
was so slow that one company in two hours made no more than four
hundred yards, was completely successful. The Mexicans, trusting to the
strength of their position, and to the presence of the reinforcements,
had neglected to guard their left. The lesson of Cerro Gordo had been
forgotten. The storming parties, guided by the engineers, Lee,
Beauregard, and Gustavus Smith, established themselves, under cover of
the darkness, within five hundred paces of the intrenchments, and as
the day broke the works were carried at the first rush.
August 20 Seventeen minutes after the signal had been given, the
garrison, attacked in front and rear simultaneously, was completely
dispersed. 800 Mexicans were captured, and nearly as many killed.[10]
The reinforcements, unable to intervene, and probably demoralised by
this unlooked-for defeat, fell back to the village of Churubusco, and
San Antonio was evacuated. The pursuit was hotly pressed. Churubusco
was heavily bombarded. For two hours the American batteries played upon
the church and hacienda, both strongly fortified, and after a
counterstroke had been beaten back a vigorous onslaught, made by the
whole line of battle, compelled the enemy to give way. A brilliant
charge of General Shields’ brigade dispersed their last reserves, and
the whole of the hostile army fled in confusion to the city. The
American cavalry followed at speed, using their sabres freely on the
panic-stricken masses, and one squadron, not hearing the recall, dashed
up to the very gates of the city. Scott’s losses amounted to 1,053,
including 76 officers. The Mexican casualties
were 3,000 prisoners, and 3,250 killed and wounded. 37 field-guns were
abandoned, and, a still more valuable capture, a large supply of
ammunition fell into the hands of the victors.
Magruder’s battery, it appears, was retained in reserve throughout the
battle of Churubusco, and Jackson’s share in the victory was confined
to the engagement of the previous day. But his small charge of three
guns had been handled with skill and daring. Magruder was more than
satisfied. “In a few moments,” ran his official report, “Lieutenant
Jackson, commanding the second section of the battery, who had opened
fire upon the enemy’s works from a position on the right, hearing our
fire still further in front, advanced in handsome style, and kept up
the fire with equal briskness and effect. His conduct was equally
conspicuous during the whole day, and I cannot too highly commend him
to the Major-General’s favourable consideration.”
The extreme vigour with which the Americans had prosecuted their
operations now came to an untimely pause. After his double victory at
Contreras and Churubusco, General Scott proposed an armistice. The
whole of the Mexican army had been encountered. It had been decisively
defeated. Its losses, in men and _matériel,_ had been very heavy. The
troops were utterly demoralised. The people were filled with
consternation, and a rapid advance would probably have been followed by
an immediate peace. But Scott was unwilling to drive his foes to
desperation, and he appears to have believed that if they were spared
all further humiliation they would accede without further resistance to
his demands.
The Mexicans, however, were only playing for time. During the
negotiations, in direct defiance of the terms of the armistice, Santa
Anna strengthened his fortifications, rallied his scattered army, and
prepared once more to confront the invader. Scott’s ultimatum was
rejected, and on September 5 hostilities were renewed.
September 8 Three days later the position of Molino del Rey, garrisoned
by the choicest of the Mexican troops, was
stormed at dawn. But the enemy had benefited by his respite. The
fighting was desperate. 800 Americans were killed and wounded before
the intrenchments and strong buildings were finally carried; and
although the Mexicans again lost 3,000 men, including two generals,
their spirit of resistance was not yet wholly crushed.
Driven from their outworks, they had fallen back on a still more
formidable line. Behind the Molino del Rey rose the hill of
Chapultepec, crowned by the great castle which had been the palace of
Montezuma and of the Spanish viceroys, now the military college of the
Republic and the strongest of her fortresses. Three miles from the city
walls, the stronghold completely barred the line of advance on the San
Cosme Gate. Heavy guns mounted on the lofty bastions which encircled
the citadel, commanded every road, and the outflanking movements which
had hitherto set at nought the walls and parapets of the Mexicans were
here impracticable. Still, careful reconnaissance had shown that, with
all its difficulties, this was the most favourable approach for the
invading army. The gates of Belen and San Antonio were beset by
obstacles even more impracticable. The ground over which the troops
would advance to storm the fortress was far firmer than elsewhere,
there was ample space for the American batteries, and if the hill were
taken, the Mexicans, retreating along two narrow causeways, with deep
marshes on either hand, might easily be deprived of all opportunity of
rallying.
