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country, which is stamped with the seal of Divine reprobation and God seems to have written against us the words of the feast of Belshazzar. Tears spring from the eyes, and despair seizes the soul, when it is seen that there is only among us a capacity for vice, and that everything is desecrated by a demoralized people. I recommend to you my family. Give my love, &c. &c. I. U.
(This letter was written by a member of Congress.)
To J. M. and J.—My Dear Friend:—have none of your esteemed letters to answer, but I take the pen to recite some lamentable events—not lamentable on account of the blood shed, which has been but little considering the number of combatants engaged, but because we have not the shadow of honor left.
The battle commenced about noon on the 19th, against Valencia's division, which lasted until 2 P. M., the next day, there being nothing but a continual series of routs and a series of errors committed by our generals and subordinate officers, who were filled with fear, terror and cowardice, causing a confusion among the soldiery impossible to reduce to order. Even women would have done better.
The consequence of all this is, that all our materiel of war fell into the hands of the enemy, together with the fortifications from Mexicalcingo to San Angel, including San Antonio, Churubusco, Paizzacola, and in fact all the fortifications in the valley. The dead, wounded and dispersed were horrible to be seen in the city, and an immense cloud of officers rapidly traversing the streets, making it appear that they were occupied about something, in order to avoid meeting the enemy.
Nothing has been left for the salvation of the capital but an armistice obtained by the British Minister, as the American army is at our very gates, and we have nothing left but the dirt that flies through our streets to defend the capital—that is to say, there is no morale left among us.
You will see, my dear friend, from my solemn predictions, that I have the sad vanity of always approaching the truth. However, I will lay aside this gloomy picture—abandon it entirely, and take myself to the bosom of my family, there to mourn the errors of my too ambitious brothers, whom we are to thank for all our misfortunes. I salute you for the last time with the name of Mexican, but shall always continue to do so as a much attached friend. F. S. J.
