The news of an American victory at Monterrey stirred no pride in the Polk administration. Instead, the cabinet admonished Taylor for the “great error” of offering lenient terms to Ampudia. If Taylor had captured the opposing forces, some members opined, then “it would have probably ended the war with Mexico.” While settling on a plan for “masterful inactivity” south of Monterrey, Polk cancelled the armistice on October 11.
Polk turned his attention to the Gulf Coast, where the port of Tampico represented a military objective. On November 14, Commodore Conner entered the harbor and took control of the town. A week later, an American detachment from Brazos Island arrived by ship to secure the area. With more troops sent directly from the U.S. to strengthen the garrison, the war against Mexico expanded.
Unbeknownst to the troops in Mexico, the Polk administration eyed a larger prize. Benton convinced the commander-in-chief to authorize an expedition to seize the Gulf port of Veracruz. The base of operations, he surmised, would enable American regiments to march inland to capture Mexico City. If appointed lieutenant general of the invading army, then the senator offered to take command and to negotiate with Santa Anna himself. Pending congressional approval of the superior rank for Benton, Polk and Marcy decided to assign interim command to Scott.
Scott soon reached Camargo, while Taylor marched to Victoria. Their professional relationship soured thereafter, because the former removed a number of regiments from the latter's command. Despite the reduction in numbers, Taylor's army linked with a division under General John E. Wool and marched to Saltillo that winter.
On February 22, 1847, Santa Anna commanded close to 15,000 Mexicans in a battle that began on George Washington's birthday. Six miles south of Saltillo, Taylor directed 4,750 Americans to defend a mountain pass called Buena Vista. After reading a summons to surrender, he responded with eloquence: “I beg leave to say that I decline acceding to your request.” Unofficially, “Old Rough and Ready” told the Generalissimo “to go to Hell.”
As the sun rose the next morning, a slight drizzle fell upon the colorful lines that formed on the plateau. Mexican cavalry and infantry assailed the American flanks with deliberate movements, while the main body launched a direct assault against the center. Heavy fire from U.S. batteries turned the tide of battle. Their volleys of grape and canister halted the advancing enemy, while the Mississippi dragoons of Colonel Jefferson Davis withstood a series of massive charges. A sudden thunderstorm delivered rain and hail that afternoon, but the Americans held their ground and forced the Mexicans backward.
The two armies stood a few hundred yards apart in one of the fiercest fights of the war. Hour after hour, the sounds of screaming soldiers, neighing horses, cannon fire, and musket balls filled the mountain air. The pungent odors grew unbearable with the smell of burning flesh, including dead and rotting animals. As clouds of gun smoke drifted across Buena Vista, the fog of war shrouded almost everything by dusk.
After the Battle of Buena Vista ended, Santa Anna withdrew his exhausted troops southward to San Luis Potosí. The Mexican army suffered more than 1,800 casualties, while U.S. forces counted 264 killed, 456 wounded, and 23 missing in action. Instead of pressing onward, Taylor returned to Monterrey in victory. American newspapers compared him favorably to Generals Washington and Jackson, but Buena Vista was his last battle in Mexico.
Forward March
The northern boundaries of Mexico encompassed a land of a thousand deserts. With inhabitants concentrated along the Rio Grande, near the Wasatch Mountains, and on the Pacific Coast, foreign observers noted large strips that appeared virtually ungoverned. For years, British officials threatened to seize California in order to curb the transcontinental ambitions of the U.S. If Americans did not overrun Mexican territory, Polk feared that the European powers would establish a foothold west of the Rocky Mountains.
Even before the war began, Polk sent First Lieutenant Arnold H. Gillespie of the Marine Corps as a “special agent” into Mexican territory. After traveling across Mexico, he boarded a U.S. ship at Mazatlán and sailed to California. He delivered messages to Larkin, the American consul, and to Commodore John D. Sloat, the commander of the Pacific Squadron. He also carried secret letters to Captain John C. Frémont, the son-in-law of Benton and a celebrated leader of topographical expeditions. Eventually, they met on the shores of Upper Klamath Lake.
