evening of December 23, 1847, the fallen hero, attended by some of his
chiefs and men, escorted by five hundred French cavalry, who showed
great respect and sympathy for the captives, arrived at headquarters.
Abd-el-Kader, attended by Lamoriciere and Cavaignac, was presented to
the son of Louis Philippe. The Prince pledged himself that Lamoriciere's
promise and stipulation should be strictly observed. He knew little that
his father's throne was about to fall, and that the decision as to
Abd-el-Kader's fate would, within a few weeks, rest in far different
hands. The ex-Sultan then withdrew to his deira, which had now joined
the French encampment.

On the next morning, December 24th, the Governor-General held a review.
His honored prisoner and guest, riding a splendid black charger of the
purest Arab breed, and surrounded by his chiefs, awaited his return from
the field. When the Prince approached, Abd-el-Kader dismounted and
offered his steed as a present in testimony of his gratitude, and
expressed the hope that he might always bear his new master in safety
and happiness. The Duc d'Aumale replied, "I accept it as a homage
rendered to France, the protection of which country will henceforth be
ever extended toward you, and as a sign that the past is forgotten."

On December 25th the Algerian hero embarked with his family and
followers in a French frigate for Toulon. He had seen the last of his
native land. Lamoriciere accompanied him on board and supplemented his
poor resources with a present of four thousand francs, receiving
Abd-el-Kader's sword in return. The _Moniteur_ of January 3, 1848, paid
a high tribute to the genius and ascendency of the captive in these
words: "The subjugation of Abd-el-Kader is an event of immense
importance to France. It assures the tranquillity of our conquest.
To-day France can, if necessary, transport to other quarters the hundred
thousand men who hold the conquered populations under her yoke."




(1847) THE MEXICAN WAR, John Bonner


When President Polk began his Administration, the United States
Government had become involved in two boundary disputes--one relating to
Oregon, the other to Texas and Mexico. Out of the latter came the
Mexican War, concerning the political causes and merits of which there
were then and ever since have been wide differences of opinion among the
American people. Polk's election by the Democrats in 1844 had turned
mainly upon the question of annexing Texas. Just before he came into
office the annexation was made.

Texas claimed as her western boundary the Rio Grande. Mexico held that
the western limit was the Nueces. Between the two rivers there was a
large area of disputed territory. The Texan claim was opposed by many
American statesmen and publicists, and by some was denounced--as the
annexation of Texas had been--as an aggressive move against Mexico. But
the United States Government supported the cause of Texas. General
Zachary Taylor, who had served in the War of 1812, and afterward in
several Indian wars, took command of the army in Texas in 1845. In
January, 1846, he was ordered to occupy positions on or near the left
bank of the Rio Grande del Norte. This order and its execution have been
held by some writers to constitute an act of war, but war was not
formally declared by the United States till May 11th. Taylor, with a
small force, had several slight encounters with Mexican troops, after
which he won the battle of Palo Alto (May 8, 1846), near the southern
extremity of Texas; and that of Resaca de la Palma (May 9th), also in
Texas, four miles north of Matamoros, Mexico. He took possession of
Matamoros May 18th. With six thousand men, against about ten thousand
Mexicans under Ampudia, Taylor captured Monterey, Mexico (September
24th), and at Buena Vista, February 22-23, 1847, with five thousand
troops, he defeated fifteen thousand Mexicans under Santa Anna, then
President of Mexico and commander of her army.

The war was now transferred to the district between Vera Cruz and the
City of Mexico, the capital, and was henceforth conducted for the United
States by General Winfield Scott, whose previous military career had
been much the same as General Taylor's. Scott had been made
Major-General and Commander-in-Chief of the Army in 1841. His first
operation in Mexico was the taking of Vera Cruz, the principal Mexican
seaport, on the Gulf of Mexico. With the aid of a fleet he besieged the
city in March, 1847, and on the 27th received its surrender. At Cerro
Gordo (April 17th and 18th) he won an important victory that opened his
way through the mountains toward his objective, the city of Mexico.
Reenforcements gradually reached him, and by the first of August he was
ready to move on the valley of Mexico with about eleven thousand men.
From this stage to the fall of the capital, completing the conquest of
the country, Bonner's account gives a graphic recital of events. The
city was held by Americans from September 14, 1847, the day they entered
it, until the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo (February 2,
1848), which ended the war.

With the energy that characterized Santa Anna throughout the Mexican
War, he had prepared for a desperate defence. Civil strife had been
silenced, funds raised, an army of twenty-five thousand men mustered,
and every precaution taken which genius could suggest or science
indicate. Nature had done much for him. Directly in front of the
invading army lay the large lakes of Xochimilco and Chalco. These
turned, vast marshes, intersected by ditches and for the most part
impassable, surrounded the city on the east and the south--on which side
Scott was advancing--for several miles. The only approaches were by
causeways; and these Santa Anna had taken prodigious pains to guard. The
national road to Vera Cruz--which Scott must have taken had he marched
on the north side of the lakes--was commanded by a fort mounting
fifty-one guns on an impregnable hill called El Penon. Should he turn
the southern side of the lakes, a field of lava, deemed almost
impassable for troops, interposed a primary obstacle; and fortified
positions at San Antonio, San Angel, and Churubusco, with an intrenched
camp at Contreras, were likewise to be surmounted before the southern
causeways could be reached. Beyond these there yet remained the
formidable castle of Chapultepec and the strong enclosure of Molino del
Rey, to be stormed before the city gates could be reached. Powerful
batteries had been mounted at all these points, and ample garrisons
detailed to serve them. The bone and muscle of Mexico were there.

