The War with Mexico/Volume 2/Chapter 35
XXXV
THE FOREIGN RELATIONS OF THE WAR
1846-1848
At the time our difficulties with Mexico approached their climax, the popularity and prestige of the United States abroad were not the highest possible. England, our gentle mother, showed a particular want of regard for us.[1] Herself recently weaned from slavery, she viewed with a convert's intolerance our adhering to that institution. Having just cured her most outrageous electoral abuses, she enjoyed hearing the London Times describe our government as "a polity corrupted in all its channels with the foulest venality." Ever scrupulous and self-denying when a question of gaining territory was concerned, she felt shocked by American "rapacity"; and the Times, while infinitely proud that England's banner waved in every quarter of the globe, ridiculed American "imperial pretensions" as echoed and re-echoed "in a nasal jargon, compounded at once of bad grammar and worse principle."[2]
The disposition of certain states to repudiate bonds held in Great Britain, and their tardiness in paying interest, excited all the righteous indignation of the creditor. The descriptions of this country put forth by honored guests like Dickens and Mrs. Trollope, who made themselves merry and popular at our expense, furnished excuses for countless jibes; and in September, 1845, the Times discovered "great danger" that the nightmare of an old English writer would come true in the United States: "No arts, no letters, no society, and, what is worst of all, continual feare and danger of violent death, and the life of man solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short."[3]
If one aspect of our civilization appeared more laughable than all the rest, it was the military side. The title of General, observed the Times, was "legitimately common to the greater part of the respectable male population," and Britannia outdid this excellent jest by telling of "majors who serve out beer, and colonels who rub down the heels of one's horse." Literary men were angered by our failure to amend the copyright law as they desired; and our pronounced republicanism, trumpeted by Polk in his annual Message of 1845, irritated almost everybody. The plain intimation of the same Message that European monarchies were not expected to interfere in America seemed even worse; and the President was represented as meaning that we intended to get Mexico into a dark alley alone, and rob her. The annexation of Texas, which England had exerted all her diplomatic strength to prevent, could not be forgiven, and the Oregon difficulty threatened war.[4]
Even Englishmen who believed in the rights of the people, said the Times, turned from us with "indignant scorn;" and in another of its many outbursts, which would have been terrible had they not been ludicrous, that paper warned us that, as we followed the example, we invited the punishment of self-willed Corcyra. "The most impudent, bullying, boasting nation of mankind," was Britannia's genial description of us; and she loved to parade "our national scorn of America and her statesmanship." In short, McLane, the American minister at London, reported privately with some exaggeration, one desires to believe that a deep-seated dislike, "amounting almost to hate, of our people, of our country and of our Institutions," prevailed universally in England. 3 On the continent these opinions were more or less distinctly reflected. In France the heart of the people beat warmly for us and against their neighbors across the Channel; but the court and the government, regarding a close alliance with Great Britain as. of cardinal importance, and the newspapers which, like the Journal des Débats, represented them with more or less fidelity, exerted a strong influence the other way. At the end of 1845 Polk deepened this, for his Message referred in cutting terms to the interference of that country on the side of Great Britain[5] in our business of absorbing Texas.[6]
The French government occupied a weak position in reference to that affair, for Guizot, the chief minister, believing that Henry Clay would be elected President and shelve it, had thought he could safely gratify England. Thiers, ardent and eloquent, now attacked his course in Parliament, insisting that an ally had been sacrificed to an enemy. Guizot, pale, scholarly and calculating, said in reply, Thiers has appealed to your instincts, I will appeal to your judgment; and pressed his theory of an American balance of power. But good-will for the United States and hatred for England were too strong for him. "What empty vocalization!" exclaimed Le National; "What unhappy exertions! What reverberating accents, like echoes in the desert! It was poor. It was cold. It was null." Yet no doubt the sting of Polk's rebuke lingered, though Guizot intimated in bitterly sweet language that it should not be resented, since he knew no better; and many Frenchmen who condemned their government's policy, condemned the United States for publicly recalling it?[7]
