According to the Times our contemplated advance against Mexico City was “the mere dream of an ignorant populace”; while the more prudent Morning Chronicle termed it “about as visionary as that of Napoleon upon Moscow.” “There is but one thing we know of,“ added the Chronicle, “that is more difficult than for the United States army to get to Mexico, and that would be to get back again to Vera Cruz.” When the Americans triumphed at Cerro Gordo over both nature and man, the Chronicle itself had to admit that our courage was “unquestionable,” but it consoled itself by placing the American and Mexican armies on the same level as partaking “pretty considerably of the nature of mobs.” The victories of Contreras and Churubusco were viewed by the Times as calculated “to raise the confidence” of our enemy, and the editor announced that Scott, after these disastrous triumphs, was “much more likely to capitulate” than to capture Mexico. Naturally Britannia pronounced our invasion of the country “a great mistake,” and asked in deep concern, How are the Americans going to get out of it?[36]
The occupation of the capital was regarded as only one misfortune more. “The Americans have played out their last card,” roared the Thunderer, “and are still as far as ever from the game.” Worse yet, it foresaw, we were now going to crown our outrages. The churches would be robbed, and “when churches are ransacked will houses be spared? When saints are despoiled will citizens be spared?” The war never can end, added the same paper, for “the invaders of Mexico ... are not the men to build the temple of peace”; and retribution is inevitable, since the passion for conquest, which has already “extinguished” the political morality of the United States, will eventually impair their political institutions, and the annexed provinces will be an American Ireland.[36]
The treaty of peace caused no serious trouble. As early as January, 1846, Le Journal des Débats said the Americans would soon have California, and thus prepared its readers for the main feature of our terms. The United States will obtain California, for Mexico cannot pay an indemnity, echoed Le National. In reply to Aberdeen’s hint on the opening of hostilities, that it would be imprudent for this country to appropriate any Mexican territory, McLane remarked that “it was at present not easy to foresee all the consequences of a war which Mexico had so wantonly provoked, and in which the United States had so much injustice and so many wrongs to redress”; and no British statesman could have failed to understand what this meant.[37]
When Polk’s Message of December, 1846, clearly showed that we expected to retain California, the British newspapers set up an incoherent, savage growl; but the triumphs at Vera Cruz and Cerro Gordo made it plain that we had earned—or were likely to earn—the rights of a conqueror, and must be taken seriously. Bancroft soon wrote that England was “preparing to hear of our negotiating for half, or two thirds, or even the whole of Mexico”; and Palmerston himself said we might as well take it all. “You are the Lords of Mexico,” exclaimed Lord Ashburton to our minister. After the occupation of the capital even Le Journal des Débats admitted that the only possible indemnity would be a province or two, and Britannia remarked, “From this time the whole country must be considered as part of the territory of the United States.” “It is becoming a fashion, rather, to expect the absorption of all Mexico,” reported Bancroft.[37]
OUR PEACE TERMS ACCEPTABLE TO EUROPE
When the treaty arrived in Europe, the convulsions of widespread revolution had begun there, people on the continent were too busy to think much about our gains, and the British did not wish to think of them; but the general sentiment of those who considered the matter appears to have been surprise at our moderation. Humboldt, though a citizen of Mexico, conceded that our terms were proper; and the critical Journal des Débats remarked, “Assuredly this is sparing a foe who lies in the dust.” Such a characterization of our behavior was for us a legitimate source of pride; and, as the respect universally paid to valor and success accompanied it all over Europe, we had ample reason to feel gratified.[37]
XXXVI
CONCLUSION
1825–1848
The conflict with Mexico came to pass as logically as a thunderstorm. At the beginning of her independent existence our people felt earnestly and enthusiastically anxious to maintain cordial relations with our sister republic, and many crossed the line of absurd sentimentality in that cause. Friction was inevitable, however. The Americans were direct, positive, brusque, angular and pushing; and they could not understand their neighbors on the south. The Mexicans were equally unable to fathom our good-will, sincerity, patriotism, resoluteness and courage; and certain features of their character and national condition made it far from easy to get on with them.[1]
Though generally amiable and often brilliant or charming, they lacked common sense, principle, steadiness and knowledge of the world. They were passionate, suspicious, over-subtle, self-confident and fond of gamblers’ risks. They regarded firmness on our part as arrogance, and kindness as debility. Their policy was defined by the Mexico correspondent of the London Times as a compound of Spanish intrigue and Indian cunning, dominated—it might have been added—by provincial vanity and sensitiveness. They scarcely possessed the character of a nation. The whole period from 1822 to 1848 has been classified by their National Museum as a period of anarchy. Their international duties were not recognized. Unscrupulous factions and usurpers used foreign relations as the shuttlecocks of selfish schemes. Pride, said their own statesman, J. F. Ramírez, forbade them to treat on the necessary basis of mutual consideration and concession, and insisted upon either complete victory or the consolation of having yielded to irresistible force, while procrastination put off the settlement of issues until the proper time for adjusting them had passed.[2]