Puebla, Mexico, July 8, 1847.
My dearest Wife,—I feel and know that here I can do some service for my country. So long as my services shall be needed here, I would not feel at liberty to ask to go home. I fear that peace cannot be brought about till some great blow is struck, and another signal victory won. Such is the wretched misgovernment of this people, and so discordant are their public counsels, so corrupt and selfish their public men, that I sometimes fear that the strong arm of military power alone can pacificate the nation. No nation on the face of the earth is a stronger exemplification of the strong governing the weak. Wherever our army has gone, the people have been benefited. You can hardly realize how conciliatory has been the deportment of our people throughout. All along the road from Vera Cruz to Puebla, beautiful fields of corn and grain were left untouched, when our horses were suffering for food. Any aggression on the property of the people is promptly punished and redressed. The Mexican army ravage their own people, and leave a sad wreck behind them. We pay for everything, and protect the people in their rights. I believe the entrance of our army will give a fresh impulse to this people. They are now but half civilized, taking the whole population together. An impulse will be given to the arts of peace, and the nation will be wiser and better for our coming among them.
You may be sure that I take great satisfaction in your writing frequently to father. It will be a great comfort to him. I wish you so far as you can to occupy my place as regards my own relatives. Besides my father, Oliver, and Mary, I think many of them are much attached to me, and that they have a very high regard for you. I fear their expectations are much too high as to my prospects here. I aspire to no higher distinction than to do my entire duty. Our military establishment is so wretchedly organized that it is difficult for a man of acknowledged merit to rise. In organizing the ten new regiments very few promotions were made from the existing organizations, in consequence of which some of the ablest military men in our army see placed above them men totally devoid of capacity or zeal for the public service. One of the colonels of the new regiments is a dismissed cadet from West Point, and since I graduated. One of the majors of the volunteer regiments is a dismissed cadet of my own class, a very stupid and ignorant fellow. The men of capacity and of merit have this satisfaction: in difficult straits their counsels are sought and followed. The advice of lieutenants, even, is taken when that of general officers is disregarded.
Sunday, July 18. It is ten days since I wrote the above, nor is there much prospect that what has been written, and what I am writing now, will reach you for months. It is a great pleasure to write, and I know that whatever I write you will be glad to read. Pierce will not arrive in Puebla with his brigade before the 1st of August, nor can we advance to Mexico till after his arrival. We shall be detained here at least three weeks, a length of time invaluable to get well our sick and put in good shape our new levies. You can hardly realize either the scenery or the climate of this place. To the west are the two snowy mountains of Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl, their crests far above the clouds, to the north, Malinche, hoar with occasional frosts, and in every other direction gentle elevations, the whole inclosing one of the most beautiful and fertile valleys in the world. Though in the nineteenth degree of latitude and in midsummer, the climate corresponds with Newport in the month of April. This is due to the snowy mountains, our high elevation above the sea (at least 7500 feet), and the daily rains. Every afternoon regularly, we have a copious shower, and frequently a deluge of rain. I find four blankets and my woolen drawers necessary to keep me warm. We need as much bedclothing as in Bucksport in midwinter. I wear thick clothes all the time, and sometimes an overcoat. The gentlemen of Puebla are accustomed to wear their cloaks habitually. For one I could not dispense with flannel underclothes. Yet we never have frosts, and all the fruits and vegetables come to maturity at all seasons of the year. It is a very trying climate. The extreme rarity of the atmosphere is trying to all of us. It checks the insensible perspiration, and we have to be careful to keep well. At the present time my health is perfect. I was never better in my life, and this is the result of an abstemiousness in both eating and drinking which I have practiced ever since my arrival. We have an engineer mess of five officers. For breakfast and supper we scarcely ever have anything but dry toasted bread without butter and hard-boiled eggs. For dinner, meats plainly but thoroughly cooked, and a variety of vegetables without fruit or pastry. Fruit is considered unhealthy. In one of your letters you inquire if my servant is not in my way. You must recollect that our servants do our washing as well as take care of our horses and attend upon us. My servant’s part is to wait upon table and clean the dishes. He has to take care of my room, make up my bed, mend my clothes, see that they are washed and in good condition, and take care of my horse. He is expected to spend much time in cleaning my horse, and he has to ride him every day for exercise when I have no occasion to use him myself. My servant’s name is Michael Cunningham, a native of New York, and a very good-hearted and attentive fellow. Michael’s only fault is that occasionally he indulges in an extra glass. This I hope to correct. My old soldier in Vera Cruz I was obliged to discharge for drunkenness. Michael I found in Puebla. He was a soldier whose term of enlistment had expired. I like this kind of life very much. But you need not fear that I shall look back to it with regret, when I find myself in the midst of my little family and by my own fireside. Wherever we are, it is wise to be content. It makes one’s duties pleasanter, and our lives more profitable.
