# The War with Mexico/Volume 2/Chapter 34

XXXIV
THE WAR IN AMERICAN POLITICS
1846-1848
In Mexico the war had far more intimate relations with politics than it had in our own country. Here invading troops did not scatter our civil authorities, Presidents did not rise and fall, cabinets did not organize and melt away, revolutions and revolts did not hover continually at the door. Every part of the country contributed to the result. Supplies were voted, and troops assembled according to law. We have therefore studied Mexican politics in connection with events as these occurred, and reserved American politics to be surveyed more comprehensively; but this does not imply any lack of significance in the second topic.
At first the war seemed extremely popular. The rush to volunteer showed that. A tone of opposition prevailed in New England, but it was quiet hardly perceptible. May 21, 50,000 people gathered in front of the city hall at New York and called for vigorous measures. Hostilities appeared to be regarded by all as a just punishment for the long series of Mexican insults, barbarities and outrages. The country called; patriotism responded, and other considerations helped. Democratic politicians believed their party would gain prestige and strength. A great and common purpose would bind it firmly together. Many offices and appointments would follow, and almost everybody would gain some profit in a business way. Taylor's "victories" on the Rio Grande intensified the enthusiasm. "Upon the duties which the present crisis invoked," exclaimed the Philadelphia North American, "our country has but one heart," and an invasion of the enemy's territory "will meet the approbation of the entire American public." Accordingly the first session of the Twenty-ninth Congress pushed its work far into the summer of 1846—even after Senator Fairfield wrote, "All ​nature [is] hissing' — and embodied the government's policy in laws."
But this mood changed surprisingly. When Congress adjourned, it was in bad humor, and the country sympathized with it. News of the occupation of California produced little enthusiasm, for it had been expected. The fighting at Monterey excited interest, but it was followed at once by a long armistice, and it had no permanent effect on the downward course of public sentiment. Instead of glorying in the war, the Democrats now defended it feebly, and a great many regarded it as a grave political blunder. The fall Congressional elections went strongly against them. Every reverse could be explained, of course — in Pennsylvania a heavy storm, in New York the opposition of "every most pestilential and reckless form of law-hating faction," apathy here, lack of organization there — but the National Intelligencer, chief organ of the Whigs, brushed explanations aside, and coldly remarked, "We presume that our President and his Cabinet are by this time convinced that they have forfeited the public confidence — the confidence, that is, of their own party; that of the other they never possessed"'; and by mid-winter the political outlook for the war seemed extremely dark.'
The reasons for this change were complex and interesting. The people — Democrats and Whigs alike — — knew they did not want Polk for chief executive. To the millions demanding, "Who is James K. Polk?" the answer had been given, "He is President of the United States'; but this excellent retort silenced instead of satisfying. Disagreeable ideas prevailed regarding the methods of his nomination and his election. Many viewed him as an Accident, an Unpleasant Surprise, a Surreptitious Incumbent; and his unpopularity not only was a disadvantage in itself, but colored the interpretation placed upon everything he did or said.
Besides this initial difficulty, he was not considered a large enough man for the place, and the Cabinet seemed too much of a piece with him in that respect. The public did not hear Polk's confidential declaration, "I intend to be myself President of the United States." 'They were not aware that he risked a great deal to avoid having Calhoun and Flagg, a New York man of unusual ability, in his official family. But they ​felt like the Washington correspondent of the Boston Atlas, who said, They are "little fellows," and "were they all thrown in a bag together, it would make little difference which came out first"'; and they suspected that Polk aimed to eliminate all possible competitors. Many, indeed, believed it should be so. "Who would not regret," asked Senator Mangum, "to see the choice of this great and free people thrown into shadow by overtopping talent?" The President was inaugurated on a cold, rainy, cheerless day, and sentiment, among those who counted, resembled the weather.
The policy of the administration confirmed these impressions. Polk had no great ideas, no inspiring imagination, no kindling enthusiasm, no moving eloquence, no contagious humor, no winning personality. He was not exactly a "burning bush" of patriotism, hallowing the ground about him, and forcing men to put off their grimy, everyday shoes of selfish designs. To sway the nation or even the Democrats in any grand way lay beyond him. He was a partisan, to be sure, but without a party. His trumpet note — has shed "American blood upon the American soil" — came from a newspaper. Almost his only resource, therefore, was patronage, and the business of trading offices for support is essentially a mean one. It makes intrigue a profession, creates many enemies while it creates few friends and renders confidence well-nigh impossible. Without calling the President "mendacious," one can understand how J. K. Paulding came to say, that he possessed no honesty of purpose, no frankness of heart. 'Tossing out a plump lie now and then would have given less offence than continual secretiveness and evasion caused. Polk described the cunning Pillow as "one of the shrewdest men you ever knew." That gave Polk's measure, and political necessities developed his natural disposition. "This little mole," Blair called him. Blair was prejudiced; but for a different bête noire he would have chosen a different name.
New York state affairs had an especially bad effect on Polk's reputation and influence. Knowing that he had played the part of Jacob, the Supplanter, to Van Buren's Esau at the Baltimore convention, and not expecting to be forgiven, Polk probably felt thoroughly distrustful of the Locofocos from the beginning. Silas Wright's declining positively to run for the Vice Presidency ​on his ticket doubtless gave offence. His bad faith in refusing to accept Flagg, apparently to save himself from being overshadowed, after virtually agreeing to do it, seemed inexcusable. His taking Marcy into the Cabinet at the behest of an active but rather unscrupulous remnant of the "irregular" Conservatives heightened the dissatisfaction of the substantial elements. The defeat of the New York Democrats in the fall elections of 1846, which was charged by the regulars to treachery on the part of the Conservatives, created still further trouble. Making factional appointments, and especially choosing for a high post at New York City a "poor, stupid dutchman by the name of Bouck," asan extremist called him, seemed to the faithful nothing less than party treason. In thus alienating the ablest and best Democrats of the state, who were trusted and admired by the party as a whole, and supporting a faction that had no national standing, the President made a great mistake. He "has proved himself to be a poor devil," said one of Van Buren's correspondents; even Tyler's name was less execrated than "Jim Polk's," wrote one of Judge McLean's; and for thus weakening the Democrats in the Empire State, he was naturally blamed in all quarters.