Mexico, however, stood in a much worse position abroad than we. For many years, it is true, she had been representing herself as Andromeda, shivering at the American crocodile or what-not that was approaching to devour her; and at the end of July, 1845, in announcing to foreign governments that hostilities were shortly to begin, she repeated that while she had done everything honorable to preserve peace, the United States had exhibited "no rule of conduct toward Mexico except a disloyal and perfidious policy, and no purpose except to seize successively every part of her territory that it could obtain.[8]
By such reiterated protestations considerable sympathy was aroused at London and Paris. Englishmen holding Mexican bonds naturally had tender feelings on the subject. British capitalists involved in Mexican silver mines and other investments, and British merchants and manufacturers, who enjoyed the lion's pre-eminence in Mexican commerce, felt deeply interested. British finances required silver bullion, and British statesmen dreaded a further extension of our boundary toward the southwest. But the politics of Mexico excited such contempt, her financial conduct such disgust, her restrictions upon foreign trade such irritation, and her treatment of foreign powers such resentment that she could not be viewed with cordiality, confidence or even respect.[9]
Disraeli spoke of every government of Mexico as "born in a revolution and expiring in a riot." The chargé d'affaires of Spain told Santa Anna that, on account of the instability of chiefs and systems, it was impossible to have a settled policy toward his country. In twenty years British imports did not increase, and the number of British houses engaged in Mexican business diminished. The treaty made with France after the war of 1838 was not carried out by Mexico; and at the beginning of 1846, owing to a long-standing quarrel, which France would have settled on reasonable terms, that country was represented by the Spanish minister. Mexico has "wilfully incurred the odium of foreign Nations," declared the British Foreign Office; and the Mexican correspondent of the Times was permitted to say in its columns that an American absorption of Mexico would be greatly for the advantage of humanity. The London Athenæum expressed the same opinion. Even Le Journal des Débats, besides complaining that every nation in Europe had been treated outrageously by Mexico, admitted that she had "sunk to the lowest point of weakness and folly." The country "is destitute of intelligence, of energy, of principle," said that paper; "it is a government of barbarians, but of barbarians enervated by. the corrupting vices of civilization."[10]
To conciliate public opinion abroad, our state department on May 14, 1846, one day after Congress authorized war, issued a circular to the American ministers and consuls.[11] "It is our interest, as it has ever been our inclination," said Buchanan, "that Mexico should be an independent and powerful Republic, and that our relations with her should be of the most friendly character"; but "the avaricious and unprincipled men who have placed themselves at the head of her Government" have prevented her from acting the part of a stable and orderly nation. For some years, in our intercourse with her, we have incurred much of the expense, and suffered many of the inconveniences of war whilst nominally at peace. This state of things had, at last, become intolerable. We goto war with Mexico solely for the purpose of conquering an honorable and permanent peace. Whilst we intend to prosecute the war with vigor, both by land and by sea, we shall bear the olive branch in one hand, and the sword in the other; and whenever she will accept the former, we shall sheathe the latter." This despatch and the President's recent Message[12] were to guide our foreign representatives in conversation about the war.[13]
By the Spanish-Americans the outbreak of hostilities was received with surprising calmness. Mexico endeavored to make them feel that a conflict of races had begun, and that she was leading the van in a common cause; but whether dissatisfied with her course in the past — especially with reference to preferential trade relations — thankful to the United States for the shelter of the "Monroe Doctrine," or simply indifferent to outside concerns, they held aloof. Guatemala alone displayed a strong sympathy. The official gazette of New Granada printed Polk's war Message in full without a word of criticism.[14]
The mother-country, Spain, would naturally have been expected to take a deep interest in the contest; but Mexico had been a rebellious daughter, had treated the Spanish subjects within her borders with cruel unfriendliness, and had recently shown a fierce aversion to the scheme of subjecting her to a Spanish prince. For commercial reasons that power desired an early termination of the hostilities, and signified as much to our government;[15] but at the same time she pledged herself to "the strictest neutrality," and she refrained from even offering mediation. Her minister at Mexico, Bermúdez de Castro, assisted the authorities there with advice, but before the war ended he turned over the legation to a chargé, and went home. A band of Carlist officers talked of going to the scene of action in May, 1847; but if their plan was carried out, they successfully avoided publicity. About the same time El Heraldo of Madrid asked whether Europe would permit the United States to absorb, little by little, all of America; but this was academic, and the journal admitted that Mexico was then practically beyond relief.[16]
