schooling an army becomes a gigantic
instrument moving with the accuracy of clock-work, put in motion by the
general's genius. It can endure as well as perform all he requires, and
he knows that the result of a battle depends alone on his numbers, his
position, or his individual skill in military combination. The common
soldier and the officer thus react upon each other, and the electric
chain of mutual _confidence_ makes success an impulse.

The American and the Mexican soldier are essentially different, though
both, according to the report of distinguished officers, are almost
equally brave. In the anglo-saxon race bravery is the balance between
prudence and courage, exercised with an indomitable resolution to
achieve a desired end. The American soldier is fearless, yet he values
life and seeks to protect it. His object is to subdue or slay his foe,
still he determines to avoid, if possible, a fatal catastrophe. This
renders him intrepid while it teaches the importance of discipline and
obedience to resolute and skilful officers. He perceives at once the
object to be secured or the thing to be done, and he marches on with the
mingled caution and spirit requisite for success.

It may be said that a certain degree of timidity is necessary in every
balanced character in order to ensure reflection, for natural courage,
unaided by sensitiveness, would render it rash. But the Mexican soldier
seems to be guided by a different system, and to be brave without either
prudence or enduring discipline. He is trained in manoeuvres; and,
believing that when he masters his manual he is equal to all military
emergencies, he supposes that a battle is little more than a parade. As
Mexican troops are rather political engines, designed for the domestic
police of cities, than for actual service in the field, the soldier is
more of a plaything than a tool or weapon. Vague, ideal notions of Roman
patriotism, are infused into his mind by the demagogues of the army in
bombastic proclamations, and he imagines it better to perish than
surrender to his foe. But this murderous doctrine of "revenge or death"
serves rather to animate him _before_ battle than to carry him steadily
through its perils. He has the ability to perceive the beauty of
abstract virtue, but lacks the sustained energy, the profound
endurance, to realize it. He rushes onward without deliberation, or
regard of consequences. An international war is, in his estimation, a
personal