Whatever they discussed, much of California teetered on the brink of revolt. Native Californios such as General Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo in Sonoma believed that their economic interests no longer tethered them to Mexico City. Even more belligerent, hundreds of rowdy Americans resided at Sutter's Fort on the Sacramento River. The Pacific Coast appeared ready to gravitate into the orbit of the U.S.
On June 14, 1846, a group of 40 men from Sutter's Fort assailed the town of Sonoma. William B. Ide, a settler from Vermont, led them. After proclaiming the independence of the “California Republic,” they hoisted a flag with a grizzly bear and a single star painted on a white cloth. Frémont returned to the Sacramento Valley, although the Mexican authorities had previously ordered him to leave. Among the instigators of the Bear Flag revolt, he agreed to lead a battalion southward to conquer all of California.
Less than a month later, Commodore Sloat steered the Pacific Squadron to the northern coast of California. Alarmed by rumors that a British fleet approached, he sent sailors and marines ashore at Monterey and Yuerba Buena. They raised the Stars and Stripes and claimed California on behalf of the U.S. His actions prompted the Bear Flaggers to join the U.S. forces, though the aging officer soon retired from command.
His successor was Commodore Robert F. Stockton, who resolved to seize southern California that summer. To cut off retreating Mexican forces under General José Castro, Stockton sent Frémont by ship to San Diego with the “California Company of mounted riflemen.” Landing at San Pedro, Stockton dispersed Castro's soldiers along the coast with a “gallant sailor army.” Within days, Stockton and Frémont occupied Santa Barbara and Los Angeles. On August 17, they announced that all of California belonged to the U.S.
Meanwhile, Colonel Stephen W. Kearny led the Army of the West on one of the most remarkable marches in American military history. At Fort Leavenworth, he outfitted 1,600 soldiers from the First Dragoons and the Missouri volunteers. During the summer of 1846, they set out on the 780-mile Santa Fe Trail. Though hardships abounded, they traveled about 20 miles a day to reach the Raton Pass. As Kearny approached unopposed from the north, the governor of New Mexico, Manuel Armijo, decided to flee southward. On August 18, Americans captured Santa Fe without firing a shot. They erected Fort Marcy while establishing a set of laws known as the Kearny Code. “General Kearny,” Polk remarked upon reading a dispatch from New Mexico, “has thus far performed his duties well.”
After leaving volunteer regiments in New Mexico, Kearny marched 300 dragoons to the far west. Beginning in September, they journeyed nearly 1,000 miles across a landscape of extremes. At Socorro, they met a party led by the “mountain man” Christopher “Kit” Carson, who reported that U.S. forces already occupied California. Retaining 100 dragoons in his command but sending the rest back to Santa Fe, Kearny pressed westward with Carson as a guide. At the junction of the Gila and the Colorado Rivers, they learned that a Californio insurgency had thrown off the “Anglo-Yankee yoke” from Los Angeles to Santa Barbara. Nearly 40 miles from San Diego, the exhausted dragoons made contact with a small party led by Gillespie and Lieutenant Edward Beale of the Navy. The Americans reconnoitered the area and readied for battle near the Indian village of San Pascual.
The Battle of San Pascual began on December 6. At 2:00 a.m., Kearny directed a column to conduct a headlong attack on a mounted band of Californios. However, 160 lancers suddenly turned and charged their line in the darkness. The cavalry sabers and naval cutlasses proved ineffective against the long lances. A charging lancer wounded Kearny in the groin, while Gillespie received a mark on his face. With 18 dead and 13 wounded, the Americ
ans clung to Mule Hill for days. Kearny sent Beale with Carson and an Indian to San Diego for help. Eventually, a detachment of 180 sailors and marines rescued Kearny's desperate command.
Following his arrival in San Diego, Kearny joined with Stockton in an effort to recapture Los Angeles. Shortly after the New Year began, a joint force of sailors, marines, and dragoons reached the mission of San Luis Rey. On January 8, 1847, they engaged 350 Californios at the San Gabriel River just 12 miles from Los Angeles. On the anniversary of Andrew Jackson's victory at New Orleans, the Battle of San Gabriel lasted less than 90 minutes. Next, the opposing sides skirmished at La Mesa. U.S. forces suffered one dead and 13 wounded from the two confrontations. The Californios evacuated Los Angeles, thereby leaving the town to the Americans. A week later, Frémont reappeared with a battalion of soldiers, a number of cannons, and the Treaty of Cahuenga. Weary of the hostilities, Stockton recognized the treaty and appointed him as governor of California. Kearny protested to no avail, though he later demanded a court martial of Frémont for insubordination. Despite the bickering among the American officers, the Californio insurgency melted away.