Goaded by defeat, Santa Anna never showed so much vigor; ambition fired
Valencia; patriotism stirred the soul of Alvarez; Canalizo, maddened by
the odium into which he had fallen, was boiling to regain his soubriquet
of the "Lion of Mexico." With a constancy equal to anything recorded of
the Roman Senate, the Mexican Congress, on learning of the defeat at
Cerro Gordo, had voted unanimously that anyone opening negotiations with
the enemy should be deemed a traitor; and the citizens with one accord
had ratified the vote. Within six months Mexico had lost two splendid
armies in two pitched battles against the troops now advancing against
the capital; but she never lost heart, and her spirit quailed not.

The engineers reporting that the fortress on El Penon could not be
carried without a loss of one-third the army, Scott decided to move by
the south of the lakes; and Worth accordingly advanced, leading the van,
as far as San Augustin, nine miles from the city of Mexico. There a
large field of lava, known as the Pedregal, barred the way. On the one
side, two miles from San Augustin, the fortified works at San Antonio
commanded the passage between the field and the lake; on the other, the
ground was so much broken that infantry alone could advance, and General
Valencia occupied an intrenched camp, with a heavy battery, near the
village of Contreras, three miles distant. Scott determined to attack on
both sides, and sent forward General William J. Worth on the east, and
General Gideon J. Pillow and General David E. Twiggs on the west. The
latter advanced as fast as possible over the masses of lava on the
morning of the 19th, and by 2 P.M. a couple of light batteries were
placed in position and opened fire on the Mexican camp.

At the same time General Persifor Smith conceived the plan of turning
Valencia's left, and hastened along the path through the Pedregal in the
direction of a village called San Jeronimo. Colonel Riley followed.
Pillow sent Cadwallader's brigade on the same line, and later in the day
Morgan's regiment was likewise despatched toward that point. They drove
in the Mexican pickets and skirmishers, dispersed a few parties of
lancers, and occupied the village without loss. Seeing the movement,
Santa Anna hastened to Valencia's support with twelve thousand men. He
was discovered by Cadwallader just as the latter gained the village
road; and appreciating the vast importance of preventing a junction
between the two Mexican generals, that gallant officer did not hesitate
to draw up his brigade in order of battle. So broken was the ground that
Santa Anna could not see the amount of force opposed to him, and
declined the combat. This was all Cadwallader wanted. Shields's brigade
was advancing through the Pedregal, and the troops which had already
crossed were rapidly moving to the rear of Valencia's camp. Night too
was close at hand. When it fell, Smith's, Riley's, and Cadwallader's
commands had gained the point they sought. Shields joined them at ten
o'clock; and at midnight Captain Lee crossed the Pedregal, with a
message from General Smith to General Scott, to say that he would begin
the attack at daybreak next morning.

It rained all night and the men lay in the mud without fires. At three
in the morning (August 20th) the word was passed to march. Such pitchy
darkness covered the face of the plain that Smith ordered every man to
touch his front file as he marched. Now and then a flash of lightning
lighted the narrow ravine; occasionally a straggling moonbeam pierced
the clouds and shed an uncertain glimmer on the heights; but these
flitting guides served only to make the darkness seem darker. The
soldiers groped their way, stumbling over stones and brushwood, and did
not gain the rear of the camp till day broke. Then Riley bade his men
look to the priming of their guns, and reload those which the rain had
wet. With the first ray of daylight the firing had begun again between
the Mexican camp and Ransom's corps stationed in front and Shields's
brigade at San Jeronimo. Almost at the same moment Riley began to ascend
the height in the rear. Before he reached the crest, his engineers, who
had gone forward to reconnoitre, came running back to say that his
advance had been detected, that two guns were being pointed against him,
and a body of infantry were sallying from the camp, The news braced the
men's nerves. They gained the ridge, and stood a tremendous volley from
the Mexicans without flinching. Hanson of the Seventh--a gallant officer
and an excellent man--was shot down with many others; but the Mexicans
had done their worst.