A variety of minor yet serious complaints helped fill up the measure. Polk was equally anxious and unable to harmonize the party, and as he tried to satisfy clamorous malcontents, it came to be said that he was always ready to hang an old friend for the sake of gaining two new ones. Ranking low in ability to judge of character, enjoying but a limited acquaintance, and placing an unreasonable value upon experience in Congress, he too often appointed unfit men when he meant well, or put the right men into the wrong places. Naturally office-seekers dogged his footsteps, and numberless disappointed aspirants bore grudges deadlier than stilettos. His wriggling out of emphatic declarations in favor of our broad Oregon claims excited profound wrath in the west, and made a bad impression in other sections. Senator Hannegan proclaimed that if the President accepted the line of forty-nine degrees, he would be consigned to "a damnation so deep that the hand of resurrection"? would never be able to "drag him forth"; and he did accept it.
The veto of a river and harbor bill that offered captivating opportunities for looting the treasury brought upon him the ​woes of Tyler. The government, said the aggrieved, "is fast degenerating into a mere quadrennial elective despotism"; Polk "wants the purse of the nation for his own schemes of presidential ambition." Finally, the apparent hampering of Taylor and Scott, and the playing off of the one against the other seemed to a multitude of citizens unworthy of a President, unpatriotic and mean; and then partisans accused him of letting Whig generals have all the glory, lest a Democratic warrior should gain the Presidential nomination in 1848. Truly, "deep and dismal was the ditch," as B. F. Butler said, into which Polk fell.
Moreover a whole sheaf of arrows, not directly aimed at him, struck his administration. The annexation of Texas rankled still in many bosoms, and the extremists were implacable. Lowell did not shrink from recommending secession:
"Ef I'd my way I would ruther We should go to work an' part, —
They take one way, we take t'other, —
Guess it wouldn't break my heart."
John Quincy Adams contemplated the same extreme remedy, and Giddings went so far as to write, "Ohio is now a party to no subsisting Union."' Those opposed to the measure felt hostile to the President who had favored and consummated it; the great number whose theory had been that it would not lead to war felt obliged to argue now that Polk had brought about a conflict unnecessarily; and everything in our relations with Mexico was viewed through a fog of prejudices and animosities rising from that gory political battlefield. Not a few appointments to high military positions had seemed to rest on political expediency, and the battles near the Rio Grande had been followed by a long period of inactivity, charged by many to the government. Volunteers not accepted for the war had remarks to make, and troops returning from the front often used expressions hardly coherent enough to be termed remarks. 'The six months men called out by Gaines belonged in the latter class; and although Marcy did nothing respecting them save to obey the plain requirement of the law, citizens of Louisiana applied language to him that might have kindled sympathy for Judas Iscariot.
The government's fiscal system, though of course accepted by ​many, excited sharp resentment. Overwhelming the country all at once with such a combination of new laws — a warehouse act, a sub-treasury bill and a "free-trade" tariff — was denounced as an unspeakable outrage, and each of those measures amounted in the opinion of many to a crime. Gideon Welles thought the idea of reducing our tariff during the war an "insane project"; and the measure as framed, a compromise between theory and expediency, satisfied hardly any one. Real free-traders complained because their principles had been sacrificed, and the New Englanders because those principles had not been sacrificed enough. The iron and coal state raged and wept by turns: she had been betrayed, and "her groans were music" to the arrogant low-tariff section cherished by the government. Only corruption and intimidation could have carried such a monstrosity through Congress; and, worse yet, "Sir Robert Walker" had been truckling to England. "British all over," scribbled the American Sentinel on the warehousing system; and the tariff was trailed to a British lair packed with British statesmen, British capitalists, British manufacturers and British merchants. To please them our wheels of production were to stop, our banks close, and the industrious North fall in despair at the feet of an implacable South. "'To your tents, O Israel!'" cried the National Intelligencer.
In countless eyes the war itself soon lost its glamour. Imagining that our advance to the Rio Grande had been the cause of it, many felt bound to denounce it as unauthorized, unconstitutional, unjust, aggressive; and not a few, in dense ignorance of the history, character and views of the Mexicans, thought, like Professor Kent of Harvard University, that it was "demoniacal" to make war upon those poor innocents, as if they had not been shooting one another pretty continuously and also aching to shoot us. Not reflecting that nations begin to think of indemnities as soon, at least, as they begin to fight, and that legitimate advantages might accrue from occupying Mexican territory, people viewed suspiciously the operations of Taylor, Wool, Kearny, Stockton and Stevenson, threw up their hands, and exclaimed, "Conquest!" as if the ground they stood upon and half the world besides had not been gained by the sword. "Cormorants of territory!" hissed a Thersites. "Sages and Heroes of the Revolution, lo, the consummation of your labors!" ​wailed a Cassandra; Mexico is to be absorbed, and "the original, moving, burning stimulus" of the crime is the wish to manufacture glory for Polk, and gratify him with a second term. To be sure, the nation had officially endorsed the war; but multitudes were eager to have the nation disgraced, if they could only disgrace Polk.
Toward the future as well as the past frowned the critics of the administration. 'Territory seemed likely to be acquired, and it was feared that slavery would plant its black hoof upon the soil. In Massachusetts a group of young men, who doubtless believed in freedom unselfishly, believed also that it was the coming idea, and might carry them ahead of such conservative leaders as Webster and Winthrop. Sumner was one of these; and he, without offering proof that slavery stood behind the war, pushed through the legislature some blood-curdling resolutions against the "gigantic crime"; while Lowell, not stopping to ascertain whether negro servitude could thrive on the Pacific, sounded an appeal to sectional feelings:
"They jest want this Californy So's to lug new slave-states in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, And to plunder ye like sin."
