Kearney's Daring Expedition And The Conquest Of New Mexico


We have told the story of the remarkable expedition of Vasquez de Coronado

from Mexico northward to the prairies of Kansas. We have now to tell the

story of an expedition which took place three centuries later from this

prairie land to the once famous region of the "Seven Cities of Cibola." In

1542, when Coronado traversed this region, he found it inhabited by tribes

of wandering savages, living in rude wigwams. In 1846, when the r
turn

expedition set out, it came from a land of fruitful farms and populous

cities. Yet it was to pass through a country as wild and uncultivated as

that which the Spaniards had traversed three centuries before.



The invasion of Mexico by the United States armies in 1846 was made in

several divisions, one being known as the Army of the West, led by Colonel

Stephen W. Kearney. He was to march to Santa Fe, seize New Mexico, and

then push on and occupy California, both of which were then provinces of

Mexico. It was an expedition in which the soldiers would have to fight far

more with nature than with man, and force their way through desolate

regions and over deserts rarely trodden by the human foot.



The invading army made its rendezvous at Fort Leavenworth, on the Missouri

River, in the month of June, 1846. It consisted of something over sixteen

hundred men, all from Missouri, and all mounted except one battalion of

infantry. Accompanying it were sixteen pieces of artillery. A march of two

thousand miles in length lay before this small corps, much of it through

the land of the enemy, where much larger forces were likely to be met.

Before the adventurers, after the green prairies had been passed, lay hot

and treeless plains and mountain-ranges in whose passes the wintry snow

still lingered, while savage tribes and hostile Mexicans, whose numbers

were unknown, might make their path one of woe and slaughter. Those who

gathered to see them start looked upon them as heroes who might never see

their homes again.



On the 26th of June the main body of the expedition began its march,

taking the trail of a provision train of two hundred wagons and two

companies of cavalry sent in advance, and followed, three days later, by

Kearney with the rear. For the first time in history an army under the

American standard, and with all the bravery of glittering guns and

floating flags, was traversing those ancient plains. For years the Santa

Fe trail had been a synonym for deeds of horror, including famine,

bloodshed, and frightful scenes of Indian cruelty. The bones of men and of

beasts of burden paved the way, and served as a gruesome pathway for the

long line of marching troops.



The early route led, now through thick timber, now over plains carpeted

with tall grasses, now across ravines or creeks, now through soft ground

in which the laden wagons sank to their axles, and tried the horses

severely to pull them out. To draw the heavy wagons up the steep ridges of

the table-lands the tugging strength of a hundred men was sometimes

needed.



Summer was now on the land, and for days together the heat was almost

unbearable. There was trouble, too, with the cavalry horses, raw animals,

unused to their new trappings and discipline, and which often broke loose

and scampered away, only to be caught by dint of weary pursuit and profane

ejaculations.



For six hundred miles the column traversed the great Santa Fe trail

without sight of habitation and over a dreary expanse, no break to the

monotony appearing until their glad eyes beheld the fertile and flowery

prairies surrounding Fort Bent on the Arkansas. Here was a rich and

well-watered level, with clumps of trees and refreshing streams, forming

convenient halting-places for rest and bathing. As yet there had been no

want of food, a large merchant train of food wagons having set out in

advance of their own provision train, and for a few days life ceased to be

a burden and became a pleasure.



They needed this refreshment sadly, for the journey to Fort Bent had been

one of toil and hardships, of burning suns, and the fatigue of endless

dreary miles. The wagon-trains were often far in advance and food at times

grew scanty, while the scarcity of fuel made it difficult to warm their

sparse supplies. During part of the journey they were drenched by heavy

rains. To these succeeded days of scorchingly hot weather, bringing thirst

in its train and desert mirages which cheated their suffering souls. When

at length the Arkansas River was reached, men and animals alike rushed

madly into its waters to slake their torment of thirst.



