Part 6

President Polk (the history of whose administration, by L. B. Chase, affords us some of these particulars) was, after much debate, authorised to call into the field volunteers, “to serve for a year or during the war.” Double the number asked-for soon offered themselves, and General Taylor found himself at the head of a force comparatively undisciplined but eager to advance, and equal to almost any amount of endurance in the prosecution of the enterprise on hand. The temper of the new levies was soon tried. The fight at Monterey was a repetition, on a larger scale, of the scenes and successes near Fort Brown. The Americans attacked and put to flight an enemy four times as numerous as the attacking force. The Mexicans seemed to think their invaders invincible; victory for the American flag was the result of each encounter, and before long General Taylor had a greater extent of country in his possession than the whole force under his command could well grasp with security. At this juncture General Scott, who for some time before this war began, had been Commander-in-Chief of the American Army, finding that great renown was being won by his junior officer, wrote from New York to General Taylor to state his intention of taking command in Mexico, and leading forward an additional force in advance of the positions conquered and held by Taylor. General Scott decided upon attacking Vera Cruz, and Taylor, being ordered to act on the defensive, complained bitterly when he found that Scott was to withdraw from his command all the regular troops he had, with the exception of one thousand men, leaving him to defend his position chiefly with volunteers, and these in deficient force. The military law of obedience to orders, however, left no choice, and though stating his belief in the weakness of his army he declined to fall back, urging the bad effect such a step must have on the minds of his new levies. He enjoyed the prestige of successive victories, and by supporting that alone could he hope to maintain his small force against an enemy so largely outnumbering him.

About twelve thousand Americans had marched under Scott against Vera Cruz; about five thousand mustered under the flag of Taylor, when the news came that Santa Anna, with an army of twenty thousand strong, was marching upon the scattered and weakened forces of the smallest of the two American armies. Scott was too far on his way towards the sea coast to march to the rescue of Taylor, and the latter was left to do his best alone. On the morning of the 23rd of February, 1847, the unequal battle began. General Taylor had secured for his five thousand men a strong position at Buena Vista, in which the artillery of his antagonist could not readily be brought into play. When Santa Anna approached with twenty thousand men, he sent a message to Taylor to surrender at discretion; a request which the American chieftain abruptly declined, and the fight began. The contest was long and doubtful. The disparity of numbers was soon felt, and the feeling that all depended on their valour nerved the attacked party to greater desperation in their defence. Less than five hundred of Taylor’s men were regular troops; more than four thousand of them, but a few months before, were at work in the fields, and on wharfs, and in warehouses in the States. But volunteers though they were, no veterans could have done more. About seven hundred of them fell, killed and wounded, but night, which stayed the battle, saw the Mexicans in retreat before a force over which, in the morning, they expected a rapid and easy victory. The gallantry of the Anglo-Saxons prevailed over the numbers of their semi-Spanish antagonists, and Santa Anna retreated with an army weakened by the loss of nearly two thousand killed and wounded. “Along the road leading from Buena Vista to Agua Nueva (says Mr. Chase), a scene of horror was presented on the night of the 23rd of February. The means of transporting the wounded being extremely limited, they were left to struggle with suffering and with death, and the sighing of the wind and the cry of the wolf were their only requiem. Abandoned to their fate, without food, parched with thirst, without medical aid, and with no shelter to protect them from the piercing night air, they awaited the moment when death should release them from their suffering. The main body of the army reached Agua Nueva at midnight, and, dying with thirst, many of the soldiers plunged into a stagnant sheet of water which, in many cases, produced instant death. Suffering from the want of food and water, dispirited and disheartened by the result of the battle, they presented a striking contrast to that splendid array which, buoyant with hope and confident of victory, had attacked the American army.”

Many anecdotes of this period of Taylor’s career are told with pride by his countrymen. Here are some of them which amusingly illustrate the character of the man.

First we have one descriptive of his personal appearance.

“Winding down a hill near Mont Morales, the column is halted to let a troop of horse pass. Do you see at their head a plain looking gentleman, mounted upon a brown horse, having upon his head a Mexican sombrero, dressed in a brown olive-coloured loose frock coat, grey pantaloons, wool socks, and shoes? From under the frock appears the scabbard of a sword; he has the eye of a hawk, and every lineament of his countenance is expressive of honesty, and a calm determined mind. The plain looking gentleman is General Zachary Taylor, who, with his military family, and a squadron of dragoons as an escort, is on his way to the front.”