From the increased political power of the South, northern agriculture, commerce and manufactures would suffer. New, sparsely settled states would have the same authority in the Senate as Massachusetts or Pennsylvania. The augmenting of Western strength would prove an injury to older sections. New Orleans would gain ground financially and commercially at the expense of New York. Annexing new territory would lessen the value of lands already in the Union. The war would increase the power of the Executive, and bring home an army of "heroes" to monopolize the offices. It was most likely to be interminable and costly, for in the autumn of 1846 Mexico showed no signs of begging for peace and Taylor no signs of accomplishing anything decisive. Privateers might ruin our commerce, and the blockade might lead to European interference. The nation, debased by dwelling upon scenes of devastation and violence, and by the absorption of aliens low in the scale of humanity, would become barbarous, cruel, rapacious, bloodthirsty. ​Taxes, debt, waste of public funds, corrupt elections, a great standing army, despotism, fanaticism, civil war, disunion, the reprobation of mankind and the retribution of heaven would follow.
Under these circumstances the gyrations and contortions of Whig politics, viewed as a whole, were curious to observe. At first the party joined in shouting and voting for stern hostilities. "Doubt, division, reproach will be unknown," announced the North American. But the Whigs presently saw, as the New York Tribune pointed out, that a full share of the burden would be theirs, while most of the glory and profit would fall to the other side. Moreover, these criticisms of Polk and the war, even when not suggested by the Whigs, seemed like yellow fields of ripening party advantage. Very soon, therefore, they withdrew to a respectable, intrenched position: they would support the war, but on its conclusion Polk and the Democrats would be called to a strict account. "I have no doubt we shall m much Capital out of it," wrote a Whig Congressman, Presently, however, it looked as if the conclusion of the war might lie beyond the next Presidential election, and most of the party sallied forth impatiently, sickle in hand.
Castigating Polk was the most obvious opportunity for the harvesters, and they used it with due zeal. Some of the jibes were good-natured. Playing on the powers legally his, the National Intelligencer happily exclaimed, "Here, there, everywhere at once, civil, military, judicial and executive, dove of peace, thunderbolt of war, and a perfect serpent of diplomacy, who was ever so various or so amazing?" Bracketing the President of the United States with a famous dwarf of the day as "Tom Thumb's cousin, Jim Thumb," was another merry as well as able fling. To remark, however, when he sent in a Message, that he came "puffing and blowing into Congress," went a trifle too far, perhaps; and other pleasantries exposed themselves distinctly to that criticism. The Boston Atlas described the war Message as "perfectly characteristic of its author; — weak, wheedling and sneaking," while some thought it better to sail on the other tack, and picture "His High Mightiness," the arrogant, domineering tyrant of the White House, as planting "his foot upon the charter of our liberties.
Despatching Taylor to the Rio Grande was called "a well​nigh fatal blunder," even though suggested by the "demon," who was commonly thought rather shrewd. Letting Santa Anna go back to Mexico seemed to different Whigs like treason, treachery, folly and idiocy. Polk "takes his ease on some sixty-eight dollars per day," while the soldiers he has driven to the field subsist on fare that "his very slaves would loathe," the Whig Almanac luckily discovered. Bribery, duplicity, falsehood, imbecility, cowardice and infamy were a few of the other good things found in the President's conduct; and the chief Whig organ undertook to lay him finally at rest on the greensward in this elegant fashion: "Why, the very savage of the courtyard in other times — that most brutal of mankind, the bully of the bailiwick, who chewed up an ear or nose, or scooped out with thumb a prostrate adversary's eye — was generous in comparison."
In attempting more serious criticism the Whigs met with embarrassments. The majority of them, whose argument had been that immediate annexation of Texas would necessarily mean war, could not with inward peace declare that Polk had brought on the war by sending Taylor to the Rio Grande; and the great number whose contention had been that Mexico still owned Texas could not well deny that annexing her province by an Act of Congress, which amounted on their theory to a constitutional declaration of war, had created a state of things which made it entirely proper for Polk to send Taylor there. "Swindlers of 1844, with your 'peaceable annexation,' do not skulk! Here is the fruit of your doings! Look it in the face!" exclaimed the New York Tribune when the war bill passed, but it soon appeared more tactful to ignore this aspect of the matter.
Other embarrassments remained, however. It was very well for northern Whigs to indulge in what Carlyle might have called a "running shriek" against "a pro-slavery war," but they were cautioned to let no echoes of it cross the Potomac. When a Senator greeted the war Message by saying he would later read the documents that accompanied it, and for the present would merely observe that Polk's course was "utterly unjustifiable,' Ritchie paraphrased Master Dogberry at him: "By virtue of mine office I do suspect thee to bea thief." While some papers denounced the government for not settling with Mexico by negotiation, others admitted that ​Mexico had refused to treat. When Delano announced for the sake of buncombe that he was "ready to go shoulder to shoulder with all those who supported the honor of the country," Thurman replied that it seemed a strange method of supporting one's country, to declare like Delano, after war had begun, when it existed both in law and in fact, that it was "illegal, unrighteous, and damnable." Abraham Lincoln, wishing to distinguish himself before the home folks, did this feat in the House by revealing, in a manner suited to his years, that since Mexico had exercised jurisdiction on the northern bank of the Rio Grande, the first American blood must have been shed on Mexican, not American, soil; but unhappily the fact remained that Connecticut had for some time exercised effective jurisdiction over northeastern Pennsylvania, yet did not own the territory.
