to advance in the morning, and apparently a day of carnage was to ensue.[1]
But Santa Anna probably began to feel the reaction that always followed his great efforts. Funds and provisions were scanty. The army was demoralized, and the mass of the people felt disheartened. Within the town there were no fortifications, and it looked as if another battle under these conditions might scatter the troops, and involve the loss of nearly all the war material. Besides, leading persons in the city had always been strenuously anxious to prevent bombardment and assault; and the President was urged now, as four months previously, to spare it. Early in the evening, therefore, he briefly discussed the situation with Olaguíbel, the minister of war and three generals. The Governor was for acting deliberately; but Santa Anna, declaring that honor had been satisfied and the city could not be defended successfully, ordered immediate evacuation; and by one o'clock the troops retired in a somewhat orderly fashion to Guadalupe Hidalgo. About three hours later a commission of the city council (ayuntamiento) offered terms of capitulation at the American headquarters in Tacubaya. These were of course rejected, for the town lay at our mercy; but Scott gave informally the usual assurances of good treatment.[2]
So when the first thin streak of dawn glimmered forth behind the gray volcanoes, and our cannon at Belén garita were on the point of opening fire, a white flag and an invitation to enter the capital reached Quitman. First making sure there was no deception, he advanced; and after stopping about half an hour at the citadel he moved forward under a splendid sun to the grand plaza, which fronted the palace and the cathedral, with Smith's brigade, the Marines, the New York volunteers and Steptoe's battery. As a triumphal procession the command looked rather strange. Quitman and Smith marched at its head on foot — the former with only one shoe; and behind them came troops decorated with mud, the red stains of battle and rough bandages, carrying arms at quite haphazard angles. Not less astonishing looked the city, for sidewalks, windows, balconies and housetops were crowded with people. Except for the silence, the countless white handkerchiefs and the foreign flags, it might have been thought a holiday. Before the palace, which filled the east side of the