Baron von Canitz, the Prussian minister of foreign relations, when officially notified of the war, said it must be far from easy to live on amicable terms with a country like Mexico, "where anarchy reigns and where the Supreme power was constantly contested by a succession of military chieftains, who were compelled to maintain their usurped authority by the same unworthy means by which they had obtained it." Aided by Alexander von Humboldt, who had lived in Mexico, King Frederick William followed the operations of the war attentively; but, happy enough that we were not his own neighbors, he felt no concern about a possible enlargement of our territory at the expense of Mexico. Indeed, he looked upon our success as in the interest of civilization, and at a distinguished public meeting one of the ministers referred to our future power on the shores of the Pacific with hope and approbation. For the rest, as the Zollverein had little direct commercial business with the region blockaded, Prussia busied herself with her own affairs.[17]
At London the announcement of hostilities was both unexpected and unwelcome. Ostensibly they grew out of the annexation of Texas, and for that reason were a disagreeable reminder. They took place in spite of earnest efforts to prevent Mexico from challenging the United States, and hence recalled another diplomatic failure. They seemed almost certain to injure British interests, and increase the territory and prestige of the United States. There was a notion, voiced in Parliament by Disraeli, that success might be followed by an attack upon Canada or the British West Indies. It seemed highly probable that had England postponed for a few days the offer which finally settled the Oregon dispute, better terms might have been extorted from the United States. Her policy had been to have our difficulties with Mexico kept alive until after an adjustment of that affair, and now it was thought possible that we might bring Mexico to terms at once, and use in some other unpleasant way our military preparations. 'The war, so much regretted by her, was seen to be largely, if not mainly or wholly, due to this policy and that of the British newspapers, which had urged Mexico to despise our military power, and to rely upon the difficulty of invading her territory successfully; and finally an uncomfortable fear prevailed that in some way the peace of the world might be imperilled.[18]
Hence disappointment and irritation were felt at the British Foreign Office. Aberdeen warned our minister that dangers of collision would be involved in a blockade and in any project of acquiring territory; and he said frankly that he could not be expected to contemplate with any pleasure the disastrous injuries the war might very probably inflict upon the Mexican government and people. Only one cause of satisfaction could be seen by the British Cabinet. An apprehension had been felt that France might be induced — through her friendship for the United States or the idea that American control of Mexico would be for her diplomatic and. commercial advantage — to join us; and the French king, confirming an anticipatory declaration already made by Guizot, took position at once for strict neutrality.[19]
In the press and the commercial circles of London sympathy with Mexico was general, said our minister; and the news that Americans were fighting aroused no sentiment in our favor. Of course little could be expected of "that Napoleon of the backwoods," as Britannia called our President. The defeat of Taylor on the Rio Grande was hoped for and counted upon; and even after his overthrow of Arista the Times, which had already predicted that our operations, in the case of hostilities, would be "utterly uninteresting and inglorious" — even "disgusting" — concluded that we should probably fail. "Bluster does not win battles, though it may begin brawls," the editor moralized. All Europe must consider the war "an insulting and illegal aggression," said the Chronicle; and the Post attributed our course to "the angry passions of the untamed democracy of the States," which Polk was ready to gratify at any cost.[20]
The press of France, on the other hand, was in general friendly. Let the Americans have Mexico, and a prodigious development of the country will follow, urged Le National; would not that be preferable to seeing the English get it? To support the United States is to strengthen an ally against Great Britain, it added. Le Correspondant said, "The Anglo-Saxon race will flow unchecked over the fair provinces where the people, descendants of the conquering Spaniards, have allowed themselves to slumber in corruption"; and it argued that such a change would benefit the Roman Catholic church in Mexico by purifying and energizing it. Even Le Journal des Débats admitted that our invasion "would be something which humanity would have to applaud, in spite of the just reprobation attached to a spirit of conquest." In view of such public sentiment W. R. King, our minister at Paris, had reason to predict, that no trouble was to be apprehended from the government, since the country would restrain it.[21] Even Guizot, when bitterest at heart, found it necessary to profess high respect for that "great nation," the United States.[22]
