Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
The Imperial city, her far circling walls,
Her garden groves, and stately palaces.
There lay the broad plain of Tenochtitlan, with all its wealth of light
and colour, the verdure of the forest, the warmer hues of the great
corn-fields, ripening to the harvest, and the sheen and sparkle of the
distant lakes. There it lay, as it burst upon the awe-struck vision of
Cortez and his companions, “bathed in the golden sunshine, stretched
out as it were in slumber, in the arms of the giant hills.”
On every hand were the signs of a teeming population. White villages
and substantial haciendas glistened in the woodlands; roads broad and
well-travelled crossed the level; and in the clear atmosphere of those
lofty altitudes the vast size of the city was plainly visible. The
whole army of Mexico formed the garrison; hills crowned with batteries
commanded the approaches, while a network of canals on either flank and
a broad area of deep water enhanced the difficulties of manœuvre. The
line of communication, far too long to be maintained by the small force
at Scott’s disposal, had already been abandoned. The army depended for
subsistence on what it could purchase in the country; the sick and
wounded were carried with the troops, and
there was no further reserve of ammunition than that which was packed
in the regimental waggons. Cortez and his four hundred when they
essayed the same enterprise were not more completely isolated, for,
while the Spaniard had staunch allies in the hereditary foes of the
Aztecs, Scott’s nearest supports were at Puebla, eighty miles from
Mexico, and these numbered only 1,200 effective soldiers. The most
adventurous of leaders might well have hesitated ere he plunged into
the great valley, swarming with enemies, and defended by all the
resources of a civilised State. But there was no misgiving in the ranks
of the Americans. With that wholesome contempt for a foreign foe which
has wrought more good than evil for the Anglo-Saxon race, the army
moved forward without a halt. “Recovering,” says Scott, “from the
trance into which the magnificent spectacle had thrown them, probably
not a man in the column failed to say to his neighbour or himself,
‘That splendid city shall soon be ours!’”
The fortifications which protected Mexico on the east were found to be
impregnable. The high ridge of El Penon, manned by nearly the whole of
Santa Anna’s army, blocked the passage between the lakes, and deep
morasses added to the difficulties of approach. To the south, however,
on the far side of Lake Chalco, lay a more level tract, but accessible
only by roads which the Mexicans deemed impracticable. Despite the
difficulties of the route, the manœuvre of Cerro Gordo was repeated on
a grander scale.
August 16–18 After a toilsome march of seven-and-twenty miles from
Ayotla, over the spurs of the sierras, the troops reached the great
road which leads to the capital from the south. Across this road was
more than one line of fortifications, to which the Mexican army had
been hurriedly transferred. The hacienda of San Antonio, six miles from
the city, strengthened by field-works and defended by heavy guns,
commanded the highway. To the east was a morass, and beyond the morass
were the blue waters of Lake Chalco; while to the west the Pedregal, a
barren tract of volcanic scoriæ, over whose sharp rocks and deep
fissures neither horse nor vehicle could move, flanked the American
line of march. The morass was absolutely impassable. The gloomy
solitude of the Pedregal, extending to the mountains, five miles
distant, seemed equally forbidding; but the engineer officers came once
more to the rescue. A road across the Pedregal, little better than a
mule track, was discovered by Captain Lee.
August 19 Under cover of a strong escort it was rapidly improved, and
Pillow’s and Worth’s divisions, accompanied by Magruder’s battery, were
directed to cross the waste of rocks. Beyond the Pedregal was a good
road, approaching the city from the south-west; and by this road the
post of San Antonio might be assailed in rear.
Overlooking the road, however, as well as the issues from the Pedregal,
was a high ridge, backed by the mountains, and held by 6,000 Mexicans.
Opposite this ridge the Americans came out on cultivated ground, but
all further progress was completely checked. Shortly after midday the
leading brigade, with Magruder’s battery on hand, reached the summit of
a hill within a thousand yards of the enemy’s breastworks. Magruder
came at once into action, and the infantry attempted to push forward.
But the Mexican artillery was far superior, both in number of pieces
and weight of metal, and the ground was eminently unfavourable for
attack. Two-and-twenty heavy cannon swept the front; the right of the
position was secured by a deep ravine; masses of infantry were observed
in rear of the intrenchments, and several regiments of lancers were in
close support. For three hours the battle raged fiercely. On the right
the Americans pushed forward, crossing with extreme difficulty an
outlying angle of the Pedregal, covered with dense scrub, and occupied
the village of Contreras. But elsewhere they made no impression. They
were without cavalry, and Magruder’s guns were far too few and feeble
to keep down the fire of the hostile batteries. “The infantry,” says
Scott, “could not advance in column without being mowed down by grape
and canister, nor advance in line without being ridden down by the
enemy’s numerous horsemen.” Nor were the Mexicans content on this
occasion to remain passively in their works. Both infantry and
cavalry attempted to drive the assailants back upon the Pedregal; and,
although these counterstrokes were successfully repulsed, when darkness
fell the situation of the troops was by no means favourable. Heavy
columns of Mexicans were approaching from the city; the remainder of
the American army was opposite San Antonio, five miles distant, on the
far side of the Pedregal, and no support could be expected. To add to
their discomfort, it rained heavily; the thunder crashed in the
mountains, and torrents of water choked the streams. The men stood in
the darkness drenched and dispirited, and an attack made by a Mexican
battalion induced General Pillow to withdraw Magruder’s battery from
the ridge. The senior subaltern had been killed. 15 gunners and as many
horses had fallen. The slopes were covered with huge boulders, and it
was only by dint of the most strenuous exertions that the guns were
brought down in safety to the lower ground.
