was urged upon him. As will be seen later, the course of the war and the attitude of Mexico eventually suggested a programme considerably sterner in certain respects; but such was the real desire of our government, and it went so far that in order to prove we had no intention of attacking the religion of the Mexicans, Roman Catholic priests were engaged to accompany our army.[1]
Taylor, besides resting under a strict obligation to obey his orders, doubtless concurred fully in this view of the matter, and for a time good conduct on the part of our troops prevailed. The authorities of Matamoros were respected; the people felt contented, and viewed the war with indifference; persons of the upper classes began to show themselves; and the town seemed on the way to being a smart little New Orleans. But the arrival of the volunteers in force gave the situation a new aspect.[2] Even men of unblemished reputations appeared to feel that becoming soldiers exempted them from every law, both civil and moral.[3]
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.[5]
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
