Justin H. Smith - The Mexican-American War (Vol. 1&2)

Here stands an American minister, answered Slidell, “clothed with full power to settle all the questions in dispute between the two nations.” Begone, said Mexico once more.34

Table of Contents

In tracing the mutual relations of the United States and Mexico, we have often had occasion to note how each nation felt about the other and about a possible conflict; but it is very desirable now to understand as completely as possible what those feelings were at about the beginning of 1846, and this will require the consideration of many additional facts.

Already there were influential and wealthy Mexicans, particularly in the north, who wished or half-wished that the United States would subjugate their country, so that order and prosperity might come; and others reflected that at least our assistance might be desired, should Paredes undertake to set up a European monarchy. But these were selfish calculations. They seldom implied good-will. Friends we have none at the capital, Slidell reported; and our consul at the northern city of Tampico, even though but a faint loyalty to the central government prevailed in that section, wrote in September, 1845: “The most stubborn and malignant feeling seems to exist in the mind of every Mexican against the United States.” 1

The principal cause of this feeling—the supposed misconduct of our government in the settlement, revolution and successful resistance of Texas, and in the recognition and annexation of that republic—has already been explained; but other strong reasons coöperated. All understood that intense dissatisfaction existed in the northern departments. Now that our frontier had been advanced so far south, further peaceful aggression seemed easy; and it was believed that we intended to pursue the Texas method progressively, until all of Mexico should little by little become ours. “This first invasion is the threat of many more,” said the official journal. It was alleged that we, fearing the competition of that country in the markets of the world, did all we could to hinder its agricultural, industrial and commercial development, and excited the revolutions that paralyzed it; and it was even believed that we incited the Indians to ravage the northern frontiers, and so create discontent against the central government. The privileged classes dreaded the influence of our democratic ideas. The clergy were afraid that Protestantism, or at least free thought, might cross the border, and that so far as Mexican territory should fall under our sway, secular education, the confiscation of their property, and the other anti-clerical plans of the Federalists, who appeared to draw their inspiration and their arguments largely from this country, might be put into force. The numerous misunderstandings and clashes with the United States that we have noted had produced an enduring resentment, and in particular our claims and our efforts to have them settled were commonly deemed artificial and unjust. 1

Behind all these facts lay the general anti-foreign prejudice; and this, we should now observe, was in our case more than a prejudice. Even in the eyes of the intelligent El Siglo XIX, an American was “a being detestable to the nation on account of the little accord between [him and] the religion, the language, and the gentle, affable, frank, and generous character of the Mexican.” Our directness of thought, speech and action, and the brusqueness of manner that naturally accompanied it appeared inconsiderate and haughty; and no doubt, in dealing with people who seemed to us deceitful, unreliable and unfriendly, our citizens often emphasized these characteristics. In habits and customs there was indeed a profound unlikeness, and below this lay a still more profound racial antagonism. Finally the politicians of all parties, fearing to be outdone in the display of patriotism, encouraged the anti-American feeling. The sharp and rancorous Tornel used every opportunity to speak against us; and Santa Anna, whose prestige was immense—it must not be forgotten—as late as 1844, both fearing the influence of our freedom and wishing his fellow-citizens to consider him essential, represented the United States as a Minotaur eager to devour them. Few were enlightened enough to correct the misconceptions regarding us; no one had the power, courage or wish to do so; and in the end, very naturally, these dominated the public mind—or, to be more precise, created and kept alive a general impression. Americans “scarcely have the look of men,” it was gravely asserted. 1

In regard to an immediate conflict in arms with us, Mexico by no means felt like the dove threatened by a hawk, as people in this country have generally supposed. To be sure, the national existence was often said to be in danger, but such talk was largely for effect. Castillo asserted that Slidell had been sent in order to obtain a pretext for war; but this was in all probability a bid for Mexican and European support, since he knew that we already had grounds enough, and the council of state evidently believed we did not seek a conflict. Paredes whispered to the British minister at a banquet, “I hope your government does not mean to let us be eaten up;” but this was a plea for English assistance. As we have just said, not American arms but American settlers were the chief danger, in the opinion of Mexico. The very men who clamored that the national existence was threatened by the United States were the ones who called most loudly for war. A circular to the local authorities issued by the central government in December, 1845, invited attention to the prevailing opinion that armed resistance could prevent further usurpations like that of Texas; and another such paper, issued in November of the following year, dwelt strongly upon this point. From military force also there was danger, to be sure. Our superiority in numbers and resources was admitted. But there were many offsets to that superiority, and the Mexicans closely studied and shrewdly counted upon them.2

Let us review those offsets. In the first place, while the government of the United States deemed its course honorable and considerate, in the eyes of many, if not all, Mexicans we had been abject as well as knavish, stealing her territory and then trying to buy off her anger, submitting to be gulled, flouted and lashed, and each time going back for more of the same treatment; and it seemed hardly possible that we should suddenly adopt a bold, positive, unflinching course. It was even believed that we dreaded to enter the lists. Almonte, for example, in reporting that his protest against annexation had caused a heavy fall on the stock exchange, observed, “The fears of a war with Mexico are great;” and it was notorious that his departure from the United States created almost a panic in our money market.3

Besides, it was assumed that party feeling would go to about the same lengths here as in Mexico, and that our differences over the slavery question and the tariff would probably make it impossible for us to conduct a war vigorously—perhaps, impossible to wage it at all. “The northern states, I again repeat to you, will not aid those of the south in case of war with Mexico,” wrote Almonte while minister at Washington in June, 1844. European journals like Le Constitutionnel of Paris confirmed this opinion;4 and the London Times remarked, It would be a war, not of the United States, but of a party that has only a bare majority, and “odious” to a “large and enlightened minority in the best States.” Moreover, argued the official journal of Mexico, the injustice of the war would of itself excite American opposition.5

From a military as well as a political point of view this country seemed feeble. Our regular army was understood to be numerically insignificant and fully occupied with frontier and garrison duties; our artillery appeared weak in quality as well as in numbers; and our cavalry was deemed little more than a cipher. As for volunteers, our citizen-soldiers were represented in Mexico not merely as unwarlike, but as “totally unfit to operate beyond their frontiers.” Indeed, as competent a judge as Captain Elliot, British minister in Texas—who knew the United States well, and in the spring of 1845 was in close touch with Mexican leaders at their capital—said that the greater their number, the greater would be the difficulty of invading Mexico. “They could not resist artillery and cavalry in a Country suited to those arms,” he believed; “they are not amenable to discipline, they plunder the peasantry, they are without steadiness under reverses, they cannot march on foot.” Nor did there exist in this country, added Elliot, either aptitude or adequate means for a regular military invasion.6