Those who raved against Polk and his "tribe" for driving the war bill through Congress had to face Winthrop and a galaxy of other Whigs, who admitted that war did already exist. Congressmen denouncing the Executive for sending Taylor to the Rio Grande were unable to deny that notice of his march from Corpus Christi had been given on the floor of the House (March 23) long before the outbreak of hostilities, and nothing had been done about it; that on May 12 Whigs of the Senate, led by Crittenden, had recognized that American territory extended to the Rio Grande; and that after the army could safely have withdrawn from that vicinity no serious attempt had been made to bring about its recall. Partisans of the unoffending Mexicans were startled to hear the impeccable Boston Atlas confess in a moment of candor: "The conduct of that government towards us has been such as might have justified the extreme resort to war"; and those eager to berate Polk for unconstitutional aggressiveness had to digest a similar lapse on the part of the National Intelligencer, which conceded that Congress had thrown round him a mantle of indemnity by a vote "implying confidence in the rectitude of the President in beginning this war."
While Polk was roundly taken to task for appointing so many Democratic generals, Whig journals boasted that most of the leading officers belonged to their party. The military operations afforded numerous opportunities for invectives against the administration, but ere long a number of the invectives came ​home to stay. Taylor, it appeared, had recommended the advance to the Rio Grande; he protested against embarrassing the prosecution of the war by discussing its genesis; and the smallness of his army at the critical time, his waiting so long after the occupation of Matamoros, the terms given at Monterey, his peril at Buena Vista, Kearny's off-hand annexation of New Mexico, Scott's discharging volunteers after the battle of Cerro Gordo, and his famous Jalapa proclamation, all brought up against the administration, proved in every case chargeable to the Whig commanders.
Orators caused as much pain as generals, perhaps. "Black Tom" Corwin's brilliant advice that American soldiers in Mexico should be welcomed to hospitable graves, though it gained high rank in the nightmare school of literature, overshot the mark. It scandalized the nation. It staggered patriotism. It shocked humanity. Most of all it infuriated the troops, battling for their country in a foreign land. The speech arrived at Buena Vista soon after the struggle with Santa Anna. A rude effigy of Corwin was made up of the vilest materials, dressed in a Mexican uniform and burned; and over the ashes these lines were posted up:
"O'd Tom Corwin is dead and here he lies; Nobody's sorry and nobody cries; Where he's gone and how he fares, Nobody knows and nobody cares."
The soldiers had friends at home, and of course made their sentiments known. 'The speech sounded the knell of its author's great political hopes; and there is reason to believe that its reception frightened into dumbness a number of his colleagues, who had arranged to follow his lead.
But other styles of oratorical attack were still feasible. Just before Congress met in December, 1846, the Whigs hung out at the Chinese Museum, Philadelphia, their Great Blue Light. In other words a powerful orator, a powerful lawyer, a powerful statesman — Daniel Webster by name — after studying on the problem for half a year, undertook, if one may quote an admirer, to "knock the sand"' from under the government. Hour after hour he talked on, till he mortgaged fourteen columns of the United States Gazette, and the reporters fled; but he came far short of making out a case. Other efforts of his proved no ​more successful. Before the Whig convention at Springfield he argued in a tedious, prosy, court-room style. This is "a war of pretexts" three of them, he asserted: first, that Mexico invaded American territory; secondly, that she would not receive Slidell; and thirdly, that she would not pay our claims. Did Webster fail to see that a casus belli recognized almost unanimously by our Executive and Congress was for this country at least more than a "pretext"? Did he fail to see that his other "pretexts" had not been offered by Polk as grounds for passing the war bill? And how could he say the pretexts were "all unfounded"? Did he suppose that Mexico had paid our claims? Did he suppose that she had welcomed Slidell? Of course not; but he was the attorney of New England Whiggism, trying to make a good case out of a poor one.
His really effective contributions to the polemics consisted, not of arguments, but of impressive hints: "I am greatly deceived, Mr. President, if we shall not ere long see facts coming to the light, and circumstances found coinciding and concurring, which will fix on the government" its alleged guilt; and a President bringing on war in the manner charged against Polk, would commit "an impeachable offence," as if Polk might have been impeached after Congress had assumed the responsibility for his acts. But unhappily Father Ritchie offered another citation, "Well, well, we know; or there be, and if there might; or if we list to speak."
And not only did Webster disappoint, but he mortified Whig friends. Texas had been an independent state as early as 1840, he said; our annexing it gave Mexico no just ground of complaint; she was "entirely unreasonable and senseless" in rejecting our offer to treat; if she preferred war to peace we could but fight; and now the war must be vigorously prosecuted. He squarely refused to call the invasion of her territory unjust. He seemed to approve of his son's going to the field in the "unholy" cause of his country. He admitted that Whig policy in Massachusetts was in some respects "quite narrow." "I am tired and disgusted as much as you possibly can be, with the fanaticism and narrowness of some of our People," he wrote; and no doubt it made him still more tired to hear Lowell's captivating but wayward muse advise young fellows, on grounds of personal advantage, to keep out of the army, and suggest that, ​should they get seduced by some strutting sergeant into taking up arms for the country, insubordination and even desersertion would become them.
"Thrash away, you'll hev to rattle On them kittle-drums o yourn, 'Taint a knowin kind o cattle That is ketched with mouldy corn.;
While such were the troubles of waking hours, the bedchamber, too, of many Whigs had its troubled moments. Ghosts walked. John Jay, a sincere opponent of our second war against England, came back, holding out a scroll that bore these words of his, As the war has been constitutionally declared, the people are evidently bound to support it. Came back the Rev. David Osgood, D.D., of Medford, Massachusetts, with his sermon of June 27, 1812: My mind has been in a constant agony, not so much at the inevitable loss of our temporal prosperity and happiness, and the complicated miseries of war, as at its guilt, its outrage against heaven, against all truth, honesty, justice, goodness, against all the principles of social happiness. Came back another Federalist, the Rev. Elijah Parish, D.D., with a sermon recommending treason as a pious duty: New England, if invaded, would be obliged to defend herself. Do you not then owe it to your children, and owe it to your God, to make peace for yourselves? Unlike Jay, these men appeared to be unhappy; and then certain patriots of the Hartford Convention filed by with averted eyes, each dragging after him a blasted reputation.