On the night of the 11th four batteries of heavy guns were established
within easy range. On the 12th they opened fire; and the next morning
the American army, covered by the fire of the artillery, advanced to
the assault.
September 13 In the victory of Molino del Rey, Magruder’s battery had
taken little part. Jackson, posted with his section on the extreme
flank of the line, had dispersed a column of cavalry which threatened a
charge; but, with this brief interlude of action, he had been merely a
spectator. At Chapultepec he was more fortunate. Pillow’s division, to
which the battery was attached, attacked the Mexicans in front, while
Worth’s division assailed them from the
north. The 14th Infantry, connecting the two attacks, moved along a
road which skirts the base of the hill, and Magruder was ordered to
detach a section of his battery in support. Jackson was selected for
the duty, and as he approached the enemy’s position dangers multiplied
at every step. The ground alongside was so marshy that the guns were
unable to leave the road. A Mexican fieldpiece, covered by a
breastwork, raked the causeway from end to end, while from the heights
of Chapultepec cannon of large calibre poured down a destructive fire.
The infantry suffered terribly. It was impossible to advance along the
narrow track; and when the guns were ordered up the situation was in no
way bettered. Nearly every horse was killed or wounded. A deep ditch,
cut across the road, hindered effective action, and the only position
where reply to the enemy’s fire was possible lay beyond this obstacle.
Despite the losses of his command Jackson managed to lift one gun
across by hand. But his men became demoralised. They left their posts.
The example of their lieutenant, walking up and down on the shot-swept
road and exclaiming calmly, “There is no danger: see! I am not hit,”
failed to inspire them with confidence. Many had already fallen. The
infantry, with the exception of a small escort, which held its ground
with difficulty, had disappeared; and General Worth, observing
Jackson’s perilous situation, sent him orders to retire. He replied it
was more dangerous to withdraw than to stand fast, and if they would
give him fifty veterans he would rather attempt the capture of the
breastwork. At this juncture Magruder, losing his horse as he galloped
forward, reached the road.
The ditch was crowded with soldiers; many wounded; many already dead;
many whose hearts had failed them. Beyond, on the narrow causeway, the
one gun which Jackson had brought across the ditch was still in action.
Deserted by his gunners, and abandoned by the escort which had been
ordered to support him, the young subaltern still held his ground. With
the sole assistance of a sergeant,
of stauncher mettle than the rest, he was loading and firing his
solitary field-piece, rejoicing, as became the son of a warrior race,
in the hot breath of battle, and still more in the isolation of his
perilous position. To stand alone, in the forefront of the fight,
defying the terrors from which others shrank, was the situation which
of all others he most coveted; and under the walls of Chapultepec,
answering shot for shot, and plying sponge and handspike with desperate
energy, the fierce instincts of the soldier were fully gratified. Nor
was Magruder the man to proffer prudent counsels. A second gun was
hoisted across the ditch; the men rallied; the Mexican artillery was
gradually overpowered, and the breastwork stormed. The crisis of the
struggle was already past. Pillow’s troops had driven the enemy from
their intrenchments at the base of the hill, and beneath the shadows of
the majestic cypresses, which still bear the name of the Grove of
Montezuma, and up the rugged slopes which tower above them, pressed the
assaulting columns. A redoubt which stood midway up the height was
carried. The Mexicans fell back from shelter to shelter; but amid smoke
and flame the scaling ladders were borne across the castle ditch, and
reared against the lofty walls were soon covered with streams of men.
The leaders, hurled from the battlements on to the crowd below, failed
to make good their footing, but there were others to take their places.
The supports came thronging up; the enemy, assailed in front and flank,
drew back disheartened, and after a short struggle the American
colours, displayed upon the keep, announced to the citizens of Mexico
that Chapultepec had been captured. Yet the victory was not complete.
The greater part of the garrison had fled from their intrenchments
before the castle had been stormed; and infantry, cavalry, and
artillery, in wild confusion, were crowding in panic on the causeways.