With steady aim the volley was returned; and ere the smoke rose a cheer
rang through the ravine, and Riley fell with a swoop on the
intrenchments. With bayonet and butt of musket, the Second and Seventh
drove the enemy from his guns, leaping into his camp and slaughtering
all before them. Up rushed Smith's own brigade on the left, driving a
party of Mexicans before them, and charging with the bayonet straight at
Torrejon's cavalry, which was drawn up in order of battle. Defeat was
marked on their faces. Valencia was nowhere to be found. Salas strove
vainly to rouse his men to defend themselves with energy; Torrejon's
horse, smitten with panic, broke and fled at the advance of our
infantry. Riley hurled the Mexicans from their camp after a struggle of
a quarter of an hour; and as they rushed down the ravine, their own
cavalry rode over them, trampling down more men than the bayonet and
ball had laid low. On the right, as they fled, Cadwallader's brigade
poured in a destructive volley; and Shields, throwing his party across
the road, obstructed their retreat and compelled the fugitives to yield
themselves prisoners of war. The only fight of any moment had taken
place within the camp. There, for a few minutes, the Mexicans had fought
desperately; two of our regimental colors had been shot down, but
finally Anglo-Saxon bone and sinew had triumphed. To the exquisite
delight of the assailants, the first prize of victory was the guns
O'Brien had abandoned at Buena Vista, which were regained by his own
regiment. Twenty other guns and more than a thousand prisoners,
including eighty-eight officers and four generals, were likewise
captured, and about fifteen hundred Mexicans killed and wounded. The
American loss in killed, wounded, and missing was about one hundred men.

Barely taking time to breathe his troops, Smith followed in pursuit
toward the city. By ten o'clock in the morning he reached San Angel,
which Santa Anna evacuated as he approached. The General-in-Chief and
the generals of division had by this time relieved Smith of his command.
Scott rode to the front, and in a few brief words told the men there was
more work to be done that day. A loud cheer from the ranks was the
reply. The whole force then advanced to Coyacan, within a mile of
Churubusco, and prepared to assault the place.

Santa Anna considered it the key to the city, and awaited the attack in
perfect confidence with thirty thousand men. The defences were simple.
On the west, in the direction of Coyacan, stood the large stone convent
of San Pablo, which, as well as the wall and breastworks in front, was
filled with infantry, and which contained seven heavy guns. A breastwork
connected San Pablo with the _tete de pont_ over the Churubusco River,
four hundred yards distant. This was the easternmost point of defence,
and formed part of the San Antonio causeway leading to the city. It was
a work constructed with the greatest skill--bastions, curtain, and wet
ditch, everything was complete and perfect--four guns were mounted in
embrasure and barbette, and as many men as the place would hold were
stationed there. The reserves occupied the causeway behind Churubusco.
Independently of his defences, Santa Anna's numbers--nearly five to
one--should have insured the repulse of the assailants.

By eleven--hardly seven hours having elapsed since the Contreras camp
had been stormed, five miles away--Twiggs and Pillow were in motion
toward the San Antonio causeway. Nothing had been heard of Worth, who
had been directed to move along the east side of the Pedregal on San
Antonio, but it was taken for granted he had carried the point, and
Scott wished to cut off the retreat of the garrison. Twiggs was
advancing cautiously toward the convent when a heavy firing was heard in
advance. Supposing that a reconnoitring party had been attacked, he
hastily sent forward the First Artillery, under Dimmick, through a field
of tall corn, to support them. No sooner had they separated from the
main body than a terrific discharge of grape, canister, and musketry
assailed them from the convent. In the teeth of the storm they advanced
to within one hundred yards of that building, and a light battery under
Taylor was brought up on their right, and opened on the convent.

More than an hour the gunners stood firm to their pieces under afire as
terrible as troops ever endured; one-third of the command had fallen
before they were withdrawn. Colonel Riley meanwhile, with the stormers
of Contreras, had been despatched to assail San Pablo on the west, and,
like Dimmick, was met by a murderous rain of shot. Whole heads of
companies were mowed down at once. Thus Captain Smith fell, twice
wounded, with every man beside him; and a single discharge from the
Mexican guns swept down Lieutenant Easley and the division he led. It
was the second time that day the gallant Second had served as targets
for the Mexicans, but not a man fell back. General Smith ordered up the
Third in support, and these, protecting themselves as best they could
behind a few huts, kept up a steady fire on the convent. Sallies from
the works were continually made, and as continually repelled, but not a
step could the assailants make in advance.

By this time the battle was raging at three different points. Worth had
marched on San Antonio that morning, found it evacuated, and given chase
to the Mexicans with the Fifth and Sixth Infantry. The causeway leading
from San Antonio to the _tete de pont_ of Churubusco was thronged with
flying horse and foot; our troops dashed headlong after them, never
halting till the advance corps--the Sixth--were within short range of
the Mexican batteries. A tremendous volley from the _tete de pont_ in
front, and the convent on the flank, then forced them to await the
arrival of the rest of the division. This was the fire which Twiggs
heard when he sent Dimmick against the convent.

Worth came up almost immediately; and directing the Sixth to advance as
best they could along the causeway in the teeth of the _tete de pont_,
despatched Garland's and Clarke's brigades through the fields on the
right to attack it in flank. Every gun was instantly directed against
the assailants; and though the day was bright and clear, the clouds of
smoke actually darkened the air. Hoffman, waving his sword, cheered on
the Sixth; but the shot tore and ripped up their ranks to such a degree
that in a few minutes they had lost ninety-seven men. The brigades on
the right suffered as severely. One hundred men fell within the space of
an acre. Still they pressed on, till the Eighth (of Clarke's brigade)
reached the ditch. In they plunged, Lieutenant Longstreet bearing the
colors in advance; he scrambled out on the other side, dashed at the
walls without ladders or scaling implements, and bayoneted the defenders
as they took aim. At last, officers and men mixed pell-mell, some
through the embrasures, some over the walls, rushed or leaped in and
drove the garrison helter-skelter upon their reserves.

