In April, 1840, under a verbal order from the governor of upper California, a considerable number of peaceable Americans and other foreigners, residing at scattered points, were suddenly arrested in a brutal and even bloody manner on the pretext of a conspiracy, and their property was confiscated. Even the possession of legal passports did not protect them. After suffering inhuman treatment, they were sent in irons to Mexico. There only the charity of strangers preserved their lives; and at length, after marching under blows and with bleeding feet as far as Tepic, they were thrust into prisons. No doubt they were rough in character and behavior, and the presence of such bold, vigorous foreigners in a weakly governed region obviously involved some dangers; but they had rights. No evidence justifying the treatment they received was brought forward, and the government at Mexico, even while ordering them expelled from the country without compensation, admitted the illegality of their arrest. Finally, as the British minister demanded, they were permitted to go home; but Mexico failed to bear the expense of their journey, as she had promised to do, and paid but a slight, if any, indemnity. Such conduct when she had millions for the army, the civil wars and the pockets of officials, was inexcusable. Justly enough this affair excited the deep indignation of our government and people.18
In June, 1841, a Texan expedition set out for Santa Fe, hoping to bring about the incorporation of New Mexico in the new republic, but not planning under any circumstances to make war; and a considerable number of Americans—among them Kendall, editor of the New Orleans Picayune—joined the caravan with commercial or other peaceable aims. After a while the entire body were made prisoners by the Mexican governor. Kendall’s passport, when duly exhibited under a flag of truce, was taken from him; and, although the utmost penalty incurred under Mexican law by the non-combatant Americans was expulsion, they were driven with instances of extreme brutality to Mexico, and compelled to work in chains on public roads. For one reason or another a few of our citizens gained their freedom from time to time; but it was not until well on in 1842—and then as an act of condescension instead of justice—that Santa Anna released the main body of them. Of course this country felt highly incensed again; and the Executive, while disclaiming all desire to screen Americans from any deserved punishment, ordered our minister to protest against the treatment of the prisoners, declaring that Mexico would be required to observe the rules prescribed by modern public law. On the other side of the Rio Grande still more passion was aroused, but in the opposite sense.19
Beginning in a humble way, a caravan trade between St. Louis, Santa Fe and Chihuahua grew to large proportions, and eventually interested even the New York and Philadelphia merchants; but this commerce, though sanctioned by treaty, was looked upon by Mexico with disfavor from the very first. Excessive taxes were imposed at the frontier and at Chihuahua; and finally, in August, 1843, Santa Anna arbitrarily locked the door. Possibly there was a baseless notion that political designs upon New Mexico were entertained in the United States; competition with native traders may have been feared; and it was charged that smuggling occurred. But competition and smuggling are unavoidable features of international commerce; and if they afforded an adequate reason for disregarding a formal agreement, international trade arrangements would not be worth making. Our citizens and government objected therefore vigorously and with justice to Santa Anna’s course.20
One week after this decree went forth, another prohibited the importation of certain specified articles at any point, and ordered the forfeiture of such merchandise, already in the hands of dealers, if not sold within the ensuing twelve months. The list of articles, printed solidly in small type, filled nearly an octavo page, and apparently was intended to include almost everything embraced in our trade with Mexico. Peculiarly harsh seemed the forfeiture provision. Not only was it ex post facto , but our traders by paying the duty had become entitled to the privilege of selling their goods; and the American secretary of state could do no less than protest against the law, as “a manifest violation of the liberty of trade secured by the treaty.” Yet something still more serious followed it, for aliens were soon prohibited from doing retail business at all. An attempt was made to defend this order on the ground that Americans residing in the country were subject to its laws, usages and statutes; but our government replied that a treaty must be regarded as the supreme law, and that if one solemn agreement with Mexico could thus be made a nullity, all the other privileges accorded us could one by one be abrogated.21
These commercial grievances, however, were trifles compared with another of the same halcyon period. In July, 1843, Tornel, the minister of war, instructed the governors of California and three other northern departments to expel all citizens of the United States residing therein, and permit no more of them to enter. Extraordinary precautions were taken to keep this measure secret, and Waddy Thompson, our representative at Mexico, first learned of it on December 23. Four times he inquired in vain whether such an order had been issued; but when he demanded his passports, Bocanegra attempted to justify Tornel’s instructions, arguing that every government is authorized to protect itself against seditious aliens. This was an evasion, for the order had reference to all Americans, however law-abiding. The outcome was that now, after the order had been in force almost six months and after it had been executed in at least one department, directions were given to make it include all foreigners, and apply only to the seditious. Thompson, strongly disposed to please the Mexicans, accepted this as satisfactory; but his country did not, for the governors had authority still to decide what Americans were dangerous, and expel these without a trial. Besides, even the modified order required them to prevent our citizens from entering their jurisdictions, and thus plainly violated the treaty.22
All of the grievances thus far mentioned bore directly upon the general government of Mexico, but there were also many others, primarily chargeable to minor authorities, in which our national rights were seriously attacked;23 and next we reach the question of “American claims”—that is to say, private injuries for which damages were asked. At once the idea occurs to us that perhaps our citizens brought their troubles upon themselves by peculiarly obnoxious conduct. This does not appear likely to have been the rule, however, for the British, although the Mexicans felt anxious to have their goodwill and assistance, complained loudly and long, and their government protested in the most emphatic and sweeping style. Indeed, said Ashburnham, the chargé of England: “There is scarcely one foreign power with whom they have had any relation, which has not had more or less cause to complain of the iniquity and persecution to which its subjects here have been exposed;” and France, though her claims were much smaller than ours, took up arms on this account. Bearing in mind, then, how peculiarly inimical were the people and authorities of Mexico toward us, one can readily imagine what sort of treatment citizens of ours had to endure.24
In the next place one desires to be sure whether our actual claims were real or, as some American and Mexican writers have asserted, were simply “trumped-up.” That a few of the less important ones had no basis is apparently true, but it must be remembered that our government was bound to consider any case resting on prima facie support, and ask for an investigation. It could not, like the Mexican authorities, examine the records necessary for the detection of all mistakes and frauds. Moreover, the existence of unfounded claims, if such there were, does not matter to us, for the real question is merely whether substantial sums were justly demanded. On that point one immediately reflects, not only that our national authorities were scarcely capable of conspiring with skippers and traders to pick the pocket of Mexico, but that, had they been silly enough to present a list of imaginary claims, her quick-witted if not profound officials would have delighted to analyze and expose the frauds. Coming then to the question, one can answer it positively in the affirmative. Both national and international tribunals decided that we had well-founded and substantial claims.25
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