In one thing, however, the opponents of the war succeeded. Going far beyond the limits of reasonable criticism and helpful suggestions, and indulging in language calculated to dishearten and hamper the administration, they encouraged the enemy. It is merely Polk's war, announced the Boston Atlas, quoted in the Monitor Republicano. Mexico would have disgraced herself by receiving Slidell, declared the same journal. Her spirit, proclaimed the National Intelligencer, was fitted to command the admiration of all men capable of appreciating the virtue of courage and fortitude under the most disastrous circumstances. Severance, a member of Congress, openly applauded her resistance. We cannot beat her without ruining our finances, maintained Waddy Thompson. The destruction of her national ​dependence was "the true issue," one sheet falsely assured her, as if to whet her sword. It was entirely uncertain, proclaimed Calhoun in February, 1847, whether our army could reach Mexico City or dictate a peace if it should. She cannot be conquered, it was often said.
Magazines of epithets and arguments, that became gunpowder the moment they crossed the Rio Grande, poured from the Whig presses. Leading papers invoked foreign intervention. 'The official journal of the Mexican government offered the thanks of the nation to Webster for threatening our President with impeachment. "If there is in the United States a heart worthy of American liberty, its impulse is to join the Mexicans," exclaimed a Boston journal; "It would be a sad and woeful joy, but a joy nevertheless, to hear that the hordes under Scott and Taylor were, every man of them, swept into the next world." No wonder that Polk dropped a hint about aiding and abetting the enemy. It was proper. In 1813-14 the National Intelligencer had stigmatized those who denounced the country's war after its own present fashion as "traitors in thought and purpose."
Early in December, 1846, amidst feelings of depression, dissatisfaction with the government and opposition to the war, the second session of the Twenty-ninth Congress opened. The Democrats of that body found themselves in a general state of dissension. At the beginning of the year Marcy had written privately, "Our noble party [is] on the brink of ruin," and there it still hung.
Van Buren's implacable followers nursed a grudge against Polk for the intrigues that had led to his nomination; and the partisans of Cass nursed one against them for their votes at the Baltimore convention. New York Barnburners and Old Hunkers glared at one another. Calhoun's friends were sour because of his exclusion from the Cabinet. The old free-traders cursed Walker in their hearts for stealing their tariff hobby. The westerners had no thought of forgiving the South for dropping Oregon, and the South refused to be scared by those "Big Braggarts" of the west, who seemed to want all the funds in the treasury for their internal improvements. Many wore crape and hatchets, one might say, for the river and harbor bill. . Everybody wished to blame somebody for the recent election returns. Some were quite ready to break openly with the ​administration. The partisans of Buchanan and those of Dallas marched with daggers drawn. "All around is dissension and distrust. Gloom overspreads the party," wrote G. W. Thompson of Wheeling.
The best of leadership was needed, and it could not be found. If a person did not understand the situation, he wondered; if he did, he wondered more. Nobody credited Polk with possessing the rod of Moses. Many disliked the man too much to respect the official. He could inspire neither love nor fear. While at one end of the avenue sat a party without a President, at the other sat a President without a party. With a large Democratic margin in each chamber, he admitted that he was practically in the minority; and at first sight this appeared the more surprising because Polk, knowing Congress and not knowing the country, labored with his eye on the former. But the explanation could easily be found. The people were not believed to be standing behind him. Within a month he was to be rebuffed three times in the House on important matters during as many days. One of his favorite measures was to go down amid shouts of laughter without a single friendly vote. The Cabinet enjoyed no greater respect. Walker seemed to be regarded as its leading spirit, but men distrusted his character as much as they admired his talents and energy. Moreover, in spite of Polk's determination to shut Presidential aspirants from his council, both Walker and Buchanan probably felt less interest in the war than in personal schemes.
These circumstances left the party to find such leadership as it could in Congress, and the leadership it found was a triangular fight — Benton, Cass and Calhoun. Benton had remarkable powers and seldom failed to be a Democrat, a Senator and a patriot, but he was egotistical, moody, overbearing, passionate; he despised Cass, he more than hated Calhoun, and he treated his fellow-Democrats in general as minions. Cass, a courtier and somewhat a scholar, lacked parliamentary experience, drew more timidity than courage from his Presidential hopes, and possessed no political convictions to reinforce his talents. Calhoun's high character, rare intellectual strength and frank, affable manners made him personally the most influential man at the capital; but his judgment was erratic, and he aimed to stand aloof, with a following of about four Senators, as a ​balance-of-power faction. He was intensely narrow, too. For him there seemed to be only one region in the world; only one state in the south, and only one public man there. Cass was loyal to the administration, Benton helpful but domineering, and Calhoun unfriendly. Not a very firm tripod, this, to support a government engaged in war. With almost all the Democrats, politics — that is to say, offices — held the stage, and country occupied the background. Dissatisfaction with Polk's appointments increased the confusion. Indeed, a "passion" for getting jobs invaded the sacred halls of legislation, and the President found not less than twenty men voting against his measures to avenge personal disappointments.
Whig harmony and efficiency were happily not impaired by these allurements of the fleshpots, for the Executive did not belong to their party; but their numberless inconsistencies proved most embarrassing, and the necessity of satisfying public sentiment, and throwing the responsibility upon the administration, by voting supplies for hostilities they denounced, weakened them. No absurdities, however, were too glaring, no contradictions too thorny for what they termed their "patriotic sublimity" to ignore or surmount. They denounced the war enough to incriminate themselves when they supported it, and they supported it enough to stultify themselves when they condemned it. Combining the views of several groups, one discovered a line of policy truly remarkable: the attack upon Mexico was unconstitutional and wicked, but it should be carried on; so let us halt, send an embassy, and proffer again the negotiations that Mexico has repeatedly and recently spurned.