The _tete de pont_ gained, its guns were turned on the convent, whence
the Mexicans were still slaughtering our gallant Second and Third.
Duncan's battery, too, hitherto in reserve, was brought up and opened
with such rapidity that a bystander estimated the intervals between the
reports at three seconds! Stunned by this novel attack, the garrison of
San Pablo slackened fire. In an instant the Third, followed by Dimmick's
artillery, dashed forward with the bayonet to storm the nearest bastion.
With a run they carried it, the artillery bursting over the curtain; but
at that moment a dozen white flags waved in their faces. The whole
fortified position of Churubusco was taken.

Meantime, however, a conflict as deadly as either of these was raging
behind the Mexican fortifications. Soon after the battle commenced,
Scott sent Pierce's and Shields's brigades by the left, through the
fields, to attack the enemy in the rear. On the causeway, opposed to
them, were planted Santa Anna's reserves--four thousand foot and three
thousand horse--in a measure protected by a dense growth of maguey.
Shields advanced intrepidly with his force of sixteen hundred. The
ground was marshy, and for a long distance--having vainly endeavored to
outflank the enemy--his advance was exposed to their whole fire. Morgan,
of the Fifteenth, fell wounded. The New York regiment suffered
fearfully, and their leader, Colonel Burnett, was disabled. The
Palmettos of South Carolina, and the Ninth under Ransom, were as
severely cut up; and after a while all sought shelter in and about a
large barn near the causeway. Shields, in an agony at the failure of his
movement, cried imploringly for volunteers to follow him.

The appeal was instantly answered by Colonel Butler, of the Palmettos:
"Every South Carolinian will follow you to the death!" The cry was
contagious, and most of the New Yorkers took it up. Forming at angles to
the causeway, Shields led these brave men, under an incessant hail of
shot, against the village of Portales, where the Mexican reserves were
posted. Not a trigger was pulled till they stood at a hundred fifty
yards from the enemy. Then the little band poured in their volley,
fatally answered by the Mexican host. Butler, already wounded, was shot
through the head and died instantly. Calling to the Palmettos to avenge
his death, Shields gives the word to charge. They charge--not four
hundred in all--over the plain and down upon four thousand Mexicans
securely posted under cover. At every step their ranks are thinned.
Dickenson, who succeeded Butler in command of the Palmettos, seizes the
colors as the bearer falls dead; the next moment he is down himself,
mortally wounded, and Major Gladden snatches them from his hand.

Adams, Moragne, and nearly half the gallant band are prostrate. A very
few minutes more and there will be no one left to bear the glorious
flag.

But at this very moment a deafening roar is heard in the direction of
the _tete de pont_. Round shot and grape, rifle-balls and canister, come
crashing down the causeway into the Mexican ranks from their own
battery. Worth is there, the gallant fellow, just in time. Down the road
and over the ditch, through the field and hedge and swamp, in tumult and
panic the Mexicans are flying from the bayonets of the Sixth and
Garland's brigade. A shout, louder than the cannon's peal; Worth is on
their heels with his men. Before Shields reaches the causeway he is by
his side driving the Mexican horse into their infantry, and Ayres is
galloping up with a captured Mexican gun. Captain Kearny, with a few
dragoons, dashes past, rides straight into the flying host, scatters
them right and left, sabres all he can reach, and halts before the gate
of Mexico. Not till then does he perceive that he is alone with his
little party, nearly all of whom are wounded; but, despite the hundreds
of _escopetas_ that are levelled at him, he gallops back in safety to
headquarters.

The sun, which rose that morning on a proud army and a defiant
metropolis, set at even on a shattered, haggard band, and a city full of
woe-stricken wretches who did nothing all night but quake with terror,
and cry, at every noise, "_Aqui viene los Yanquies_!" ("Here come the
Yankees!") All along the causeway, and in the fields and swamps on
either side, heaps of dead men and cattle intermingled with broken
ammunition-carts, marked where the American shot had told. A gory track
leading to the _tete de pont_, groups of dead in the fields on the west
of Churubusco, over whose pale faces some stalks of tattered corn still
waved; red blotches in the marsh next the causeway, where the rich blood
of Carolina and New York soaked the earth, showed where the fire of the
heavy Mexican guns and the countless _escopetas_ of the infantry had
been most murderous. Scott had lost, in that day's work, more than a
thousand men in killed and wounded, seventy-nine of whom were officers.
The Mexican loss, according to Santa Anna, was one-third of his army,
equal probably to ten thousand men, one-fourth of whom were prisoners,
the rest killed and wounded. As the sun went down the troops were
recalled to headquarters; but all night long the battlefield swarmed
with straggling parties seeking some lost comrade in the cold and rain,
and surgeons hurrying from place to place and offering succor to the
wounded.