At times their route led through great herds of grazing buffaloes which

supplied the hungry men with sumptuous fare, but most of the time they

were forced to trust to the steadily diminishing stores of the provision

wagons. This was especially the case when they left the grassy and flowery

prairie and entered upon an arid plain, on which for months of the year no

drop of rain or dew fell, while the whitened bones of men and beasts told

of former havoc of starvation and drouth. The heated surface was in places

incrusted with alkaline earth worn into ash-like dust, or paved with

pebbles blistering hot to the feet. At times these were diversified by

variegated ridges of sandstone, blue, red, and yellow in hue.



A brief period of rest was enjoyed at Fort Bent, but on the 2d of August

the column was on the trail again, the sick and worn-out being left

behind. As they proceeded the desert grew more arid still. Neither grass

nor shrubs was to be found for the famishing animals; the water, what

little there was, proved to be muddy and bitter; the wheels sank deep in

the pulverized soil, and men and beasts alike were nearly suffocated by

the clouds of dust that blew into their eyes, nostrils, and mouths. Glad

were they when, after three days of this frightful passage, they halted on

the welcome banks of the Purgatoire, a cool mountain-stream, and saw

rising before them the snowy summits of the lofty Cimmaron and Spanish

peaks and knew that the desert was passed.



The sight of the rugged mountains infused new energy into their weary

souls, and it was with fresh spirit that they climbed the rough hills

leading upward towards the Raton Pass, emerging at length into a grand

mountain amphitheatre closed in with steep walls of basalt and granite.

They seemed to be in a splendid mountain temple, in which they enjoyed

their first Sunday's rest since they had left Fort Leavenworth.



The food supply had now fallen so low that the rations of the men were

reduced to one-third the usual quantity. But the new hope in their hearts

helped them to endure this severe privation, and they made their way

rapidly through the mountain gorges and over the plains beyond, covering

from seventeen to twenty-five miles a day. Ammunition had diminished as

well as food, and the men were forbidden to waste any on game, for news

had been received that the Mexicans were gathering to dispute their path

and all their powder and shot might be needed.



The vicinity of the Mexican settlements was reached on August 14, and

their desert-weary eyes beheld with joy the first cornfields and gardens

surrounding the farm-houses in the valleys, while groves of cedar and pine

diversified the scene. With new animation the troops marched on, elated

with the tidings which now reached them from the north, that Colonel

Kearney had been raised to the rank of brigadier-general, and a second

item of news to the effect that two thousand Mexicans held the canon six

miles beyond Las Vegas, prepared to dispute its passage.



This was what they had come for, and it was a welcome diversion to learn

that the weariness of marching was likely to be diversified by a season of

fighting. They had made the longest march ever achieved by an American

army, nearly all of it through a barren and inhospitable country, and it

was with genuine elation that they pressed forward to the canon, hopeful

of having a brush with the enemy. They met with a genuine disappointment

when they found the pass empty of foes. The Mexicans had failed to await

their coming.



Kearney had already begun his prescribed work of annexing New Mexico to

the United States, the Alcalde and the prominent citizens of Las Vegas

having taken an oath of allegiance to the laws and government of the

United States. As they marched on, a similar oath was administered at San

Miguel and Pecos, and willingly taken. Here the soldiers fairly revelled

in the fresh vegetables, milk, eggs, fruits, and chickens which the

inhabitants were glad to exchange for the money of their new guests.

Orders had been given that all food and forage obtained from the peaceable

inhabitants should be paid for, and Kearney saw that this was done.



At Pecos they had their first experience of the antiquities of the land.

Here was the traditional birthplace of the great Montezuma, the ancient

temple still standing whose sacred fire had been kindled by that famous

monarch, and kept burning for long years after his death, in the hope that

he would come again to deliver his people from bondage. At length, as

tradition held, the fire was extinguished by accident, and the temple and

village were abandoned. The walls of the temple still stood, six feet

thick, and covering with their rooms and passages a considerable space.

The Pueblo Indians of the region had refused to fight for the Mexicans,

for tradition told them that a people would come from the East to free

them from Spanish rule, and the prophecy now seemed about to be fulfilled.



