French," some of the Spanish priests had said when their country was invaded by Napoleon. So things went now in Mexico, and every one assigned to himself the duty of exhorting. Fine ideas beamed forth, but everything of practical utility was conspicuously wanting. Still, as the American volunteers were considered "banditti, without the slightest knowledge of military tactics, without any sort of training, without confidence, and in general easily terrified," no keen sense of alarm was felt.[1]
The disaster of Cerro Gordo cast new and fearful shadows upon the scene. That defeat, said Anaya, "simply means complete
ruin for the whole republic," and even his gratification that Santa Anna's "interesting person" had not gone down in the wreck seemed rather of an iridescent kind. Military confidence, which had revived after earlier shocks, gave way entirely. The prestige derived by Santa Anna from his alleged success at Buena Vista was now torn to shreds by panting fugitives from the south. About a thousand pamphlets, for which no language was too savage or too true, poured light upon his character and achievements, and the military men as a class met with similar treatment.[2] To be sure, the government