It would have been easy for Scott to march on the city that night, or
next morning, and seize it before the Mexicans recovered from the shock
of their defeat. Anxious to shorten the war, and assured that Santa Anna
was desirous of negotiating; warned, moreover, by neutrals and others,
that the hostile occupation of the capital would destroy the last chance
of peaceable accommodation and rouse the Mexican spirit to resistance
all over the country, the American general consented, too generously
perhaps, to offer an armistice to his vanquished foe. It was eagerly
accepted, and negotiations were commenced which lasted over a fortnight.
In the mean time General Scott had the satisfaction of hanging several
of the Irishmen who had deserted to the Mexicans, and, serving as the
battalion of San Patricio, had shot down so many of their old comrades
at Buena Vista and Churubusco. This act of justice was approved by the
army and the nation. Early in September the treachery of the Mexicans
became apparent. No progress had been made in the negotiations; and, in
defiance of the armistice, an American wagon, proceeding to the city for
provisions, had been attacked by the mob and one man killed and others
wounded. Scott wrote to Santa Anna, demanding an apology, and
threatening to terminate the armistice on the 7th if it were not
tendered. The reply was insulting in the extreme; Santa Anna had
repaired his losses and was ready for another fight.

On the evening of September 7th Worth and his officers were gathered in
his quarters at Tacubaya. On a table lay a hastily sketched map showing
the position of the fortified works at Molino del Rey, with the Casa
Mata on one side and the castle of Chapultepec on the other. The Molino
was occupied by the enemy; there was reason to believe it contained a
foundry in full operation, and Worth had been directed to storm it next
morning. Over that table bent Garland and Clarke, eager to repeat the
glorious deeds of August 20th at the _tete de pont_ of Churubusco;
Duncan and Smith, already veterans; Wright, the leader of the forlorn
hope, joyfully thinking of the morrow; famous Martin Scott, and
dauntless Graham, little dreaming that a few hours would see their livid
corpses stretched upon the plain; fierce old M'Intosh, covered with
scars; Worth himself, his manly brow clouded, and his cheek paled by
sickness and anxiety. Each officer had his place assigned to him in the
conflict; and they parted to seek a few hours' rest.

At half-past two on the morning of the 8th the division was astir. 'Twas
a bright starlight night whose silence was unbroken as the troops moved
thoughtfully toward the battlefield. In front, on the right, about a
mile from the encampment, the hewn-stone walls of the Molino del Rey--a
range of buildings five hundred yards long, and well adapted for
defence--were distinctly visible, with drowsy lights twinkling through
the windows. A little farther off, on the left, stood the black pile of
the Casa Mata, the arsenal, crenelled for musketry, and surrounded by a
quadrangular field work. Beyond the Casa Mata lay a ravine, and from
this a ditch and hedge ran, passing in front of both works, to the
Tacubaya road. Far on the right the grim old castle of Chapultepec
loomed up darkly against the sky. Sleep wrapped the whole Mexican line,
and but few words were spoken in the American ranks as the troops took
up their respective positions: Garland, with Dunn's battery and Huger's
24-pounders, on the right, against the Molino; Wright, at the head of
the stormers, and followed by the light division under Captain Kirby
Smith, in the centre; M'Intosh, with Duncan's battery, on the left, near
the ravine looking toward the Casa Mata; and Cadwallader, with his
brigade, in reserve.

Night still overhung the east when the Mexicans were roused from their
slumbers by the roar of Huger's 24-pounders, and the crashing of the
balls through the roof and walls of the Molino. A shout arose within
their lines, spreading from the ravine to the castle; lights flashed in
every direction, bugles sounded, the clank of arms rang from right to
left, and every man girded himself for the fray. With the first ray of
daylight Major Wright advanced with the forlorn hope down the slope. A
few seconds elapsed; then a sheet of flame burst from the batteries, and
round shot, canister, and grape hurtled through the air. "Charge!"
shouted the leader, and down they went, with double-quick step, over the
ditch and hedge, and into the line, sweeping everything before them. The
Mexicans fell from their guns, but soon, seeing the smallness of the
force opposed to them and reassured by the galling fire poured from the
_azoteas_ and Molino on the stormers, they rallied, charged furiously,
and drove our men back into the plain. Here eleven out of the fourteen
officers of Wright's party, and the bulk of his men, fell killed or
wounded. All of the latter who could not fly were bayoneted where they
lay by the Mexicans.

Captain Walker, of the Sixth, badly shot, was left for dead; he saw the
enemy murdering every man who showed signs of life, but the agony of
thirst was so insupportable that he could not resist raising his canteen
to his lips. A dozen balls instantly tore up the ground around him;
several Mexicans rushed at him with the bayonet, but at that moment the
light division, under Kirby Smith, came charging over the ditch into the
Mexican line and diverted their attention.

