When in camp below New Orleans the troops were guilty of some “sky-larking”—that is to say, plundering; and when they entered the enemy’s country they became, said a regular officer, “the living embodiment of a moral pestilence. Crime followed in their footsteps, and wherever they trod, they left indelible traces of infamy.” To meet their wishes, disorderly establishments of every kind sprang up,[4] and the streets were constantly filled with drunken, brawling, insolent officers and men carrying arms. One of them drew a pistol on the British consul because his cane was black; many depredations were committed; and before the tenth of July at least five or six harmless persons were shot down for amusement.[6]
Although it would seem as if Taylor, with some 2500 regulars at his back, might have enforced order, he declared that he could not, and soon gave up the effort. Unwilling to bring offenders before a military court, he endeavored to have the Mexican judges act in some cases, but of course they dared not; and he shipped a few of the malefactors to New Orleans, where they could not be held a moment for crimes perpetrated abroad. The result was practical impunity—“perfect impunity,” wrote the British consul—for the worst of crimes. At the beginning of August, however, the General prohibited the importation of liquor by the Rio Grande; and as the army was then moving on, Matamoros became comparatively quiet.[6]
Later commanders undertook with considerable success to keep it so; but even in January, 1847, robbery and violence were not unknown there, and the non-commissioned officers as well as the soldiers were forbidden to leave their quarters with arms unless on duty. Discharged volunteers on their way down the river did great harm,[5] and Taylor wrote in June, 1847, “There is scarcely a form of crime that has not been reported to me as committed by them.” Above Matamoros determined efforts were made with partial success to keep liquor from the troops, and the conditions were better. Here and there Americans would “muster in” some fruit or fowls. “Soldiers who have to fight their enemy in the enemy’s country will never go hungry as long as there are any chickens about,” wrote one of them; and in fact, said an officer, it was a patriotic duty for Uncle Sam’s men to keep their souls and their bodies together. But the rule in such cases was to compensate the owners, and probably no serious resentment lingered.[6]
During the battles of Monterey there was enough shooting to satisfy any reasonable person, and the quiet beauty of the scene should soon have banished thoughts of carnage. The tranquil mountains that stood about the town on three sides, receding as the clouds enveloped them in shadow or approaching as the splendor of the sun brightened every point, the statuesque aguacates clothed in foliage like dark green velvet, the fan-like palmettoes, the feathery date palms, the delicious oranges and pomegranates, the murmuring streams, and the lilies that brightened many a pool invited to repose; yet no sooner was battle over than murder began.[10]
The chief criminals were the Texans,[C] who felt that barbarities committed by the Mexican on their soil during the revolution warranted the crudest retaliation. At Matamoros they had been the fiercest of the volunteers, and now—stationed for a while at the town—they found a still better opportunity.[7] Other volunteers aided them. To say nothing of robberies and minor outrages perpetrated “in the broad light of day,” it was thought, noted a regular officer in his diary, that not less than one hundred Mexicans were slain in cold blood, and out of about 7000 still in town, 5000, more or less, fled. A citizen cannot take his hat off, wrote a Mexican, without some American’s saying, “That is mine”; and if the owner denies it, he gets a bullet. Strict regulations[8] were soon framed, however, and under Worth’s command the volunteer learned what they meant.[10]
To a large extent, if we leave the Texans out of the account, the Mexicans themselves were responsible for the worst outrages of Monterey and the vicinity. They sold liquor to the troops persistently, and retaliated indiscriminately for the excesses that resulted. The Americans then took vengeance, and in the end some ghastly deeds on rather a large scale occurred. Singularly enough, too, the punctiliousness of our officers contributed to the same end. They would not convict a Mexican without legal proof of his guilt, and when soldiers saw a man, who was almost certainly the murderer of their comrade, let off because a drove of Mexicans testified to an alibi, they were likely to steal out after him or make some one else pay his forfeit.[9] Still, the many injunctions to be fair and kindly toward the people were not without effect. One soldier used to sit cross-legged in the square of Monterey, and play his rickety accordion for the benefit of the populace.[10]
AFFAIRS AT SALTILLO
At Saltillo strict police regulations were made. As had now become the general rule, to provide soldiers with intoxicating beverages, except by special permission, was forbidden, and fifty lashes were made the penalty for disobedience. The troops had to seek their quarters at retreat, and the Mexicans go home when the ten o’clock bell rang. But in spite of every precaution the “lawless volunteers,” as Worth called them, were guilty of many offences, and—with the perhaps excessive emphasis of a high-minded regular officer—he wrote to his daughter, “The innocent blood that has been basely, cowardly and barbarously shed in cold blood, aside from other and deeper crimes, will appeal to Heaven for, and, I trust, receive, just retribution.”[12]
Here, as at Monterey, Worth made an admirable governor, sitting four hours a day to hear complaints, and administering substantial justice without reference to legal technicalities; and his successors were much like him.[11] A sergeant was discharged for treating a Mexican unjustly. An American “doctor” was expelled for disorderly conduct. Soldiers were not allowed to endanger the people by riding fast in the streets. Property stolen or destroyed was paid for by the army, and this rule was made to work the other way also. The town prospered; and although some of the soldiers would now and then help themselves to fruit or snatch a piece of candy from a stand, and cases of outrage on the one hand or assassination on the other occurred at intervals, the people—notably hostile at first—became friendly, the windows were always full of laughing girls, and the women in their rebosas, red petticoats and blue cloth slippers went every evening to the fountain in the plaza with their tall earthen jars, unmolested and unafraid.[12]
Tampico, to say nothing of the drills and parades, offered enough interesting sights and amusements to keep the soldiers out of mischief, one might have thought. The many strange and beautiful trees; the mullard and sea-trout, schools of yellow jackfish, huge, pearly tarpon, and many other denizens of the rivers and lagoons; the buzzards coasting on air, the grunting ravens, and forty other kinds of birds; the long, slender pirogues of red cedar constantly bringing luscious fruits to the market; the many vessels coming and going: these were only a few of the attractions. But in reality the town was a hard problem, for its nearness to the United States and its commercial relations made the exclusion of all undesirable visitors impossible. So-called restaurants bearing popular American names flourished, and, in spite of the prohibition against importing liquor, strong drink was about all they offered except hard beef; while the existence of gambling houses was proved by the severe and repeated orders against them. Almost every volunteer, said a regular officer, celebrated his arrival with a “frolic,”[13] and according to the Mexican accounts, threats, insults and small depredations were not infrequent.[14]