During all this while, Mexico, too, had been preparing for the war, and preparing characteristically. Paredes began with good intentions, a serious and fairly honorable Cabinet, and sound ideas of economy. Though he did not seem to be very strong either physically or intellectually, his many scars and the bull-like expression of his face inspired respect and caution. He lived quietly and honestly, and the correspondent of the London Times thought Mexico had a better prospect of being well governed than at any previous period since 1821. It was the dictator’s hope that such a policy and a bold campaign against the Americans would rally the country to his banner.[20]
About April 1, as we already know, he gave orders to attack Taylor. In May he severed all consular relations with the United States.[18] June 6 the new Congress met; and Paredes, in opening the session, announced that the time had come to declare war, and summoned all Mexicans to the support of the country. Six days later he was elected President as a matter of course, and the action of the American government regarding war with Mexico was made known by the official Diario. On the sixteenth Tornel—the enemy of the United States and worse enemy of his own country, who had now wormed himself into the war department in place of Almonte—proposed to Congress a declaration of war; and on July 6 Paredes proclaimed, as Congress had voted five days before, that Mexico would repel the aggression and invasion of the Americans. It was further stated that besides completing the Permanent and Active corps, the government would create additional forces to serve during the war. A million dollars were supplied by the clergy to pay for a campaign. Paredes obtained permission to command the army in person, and his intention to do so was publicly announced.[20]
But as usual the war plans ended mostly in talk. Except at the far distant north, denunciation of the United States moderated somewhat, and even at Mexico bragging lost a part of its flavor;[19] yet, though really discouraged, people would, not recognize the war as anything very serious. After news of Arista’s defeat arrived at the capital, the shiver of astonishment and disgust lasted for a time; but the glib fellows in the cafés were soon remarking, “Well, that’s over; that won’t happen again.” Explanations abounded. After all, Arista was only making a reconnaissance in force, it was pointed out. “Such is the fortune of war; a defeat to-day and glory to-morrow,” remarked one of the generals. The hour chosen by Providence to give the world a lesson by terribly punishing the aggressive Americans has not yet arrived, explained the governor of San Luis Potosí. Reverses have occurred, but they can easily be repaired and will be, the minister of war assured Congress airily; and moreover the enemy had suffered most severely, it was believed. Even the evacuation of Matamoros was eclipsed by domestic politics. The triangular difficulties between Scott, Gaines and the American government were cited as illustrating the state of discipline in our army. The wreck-strewn coast near the mouth of the Rio Grande and the billows laden with boxes and barrels afforded no little encouragement; and editorials from the London Times, proving in detail the hopelessness and risk of an American attack upon Mexico, were translated and printed by the official journal.[20]
So the nation took heart. Its case did not look desperate after all. Heroics appeared unnecessary. The military men have seized the country, thoughtful citizens reflected; let them defend it. The people did not fly to arms. The departments opened their strong boxes by only a chink or not at all. “A dreadful and cruel lethargy has buried the Republic,” exclaimed El Indicador. How the Mexicans could be roused, nobody knew. To proclaim a levée en masse and place a weapon in every hand seemed politically dangerous. Paredes, observing that his plan to go north received the cordial endorsement of his enemies, and fully warned that his departure would be the signal for an uprising, dared not set out; and as for the idea of British aid, upon which great expectations had been erected, the minister of England gave lectures instead of promises.[20]
PAREDES IN DIFFICULTIES
