During the winter of 1846–47 and to some extent later, the garrison of Tampico was menaced by plans for an uprising, to be assisted by outside forces, and sometimes it was feared that a move to capture the city would be launched from Tula in the hope of embarrassing Scott’s communications; but the Americans, though not strong in numbers there, were vigilant and well protected by fortifications. Besides, the authorities of Tamaulipas, now living on fairly good terms with the invaders, had little wish to take part in active hostilities. They quarrelled bitterly with Urrea, who naturally attempted to draw supplies and money from the region, and in November, 1847, with a view to bringing about harmony, that officer was removed. Scott’s victories and especially the fall of Mexico had no little effect in this quarter; the prospect of serious operations entirely disappeared; and early in November, 1847, General Taylor, who had reached the conclusion some time before that his country wanted him for President, and had laid aside his old brown coat in favor of checked shirt sleeves, set out for home on a leave of absence, which actually continued until the close of the war. Wool took his place; but nothing occurred in this region except guerilla affairs, of which a due account will be given presently.[1]
In the northwest, meantime, Price, who commanded in New Mexico and was disturbed by rumors of danger from the south, decided on his own responsibility, ignoring instructions to do otherwise, that he must assume the aggressive. Early in March, 1848, the city of Chihuahua was therefore reoccupied; and on the sixteenth of that month, after a little brisk fighting, the town of Rosales, about sixty miles to the southeast, which Angel Trias held with some 800 men, chiefly National Guards, was captured by assault with a trifling loss. But this campaign had no general effect on the war—indeed, the treaty of peace had already been signed—and Price was ordered by Marcy to retire.[1]
FIGHTING IN THE CAPITAL
In Scott’s department the final military operations began very promptly. Immediately after the Americans took possession of the grand plaza at Mexico on the morning of September 14, a multitude of blanketed léperos crowded closely upon them. Already these miscreants had tasted the disorder they loved, for the palace had been left unguarded, and they had sacked it; and now they showed signs of turbulence. The plaza was cleared, however, and no further trouble seemed likely. But when our troops began to march away to their quarters, a shot was heard. A bullet probably intended for Worth struck Garland, and almost instantly firing from street corners, windows and the tops of houses became general, though not systematic. Thousands of convicts from the jail supported the populace, and in one way or another not a few of the better class coöperated. By Tornel’s order paving stones had been taken to many of the azoteas with a view to resisting the invader step by step, and these, like every other sort of weapon, were now used.[2]
Though surprised, the Americans promptly accepted the challenge. Skirmishers drove back the mobs. Grape and canister swept the streets. As a rule, every house from which a shot flew became a target for our heavy cannon, which seemed to shake the very foundations of the city, and when breached was immediately sacked; and sharpshooters worked effectively on towers and roofs. Scott threatened even sterner measures; and the city authorities not only put up notices, embodying his threats and imploring the people to desist from a vain and imprudent contest, but interceded personally with them in the streets. By about noon the Americans held all the points of vantage, and as evening approached, the firing died away. A fearful night ensued. It was dark and cold. No lights relieved the gloom. Wild mobs ran shouting through the streets, and the hoof-beats of American patrols resounded from square to square.[2]
Santa Anna, finding it impossible on the morning of the fourteenth to subsist his army at Guadalupe, had ordered the infantry and heavy guns to Querétaro under General Herrera, and proceeded with four small pieces and the cavalry to San Cristóbal, a point about fourteen miles northeast of the capital. After seeing the people of Mexico view with indifference his efforts of the previous day, he expected nothing of them; but on learning of the outbreak he marched back to Guadalupe, and at a late hour sent into Mexico a small force of cavalry and infantry to investigate and assist. This met Duncan’s battery and retreated; but Santa Anna, assured that on the next day there would be a rising en masse, erected a breastwork at the Peralvillo garita on the north side of the town, and waited.[2]
As soon as day broke, gloomy and wet, the shooting was in fact resumed, at least in the northern quarters. But he soon perceived that no general movement was taking place, and again marched away. This disheartened the people still more; the efforts of the authorities influenced them greatly; and by the end of the afternoon, realizing that much was to be suffered and nothing gained, they generally abandoned hope. During the next day or two scattering shots could be heard, but real fighting was over. Extravagant hopes of destroying the small American army were still entertained by lightheaded men.wrote one of these, and attempts were made by military officers to organize a real conspiracy; but lack of courage, means, confidence and mutual trust—as well as the watchfulness of the Americans—made success impossible. Scott repeatedly warned his troops to be vigilant and orderly, to keep together, and to refrain from drinking. As the danger grew less menacing, however, they became less careful, and for probably a month assassinations were frequent. From first to last several hundred Americans perished in the hostilities, and no doubt far more of the enemy. But by the middle of October the city was tranquil.[2]
The concluding field operations in Scott’s department resembled for the most part the fighting just described, for they had to do chiefly with guerillas. That style of warfare suited the national character. It had figured prominently in the Spanish struggle against Napoleon and in the Mexican war of independence; and when the public began to see clearly that battles could not stop the Americans, it was invoked—even though by universal military practice in Europe those who robbed and fought at will, while pretending to be inoffensive, were considered brigands and assassins—as the one hope.[3]
Thoughtful persons like J. F. Ramírez and General Mora pointed out serious dangers: the impossibility of discipline, the relaxation of morale, the destruction of all standards, and the certainty that a spirit of violence and rapine would grow by what it fed upon; and they recognized the improbability that such methods could prevail against the strength, equipment, compactness and skill of the Americans. But the obvious advantages of the guerilla system, which it required far less intelligence to perceive and appreciate, counted powerfully on the other side. How much the Spanish themselves had suffered from their irregulars during the hostilities against Napoleon was not understood, and patriotic pride in the war of independence had tended to draw a veil over its horrors.[3]
The dagger, said the official newspaper, was the favorite weapon of the people. Unarmed men could burn wagons and intercept communications, it was pointed out. Even women and children could help. A thorough knowledge of the country, its mountains and its by-paths, would evidently constitute an enormous advantage. Light corps of the abstemious rancheros, embarrassed with no baggage, could travel quickly day and night, concentrate in large numbers against an American detachment, strike, vanish, and then, when least expected, reappear, making the most of all neglects, all mistakes, nullifying superior strength by avoiding it, and nullifying discipline by fighting in a style that had no need of discipline. Situated even more favorably than Spain for such warfare, the Mexicans were to outdo her example.[3]