The next hostile news that reached the small army was to the effect that

seven thousand Mexicans awaited them in Gallisteo Canon, fifteen miles

from Santa Fe. This was far from agreeable tidings, since the Mexicans far

outnumbered the Americans, while the pass was so narrow that a much

smaller force might have easily defended it against a numerous foe. The

pass had been fortified and the works there mounted with six pieces of

cannon, placed to make havoc in the invaders' ranks.



Fortunately, once more the advancing troops found a strong pass

undefended. The Mexican officers had quarrelled, and the privates, who

felt no enmity towards the Americans, had left them to fight it out

between themselves. Deserted by his soldiers, Governor Armijo escaped with

a few dragoons, and the Americans marched unmolested through the pass. On

the same day they reached Santa Fe, taking peaceful possession of the

capital of New Mexico and the whole surrounding country in the name of the

United States.



Not for an hour had the men halted that day, the last of their wearisome

march of nine hundred miles, which had been completed in about fifty days.

So exhausting had this final day's march proved that many of the animals

sank down to die, and the men flung themselves on the bare hill-side,

without food or drink, glad to snatch a few hours of sleep. As the flag of

the United States was hoisted in the public square, a national salute of

twenty-eight guns was fired from a near-by hill, and the cavalry rode with

waving banners and loud cheers through the streets. They had cause for

great gratulation, for they had achieved a remarkable feat and had won a

great province without the loss of a single man in battle.



By the orders of General Kearney a flag-staff one hundred feet high was

raised in the plaza for the American flag, and the oath of allegiance was

taken by the officials of the town. They were willing enough to take it,

since their new masters left them in office, while the people, who had

been told that they would be robbed and mercilessly treated, hailed the

Americans as deliverers rather than as enemies. The same was the case with

all the surrounding people, who, when they found that they would be paid

for their provisions and be left secure in their homes, settled down in

seeming high good will under the new rule.






OLDEST HOUSE IN THE UNITED STATES, SANTA FE.





Santa Fe at that time contained about six thousand inhabitants. After St.

Augustine it was the oldest city within the limits of the United States.

When the Spaniards founded it in 1582, it was built on the site of one of

the old Indian pueblos, whose date went back to the earliest history of

the country. The Spanish town--The Royal City of the Holy Faith, La Villa

Real del Santa Fe, as they called it--was also full of the flavor of

antiquity, with its low adobe houses, and its quaint old churches, built

nearly three centuries before. These were of rude architecture and hung

with battered old bells, but they were ornamented with curiously carved

beams of cedar and oak. The residences were as quaint and old-fashioned as

the churches, and the abundant relies of the more ancient Indian

inhabitants gave the charm of a double antiquity to the place.



From Santa Fe as a centre General Kearney sent out expeditions to put down

all reported risings through the province, one of the most important of

these being to the country of the warlike Navajo Indians, who had just

made a raid on New Mexico, driving off ten thousand cattle and taking many

captives. The answer of one of the Navajo chiefs to the officers of the

expedition is interesting.



"Americans, you have a strange cause of war against the Navajos," he said.

"We have waged war against the New Mexicans for several years. You now

turn upon us for attempting to do what you have done yourselves. We cannot

see why you have cause of quarrel with us for fighting the New Mexicans in

the West, while you do the same thing in the East. We have no more right

to complain of you for interfering in our war than you have to quarrel

with us for continuing a war we had begun long before you got here. If you

will act justly, you will allow us to settle our own differences."



The Indians, however, in the end agreed to let the New Mexicans alone, as

American citizens, and the matter was amicably settled. We may briefly

conclude the story of Kearney's expedition, which was but half done when

Santa Fe was reached. He was to continue his march to California, and set

out for this purpose on the 25th of September, on a journey as long and

difficult as that he had already made. He reached the Californian soil

only to find that Colonel Fremont had nearly finished the work set for

him, and a little more fighting added the great province of California to

the American conquests. Thus had a small body of men occupied and

conquered a vast section of northern Mexico and added some of its richest

possessions to the United States.



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