A few more anecdotes will serve to show the peculiarities of the now deceased general.

“After the capitulation of Monterey, the officers of the army used their exertions to get General Taylor to move from his camp at St. Domingo to the Plaza, and there establish his head quarters. Several public buildings were examined and decided upon as suitable. After considerable persuasion General Taylor consented to move, at the same time giving the following instructions:—‘Choose a pleasant location—a house that is surrounded by a garden filled with large trees; put up a tent under the trees for my residence, and you [the staff and other officers] may have the house in front.’ It is needless to add, that no more was said about the head quarters being removed into the city of Monterey.

“In the early part of a severe action, when the enemy had succeeded in turning the left wing of his little army, and secured a seeming advantageous position in rear of their line, at the base of the mountain; when a portion of the troops, overpowered by the superiority of numbers, were forced to retire in “hot haste;” when, indeed, the fortunes of the day seemed extremely problematical, an officer of high rank rode up to General Taylor, and announced the temporary success of the enemy, and expressed his fears for the success of the army. Taylor’s reply was characteristic of the man. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘so long as we have thirty muskets, we can never be conquered! If those troops who have abandoned their position can be rallied and brought into action again, I will take three thousand of the enemy prisoners. Had I the disposition of the enemy’s forces, I would myself place them just where they are.’ The officer resumed his duties with a light heart, considering that the battle, in spite of appearance, was already won.”

The volunteers who flocked to his standard soon learned to regard the old general as a friend as well as a commander.

“As proof of his humanity, it is recorded that Taylor, before leaving the battle-ground of Buena Vista, ordered upwards of forty mule loads of provisions to be sent from his camp to Incarnacion, for the use of the wounded Mexicans who were in the hospital there, and starving from hunger.

“Taylor told General Ricardo that General Ampudia had written to him, stating that the war should be conducted in accordance with the usages of civilised nations, but that after the last battle they had barbarously stripped and mutilated our dead. To this charge General Ricardo replied, that ‘this was done by the rancheros, who could not be controlled.’ ‘I am coming over, and will control them for you,’ said Taylor.

“The general had assembled his council of officers the night previous to the conflict of Buena Vista, for the purpose of hearing their suggestions in relation to the approaching battle. A good deal of uneasiness was exhibited—objections were raised—the disadvantages of the immense ‘odds’ were presented—propositions to retire and wait for reinforcements were urged—some were for giving the enemy battle—and one proposed that the American army should ‘fall back’—when the old hero’s opinion was asked. ‘Are you all done, gentlemen?’ Every one had finished. ‘Then, gentlemen, I will adjourn this meeting,’ coolly added Taylor, ‘_till after the fight to-morrow_.’ ‘Good!’ was the unanimous response. The battle was fought and—won.”

But we must return to our narrative. Whilst Taylor was holding his position in the interior, General Scott was approaching the sea coast, and a naval force being there ready to co-operate with him, the news that reached Santa Anna not long after he had been beaten by Taylor was, that the Americans had bombarded and captured Vera Cruz. The Mexicans were deeply dispirited; intestine quarrels and partisan disputes, added to the presence of a foreign enemy, rendered them more than ordinarily indisposed to make any really great and national exertions for their defence. Santa Anna had by his personal crimes gained many enemies, and there were not wanting Mexicans who secretly hailed the advent of the Americans rather as an advantage than a calamity. Hence, when Scott advanced from his newly acquired stronghold upon the city of Mexico itself, Santa Anna could at first bring only six thousand men to oppose his march, and these were met and beaten at Jalapa by the Americans. Three desperately contested battles soon followed, in which the invaders, though suffering most severely, came off victorious. In one of these, three thousand one hundred Americans met and defeated fourteen thousand Mexicans, leaving, however, seven hundred of their comrades dead upon the field. The final attack was upon the city itself, and by the 14th of September, Santa Anna had fled; the city of the Montezumas was in the hands of Brother Jonathan, and the stars and stripes waved on the national palace of Mexico.