June 6, 1846 — that is to say, without loss of time — Aberdeen, the British minister of foreign affairs, intimated to McLane in a private conversation, unofficially, and upon his personal responsibility, that should Polk desire it, "he would be happy, in a more formal way, to propose a mediation."[23] This proposal, received by McLane in his private capacity only, was duly made known to our government, but it elicited no reply. Our silence did not please Palmerston, who succeeded Aberdeen about the beginning of July; and that young "fop with grey hair," as Le Journal des Débats described him, resolved to propose mediation in such terms as to require an answer.[24]
Soon after the middle of August, therefore, he instructed Pakenham to ascertain whether a formal offer of mediation would be acceptable, and if so to make it in "the form which might be agreed upon" by Pakenham and Buchanan.[25] The only result, however, was a memorandum received from our government on September 11, which said that it duly appreciated the friendly spirit of the British Cabinet, that it desired to make peace upon just and honorable terms and had therefore made an overture to Mexico on July 27, and that it thought the formal mediation of a foreign power unnecessary and inexpedient, but would regard with favor any influence used to induce Mexico to accept this overture.[26] Later Pakenham improved every opportunity to remind Buchanan of the British government's "anxious desire. . . to be useful in bringing about a reconciliation between the two Republicks," but he found himself unable to accomplish anything in this direction.[27]
The real question, however, was whether Great Britain would forcibly interpose. Such a policy she forbade Mexico to count on, saying that she could not be expected to assume the chief burden of a war which had resulted from the failure of that country to act upon her advice;[28] but this did not bind her own hands, and no doubt the government felt a pressure, if not a leaning, in the direction of interference. Both certain interests and certain passions demanded such a course. The Times and other newspapers pointed that way,[29] and in the House of Commons Disraeli and Bentinck spoke on that side. "A pretence only is wanting," wrote McLane. This, however, was not precisely correct. Aberdeen told Murphy, the Mexican minister, that it would be Quixotic to take up arms on the simple ground that Mexico had been wronged; and in view of England's own course, it would also have been ridiculous. "Scinde is ours," exclaimed Britannia at about this time, thus announcing one more step in the conquest of India, "and we pay the penalty of the treachery by which it was acquired in the curse of possession." What Great Britain wanted was a substantial advantage in prospect.[30]
For a time it looked as if California might provide this. Peel himself was rather dazzled by the idea of gaining San Francisco, and Aberdeen viewed with "the utmost repugnance," wrote Murphy, the likelihood that we should acquire the province. During the last three months of 1845 the subject was thoroughly discussed by Murphy and Aberdeen, and the latter's mind appeared to be "tormented" for a solution of the problem. The method of interposition followed in the war between Buenos Aires and Montevideo appealed to him, but he felt that France could not easily be drawn into it. The Mackintosh plan of British colonization received careful attention as possibly the means of creating a British interest in California; but Aberdeen thought it would be unbecoming, and would give the United States a just ground of offence, to put the plan in operation at so late a day, evidently for the purpose of blocking us (á propósito para las circunstancias), and he feared it would not be effective after all against American immigration. 'The Mexican decree of April, 1837, which mortgaged a certain quantity of lands (for instance, in California) to the bondholders appeared to promise better, and on that basis a scheme was actually drawn up at London in October, 1845, for submission to the government of Mexico. But at this juncture Herrera was overthrown, the British Cabinet felt profoundly disgusted, and Murphy's position became uncertain.[31]
After Aberdeen retired from the Foreign Office in 1846, the suggestion of Paredes that Great Britain take military possession of California seems to have tempted Palmerston; but, aside from other objections, he shrewdly suspected that Mexico had by this time lost control of the territory. In December, 1847, Dr. Mora, who succeeded Murphy, proposed on his own responsibility a sale of California to England, arguing that by our endeavor to purchase it the United States had confessed we had no claim there; but Palmerston, though evidently tempted again, merely decided that any authorized communication on the subject should receive the attention justly due to its importance, and soon the treaty of peace put an end to the matter. No "substantial advantage" had seemed to come within reach.[32]