But their numbers were formidable, and the city, should the army be
rallied, was capable of a protracted defence. Not a moment was to be
lost if the battle was to be decisive of the war. The disorder on
Chapultepec was hardly less than that which existed in the ranks of the
defeated
Mexicans. Many of the stormers had dispersed in search of plunder, and
regiments and brigades had become hopelessly intermingled in the
assault of the rocky hill. Still the pursuit was prompt. Towards the
San Cosme Gate several of the younger officers, a lieutenant by name
Ulysses Grant amongst the foremost, followed the enemy with such men as
they could collect, and Jackson’s guns were soon abreast of the
fighting line. His teams had been destroyed by the fire of the Mexican
batteries. Those of his waggons, posted further to the rear, had
partially escaped. To disengage the dead animals from the limbers and
to replace them by others would have wasted many minutes, and he had
eagerly suggested to Magruder that the guns should be attached to the
waggon-limbers instead of to their own. Permission was given, and in a
few moments his section was thundering past the cliffs of Chapultepec.
Coming into action within close range of the flying Mexicans, every
shot told on their demoralised masses; but before the San Cosme Gate
the enemy made a last effort to avert defeat. Fresh troops were brought
up to man the outworks; the houses and gardens which lined the road
were filled with skirmishers; from the high parapets of the flat
house-tops a hail of bullets struck the head of the pursuing column;
and again and again the American infantry, without cover and with
little space for movement, recoiled from the attack.
The situation of the invading army, despite the brilliant victory of
Chapultepec, was not yet free from peril. The greater part of the
Mexican forces was still intact. The city contained 180,000
inhabitants, and General Scott’s battalions had dwindled to the
strength of a small division. In the various battles before the capital
nearly 3,000 officers and men had fallen, and the soldiers who
encompassed the walls of the great metropolis were spent with
fighting.[11] One spark of the stubborn courage which bore Cortez and
his paladins through the hosts of Montezuma might have made of that
stately city a second Saragossa. It was eminently defensible. The
churches, the convents,
the public buildings, constructed with that solidity which is
peculiarly Spanish, formed each of them a fortress. The broad streets,
crossing each other at right angles, rendered concentration at any
threatened point an easy matter, and beyond the walls were broad
ditches and a deep canal.
Nor was the strength of the city the greatest of Scott’s difficulties.
Vera Cruz, his base of operations, was two hundred and sixty miles
distant; Puebla, his nearest supply-depot, eighty miles. He had
abandoned his communications. His army was dependent for food on a
hostile population. In moving round Lake Chalco, and attacking the city
from the south, he had burned his boats. A siege or an investment were
alike impossible. A short march would place the enemy’s army across his
line of retreat, and nothing would have been easier for the Mexicans
than to block the road where it passes between the sierras and the
lake. Guerillas were already hovering in the hills; one single repulse
before the gates of the capital would have raised the country in rear;
and hemmed in by superior numbers, and harassed by a cavalry which was
at least equal to the task of cutting off supplies, the handful of
Americans must have cut their way through to Puebla or have succumbed
to starvation.
Such considerations had doubtless been at the root of the temporising
policy which had been pursued after Churubusco. But the uselessness of
half-measures had then been proved. The conviction had become general
that a desperate enterprise could only be pushed to a successful issue
by desperate tactics, and every available battalion was hurried forward
to the assault. Before the San Cosme Gate the pioneers were ordered up,
and within the suburb pick and crowbar forced a passage from house to
house. The guns, moving slowly forward, battered the crumbling masonry
at closest range. The Mexicans were driven back from breastwork to
breastwork; and a mountain howitzer, which Lieutenant Grant had posted
on the tower of a neighbouring church, played with terrible effect, at
a range of two or three hundred yards, on the defenders of the Gate.
By eight o’clock in the evening the suburb had been cleared, and the
Americans were firmly established within the walls. To the south-east,
before the Belen Gate, another column had been equally successful.
During the night Santa Anna withdrew his troops, and when day dawned
the white flag was seen flying from the citadel. After a sharp fight
with 2,000 convicts whom the fugitive President had released, the
invaders occupied the city, and the war was virtually at an end. From
Cerro Gordo to Chapultepec the power of discipline had triumphed. An
army of 30,000 men, fighting in their own country, and supported by a
numerous artillery, had been defeated by an invading force of one-third
the strength. Yet the Mexicans had shown no lack of courage. “At
Chapultepec and Molino del Rey, as on many other occasions,” says
Grant, “they stood up as well as any troops ever did.”[12] But their
officers were inexperienced; the men were ill-instructed; and against
an army of regular soldiers, well led and obedient, their untutored
valour, notwithstanding their superior numbers, had proved of no avail.