The success of the government's military and fiscal policies in comparison with what had been predicted, and the freedom of our commerce from Mexican and European molestation. were troublesome facts; but hopes of disaster could still be entertained, and prophecies of woe still be chanted. Constructive statesmanship, they held, was not their affair. The country's difficulties occasioned them but slight concern. On that score their detachment was charming.
"I heard a lion in the lobby roar; Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door And keep him out, or shall we let him in And see if we can get him out again?"
The speeches, which ran on almost interminably, were often able, sometimes eloquent, almost always prejudiced, and quite always deficient in information. Indeed, a multitude of essential or important data were wholly unknown. The same facts, the same errors, the same arguments, the same epithets, the same laudable sentiments and the same ignoble aims presented themselves over and over again. Assertions and denials, proofs and refutations, accusations and answers, flings and retorts pursued and were pursued. There was what the Public Ledger called "an everlasting begging of the question"— taking premises for granted and reaching conclusions that any one could accept, if he pleased. "How glad I shall be when I escape from the region of speeches — and get into the region of [undisguised] pigs and calves," Senator Fairfield had exclaimed a few months earlier; and no doubt many felt in the same way now.
Naturally the genesis of the conflict proved to be a favorite object of contemplation, and almost every complaint against the administration that wit could invent or stupidity fall into was brought forward. The fact that the action of the same Congress at its first session had turned the leaf upon that subject made no difference. The fact that Polk's newspaper organ challenged in his name "the most rigorous investigation — not at any future time, but now" — into the Executive's "whole conduct of our Mexican relations" did not signify. No such investigation was attempted, but invective continued. The opposition merely cocked its eye suspiciously at everything, and found everything iniquitous.
"He must have optics sharp, I ween,
Who sees what is not to be seen,"
but the feat was now accomplished. ​For example, Congress had scarcely assembled when attacks began on the establishment of civil governments in California and New Mexico. With such unusual strength of vision it could readily be seen that Polk had been indulging in some villainy there. For a week or so excitement raged. But after a while several things appeared. Our only aim had been to mitigate the harshness of military rule, about which the kindly Whigs had felt much exercised. The action complained of had been taken under a military sanction, and was proper legally as well as by common sense, for the Executive, as commander-in-chief, possessed the fullest military authority in regions occupied by our arms. Harrison, a Whig, had proceeded after a similar fashion in Canada during the War of 1812; and our Supreme Court had even endorsed the view of a Whig lawyer, Daniel Webster by name, that British occupation of Castine, Maine, during the same war gave England rights of sovereignty there for the time being. So far as Kearny, a Whig officer, had gone wrong, the fault had been his own; and, finally, the unholy word "conquest," which had made the Whigs most unhappy when applied by Polk to the occupation of New Mexico, was found to have been applied to the British occupation of Castine by our own Supreme Court.
Behind idealistic declamation lay schemes that were distinctly practical. It was thought, for example, that if the war could be made odious, and the government's measures be hindered in Congress, Polk would have to placate the Whigs by restoring the protective tariff. This came out beautifully in the treatment of the proposal to lay a duty on tea and coffee, which even the National Intelligencer endorsed. A Democrat, "Long John"' Wentworth of Illinois, fully as noted for corporeal as for spiritual grandeur, and wrathful over Polk's course in the Oregon and river and harbor affairs, moved the rejection of the plan, and the Whigs fell into line.
It was a noble scene. Regard for the poor man filled the mouths of the orators. Though his cottons, his sugar and his salt had been cheerfully made to pay, this duty would be "inhuman," a "tax on poverty," a tax "against the fireside and against woman," a tax "against the wages of weary labor" to support the "extravagance" of the "Tiberius" in the White House. But almost in the same breath came the hint, "If the ​administration needs money, let it re-enact the [protective] tariff of 1842." "The first condition [of Whig support] is," explained the Boston Atlas, "repeal the British Bill. Repeal the bantling of the House of Lords. Repeal the offspring of British paternity and precedent." "Should they be in want of money,' proclaimed Webster, "I would say to them — restore what you have destroyed." A fairly definite understanding to this effect seems to have existed among the Whigs; malcontents on the other side gave them help; and the proposed duty was rejected in the House by a vote of 115 to 48. Partly for the same reason troops were not promptly voted. If the government does not need money, it does not need men, said the opposisition. Thus the "patriotic sublimity" of the Whigs again commanded admiration, and some of the Democrats now had a share in it.
Another illustration of sublimity was the "Wilmot Proviso," that "firebell in the night," as Alexander H. Stephens called it, which no doubt some Congressmen accepted at its face value, and a multitude of honest citizens regarded as a New Commandment revealed on a new Sinai. The introduction of this meassure, which prohibited slavery in territory acquired from Mexico, was both unnecessary and unwise. It blocked needed war legislation, added to the prevailing discord, and weakened the government in the face of the enemy.
But reasons of state outweighed all such trifling considerations. The northern Whigs, to hurt their opponents and gain recruits, had for some time been taunting the northern Democrats with subserviency to the slave power, and it seemed to the latter that a declaration of independence would help their electioneering. Van Buren men, especially in the state of New York, desired to annoy Polk in return for his beating their favorite, and taking an Old Hunker instead of a Barnburner into the Cabinet. Wilmot, the only Pennsylvania Democrat that had voted for the new tariff, did not feel precisely happy about his action, and was anxious to repel the charge of truckling. His great state and New England considered the "Southern"' tariff an abomination, and longed to retaliate. Many felt that Walker and Tyler had used sharp practice in the annexation of Texas for the advantage of their section. The West believed the South had actually broken a bargain by getting its help in that matter and then ​dropping the Oregon issue. A general sense that southern | politicians had been overbearing prevailed above the line. The fear that southern domination would blight interests dear to the North exerted its usual strength; and as a final merit, the Proviso helped to make the war odious by suggesting that it aimed to extend slavery.