The Americans in New Mexico faced an insurgency as well. The civilian governor, Charles Bent, underestimated the discontent in Santa Fe and beyond. In early 1847, a drunken mob in Taos decapitated him at home. Violence spread quickly from pueblo to pueblo. On February 3, Colonel Sterling Price led a battalion to Taos and crushed the insurgents with ferocity. Thereafter, the population of New Mexico tolerated U.S. control.
Before the revolt in New Mexico, a thousand Missouri volunteers commanded by Colonel Alexander W. Doniphan marched southward along the Rio Grande. A towering lawyer from Liberty, Missouri, he skirmished with Indian tribes along the way. He did not fear “the Devil or the God that made him,” or so his men believed. During late 1846, they defeated a larger Mexican battalion commanded by Colonel Antonio Ponce de León in the Battle of the Brazito. After storming El Paso, the Americans turned toward the city of Chihuahua.
On the road to Chihuahua, Doniphan's march encountered significant resistance near the Sacramento River. On February 28, 1847, General García Condé opposed the Americans with close to 3,000 Mexicans. Using unconventional tactics, Doniphan overwhelmed Condé's dispositions along a plateau. Only one American perished in the Battle of the Sacramento, but the Mexicans suffered hundreds of deaths that afternoon. Doniphan took possession of Chihuahua a few days later.
From Chihuahua to Sonoma, U.S. forces occupied Mexican territory without losing a major battle. Across a thousand deserts, Americans in uniform accomplished feats of strength that prompted comparisons with the legends of the ancient world. Few expected to rest on their laurels, because Mexico City remained unconquered.
War at Home
U.S. victories on the battlefields failed to silence the carping in regard to “Mr. Polk's War.” Although their arguments varied, many Whigs expressed misgivings about the armed conflict from the outset. Even some Democrats privately suspected that the president had manufactured the hostilities with Mexico. Nonetheless, the dispatches of war correspondents on the front lines raised public interest in the anticipated spoils of Manifest Destiny.
On a hot night in the summer of 1846, Congressman David Wilmot, a Democrat from Pennsylvania, sparked a fiery debate about Manifest Destiny that consumed the country for years. As a supporter of a “necessary and proper war,” he wanted to secure “a rich inheritance” in North America for the people “of my own race and own color.” He proposed an amendment to a wartime appropriation bill stating that “neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall ever exist” in territory acquired from Mexico.
Labeled the Wilmot Proviso, the amendment encouraged kindred spirits from the northern states to set aside party affiliation for an ideological goal. “I make no war upon the South,” Wilmot insisted, although his proviso promised to stop the spread of the slave labor system into New Mexico and California. The House of Representatives passed the bill as amended, but the Senate took no action in regard to “free soil.” In subsequent months, more appropriations bills passed through the House with the Wilmot Proviso attached. Eventually, southern slaveholders in the Senate filibustered measures that prevented U.S. citizens from “emigrating with their property.” Sectional interests divided Congress during the war, splintering the caucuses of both the Whigs and the Democrats.
As the discontent in Congress grew, a first-term Whig from Illinois named Abraham Lincoln introduced another controversial resolution. When running for office during 1846, he asked the citizen soldiery of his pro-war district to “secure our national rights” by volunteering for military service in Mexico. After arriving in Washington D.C., though, he denounced the commander-in-chief as “a bewildered, confounded, and miserably perplexed man.” He demanded to know the exact location on Texas soil where American blood was shed. The “spot resolutions” won him accolades from fellow Whigs, even if they achieved little else. As a result, colleagues in the chamber derided the little-known lawyer with the nickname “Spotty.” Unhappy Illinois constituents made Lincoln a one-term congressman.