Garland meanwhile moved down rapidly on the right with Dunn's guns,
which were drawn by hand, all the horses having been wounded and become
unmanageable. These soon opened an enfilading fire on the Mexican
battery; and some of the gunners flying, the light division charged,
under a hot fire, and carried the guns for the second time. Their
gallant leader was shot dead in the charge. But the enemy could afford
to lose the battery. From the tops of the _azoteas_, from the Casa Mata
and the Molino, a deadly shower of balls was rained crosswise upon the
assailants. Part of the reserve was brought up; and Dunn's guns and the
Mexican battery were served upon the buildings without much effect at
first. Lieutenant-Colonel Graham led a party of the Eleventh against the
latter; when within pistol-shot a terrific volley assailed him, wounding
him in ten places. The gallant soldier quietly dismounted, pointed with
his sword to the building, cried "Charge!" and sank dead on the field.

As fiercely raged the battle at the other wing where Duncan and M'Intosh
had driven in the enemy's right toward the Casa Mata. M'Intosh started
to storm that fort, and, in the teeth of a tremendous hail of musketry,
advanced to the ditch, only twenty-five yards from the work. There a
ball knocked him down; it was his luck to be shot or bayoneted in every
battle. Martin Scott took the command, but as he ordered the men forward
he rolled lifeless into the ditch. Major Waite, the next in rank, had
hardly seen him fall before he too was disabled. By whole companies the
men were mowed down by the Mexican shot; but they stood their ground. At
length some one gave the word to fall back, and the remnants of the
brigade obeyed. Many wounded were left on the ground; among others
Lieutenant Burnell, shot in the leg, whom the Mexicans murdered when his
comrades abandoned him. After the battle his body was found, and beside
it his dog, moaning piteously and licking his dead master's face.

At the head of four thousand cavalry, Alvarez now menaced our left.
Duncan watched them come, driving a cloud of dust before them, till they
were within close range; then opening with his wonderful rapidity, he
shattered whole platoons at a discharge. Worth sent him word to be sure
to keep the lancers in check. "Tell General Worth," was his reply, "to
make himself perfectly easy; I can whip twenty thousand of them." So far
as Alvarez was concerned, he kept his word.

On the American right the fight had reached a crisis. Mixed confusedly
together, men of all arms furiously attacked the Molino, firing into
every aperture, climbing to the roof, and striving to batter in the
doors and gates with their muskets. The garrison never slackened their
terrible fire for an instant. At length Major Buchanan, of the Fourth,
succeeded in bursting open the southern gate; and almost at the same
moment Anderson and Ayres, of the artillery, forced their way into the
buildings at the northwestern angle. Ayres leaped down alone into a
crowd of Mexicans--he had done the same at Monterey--and fell covered
with wounds. Our men rushed in on both sides, stabbing, firing, and
felling the Mexicans with their muskets. From room to room and house to
house a hand-to-hand encounter was kept up. Here a stalwart Mexican
hurled down man after man as they advanced; there Buchanan and the
Fourth levelled all before them. But the Mexicans never withstood the
cold steel. One by one the defenders escaped by the rear toward
Chapultepec, and those who remained hung out a white flag. Under
Duncan's fire the Casa Mata had been evacuated, and the enemy was
everywhere in full retreat. Twice he rallied and charged the Molino; but
each time the artillery drove him back toward Chapultepec, and parties
of the light infantry pursued him down the road. Before ten in the
morning the whole field was won; and, having blown up the Casa Mata,
Worth, by Scott's order, fell back to Tacubaya.

With gloomy face and averted eye the gallant soldier received the thanks
of his chief for the exploits of the morning. His heart was with the
brave men he had lost--nearly eight hundred out of less than thirty-five
hundred and among them fifty-eight officers, many of whom were his
dearest friends. All had fallen in advance of their men, with sword in
hand and noble words on their lips. 'Twas a poor price for these to have
stormed Molino del Rey, and cut down nearly a fifth of Santa Anna's
fourteen thousand men. Sadly the General returned to his quarters.

The end was now close at hand. Reconnoissances were carefully made, and,
the enemy's strength being gathered on the southern front of the city,
General Scott determined to assail Chapultepec on the west. By the
morning of the 12th the batteries were completed, and opened a brisk
fire on the castle, without, however, doing any more serious damage than
annoying the garrison and killing a few men. The fire was kept up all
day; and at night preparations were made for the assault, which was
ordered to be made next morning.

At daybreak on the 13th the cannonade began again, as well from the
batteries planted against Chapultepec as from Steptoe's guns, which were
served against the southern defences of the city in order to divert the
attention of the enemy. At 8 A.M. the firing from the former ceased, and
the attack commenced. Quitman advanced along the Tacubaya road, Pillow
from the Molino del Rey, which he had occupied on the evening before.
Between the Molino and the castle lay first an open space, then a grove
thickly planted with trees; in the latter, Mexican sharpshooters had
been posted, protected by an intrenchment on the border of the grove.
Pillow sent Lieutenant-Colonel Johnston with a party of _voltigeurs_ to
turn this work by a flank movement; it was handsomely accomplished; and
just as the _voltigeurs_ broke through the redan, Pillow, with the main
body, charged it in front and drove back the Mexicans. The grove gained,
Pillow pressed forward to the front of the rock; for the Mexican shot
from the castle batteries, crashing through the trees, seemed even more
terrible than it really was, and the troops were becoming restless.