A council of war was then held in Contreras Church, and, contrary to
the traditionary conduct of such conventions, a most desperate
expedient was adopted. The Mexican reinforcements, 12,000 strong, had
halted on the main road, their advanced guard within a few hundred
yards of the village. Leaving two regiments to hold this imposing force
in check, it was determined to make a night march and turn the rear of
the intrenchments on the ridge. The Commander-in-Chief was beyond the
Pedregal, opposite San Antonio, and it was necessary that he should be
informed of the projected movement.
“I have always understood,” says an officer present in this quarter of
the field, “that what was devised and determined on was suggested by
Captain Lee; at all events the council was closed by his saying that he
desired to return to General Scott with the decision, and that, as it
was late, the decision must be given as soon as possible, since General
Scott wished him to return in time to give directions for co-operation.
During the council, and for hours after, the rain fell in torrents,
whilst the darkness was so intense that one could move only by
groping.”
The Pedregal was infested by straggling bands of
Mexicans; and yet, over those five miles of desolation, with no guide
but the wind, or an occasional flash of lightning, Lee, unaccompanied
by a single orderly, made his way to Scott’s headquarters. This
perilous adventure was characterised by the Commander-in-Chief as “the
greatest feat of physical and moral courage performed by any individual
during the entire campaign.”
The night march, although it entailed the passage of a deep ravine, and
was so slow that one company in two hours made no more than four
hundred yards, was completely successful. The Mexicans, trusting to the
strength of their position, and to the presence of the reinforcements,
had neglected to guard their left. The lesson of Cerro Gordo had been
forgotten. The storming parties, guided by the engineers, Lee,
Beauregard, and Gustavus Smith, established themselves, under cover of
the darkness, within five hundred paces of the intrenchments, and as
the day broke the works were carried at the first rush.
August 20 Seventeen minutes after the signal had been given, the
garrison, attacked in front and rear simultaneously, was completely
dispersed. 800 Mexicans were captured, and nearly as many killed.[10]
The reinforcements, unable to intervene, and probably demoralised by
this unlooked-for defeat, fell back to the village of Churubusco, and
San Antonio was evacuated. The pursuit was hotly pressed. Churubusco
was heavily bombarded. For two hours the American batteries played upon
the church and hacienda, both strongly fortified, and after a
counterstroke had been beaten back a vigorous onslaught, made by the
whole line of battle, compelled the enemy to give way. A brilliant
charge of General Shields’ brigade dispersed their last reserves, and
the whole of the hostile army fled in confusion to the city. The
American cavalry followed at speed, using their sabres freely on the
panic-stricken masses, and one squadron, not hearing the recall, dashed
up to the very gates of the city. Scott’s losses amounted to 1,053,
including 76 officers. The Mexican casualties
were 3,000 prisoners, and 3,250 killed and wounded. 37 field-guns were
abandoned, and, a still more valuable capture, a large supply of
ammunition fell into the hands of the victors.
Magruder’s battery, it appears, was retained in reserve throughout the
battle of Churubusco, and Jackson’s share in the victory was confined
to the engagement of the previous day. But his small charge of three
guns had been handled with skill and daring. Magruder was more than
satisfied. “In a few moments,” ran his official report, “Lieutenant
Jackson, commanding the second section of the battery, who had opened
fire upon the enemy’s works from a position on the right, hearing our
fire still further in front, advanced in handsome style, and kept up
the fire with equal briskness and effect. His conduct was equally
conspicuous during the whole day, and I cannot too highly commend him
to the Major-General’s favourable consideration.”
The extreme vigour with which the Americans had prosecuted their
operations now came to an untimely pause. After his double victory at
Contreras and Churubusco, General Scott proposed an armistice. The
whole of the Mexican army had been encountered. It had been decisively
defeated. Its losses, in men and _matériel,_ had been very heavy. The
troops were utterly demoralised. The people were filled with
consternation, and a rapid advance would probably have been followed by
an immediate peace. But Scott was unwilling to drive his foes to
desperation, and he appears to have believed that if they were spared
all further humiliation they would accede without further resistance to
his demands.
The Mexicans, however, were only playing for time. During the
negotiations, in direct defiance of the terms of the armistice, Santa
Anna strengthened his fortifications, rallied his scattered army, and
prepared once more to confront the invader. Scott’s ultimatum was
rejected, and on September 5 hostilities were renewed.