Though fanning the flames of sectional animosity, a majority in Congress endorsed the transcontinental visions of an American republic. Opponents of the war slandered Polk as a tool of the “Slave Power,” while antislavery politics enhanced the popular cravings for Mexican lands west of the Rocky Mountains. The Mexican War Bounty Land Act, a measure passed by Congress on February 11, 1847, promised a federal land warrant of 160 acres for veterans. With the sale of additional sections, the auctions of the General Land Office would help to raise revenue for financing the war debt. Consequently, Secretary of the Treasury Robert J. Walker lobbied Congress to create the Interior Department for the proper disposal of the national domain to all citizens. Upon completing their military service, scores of Americans expected to feast upon the “free soil” of the far west.
While praising the gallantry of Americans in uniform, Polk pledged to secure “ample indemnity” for their prolonged struggle in Mexico. Once again, he attempted to bestow supreme command upon Benton with another defense authorization bill. In early 1847, the commander-in-chief commissioned the senator as a major general. Irrespective of the doubts about his military competence, he could not go to Mexico unless Scott and Taylor were recalled from duty. Moreover, Senator Sam Houston of Texas announced that he – not Benton – deserved the commission. Given the rancor in Congress, Benton decided to decline the president's offer.
Foiled by congressional sniping, the president assembled his cabinet to select a special emissary to negotiate peace with Mexico. Secretary of State Buchanan seemed a logical choice, but he asserted that administrative duties in Washington D.C. required his full attention. To join Scott in Mexico, he suggested appointing the chief clerk of the State Department, Nicholas P. Trist. Buchanan's most trusted deputy possessed impressive credentials, including honors from West Point and fluency in Spanish. On April 10, Trist agreed to sail immediately for Mexico with the working draft of a treaty in his hands.
Whereas the partisan press clamored for peace with Mexico, an outpouring of romantic literature deepened America's attachment to the war. Herman Melville, a young novelist, crafted a series of satirical articles about the indefatigable Taylor known as “Authentic Anecdotes of Old Zack.” The aging James Fenimore Cooper penned a suspenseful novel titled Jack Tier (1848), which recounted a plot among traitors attempting to supply Mexicans with gunpowder. In a collection of poems called Lays of the Palmetto (1848), William Gilmore Simms scribbled odes that compared a South Carolina regiment to chivalrous knights. Though evoking a racist tone, the Boston abolitionist James Russell Lowell wrote verses called The Biglow Papers (1848) that irreverently lampooned the clash of arms. A variety of theatrical melodramas played to cosmopolitan crowds, who cheered the depictions of the exotic landscapes as well as the action heroes of the war.
The news of the war stirred the passions of writer Henry David Thoreau of Co
ncord, Massachusetts, even while living in a cabin at Walden Pond. Enraged by the call for volunteer soldiers, he went to jail for refusing to pay his state taxes. His act of protest seemed futile to his peers, because the tax in question did nothing to underwrite “Mr. Polk's War.” A single night in jail inspired him to compose a provocative essay titled “Civil Disobedience,” which later broadened the appeal of non-violence to the American people.
The Halls of Montezuma
With U.S forces in control of northern Mexico, Scott planned a bold operation on the Gulf Coast. The 60-year-old took command of the largest amphibious assault ever attempted in history at that time. “Providence may defeat me,” Scott wrote to Taylor after arriving in Mexico, “but I do not believe the Mexicans can.”
During the early months of 1847, Scott amassed close to 12,000 troops south of Tampico on Lobos Island. In New Orleans, Quartermaster General Thomas S. Jesup purchased and leased vessels, wagons, and animals for use by the Army. Commodore Conner maintained the blockade of the Mexican coastline from his headquarters at Anton Lizardo. U.S. brigs, barks, sloops, and schooners provided transportation across the Gulf of Mexico. Navy crewmen also operated specially designed surfboats, which ferried Army personnel and supplies from the ships to the shores. On March 2, Scott's flotilla sailed toward Veracruz.
Scott's flotilla steered away from the island fortress opposite Veracruz named San Juan de Ulúa. While approaching Collada Beach to the south, they avoided the Mexican guns in addition to the neutral British and French ships offshore. On March 9, the troops disembarked on the undefended beach with remarkable speed. Proceeding inland, they formed a trench line about 2 miles below the city. Scott sent several divisions around the landward defenses to invest a perimeter, which stretched as far north as Vergara. They also blocked the water supply for 15,000 residents and 3,360 Mexican soldiers.
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