The Mexicans had retreated to a redoubt half way up the hill; the
_voltigeurs_ sprang up from rock to rock, firing as they advanced, and
followed by Hooker, Chase, and others, with parties of infantry. In a
very few minutes the redoubt was gained, the garrison driven up the
hill, and the _voltigeurs_, Ninth, and Fifteenth were in hot pursuit
after them. The firing from the castle was very severe. Colonel Ransom,
of the Ninth, was killed, and Pillow himself was wounded. Still the
troops pressed on till the crest of the hill was gained. There some
moments were lost owing to the delay in the arrival of scaling-ladders,
during which two of Quitman's regiments and Clarke's brigade reenforced
the storming party. When the ladders came, numbers of men rushed forward
with them, leaped into the ditch, and planted them for the assault.

Lieutenant Selden was the first man to mount. But the Mexicans collected
all their energies for this last moment. A tremendous fire dashed the
foremost of the stormers into the ditch, killing Lieutenants Rogers and
Smith and clearing the ladders. Fresh men instantly manned them, and,
after a brief struggle, Captain Howard, of the _voltigeurs_, gained a
foothold on the parapet. M'Kenzie, of the forlorn hope, followed; and a
crowd of _voltigeurs_ and infantry, shouting and cheering, pressed after
him, and swept down upon the garrison with the bayonet. Almost at the
same moment, Johnston, of the _voltigeurs_, who had led a small party
round to the gate of the castle, broke it open and effected an entrance
in spite of a fierce fire from the southern walls. The two parties
uniting, a deadly conflict ensued within the building.

Maddened by the recollection of the murder of their wounded comrades at
Molino del Rey, the stormers at first showed no quarter. On every side
the Mexicans were stabbed or shot down without mercy. Many flung
themselves over the parapet and down the hillside and were dashed in
pieces against the rocks. More fought like fiends, expending their
breath in a malediction, and expiring in the act of aiming a treacherous
blow as they lay on the ground. Streams of blood flowed through the
doors of the college, and every room and passage was the theatre of some
deadly struggle. At length the officers succeeded in putting an end to
the carnage; and the remaining Mexicans having surrendered, the Stars
and Stripes were hoisted over the castle of Chapultepec by Major
Seymour.

Meanwhile Quitman had stormed the batteries on the causeway to the east
of the castle, after a desperate struggle in which Major Twiggs, who
commanded the stormers, was shot dead at the head of his men. The
Mexicans fell back toward the city. General Scott, coming up at this
moment, ordered a simultaneous advance to be made on the city, along the
two roads leading from Chapultepec to the gates of San Cosme and Belen,
respectively. Worth was to command that on San Cosme, Quitman that on
Belen. Both were prepared for defence by barricades, behind which the
enemy were posted in great numbers. Fortunately for the assailants an
aqueduct, supported by arches of solid masonry, ran along the centre of
each causeway. By keeping under cover of these arches, and springing
rapidly from one to another, Smith's rifles and the South Carolina
regiment were enabled to advance close to the first barricade on the
Belen road, and pour in a destructive fire on the gunners. A flank
discharge from Duncan's guns completed the work; the barricade was
carried; and without a moment's rest Quitman advanced in the same manner
on the _garita_ San Belen, which was held by General Torres with a
strong garrison.

It too was stormed, though under a fearful hail of grape and canister;
and the rifles moved forward toward the citadel. But at this moment
Santa Anna rode furiously down to the point of attack. Boiling with rage
at the success of the invaders, he smote General Torres in the face,
threw a host of infantry into the houses commanding the _garita_ and the
road, ordered the batteries in the citadel to open fire, planted fresh
guns on the Paseo, and infused such spirit into the Mexicans that
Quitman's advance was stopped at once. A terrific storm of shot, shell,
and grape assailed the _garita_, where Captain Dunn had planted an
8-pounder. Twice the gunners were shot down, and fresh men sent to take
their places. Then Dunn himself fell, and immediately afterward
Lieutenant Benjamin and his first sergeant met the same fate. The
riflemen in the arches repelled sallies; but Quitman's position was
precarious, till night terminated the conflict.

Worth meanwhile had advanced in like manner along the San Cosme
causeway, driving the Mexicans from barricade to barricade, till within
two hundred fifty yards of the _garita_ of San Cosme. There he
encountered as severe a fire as that which stopped Quitman. But Scott
had ordered him to take the _garita_, and take it he would. Throwing
Garland's brigade out to the right and Clarke's to the left, he ordered
them to break into the houses, burst through the walls, and bore their
way to the flanks of the _garita_. The plan had succeeded perfectly at
Monterey, nor did it fail here. Slowly but surely the sappers passed
from house to house, until at sunset they reached the point desired.
Then Worth ordered the attack. Lieutenant Hunt brought up a light gun at
a gallop, and fired it through the embrasure of the enemy's battery,
almost muzzle to muzzle; the infantry at the same moment opened a most
deadly and unexpected fire from the roofs of the houses, and M'Kenzie,
at the head of the stormers, dashed at the battery and carried it almost
without loss. The Mexicans fled precipitately into the city.