They had early become demoralised. Their strongest positions had been
rendered useless by the able manœuvres of their adversaries. Everywhere
they had been out-generalled. They had never been permitted to fight on
the ground which they had prepared, and in almost every single
engagement they had been surprised. Nor had the Government escaped the
infection which had turned the hearts of the troops to water.
September 14 The energy of the pursuit after the fall of Chapultepec
had wrought its full effect, and on September 14 the city of Mexico was
surrendered, without further parley, to a force which, all told,
amounted to less than 7,000 men.[13]
With such portion of his force as had not disbanded Santa Anna
undertook the siege of Puebla; and the guerillas, largely reinforced
from the army, waged a desultory warfare in the mountains. But these
despairing
efforts were without effect upon the occupation of the capital. The
Puebla garrison beat back every attack; and the bands of irregular
horse men were easily dispersed. During these operations Magruder’s
battery remained with headquarters near the capital, and so far as
Jackson was concerned all opportunities for distinction were past.
February 1848 The peace negotiations were protracted from September to
the following February, and in their camps beyond the walls the
American soldiers were fain to content themselves with their ordinary
duties.
It cannot be said that Jackson had failed to take advantage of the
opportunities which fortune had thrown in his way. As eagerly as he had
snatched at the chance of employment in the field artillery he had
welcomed the tactical emergency which had given him sole command of his
section at Chapultepec. It was a small charge; but he had utilised it
to the utmost, and it had filled the cup of his ambition to the brim.
Ambitious he certainly was. “He confessed,” says Dabney, “to an
intimate friend that the order of General Pillow, separating his
section on the day of Chapultepec from his captain, had excited his
abiding gratitude; so much so that while the regular officers were
rather inclined to depreciate the general as an unprofessional soldier,
he loved him because he gave him an opportunity to win distinction.”
His friends asked him, long after the war, if he felt no trepidation
when so many were falling round him. He replied: “No; the only anxiety
of which I was conscious during the engagements was a fear lest I
should not meet danger enough to make my conduct conspicuous.”
[Illustration: Map of the City of Mexico and environs.]
His share of the glory was more than ample. Contreras gave him the
brevet rank of captain. For his conduct at Chapultepec he was mentioned
in the Commander-in-Chief’s dispatches, and publicly complimented on
his courage. Shortly after the capture of the city, General Scott held
a levée, and amongst others presented to him was Lieutenant Jackson.
When he heard the name, the general drew himself up to his full height,
and, placing his hands behind him, said with affected sternness, “I
don’t
know that I shall shake hands with Mr. Jackson.” Jackson, blushing like
a girl, was overwhelmed with confusion. General Scott, seeing that he
had called the attention of every one in the room, said, “If you can
forgive yourself for the way in which you slaughtered those poor
Mexicans with your guns, I am not sure that I can,” and then held out
his hand. “No greater compliment,” says General Gibbon, “could have
been paid a young officer, and Jackson apparently did not know he had
done anything remarkable till his general told him so.”[14] Magruder
could find no praise high enough for his industry, his capacity, and
his gallantry, and within eighteen months of his first joining his
regiment he was breveted major. Such promotion was phenomenal even in
the Mexican war, and none of his West Point comrades made so great a
stride in rank. His future in his profession was assured. He had
acquired something more than the spurs of a field officer in his seven
months of service. A subaltern, it has been said, learns but little of
the higher art of war in the course of a campaign. His daily work so
engrosses his attention that he has little leisure to reflect on the
lessons in strategy and tactics which unfold themselves before him.
Without maps, and without that information of the enemy’s numbers and
dispositions which alone renders the manœuvres intelligible, it is
difficult, even where the inclination exists, to discuss or criticise
the problems, tactical and strategical, with which the general has to
deal. But siege and battle, long marches and rough roads, gave the
young American officers an insight into the practical difficulties of
war. It is something to have seen how human nature shows itself under
fire; how easily panics may be generated; how positions that seem
impregnable may be rendered weak; to have witnessed the effect of
surprise, and to have realised the strength of a vigorous attack. It is
something, too, if a man learns his own worth in situations of doubt
and danger; and if he finds, as did Jackson, that battle sharpens his
faculties, and makes his self-control more perfect, his judgment
clearer and more prompt, the gain in self-confidence is of the utmost
value.