So without regard to the logic of the situation, the welfare of the country or the needs of our armies it was urged; and then Calhoun made a profit in his turn by bringing in a series of proslavery dogmas to rally the southerners under his banner. The northern Whigs, for reasons just mentioned, and particularly to save themselves at home, took up the Proviso, and it fared well; but after a time the party discovered that favoring it might cost them several states in the next Presidential contest, and so the New Commandment was quietly filed away.
To replace it, however, calm the "Proviso men," and avert a party split by preventing the emergence of a slavery issue, the "patriotic sublimity"' of the Whigs evolved another idea. This was the proposition of Senator Berrien that no territory should be taken from Mexico, and that while it would be "desirable"' to have the Texas boundary settled and our claims paid, we should always be ready to make terms that would leave Mexican honor "inviolate." Here was truly a remarkable proposition. By voting three millions to facilitate a settlement with Mexico, in full view of Polk's grounds for proposing that measure, Congress had already committed itself to the principle of acquiring territory.
But other objections to Berrien's plan far outweighed the point of consistency. If the United States was to decide what would satisfy Mexican honor, the plan could only have proved futile — even insulting; and if Mexico herself, it was ludicrous. Nothing would have satisfied Mexico's ideas of honor except the evacuation of her territory and the surrender of Texas. When convinced by the passage of this resolution that she had nothing to lose in the end, she would have felt still less anxiety to sacrifice her daily golden egg — the money that our armies paid out — by ending the war. Implying that she had done nothing worthy of stripes, Berrien turned the war Message and the war bill into falsehoods, and accused the United States of a horrible crime — the crime of warring upon an innocent neighbor ​merely to do havoc. He reduced the minima of our solemn demands to mere desiderata. He represented our expenditures, our dead and our victories as elements of a senseless farce, and left us no respectable excuse for having troops in Mexico, except that we sent them down to scatter silver dollars and study the fandango. He proposed to make this nation unique in history as combining the villain, the ruffian, the simpleton and the comedian. He attempted to revive the unendurable status quo ante, leave the United States without indemnity for the past or security for the future, stimulate Mexican vanity and self-confidence, and weaken the prestige of our arms in Europe. In order to preserve Whig solidarity he aimed to deprive us, not merely of California, but of self-respect.
All this Berrien proposed. Yet Webster, dreaming still of the Presidency, endorsed the plan. He was put up as a candidate by the Massachusetts Whigs on that basis; and his party, hoping to win spoils in the approaching national election by this device, quite generally accepted it. Said a correspondent of the National Intelligencer, vouched for by the editor as a Whig statesman, "No Mexican territory. Let this be the issue. Let this be the motto inscribed on the Whig banner, and victory is certain.
All these manoeuvres of the Whigs, aided by the Democratic underworking, resulted, of course, in the protraction of a war which they posed as hating. The first seven weeks of the session were almost thrown away. The opposition hung back from granting needed troops for reasons already suggested, and also lest the administration should turn the appointments to party account. Democratic dissensions and probably a wish to annoy Whig generals had a similar effect. Grudges on account of the tariff and the river and harbor veto played their part against war legislation. Men stooped so low as to argue that Polk, the President of the United States, could not be trusted with $3,000,000, when customhouse officials had larger sums in their keeping. And then his "imbecile" administration was charged with permitting the war to drag, "when by a few vigorous blows it could have been ended long since.' Its course exhibited "unsurpassed inefficiency," declared the Boston Atlas, as well as "one unrelieved picture of wrongdoing, corruption, weakness and blunders." Indeed, the ​government, "rolling this war, as a sweet morsel, under its tongue," was detected in wilfully doing. "everything in its power to prevent" the energetic operations upon which, as any one could see, its financial, peel and personal credit vitally depended.
In November, 1847, Henry Clay, the plumed leader of the national Whig party, celebrated also as the man who elected Polk, after taking even a longer time than others to consult the omens, gave out a speech and a set of resolutions. These were intended as a chart for the party to be guided by under the' pilotage of that distinguished though unlucky navigator. The author forgot having said in 1813, "an honorable peace is attainable only by an efficient war," but he remembered to condole with suffering Ireland. He forgot that a country engaged. in hostilities of uncertain duration and cost cannot wisely bind itself to specific terms of peace, but reiterated the favorite Whig taunt that it was a blind war, without known aim. Historically too, he wandered a little, for he charged the President with ordering Taylor to plant cannon opposite Matamoros "at the very time" when Slidell was "bending his way" to Mexico; but Polk was unpopular, and few thought it necessary to speak the truth about him. We oppose the annexation of Mexico, Clay proclaimed, which, on the other hand was perhaps too true to be interesting; and we demand only a proper boundary for Texas, which bore him a long distance toward Berrien.
But here was the master stroke: We desire to acquire no foreign territory "for the purpose" of extending slavery to it. This had the threefold merit of completely "dodging" the great question of principle, giving the northern Whigs a graven image to worship, and conceding to their southern brethren a full privilege to do anything possible in the acquired territory, after it should be ours. But unfortunately for his party the Navigator admitted that Congress had made the conflict a national war, that a long series of "glorious"' victories had been won, and that since Congress had formulated no declaration regarding the objects in view, Polk — frequently accused by Whigs of carrying on the war for diabolical purposes both abhorrent and fatal to the Constitution — had been free to use his judgment. In Mexico Clay's speech was widely circulated, and a competent observer thought it might delay peace one or two years. Such ​was the highest Whig leadership in what Webster called a "dark and troubled night."