Nor had even a satisfactory pretext for intervention been found. McLane had urged our government to give none, and in particular to avoid all infringement upon the rights of neutrals.[33] The policy of our blockade was extremely liberal. British mail packets were exempt from its restrictions, and they were permitted to embark specie and land quicksilver at Vera Cruz and Tampico. During the blockade of Mazatlán British subjects were treated with such consideration that our courtesy was formally acknowledged, and it was admitted that Scott "invariably" guarded their interests in the sphere of his operations. Our opening the ports to all nations, establishing a low tariff, and endeavoring to protect commercial relations with the interior were boons that foreign powers had no reason to expect, and British traders appreciated our attitude. By December, 1847, the merchants of London were distinctly opposed to intervention; and when the Duc de de Broglie demanded in astonishment why England had viewed our military operations with such indifference, he was told that Mexico in the hands of the United States would be of far more value in regard to commerce and investments than ever before. At the same time persons of less narrow views hoped to see that country regenerated through us.[34]
On the other hand embarrassments of the most serious character stood in the way of interposition. As the Globe said, the project of annexing Texas had afforded better grounds, yet England had looked aghast before the prospect of losses and risks involved in a collision with this country. So had she done in the case of Oregon; and the advantages of remaining at peace with the United States were still obvious. There were other considerations also. She wanted time to readjust her business under the régime of free trade, and Le National thought she desired to develop her India cotton fields before severing her relations with us. The political situation in Ireland and the Irish famine were grave embarrassments, and the generous aid given by the United States to the starving population of that island excited gratitude. British mercantile finances proved to be unsound, and a bad panic occurred; and manufacturing interests awoke to the fact that many rivals threatened them. The profound unrest which precipitated Europe into the revolutionary convulsions of — 1848 could already be felt;[35] and finally the relations of England to France occasioned a grave sense of uncertainty.[36]
With the support of that power, said Murphy, Aberdeen would have been willing to fight.[37] Her military assistance did not particularly matter, but he was afraid that popular unfriendliness toward the government — already shown by a violent opposition in the press and the parliament — and the scarcely slumbering hatred of England might drive the country into active support of the United States, and bring on a general conflagration.[38] Such was the situation when Peel, whom Louis Philippe leaned heavily upon, stood at the head of the British government; and after he resigned at the end of June, 1846, it became far more difficult. For the new administration Louis entertained no such regard. The marriage of the Duc de Montpensier, his son, to a Spanish princess destroyed the entente cordiale. Harsh language was exchanged. Guizot and Palmerston endeavored to overthrow each other, and the British ambassador at Paris had a personal difficulty with Guizot.[39]
As for France herself, the premier's loud advocacy of an American balance of power compelled him logically to prevent the United States, if he could, from acquiring new territory. Influential writers — Gabriel Ferry, for example — insisted that French interests, principles and prestige in Mexico demanded protection. L'Epoque, which many regarded as Guizot's personal organ, took that ground firmly in a long and studied article, and called for joint intervention. Le Journal des Débats, our persistent enemy, suggested the same view. But the diplomatic journal, La Portefeuille, was resolute for neutrality, and the other leading papers reiterated the familiar objections against playing the British game; and hence, while it appeared reasonable to expect that Guizot would aid England more or less in a diplomatic way to limit the extension of our boundaries, no other sort of French intervention seemed at all probable.[40]
The success of our armies clinched the argument. From the first, McLane urged that a vigorous campaign should be waged. That, he said, would be the best way to prevent interference, and he predicted that victories would overcome sympathy with Mexico. Had Taylor been defeated on the Rio Grande, as Londoners expected, those ill-disposed toward us in Europe, wrote our minister at Paris, "might have been emboldened to unfriendly or offensive demonstrations"; but as it was, reported McLane, the conduct of the American army and the magnanimity of the American general served to "inspire a respect for our country and our cause which was not felt before, and which nothing less could have produced." The failure of Ulúa to detain Scott until the yellow fever should force him to decamp had no slight effect; and the victories at Vera Cruz and Cerro Gordo, reported Bancroft, who succeeded McLane at the court of St. James, totally changed the complexion of sentiment in Europe regarding the United States. After the battles of Contreras and Churubusco the same minister said to a friend, "You should foe here to see how our successes have opened the eyes of the Old World to our great destinies." In England racial sympathy, too, could not wholly be suppressed. Scott received very handsome compliments from the commander of the British fleet at Vera Cruz and from a son of Sir Robert Peel, who was aboard one of the vessels; and Robert Anderson remarked in his diary: When our arms do something glorious, "jealousy, for the moment, is conquered by pride." Indeed Lord Palmerston himself spoke most warmly to Bancroft of our victories as illustrating the superiority of the Anglo-Saxon.[41]