Moreover, whether a young soldier learns much or little from his first
campaign depends on his intellectual powers and his previous training.
Jackson’s brain, as his steady progress at West Point proves, was of a
capacity beyond the average. He was naturally reflective. If, at the
Military Academy, he had heard little of war; if, during his service in
Mexico, his knowledge was insufficient to enable him to compare General
Scott’s operations with those of the great captains, he had at least
been trained to think. It is difficult to suppose that his experience
was cast away. He was no thoughtless subaltern, but already an earnest
soldier; and in after times, when he came to study for himself the
campaigns of Washington and Napoleon, we may be certain that the
teaching he found there was made doubly impressive when read by the
light of what he had seen himself. Nor is it mere conjecture to assert
that in his first campaign his experience was of peculiar value to a
future general of the Southern Confederacy. Some of the regiments who
fought under Scott and Taylor were volunteers, civilians, like their
successors in the great Civil War, in all but name, enlisted for the
war only, or even for a shorter term, and serving under their own
officers. Several of these regiments had fought well; others had
behaved indifferently; and the problem of how discipline was to be
maintained in battle amongst these unprofessional soldiers obtruded
itself as unpleasantly in Mexico as it had in the wars with England.
Amongst the regular officers, accustomed to the absolute subordination
of the army, the question provoked perplexity and discussion.
So small was the military establishment of the States that in case of
any future war, the army, as in Mexico, would be largely composed of
volunteers; and, despite the high intelligence and warlike enthusiasm
of the citizen battalions, it was evident that they were far less
reliable than the regulars. Even General Grant, partial as he was to
the volunteers, admitted the superiority conferred by drill,
discipline, and highly trained officers. “A better army,” he
wrote, “man for man, probably never faced an enemy than the one
commanded by General Taylor in the earlier engagements of the Mexican
war.”[15] These troops were all regulars, and they were those who
carried Scott in triumph from the shores of the Gulf to the palace of
Santa Anna. The volunteers had proved themselves exceedingly liable to
panic. Their superior intelligence had not enabled them to master the
instincts of human nature, and, although they had behaved well in camp
and on the march, in battle their discipline had fallen to pieces.[16]
It could hardly be otherwise. Men without ingrained habits of
obedience, who have not been trained to subordinate their will to
another’s, cannot be expected to render implicit obedience in moments
of danger and excitement; nor can they be expected, under such
circumstances, to follow officers in whom they can have but little
confidence. The ideal of battle is a combined effort, directed by a
trained leader. Unless troops are thoroughly well disciplined such
effort is impossible; the leaders are ignored, and the spasmodic action
of the individual is substituted for the concentrated pressure of the
mass. The cavalry which dissolves into a mob before it strikes the
enemy but seldom attains success; and infantry out of hand is hardly
more effective. In the Mexican campaign the volunteers, although on
many occasions they behaved with admirable courage, continually broke
loose from control under the fire of the enemy. As individuals they
fought well; as organised bodies, capable of manœuvring under fire and
of combined effort, they proved to be comparatively worthless.
So Jackson, observant as he was, gained on Mexican battle-fields some
knowledge of the shortcomings inherent in half-trained troops. And this
was not all. The expedition had demanded the services of nearly every
officer in the army of the United States, and in the toils of the
march, in the close companionship of the camp, in the excitement of
battle, the shrewder spirits probed the characters of their comrades to
the quick. In the history of the Civil War
there are few things more remarkable than the use which was made of the
knowledge thus acquired. The clue to many an enterprise, daring even to
foolhardiness, is to be found in this. A leader so intimately
acquainted with the character of his opponent as to be able to predict
with certainty what he will do under any given circumstances may set
aside with impunity every established rule of war. “All the older
officers, who became conspicuous in the rebellion,” says Grant, “I had
also served with and known in Mexico. The acquaintance thus formed was
of immense service to me in the War of the Rebellion—I mean what I
learned of the characters of those to whom I was afterwards opposed. I
do not pretend to say that all my movements, or even many of them, were
made with special reference to the characteristics of the commander
against whom they were directed. But my appreciation of my enemies was
certainly affected by this knowledge.”[17]
Many of the generals with whom Jackson became intimately connected,
either as friends or enemies, are named in Scott’s dispatches.