One idea in the minds of not a few who endorsed the "no territory" plan was that its adoption would render the prosecution of the war aimless, and so check it abruptly. Others favored gaining the same end by stopping supplies. Ex-Senator Rives, a leader of prominence, advised Crittenden to concert measures for this purpose with Democratic "patriots"; and in fact an understanding on the point seems to have been reached. "Be prompt, when you are wrong, to back straight out," urged the New York Tribune, demanding the recall of our troops. Other Whigs, after doing all they could to make the war aimless, argued, We are fighting for nothing, why persist? "Let us call home our armies," insisted Corwin. "Stop the war. Withdraw our forces," cried Sumner; and Corwin believed, early in February, 1847, that only two more votes would commit the Senate for this plan of complete national stultification, and for bringing back in a keenly aggravated state all our Mexican difficulties. Practically nobody dreamed of offering to Mexico the reparation that such an idea of dropping the war implied.' The proposition was therefore hollow and insincere; little more than politics weakly flavored with sentimentality.
The month after Clay's chart appeared, the first session of the Thirtieth Congress assembled. About half the Representatives were new men, a majority belonged to the Whig party, and all had been chosen during the gloomy autumn of the previous year. By the Navigator and by other party leaders their work had been mapped out for them. The objects of the war were to be defined as at most a settlement of the Texas boundary at the Rio Grande, or a little farther north, and payment of the old American claims; supplies were to be qualified and limited accordingly, or entirely cut off; and in this manner hostilities would be ended.
But politics, not principle, still dominated most of the Whigs. They viewed everything with reference to the impending election of a President; and public sentiment regarding the war had now changed. 'The battle of Buena Vista had aroused extraordinary enthusiasm; Scott's victories, refuting the charges of inefficiency and silencing the prophets of calamity, had been decisive as well as brilliant; the expenses of the war were far less ​burdensome than its opponents had prophesied; Mexico had proved stubborn and unreasonable; the sort of opposition that had been practised was seen to be aiding the enemy, and hence fell somewhat into disfavor; and the people, believing peace and a reward for their sacrifices within reach, had made up their minds to carry the business through. Besides, many of the Whigs themselves were too proud to "back out," and many at the north — high-tariff men — wished the war to continue.] By a rather small vote and a very narrow margin — 85 to 81 — it was duly branded as unnecessary and unconstitutional, and Webster, now an out-an-out opposition candidate for the Presidency, approved of this little black "blister-plaster"; but in view of national sentiment "patriotic sublimity" of a practical sort now looked expensive, and a motion contemplating the withdrawal of our troops perished in the House under a vote of 41 to 137.
It was perfectly feasible, however, to snarl, nag, procrastinate and work for personal aims; and few opportunities passed unheeded. "Tiger hunts" — ambitious members attacking rivals — used up much time. Cliques locked horns over pressing military needs. Webster seemed to forget everything except his ambition. Benton raged over the fate of the Lieutenant General bill and the censure of Frémont for disobeying Kearny. Calhoun, having allowed his hair to grow, resembled a. porcupine less than before, but felt no less anxious to prove himself the sole hope of the South. Polk, instead of gaining popularity from the success of his administration, was looked upon as intoxicated by its fumes, and a section of his party advised throwing him openly to the sharks. Congressional resolutions were aimed at him. All the dying embers of controversy were solicitously fanned. 'The causes of the war, the conduct of the war, the instructions to Slidell, the return of Santa Anna, the occupation of New Mexico, the tariff in Mexican ports and the treatment of Taylor and Scott furnished themes for stale speeches. To chill the growing popularity of the war, direct taxes were suggested; and the chairman of the ways and means committee piled up the prospective costs far above the estimates of the government. After some two months of it Marcy gave up hope. But the Whigs knew they must do nothing serious against the war, and before long it happily ended. ​The results of all this personal, designing ur factious opposition to the government arid the war proved most unfortunate. The administration could never be sure what action Congress would take, nor when; and therefore its course was necessarily timid, weak and hesitating. 'Time and strength had to be consumed in foreseeing and. in meeting captious objections, and in battling against public prejudices that hampered both military and financial efficiency. ."We shall have three months of turmoil — our errors exposed, our good deeds perverted," wrote Marcy to a friend at the beginning of December, 1846; and such an expectation did not conduce to satisfactory work. Bold, rapid strokes could not be ventured; caution and cheese-paring had to be the rule. In the field all this bore fruit in vexation, delay, expense and loss of life. "In the name of God," exclaimed a man at the front, "will the politicians of our country never cease gambling for the Presidency upon the blood of their countrymen?"
And the uproar had another consequence. When the treaty was ratified the government organ referred to the conflict with Mexico as "one of the most brilliant wars that ever adorned the annals of any nation"; and the chief Whig journal placed these words without criticism in its own editorial column. The trial was over, and the fiercely contesting lawyers walked off, arm in arm, to dine. The inefficient and shameless war was now brilliant and most creditable. Indeed, the Whigs chose for standard-bearer a man who represented professionally the military spirit they had raised pious hands against, who belonged to the slaveholding order so plainly viewed askance by the New Commandment, who had recommended the advance to the Rio Grande, who had aimed the cannon at Matamoros, who had advised appropriating Mexican territory by force of arms, and who owed in fact all his prominence to playing a leading rôle in the "illegal, unrighteous, and damnable" war. Nobody thought of impeaching Polk, or of bringing home to him the guilt that was to have sunk him to the bottom of the bottomless pit.
Yet all the Whig journalism and oratory stood in the record. Hosea Biglow became an immortal. New Englanders gained the ear of reading people. Keen young radicals of the northeast, where the muse of history chiefly dwelt, dominated to a great extent the public thought. Polk retired from power and from ​life, and nobody cared to defend, or even to hear defended, a creature so unpopular and so generally denounced. Declamation that well-informed men of the day had rated at its true value came to be taken seriously. One side of the case faded from sight, the other was engraved on bronze. And so the patriotic habit of eagerly, throwing stones at the Mexican War and its backers became traditional.
This has been a mistake. No doubt, as we have seen, errors and misdeeds enough must be charged to the administration. All the actors were. vessels of clay, like the rest of us. But in reality the least creditable phase of our proceedings was the conduct of the opposition.
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