King believed they "secured a perhaps doubtful neutrality." "Let Mexico show the determination and the power to resist," remarked Le Journal des Débats significantly, and a way to aid her will doubtless be found, but "Europe cannot intervene effectively in behalf of a people who throw themselves away." It is impossible to help those who will not help themselves, admitted the London Times; and Palmerston — disgusted, no doubt, like every one else, with Mexico's failure to achieve anything except fresh revolutions — admitted to Bankhead that it would be very imprudent to break with the United States for the sake of a country which did nothing effectual to defend itself.[42]
Some things, however, it was possible to do against us. At the beginning of the conflict our minister observed in London a systematic endeavor to break down American credit, and so embarrass our military operations. Viscount Ranelagh proposed to bring over enough British officers for some four or five thousand men, and it was not their fault nor his that Murphy said the Mexicans would not serve under foreigners. A captain employed by the highly favored company of English mail packets landed Paredes, an avowed enemy of the United States, at Vera Cruz. Mexico is "the very country for the guerilla," hinted Britannia; it "has ready-made guerillas by the ten thousand or the hundred thousand; it has hills and hollows where ten men might stop the march of 50,000." And the same journal went still farther. In the case of an invasion, it proclaimed, "the soldier is a soldier no more; he is a burglar, a robber, a murderer"; and should foreign troops invade England, "No quarter!" ought rightfully to be the cry.[43]
But the special delight of unfriendly journals was to misrepresent our military operations.[44] Apparently Taylor's battles on the Rio Grande surprised the editorial mind so much that few comments were ready, but after a while the Tames remarked, "No hostile army has been really beaten"; and it described our success at Monterey as merely occupying "a town of log-huts." That paper long professed to regard the war as "a border squabble," "ridiculous and contemptible," "justified by hypocrisy," "carried on with impotence," and sure to end "in some compromise more humiliating to the United States than to Mexico." "The Americans who have to conduct this most wearisome of wars," it assured its gratified readers, "are least of all nations competent to the task. They have no army, and have constitutional objections to raising one. They have no money, and are resolutely determined to find none. They have no General, and have just agreed [by rejecting the plan of a lieutenant general] never to have one."[45]
"The military tactics of the Americans," remarked the Examiner at the same stage, "have displayed an equal want of talent and of purpose"; while its fair colleague, Britannia, exclaimed: The hostilities against Mexico are "at once wretched and ridiculous. . . . So much for the boasting of Jonathan!" With unwinking and unsuspecting humor the Times commented thus on the fight at Buena Vista: "Beyond the fact that the Americans undoubtedly beat off, though from a strong position, a force nearly quadrupling their own, they seem to have no great grounds for triumph." In fact they were now "worse off than ever'; they had actually lost prestige; and all the Mexicans needed to do was "to sit still and be sulky."[46]
Scott fared no better than Taylor. His bombarding Vera Cruz was characterized as "revolting," as an "infamy," as "one of the most atrocious and barbarous acts committed in modern times by the forces of a civilized nation," as "degrading to mankind." Somehow the Times was repentant enough to publish a reply, which said: "The first broadside of Lord Exmouth's guns at Algiers destroyed a greater number of unoffending, unarmed people, than the bombardment of Vera Cruz,"' and pointed out that Scott was under some obligation to treat with humanity his own troops, whom delay would have exposed to the yellow fever. Compassionate John Bull! exclaimed the American Review; "Is it true that the English bombarded Copenhagen? Is Hindostan more than a fiction? Had Clive and Hastings any substantial bodily existence? Is not Ireland a mythe?" and of course it might have added that an assault would have caused immensely more loss of life at Vera Cruz than did the bombardment.[47]
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?[48]
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.[49]
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.[50]
When Folk'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 1s becoming a fashion, rather, to expect the absorption of all Mexico," reported Bancroft.[51]
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.[52]