At one that night two parties left the citadel and issued forth from the
city. One was the remnant of the Mexican army, which slunk silently and
noiselessly through the northern gate, and fled to Guadalupe-Hidalgo;
the other was a body of officers who came under a white flag, to propose
terms of capitulation.

The sun shone brightly on the morning of September 14th. Scores of
neutral flags float from the windows on the Calle de Plateros, and in
their shade beautiful women gaze curiously on the scene beneath. Gayly
dressed groups throng the balconies, and at the street-corners
dark-faced men scowl, mutter deep curses, and clutch their knives. The
street resounds with the heavy tramp of infantry, the rattle of
gun-carriages, and the clatter of horses' hoofs. "_Los Yanquies_!" is
the cry, and every neck is stretched to obtain a glimpse of the six
thousand bemired and begrimed soldiers who are marching proudly to the
Grand Plaza. On him especially is every eye intently fixed, whose
martial form is half concealed by a splendid staff and a squadron of
dragoons, as he rides, with flashing eye and beating heart, to the
National Palace of Mexico. But six months before, Winfield Scott had
landed on the Mexican coast; since then he had stormed the two strongest
places in the country, won four battles in the field against armies
double, treble, and quadruple his own, and marched without reverse from
Vera Cruz to the City of Mexico; losing fewer men, making fewer
mistakes, and creating less devastation, in proportion to his victories,
than any invading general of former times. Well might the Mexicans gaze
upon his face!




(1847) FAMINE IN IRELAND, Sir Charles Gavan Duffy


From the fact that its immediate cause was the almost complete failure
of the potato crop, due to the rot, the great Irish famine is known as
the "potato famine." The crop that suffered so was that of 1845, and the
famine began in the following year and reached its climax in 1847. It is
estimated that by this calamity two hundred thousand persons perished.
Many compensating features in connection with this appalling distress
have been pointed out. Some writers friendly toward Ireland have
declared that the famine proved one of the greatest blessings to the
country; that it hastened free trade, better drainage of the island, and
the passage of the Land Improvement Act; that it relieved the
overcrowded labor market, led to more scientific farming, and in other
ways produced changes that have been of lasting benefit. But though all
this be true, the misfortune itself gave to modern history one of its
most harrowing chapters.

The population of Ireland in 1845 is supposed to have been nearly nine
millions. The manufactures were small, and the people depended on the
potato crop, and had no other resource in time of scarcity. For several
years the potato yield had been abundant, the country was comparatively
prosperous, and the temperance movement led by Father Mathew promised a
happier future. A great harvest was expected in 1845, but almost at a
single stroke this expectation was blasted; for although the crop was
large the greater part of it was destroyed in the ground, and the
potatoes that were gathered "rotted in pit and storehouse." The farmers
taxed all their means and energies to secure even a larger crop in 1846,
but the blight of that year was even more fatal than the last. To
pinching want was added discouragement, and the people sat in the shadow
of a frightful catastrophe. In vain the British Government was called
upon to give relief through Parliament, until, in the autumn of 1846,
parliamentary authority was obtained to grant baronial loans. But these
and every local endeavor to mitigate the suffering failed, and the
destructive work of the famine continued, the number of victims
increasing, to the end of that fatal year. The horrors of 1846 were more
than equalled by those of the year that followed, and the woful picture
presented by Sir Charles Gavan Duffy, the distinguished Irish patriot,
statesman, and historian, is but too amply justified by the accepted
records of the time.

The condition of Ireland at the opening of the year 1847 is one of the
most painful chapters in the annals of mankind. An industrious and
hospitable race were in the pangs of a devouring famine. Deaths of
individuals, of husband and wife, of entire families, were becoming
common. The potato-blight had spread from the Atlantic to the Caspian;
but there was more suffering in one parish of Mayo than in all the rest
of Europe. From Connaught, where distress was greatest, came batches of
inquests with the horrible verdict "died of starvation." In some
instances the victims were buried "wrapped in a coarse coverlet," a
coffin being too costly a luxury. The living awaited death with a
listlessness that was at once tragic and revolting. Women with dead
children in their arms were seen begging for a coffin to bury them.

Beranger has touched a thousand hearts by the picture of _Pauvre
Jacques_, who, when the tax-gatherer came in the King's name, was
discovered dead on his miserable pallet. But at Skibbereen, in the
fruitful County Cork whose seaports were thronged with vessels laden
with corn, cattle, and butter for England, the rate collector told a
more tragic tale. Some houses he found deserted; the owners had been
carried to their graves. In one cabin there was no other occupant than
three corpses; in a once prosperous home a woman and her children had
lain dead and unburied for a week; in the fields a man was discovered so
fearfully mangled by dogs that identification was impossible. The relief
committee of the Society of Friends described the state of the town in
language which it was hard to read with dry eyes. The people were dying