Behind all these facts lay the general anti-foreign prejudice; and this, we should now observe, was in our case more than a prejudice. Even in the eyes of the intelligent El Siglo XIX, an American was “a being detestable to the nation on account of the little accord between [him and] the religion, the language, and the gentle, affable, frank, and generous character of the Mexican.” Our directness of thought, speech and action, and the brusqueness of manner that naturally accompanied it appeared inconsiderate and haughty; and no doubt, in dealing with people who seemed to us deceitful, unreliable and unfriendly, our citizens often emphasized these characteristics. In habits and customs there was indeed a profound unlikeness, and below this lay a still more profound racial antagonism. Finally the politicians of all parties, fearing to be outdone in the display of patriotism, encouraged the anti-American feeling. The sharp and rancorous Tornel used every opportunity to speak against us; and Santa Anna, whose prestige was immense—it must not be forgotten—as late as 1844, both fearing the influence of our freedom and wishing his fellow-citizens to consider him essential, represented the United States as a Minotaur eager to devour them. Few were enlightened enough to correct the misconceptions regarding us; no one had the power, courage or wish to do so; and in the end, very naturally, these dominated the public mind—or, to be more precise, created and kept alive a general impression. Americans “scarcely have the look of men,” it was gravely asserted.[1]
In regard to an immediate conflict in arms with us, Mexico by no means felt like the dove threatened by a hawk, as people in this country have generally supposed. To be sure, the national existence was often said to be in danger, but such talk was largely for effect. Castillo asserted that Slidell had been sent in order to obtain a pretext for war; but this was in all probability a bid for Mexican and European support, since he knew that we already had grounds enough, and the council of state evidently believed we did not seek a conflict. Paredes whispered to the British minister at a banquet, “I hope your government does not mean to let us be eaten up;” but this was a plea for English assistance. As we have just said, not American arms but American settlers were the chief danger, in the opinion of Mexico. The very men who clamored that the national existence was threatened by the United States were the ones who called most loudly for war. A circular to the local authorities issued by the central government in December, 1845, invited attention to the prevailing opinion that armed resistance could prevent further usurpations like that of Texas; and another such paper, issued in November of the following year, dwelt strongly upon this point. From military force also there was danger, to be sure. Our superiority in numbers and resources was admitted. But there were many offsets to that superiority, and the Mexicans closely studied and shrewdly counted upon them.[2]
THE UNITED STATES DEEMED FEEBLE
Let us review those offsets. In the first place, while the government of the United States deemed its course honorable and considerate, in the eyes of many, if not all, Mexicans we had been abject as well as knavish, stealing her territory and then trying to buy off her anger, submitting to be gulled, flouted and lashed, and each time going back for more of the same treatment; and it seemed hardly possible that we should suddenly adopt a bold, positive, unflinching course. It was even believed that we dreaded to enter the lists. Almonte, for example, in reporting that his protest against annexation had caused a heavy fall on the stock exchange, observed, “The fears of a war with Mexico are great;” and it was notorious that his departure from the United States created almost a panic in our money market.[3]
Besides, it was assumed that party feeling would go to about the same lengths here as in Mexico, and that our differences over the slavery question and the tariff would probably make it impossible for us to conduct a war vigorously—perhaps, impossible to wage it at all. “The northern states, I again repeat to you, will not aid those of the south in case of war with Mexico,” wrote Almonte while minister at Washington in June, 1844. European journals like Le Constitutionnel of Paris confirmed this opinion;[4] and the London Times remarked, It would be a war, not of the United States, but of a party that has only a bare majority, and “odious” to a “large and enlightened minority in the best States.” Moreover, argued the official journal of Mexico, the injustice of the war would of itself excite American opposition.[5]
From a military as well as a political point of view this country seemed feeble. Our regular army was understood to be numerically insignificant and fully occupied with frontier and garrison duties; our artillery appeared weak in quality as well as in numbers; and our cavalry was deemed little more than a cipher. As for volunteers, our citizen-soldiers were represented in Mexico not merely as unwarlike, but as “totally unfit to operate beyond their frontiers.” Indeed, as competent a judge as Captain Elliot, British minister in Texas—who knew the United States well, and in the spring of 1845 was in close touch with Mexican leaders at their capital—said that the greater their number, the greater would be the difficulty of invading Mexico. “They could not resist artillery and cavalry in a Country suited to those arms,” he believed; “they are not amenable to discipline, they plunder the peasantry, they are without steadiness under reverses, they cannot march on foot.” Nor did there exist in this country, added Elliot, either aptitude or adequate means for a regular military invasion.[6]
“America as an aggressive power is one of the weakest in the world ... fit for nothing but to fight Indians,” declared Britannia, an important English weekly; and apparently the war of 1812, to which the Mexicans referred with peculiar satisfaction, had proved even more than this. The military operations in a war between Mexico and the United States would be “contemptible and indecisive,” said the London Times. As for our navy, it was undoubtedly small; the Mexican consul at New Orleans reported that it lacked the discipline commonly attributed to it; and, however efficient it might really be, Mexico had no commerce to attack.[7]
The Mexicans, on the other hand, were deemed by many observers decidedly formidable. “There are no better troops in the world, nor better drilled and armed, than the Mexicans,” asserted Calderón de la Barca, the Spanish minister at Washington; and some of the generals were thought, even by foreigners, equal to the most renowned in Europe. The Americans would be at a vast disadvantage, was Captain Elliot’s opinion, “in rapidity of movement” and ability to endure “continued fatigue on the hardest food.” The soldiers of the tri-color “are superior to those of the United States,” declared the Mexico correspondent of the London Times flatly in 1845.[8]
MEXICAN CALCULATIONS OF THE CHANCES
If the military power of Mexico was rated in this way by outside observers of such competence, one can imagine how it was rated at home. The Mexicans regarded themselves as martial by instinct, and viewed their troops, inured to war by an almost unceasing course of revolutions, as remarkably good. Santa Anna once boasted that, if necessary, he would plant his flag upon the capitol at Washington; and the results of the wars with Spain and France had tended powerfully to encourage the self-confidence of his fellow-citizens. “We have numerous and veteran forces burning with a desire to gain immortal renown,” said the Boletín Oficial of San Luis Potosí. “Not to speak of our approved infantry,” it was argued, “our artillery is excellent, and our cavalry so superior in men and horses that it would be an injustice not to recognize the fact;” besides which “our army can be rapidly augmented.” Indeed an officer of reputation told Waddy Thompson that the cavalry could break infantry squares with the lasso. In November, 1845, the Mexican minister of war solemnly predicted that his countrymen would gain the victory, even if one third less numerous than their American adversaries. To clinch this matter, the feeling of superior power, which it was known that we entertained, was regarded as an ignorant over-confidence that would ensure our defeat. In short, “We have more than enough strength to make war,” cried the editors of La Voz del Pueblo; “Let us make it, then, and victory will perch upon our banners.”[9]