Magruder, Hooker, McDowell, and Ambrose Hill belonged to his own
regiment. McClellan, Beauregard, and Gustavus Smith served on the same
staff as Lee. Joseph E. Johnston, twice severely wounded, was
everywhere conspicuous for dashing gallantry. Shields commanded a
brigade with marked ability. Pope was a staff officer. Lieutenant D. H.
Hill received two brevets. Lieutenant Longstreet, struck down whilst
carrying the colours at Chapultepec, was bracketed for conspicuous
conduct with Lieutenant Pickett. Lieutenant Edward Johnson is mentioned
as having specially distinguished himself in the same battle. Captain
Huger, together with Lieutenants Porter and Reno, did good service with
the artillery, and Lieutenant Ewell had two horses killed under him at
Churubusco.
So having proved his mettle and “drunk delight of battle with his
peers,” Jackson spent nine pleasant months in the conquered city. The
peace negotiations were protracted. The United States coveted the
auriferous provinces
of California and New Mexico, a tract as large as a European kingdom,
and far more wealthy. Loth to lose their birthright, yet powerless to
resist, the Mexicans could only haggle for a price. The States were not
disposed to be ungenerous, but the transfer of so vast a territory
could not be accomplished in a moment, and the victorious army remained
in occupation of the capital.
Beneath the shadow of the Stars and Stripes conqueror and conquered
lived in harmony. Mexico was tired of war. Since the downfall of
Spanish rule revolution had followed revolution with startling
rapidity. The beneficent despotism of the great viceroys had been
succeeded by the cruel exactions of petty tyrants, and for many a long
year the country had been ravaged by their armies. The capital itself
had enjoyed but a few brief intervals of peace, and now, although the
bayonets of an alien race were the pledge of their repose, the citizens
revelled in the unaccustomed luxury. Nor were they ungrateful to those
who brought them a respite from alarms and anarchy. Under the mild
administration of the American generals the streets resumed their
wonted aspect. The great markets teemed with busy crowds. Across the
long causeways rolled the creaking waggons, laden with the produce of
far-distant haciendas. Trade was restored, and even the most patriotic
merchants were not proof against the influence of the American dollar.
Between the soldiers and the people was much friendly intercourse. Even
the religious orders did not disdain to offer their hospitality to the
heretics. The uniforms of the victorious army were to be seen at every
festive gathering, and the graceful Mexicañas were by no means
insensible to the admiration of the stalwart Northerners. Those
blue-eyed and fair-haired invaders were not so very terrible after all;
and the beauties of the capital, accustomed to be wooed in liquid
accents and flowery phrases, listened without reluctance to harsher
tones and less polished compliments. Travellers of many races have
borne willing witness to the charms and virtues of the women of Mexico.
“True daughters of Spain,” it has been said, “they unite the grace of
Castile to the vivacity of Andalusia; and more sterling
qualities are by no means wanting. Gentle and refined, unaffectedly
pleasing in manners and conversation, they evince a warmth of heart
which wins for them the respect and esteem of all strangers.” To the
homes made bright by the presence of these fair specimens of womanhood
Scott’s officers were always welcome; and Jackson, for the first time
in his life, found himself within the sphere of feminine attractions.
The effect on the stripling soldier, who, stark fighter as he was, had
seen no more of life than was to be found in a country village or
within the precincts of West Point, may be easily imagined. Who the
magnet was he never confessed; but that he went near losing his heart
to some charming señorita of _sangre azul_ he more than once
acknowledged, and he took much trouble to appear to advantage in her
eyes. The deficiencies in his education which prevented his full
enjoyment of social pleasures were soon made up. He not only learned to
dance, an accomplishment which must have taxed his perseverance to the
utmost, but he spent some months in learning Spanish; and it is
significant that to the end of his life he retained a copious
vocabulary of those tender diminutives which fall so gracefully from
Spanish lips.