Indeed, Paredes found himself struggling, not merely to achieve, but even to survive. Knowing well that his political existence depended upon paying the army, he devoted all the revenues to it from the first, and made every exertion to solve the all-important problem of money. In March he tried to borrow heavily on the security of Church property, but failed. In May the payment of all treasury obligations was suspended, and a cut in pensions and salaries made; but the principal results were to anger multitudes already offended by his economies, destroy credit, paralyze business, and call forth an emphatic protest from the British legation. On the principle, perhaps, of setting a thief to catch a thief, the cynical Iturbe, one of the corrupt jobbers in government contracts, was appointed minister of the treasury; and extraordinary powers to raise funds were conferred upon the President by Congress. But this very law shielded private and Church property, and there was no help in laying taxes that could not be collected. Besides, the army was now but a fragile staff. The defeats of the north had smitten its confidence and prestige; being badly paid it was unreliable; and it really preferred Santa Anna, the natural chief of its unprincipled and rapacious officers.[22] Paredes counted upon the monarchical party. Beyond a doubt he aimed to place it in power.[21] Alamán, an avowed advocate of that policy, was not only his principal adviser but the chief editor of a monarchist newspaper, El Tiempo, set up at this time and protected by the government; and the convocatoria summoning the new Congress, prepared by Alamán, pointed in the same direction. But his party had no “substantial plan,” as the British minister well said, and the idea commanded no popular support. To the army it meant a permanent throne in the place of a Presidential chair to which every successful general might aspire, and imported troops instead of Mexicans behind the foreign prince; while the departments, under the pretence that local interests were neglected but mainly to facilitate access to the public treasury, turned away from even the idea of a centralized republic toward a revival of Federalism. The convocatoria, which denied Congressional representation to six sevenths of the people, was generally and furiously denounced as an open rupture with the nation; and Archbishop Posada, the strongest support of the monarchists, fell sick and passed away. Paredes found it wise, therefore—in fact, unavoidable—to declare for the Republic. But his action seemed a confession of weakness, dishonesty and inconsistency; and this impression was deepened by a futile decree against the freedom of the press and a vain endeavor to gain the support of Pedraza, who led the conservative wing of the Federalists.[22]
Numerous other difficulties embarrassed the President. Like all the successful revolutionary leaders, he found it impossible to keep the promises he had made. It was complained that he did not protect northern Mexico against the Indians. His adjustment of the foreign debt raised a loud clamor. Many charged that his bringing the principal military forces to the capital had laid the frontier open to the Americans, and he was accused of using them still as his personal bodyguard. The Army of Reserve is too much reserved, cried the Monitor Republicano; and over and over again the opposition press demanded that he should take the field, which nobody believed he intended to do.[22]
By June the spirit of revolt, which had shown itself early in February, seemed formidable. Almonte, who had left the Cabinet ostensibly because opposed to monarchical designs, was believed to be at work for himself, and Santa Anna was known to be plotting. The President’s ability fell conspicuously short of his needs, and he clouded with drink such talents as he possessed. His weak and vacillating course fortified every enemy, and estranged almost every sensible friend; and it came to be felt, even by those hostile to the monarchical idea, that a more energetic ruler must be found. In short, six months after taking the reins Paredes had no real strength whatever. The door stood actually ajar for a new revolution.[22]
Preparations for such a change had then been going on for a long while. In the London Times of February 10, 1846, its correspondent at Mexico had said that Santa Anna’s coming into power again “would be regarded by all classes as the greatest affliction that could befall the nation,” and other good observers entertained similar opinions. The Federalists in particular disliked him. But on February 20 a protest of his against monarchical schemes appeared in print at Mexico, and newspapers were soon advocating his return.[23] Farías, leader of the radical Federalists, was easily won over by a patriotic letter full of penitence and unselfish zeal, and with Rejón as intermediary an alliance of his faction and the Santannistas, based upon the idea of uniting army and people, was at length, with much difficulty, brought about. Almonte joined the combination; by the first of April it planned to “pronounce” at Vera Cruz; and although disagreement regarding the terms of the plan and a dispute whether Santa Anna or Almonte should be named the leader prevented this action, Juan Alvarez, who had been a turbulent partisan fighter in the Acapulco region ever since 1821, and was cognizant of this conspiracy, inaugurated a revolution, April 15, in favor of a provisional triumvirate: Santa Anna, Herrera and Rincón.[26]