Yet after all it was “a war of conquest,” we have long been told. Popularly “conquest” is in truth an odious word, for it has commonly been associated with odious deeds: aggression and cruel tyranny; but “circumstances alter cases,” and when the facts are unobjectionable, so is the term. Legally, the idea has prevailed that conquest is robbery; but this idea seems to have grown from the old conception that the government owned the country, and such is not our opinion to-day.[21]
Forcible acquisitions may indeed be commendable. In that way Rome civilized Europe, England gave peace, order and comparative happiness to India, and our own country came into being; and none of us would undo these results. The welfare of humanity is the true principle. Life has the right of way over death; enlightenment and energy over ignorance and torpor. Possession means use; power and opportunities mean service. The primary law is that all shall move forward and coöperate in achieving the general destiny. Like individuals, every nation must run its course to the best of its ability, and if it grossly flags, pay the penalty. In the absence of any other tribunal, war must enforce this penalty. “Whosoever hath [in use], to him shall be given, ... but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that which he hath.” Such is eternal right; not the justice of the law schools, but the justice of the Supreme Power.[21]
Of all conquerors we were perhaps the most excusable, the most reasonable, the most beneficent. The Mexicans had come far short of their duty to the world. Being what they were, they had forfeited a large share of their national rights. Even Humboldt said that Mexico “ought not to expect to withhold, from the uses of civilization and improvement,” such neglected territories as New Mexico and California. A philosopher like Josiah Royce, a moralist like Francis Lieber and an unsympathetic historian like Dr. von Holst agree substantially that our duty called upon us to occupy the Golden Gate. Not merely an administration or a party, but the nation believed that our destiny called us there, and felt ready to assume the high responsibility of taking possession.[22]
Besides, while ours could perhaps be called a war of conquest, it was not a war for conquest—the really vital point. We found it necessary to require territory, for otherwise our claims and indemnity could not be paid. The conflict was forced upon us; yet we refused to take advantage of our opportunity. “It is almost impossible,” says Bryce, “for a feeble State, full of natural wealth which her people do not use, not to crumble under the impact of a stronger and more enterprising race.” But we gave back much that we took, and paid for the rest more than it was worth to Mexico. “All deserve praise, who ... have been more just than their actual power made it necessary to be,” said Thucydides; and we were not only just but liberal. Finally, we gave proof, in the prosperity and usefulness of our new territories, that our responsibility was amply met.[22]
So the account was fairly adjusted and more. But something still remains to say. A closer acquaintance with us and with real national life taught Mexico some of her mistakes, confirmed the political relations of her states, and helped greatly to liberalize her ideas and institutions. “The sad part of it is that our chastisement is merited,” preached Ramírez. “He that reflects how useful are the lessons of suffering and misfortune,” declared the minister of relations, “will admit that no one could show more clearly the deformity of our errors than the foreign invader [has done], and that there could have been no more efficacious means of elevating our reason above the bastard interests of political passion.”[23]
THE WAR LEAVES MEXICO FRIENDLY
Still warmer sentiments prevailed. One of the chief obstacles in the way of making a treaty was the desire of not a few Mexicans to have the United States annex their country; and after that plan failed, the American general-in-chief was actually invited to become dictator for a term of years, backed by American troops. With reference to Trist, our commissioner, Couto and Cuevas remarked on presenting the treaty to Congress, “Of him there remain in Mexico none but grateful and honoring recollections”; and when bidding Clifford good-by, the President expressed—in no perfunctory way—a sincere desire for the most “sisterly” relations between the two countries, as essential to the welfare of Mexico. Indeed, that nation had not felt so cordial toward the United States for many years as it did immediately after the war.[23]
In Europe, too, fairer views and feelings regarding us began to be entertained. “If nothing occur to tarnish what has been so well begun,” wrote our minister at the court of St. James in June, 1846, “the moral influence produced here and in Europe generally will be worth all the expenses of the war.” “It was a hard lesson for England to learn, but she has learned it,” reported Bancroft, who succeeded him; “that America means to go on her own way, and that Europe ... must give up the thought of swaying her destiny.” Our triumphs over Mexico, remarked C. J. Ingersoll in the House, “have been admirable lessons ... to the world, that the [wise] policy of all nations is peace with these United States.” Only on respect and appreciation can peace and mutual helpfulness be founded, and both our victories and the manner in which they were used promoted harmony between us and the powers of Europe.[23]
Humanity and moderation—such humanity and moderation as are practicable amid hostilities—gilded our arms. “The elevated and kindly character of Taylor and Scott,” said the Mexican historian, Roa Bárcena, “lessened as far as was possible the evils of war.” The Americans always treated us during the conflict with “the most noble courtesy,” wrote Ceballos. “We shall certainly consider it as an unprecedented event if this enormous booty [the wealth of the Mexican churches] escapes from pillage,” proclaimed the London Times; and it did escape. We have beaten the enemy, felt Robert E. Lee, the knightly soldier, “in a manner no man might be ashamed of.” Even Theodore Parker, though opposed to the war, made this public acknowledgment: “It has been conducted with as much gentleness as a war of invasion can be.” And a brave officer of rare intelligence uttered on the floor of our Senate these words: “We have cause to be proud of the record this war will leave behind it—a monument more lasting than brass. We, the actors of to-day, must soon crumble to dust; the institutions we now maintain, and hope will be perpetual, may pass away; the Republic may sink in the ocean of time, and the tide of human affairs roll unbroken over its grave; but the events of this war will live in the history of our country and our race, affording in all ages to come, proof of the high state of civilization amongst the people who conducted it.”[24]