They were extraordinary characters. Both were practised officers dating back to the war of 1812, though neither was a West Point graduate. Scott on the Canadian frontier had commanded against considerable bodies of disciplined British troops in pitched battle, and came off with increased reputation. He had then visited Europe and observed the continental armies. He was well educated; had studied for the bar, but by preference took up the military profession, of which he was a diligent student. Scott was thoroughly up in the literature of war. To a cultivated mind he added a colossal person and a fine presence.
General Scott’s chief fault was an overweening personal vanity which often took the form of mere pedantry, not unseldom bringing him into personal ridicule. Insufferably pompous, he invariably maintained a vast, unbending dignity, both of manner and speech, whether oral or written. The subalterns of the army looked upon him with absolute awe. Many a brevetted cadet would readily have chosen to go against a Mexican intrenchment rather than into the commanding general’s presence. He brooked no familiarity from high or low. While he sometimes indulged in a sort of elephantine affability, he was naturally dictatorial towards all subordinates, though always within the limits of decency. Scott’s was not at all the overbearing insolence of the coward. He always rode in full uniform, with all the insignia of his rank visible to the naked eye.
Such a queer combination of bigness and littleness, learning, practical ability, and whimsicality formed a character sure to create enemies, and it must be said that Scott had plenty of them, both in and out of the army. By them he was derisively dubbed “Old Fuss and Feathers.” Notwithstanding his weakness, the General was physically and morally a very brave man. He was cool and deliberate in forming his military plans, and once determined upon they were prosecuted with unhesitating energy and precision. Above all he was an honest man. Undoubtedly General Scott possessed a comprehensive military mind.
Equally cool and careful in planning, equally energetic in execution, and equally brave, honest, and true, in other respects Taylor was an entirely different type of man. Personally he was the antipodes of the handsome giant, Scott, being only of middle stature. His complexion was swarthy and his face rugged and homely, but with a kindly expression. Unlike Scott again, Taylor’s schooling had been limited, yet without any affectation of style he wrote clearly and vigorously. From the age of one year he had lived the life of a Kentucky frontier farmer boy up to his entry into the army as a lieutenant in 1808.
Taylor’s military experience, confined wholly to the Western border in 1812, was limited to outpost affairs with Indians and the few squads of British soldiers and borderers who supported them. As an officer he had never met so much as a full company of disciplined soldiers until Palo Alto. Taylor never wore his uniform, or almost never. He dressed in rough clothes no better than those worn by the common soldier. He was often seen riding without his staff or other attendant, seeing things with his own eyes. He was frank and somewhat rough, but kindly in speech. While he was not without proper dignity, he talked and acted straight to the mark without much consideration for appearances. He treated his subordinates with easy consideration, and was often seen joking and laughing with mere subalterns. He was given the sobriquet of “Old Rough and Ready” by the army, in which he was dearly loved by all. It was a title which rang through the country in the political campaign of 1848. He not only inspired universal good will, rough and uncultivated as he was, but confidence. Such were the two Mexican commanders.
As we gazed down from Chapultepec’s heights, on that fragrant day of 1898, across the beautiful valley of Mexico, the war of fifty years agone seemed but yesterday to him who on those fields had added a new star of the first magnitude to the galaxy of American valor. Memories of the glorious past rushed through his mind. Here Grant and Lee had taken their first lessons in practical warfare on a considerable scale. Here had been won not only Texas, but the vast domain away to the Pacific. Since then what social, industrial, and political revolutions had he not witnessed. From the Mississippi had spread out a great republic, reaching from ocean to ocean. He had seen the Southern Confederacy rise and fall, and colossal history, along the way from Chapultepec to Manila, written in the blood of the nation’s strong men. And Mexico has not been behind in the mighty changes that have swept over the continent since her bitter humiliation in 1847. She has advanced by heroic strides, especially under the wise leadership of Diaz.
But after all it was not wholly the great events of half a century that crowded upon General Longstreet’s memory at this interesting juncture. Curiously enough, his mind persisted in fixing itself upon minor incidents,—social and personal relations,—on the comrades who had here and elsewhere laid down their lives in the service, on others who had risen to distinction or dropped out of the running. The “boys” of ’46 and ’47 again crowded upon him. It could hardly be otherwise, for they were a band of brothers then. When General Taylor’s little Army of Observation was collected in western Louisiana, the whole regular establishment of the United States consisted of no more than 12,139 officers and men. The Army of Occupation which was concentrated at Corpus Christi, Texas, in the fall of 1845, numbered only three thousand men.
The days of Corpus Christi still formed a vivid picture in General Longstreet’s mind. The oldest officers present—even General Taylor himself—had never seen so large a body of the regular army together. Adjoining the camp were extensive level prairies, admirably adapted to military manœuvres. Many of the officers had not taken part in even a battalion drill since leaving West Point, and with most of them evolutions of the line had only been read in tactics. So widely had the troops been scattered, and in such small detachments, to meet the requirements of the country’s extensive frontiers, that there were colonels who had never seen their entire regiments.
This concentration afforded opportunity for practical professional instruction and discipline which was appreciated and availed of. But with this preparatory work there were amusements, and lasting friendships were formed; perhaps a few equally lasting enmities. Game and fish abounded. There were no settlements; the country was absolutely wild. Within a few hours’ ride of the camps were wild turkeys in flocks of twenty to forty; deer and antelope were numerous, and not far afield were vast droves of wild mustangs. Wolves and coyotes were everywhere, and occasionally a Mexican lion (cougar) was found. Many of the young officers became expert hunters. Muzzle-loading shot-guns were used mainly; there were no breech-loaders in those days. The camp tables fairly groaned with game dishes; wild turkey and venison finally so palled upon many of the soldiers as actually to become distasteful, and the old reliable beef and pork of the commissariat was resorted to in preference.
Wild horses were lassoed and brought into camp by Mexicans and tame Indians, and sold to the Americans for two or three dollars a head. An extra good animal would sometimes bring twelve dollars, which was the tip-top price. A good many were purchased by the quartermaster for the use of the army, and proved very serviceable. These animals looked something like the Norman breed; they had heavy manes and tails, and were much more powerful than the plains ponies farther north of a later date. They foraged for themselves and flourished where the American horse would deteriorate and soon die.