General Taylor never entirely forgave the Commander-in-Chief for taking from him the best part of his force, and he contended that had Scott threatened Vera Cruz only, and so divided the attention of Santa Anna, leaving the army at Monterey in its full force to march thence upon the capital, Mexico would have been taken at a less cost of time and blood than was ultimately expended on the conquest of the place. So also thought a large section of the American people, and though another commander actually took possession of the capital, Taylor was popularly regarded as the real hero of the Mexican war. This feeling was strengthened when the series of quarrels began between Scott and his companions in arms, and between that general and the American Minister, Mr. Trist, deputed to arrange a treaty between the two countries; and when Scott left the army in charge of General Butler to return in disgust to the United States, there was no officer in all Mexico, whose reputation could stand in competition with that of “Old Rough and Ready,” as Taylor was now called. He was looked upon as the one heroic leader of the successful war.

Bayard Taylor, after his stay in the city of Mexico, says he does not believe that Mexican enmity has been increased by the war, but rather the contrary. During all his stay in the country he did not hear a bitter word against the Americans. The officers of the United States’ army seem to have made friends everywhere, and the war, by throwing the natives into direct contact with foreigners, greatly abated their former prejudices against all not of Spanish blood. The departure of the American troops is declared to have been a cause of general lamentation amongst the tradesmen of Mexico and Vera Cruz. Nothing was more common to me (continues the traveller) than to hear Generals Scott and Taylor mentioned by the Mexicans in terms of entire respect and admiration. “If you see General Taylor,” said a gentleman to his namesake Bayard, “tell him that the Mexicans all honour him. He has never given up their houses to plunder; he has helped their wounded and suffering; he is as humane as he is brave, and they can never feel enmity towards him.”

Not without contest and difficulties, but still by a considerable majority, General Taylor was in November, 1848, rewarded for his many years’ services by being installed in the highest position his countrymen had in their gift. They made him President of the United States, and his term of office in that capacity commenced in March, 1849, under the favourable impression created by the following straightforward declaration:—

“I intend that all new appointments shall be of men honest and capable. I do not intend to remove any man from office because he voted against me, for that is a freeman’s privilege; but such desecration of office and official patronage as some of them have been guilty of to secure the election of the master whom they served as slaves is degrading to the character of American freemen, and will be a good cause for removal of friend or foe. The office of the government should be filled with men of all parties; and as I expect to find many of those now holding to be honest, good men, and as the new appointments will, of course, be whigs, that will bring about this result. Although I do not intend to allow an indiscriminate removal, yet it grieves me to think that it will be necessary to require a great many to give place to better men. As to my cabinet, I intend that all interests and all sections of the country shall be represented, but not, as some of the newspapers will have it, all parties. I am a whig, as I have always been free to acknowledge, but I do not believe that these who voted for me wish me to be a mere partisan President, and I shall, therefore, try to be a President of the American people. As to the new territory, it is now free, and slavery cannot exist there without a law of Congress authorising it, and that I do not believe they will ever pass. I was opposed to the acquisition of this territory, as I also was to the acquisition of Texas. I was opposed to the war, and, although by occupation a warrior, I am a peace man.”

His subsequent conduct tended to realise the hopes created by this opening avowal. But a life of hardship and an age verging on sixty years, prepared him, but indifferently, to meet the renewed exertions required by his new position. Resigning the panoply of the general to assume the garb of the President, he gained a respite from the toils of war to accept the still more soul-wearying contests, jealousies, and responsibilities of civil government. With soldierly determination, however, he addressed himself to the task, and, like a true hero, fell with harness on his back. He was born on the 9th of November, 1786—he died on the 9th of July, 1850. His last words were:—“I am prepared. I have endeavoured to do my duty.” May all deathbeds be consoled by the truthful utterance of such a sentiment.

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Monthly Supplement of “HOUSEHOLD WORDS,” Conducted by CHARLES DICKENS.

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THE HOUSEHOLD NARRATIVE OF CURRENT EVENTS.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

● Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. ● Renumbered footnotes. ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. ● The caret (^) is used to indicate superscript, whether applied to a single character (as in 2^d) or to an entire expression (as in 1^{st}).