But during his stay in Mexico other and more lasting influences were at
work. Despite the delights of her delicious climate, where the roses
bloom the whole year round, the charms of her romantic scenery, and the
fascinations of her laughter-loving daughters, Jackson’s serious nature
soon asserted itself. The constant round of light amusements and simple
duties grew distasteful. The impress of his mother’s teachings and
example was there to guide him; and his native reverence for all that
was good and true received an unexpected impulse. There were not
wanting in the American army men who had a higher ideal of duty than
mere devotion to the business of their profession. The officer
commanding the First Artillery, Colonel Frank Taylor, possessed that
earnest faith which is not content with solitude. “This good man,” says
Dabney, “was accustomed to labour as a father for the religious welfare
of his young officers, and during the summer
campaign his instructions and prayers had produced so much effect as to
awake an abiding anxiety and spirit of inquiry in Jackson’s mind.” The
latter had little prejudice in favour of any particular sect or church.
There was no State Establishment in the United States. His youth had
been passed in a household where Christianity was practically unknown,
and with characteristic independence he determined to discover for
himself the rule that he should follow. His researches took a course
which his Presbyterian ancestors would assuredly have condemned. But
Jackson’s mind was singularly open, and he was the last man in the
world to yield to prejudice. Soon after peace was declared, he had made
the acquaintance of a number of priests belonging to one of the great
religious orders of the Catholic Church. They had invited him to take
up his quarters with them, and when he determined to examine for
himself into the doctrine of the ancient faith, he applied through them
for an introduction to the Archbishop of Mexico. Several interviews
took place between the aged ecclesiastic and the young soldier. Jackson
departed unsatisfied. He acknowledged that the prelate was a sincere
and devout Christian, and he was impressed as much with his kindness as
his learning. But he left Mexico without any settled convictions on the
subject which now absorbed his thoughts.
June 12 On June 12, peace having been signed at the end of May, the
last of the American troops marched out of the conquered capital.
Jackson’s battery was sent to Fort Hamilton, on Long Island, seven
miles below New York, and there, with his honours thick upon him, he
settled down to the quiet life of a small garrison. He had gone out to
Mexico a second lieutenant; he had come back a field-officer. He had
won a name in the army, and his native State had enrolled him amongst
her heroes. He had gone out an unformed youth; he had come back a man
and a proved leader of men. He had been known merely as an
indefatigable student and a somewhat unsociable companion. He had come
back with a reputation for daring courage, not only the courage which
glories in swift action and the excitement of the charge, but courage
of an enduring quality. And in that distant country he had won more
than fame. He had already learned something of the vanity of temporal
success. He had gone out with a vague notion of ruling his life in
accordance with moral precepts and philosophic maxims; but he was to be
guided henceforward by loftier principles than even devotion to duty
and regard for honour, and from the path he had marked out for himself
in Mexico he never deviated.
[1] Copyright 1897 by Longmans, Green, & Co.
[2] General R. S. Ewell.
[3] Grant’s _Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 53.
[4] Lieutenant D. H. Hill, afterwards his brother-in-law.
[5] He had been promoted second lieutenant on March 3. _Records of the
First Regiment of Artillery._
[6] The Americans had about 8,500 men upon the field, and their loss
was 431, including two generals. _Memoirs of Lieut.-General Scott._
[7] According to the Regimental Records his company (K) was not
engaged in the battle, but only in the pursuit.
[8] Two 24-pounders, two 8-inch howitzers, and two light pieces.
Ripley’s _History of the Mexican War._
[9] It is said, however, that their horses were little more than
ponies, and far too light for a charge. Semmes’ _Campaign of General
Scott._
[10] 4,500 Americans (rank and file) were engaged, and the losses did
not exceed 50. Scott’s _Memoirs._
[11] 862 officers and men fell at Chapultepec. Scott’s _Memoirs._
[12] Grant’s _Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 169.
[13] The total loss in the battles before the capital was 2,703,
including 383 officers. Scott’s _Memoirs._
[14] Letter to the author.
[15] Grant’s _Memoirs_, vol. i, p. 168.
[16] Ripley’s _History of the Mexican War,_ vol. ii, p. 73 &c.)
[17] Grant’s _Memoirs,_ vol. i, p. 192.