You may inquire how I spend my time. We breakfast at eight, dine at two, and sup at seven. I generally rise in season for breakfast, and go to bed about twelve at night. After breakfast I take a walk and call on my friends. From ten to five o’clock I pass in my room in attending to my official duties, which are now entirely sedentary, and consist in preparing returns, reports, making drawings, etc., or in studying my profession as found in the books which I brought out with me, and which are a perfect treasure. Five to nine is spent in visiting, talking, receiving visits, etc. Nine to twelve I pass generally in reading. Thus my time is well filled, and I am being in some degree useful and preparing myself for future usefulness. Mason spends his time very much in the same way. I am studying daily the Spanish language, and hope before leaving this country to be able to speak it.
Captain Pitman, of Providence, now senior captain of the 9th infantry, I see frequently. He came up with Cadwallader, and is spoken of highly by those who have had opportunities to witness his deportment as an officer. I have no doubt he will do good service, though unfortunately his company is small, some thirty odd effective men. He is determined to learn his profession, and will soon get his company in good condition.
Sunday, August 1. My dear wife, since I have been an observer in this country, I have been more and more convinced that the hero age has not yet gone. This country, so highly favored by nature, a land emphatically of sun and flowers, so abject in the slavishness and brutality of its people, needs a hero spirit for its regeneration. Cortez and his devoted band did a great work, a work fit for heroes and prophets. His iron will and great soul planted Castilian civilization and enterprise in the midst of a contracted and superstitious people; and cities of fine proportions, magnificent works of art, cathedrals to the worship of the Most High, gardens in the arid plain and the dense chapparal and the wild forest field soon greeted the eyes of men in attestation of his genius. But with the decline of Castilian grandeur, Mexico ceased to be governed by a race of heroes, and her governors and her priests have degenerated into mere cumberers of the earth, having zeal only for their own aggrandizement. Is not here a work for a Moses or an Alfred? Is he not needed? And must he not arise? With the times must come the man.
But enough of this. We are still in Puebla, our army eleven thousand strong, daily improving in health, discipline, and efficiency, General Pierce some five days behind with that eagerly looked-for mail that is to bring us tidings from our homes, and all eyes turned to Mexico, ready for either alternative of peace or war. We all hope that this vexed question may be settled here on terms honorable to both countries. But if this is not to be, no man fears the ultimate result. Every private in the ranks has a solid and well-grounded conviction that our flag is never destined to retire, that no effort of the enemy can pull it down. If we move onward, no mortal arm can prevent the valley of Mexico from falling into our hands. General Scott is a remarkable man. I will acknowledge that I was under wrong impressions as to his character. Of a strong and comprehensive mind, he has extraordinary tenacity of purpose, great self-reliance, and a power of labor equaled by few men. He is emphatically the leader of our army, and has its confidence. None of our general officers are to be compared with him. He has his weak points, which I will not mention now. No man in this army doubts his fitness to command.
August 7. Since writing the above General Pierce has arrived with a mail from the States, bringing to me the melancholy tidings that my sister Mary was in Cincinnati in the last stages of consumption, unable to proceed farther on her way home. Oliver went on to bring her home, and wrote me the very day of his arrival. I wrote you yesterday by a courier employed at great expense to go down to Vera Cruz, but it is very uncertain whether he will get through. All the letters that have been sent to the States for months have been by couriers, who carry 80 to 100 letters, each a very small package, at two dollars per letter, and for the sake of the gain run the gauntlet of the guerrillas and robbers that infest the road. About one half get through. I trust that letter will reach you, as it would, I think, serve to remove much doubt in reference to the movement of our army upon the City of Mexico. Twiggs’s division commenced its movement to-day. To-morrow General Scott and staff will leave Puebla, and reach Twiggs the same evening at San Martin. Every one is in fine spirits, and no doubt is felt as to the result. This letter I must now bring to a close, and get ready for the march. I shall not be able to add to it till we enter the City of Mexico, and go again into quarters. At that time not far distant, I trust not more than fourteen days, I trust I shall be able to inform you of a glorious victory and of my own personal safety. I for one have not the least presentiment of coming personal danger. I simply fear that my strength may not hold out to the last. But with prudence I have little apprehension as to my strength proving inadequate for my share of duty. I must now, with all hope and confidence in the future, bid you good-night and my sweet babes, commending you all to the care of that great Being who does not permit a sparrow to fall to the ground without his knowledge.