Mr. Polk's War

Upon his inauguration as eleventh President of the United States on March 2, 1845, James K. Polk set four goals for his administration: replace the protectionist Tariff of 1842 with one based on a revenue rationale; establish an independent Treasury or depository for federal monies; settle the Oregon question with Great Britain, extending America to the Pacific Ocean; and acquire California from Mexico, and along with it, "a large district on the coast." (Borneman, p. 150)

The first three would be accomplished through political dexterity and diplomatic brinkmanship; the fourth would prove to be both costly and bloody.

Polk inherited a tripartite legacy of conflict with his obstreperous neighbor to the south.

The first bone of contention was the annexation of Texas, which Mexico regarded as an act of aggression.

Second was a $2 million indebtedness to U.S. citizens -- reparations accumulated over a period of ten years for such crimes as the seizure of U.S. ships, the abduction of U.S. businessmen, and the theft of U.S. cargo -- which the Mexican government acknowledged but did not have the resources to pay.

Third was the ongoing dispute between Mexico and Texas as to whether their boundary was the Nueces River or the Rio Grande further to the west.

On June 15, 1845, with the annexation of Texas imminent, Polk ordered four thousand soldiers under Brigadier General Zachary Taylor to march from Fort Jessup, Louisiana, to the Texas frontier -- approaching "as near the boundary line, the Rio Grande, as prudence will dictate." Although Taylor halted at Corpus Christi at the mouth of the Nueces River, he was advised that "any crossing of the Rio Grande by a Mexican army in force was to be deemed an act of war." (Borneman, p. 191)

Mexico was now under the military regime of General Mariano Paredes and his civilian puppet Jose Joaquin Herrera; a year earlier they had managed to oust and exile the despotic Santa Anna, who had ridden his fighting prowess to the presidency twice since 1833. The more moderate Herrera was inclined to reach an accommodation over Texas. When he indicated he would receive an emissary to discuss the matter, Polk invested Congressman James Slidell with the authority to collect the debt owed to U.S. citizens and to purchase, if possible, California and New Mexico for an amount up to $20 million. (Borneman, p. 194)

While "surviving evidence indicates Polk and and his advisers entertained some hope of success," (Howe, p. 735) it was a mission facing inherent obstacles. Its appointed secretary, William Parrott, had already been declared "personally offensive and unacceptable" by the Mexicans for exaggerated claims made against it and had been exposed as a spy. Slidell himself was designated a full-fledged ambassador -- "an envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary" (Borneman, p. 195) -- and for the government to receive him, it would have to resume full diplomatic relations with the United States, not likely when the latter was occupying what it considered a substantial portion of its territory.

By the time Slidell arrived in Veracruz on November 29, 1845, Hererra was under attack for his conciliatory policy by revolutionary elements which would depose him in thirty days. He refused to meet with Slidell, as did his successor, the bellicose General Paredes. Slidell vented his own anger in his report to Polk ("A war would probably be the best mode of settling our affair with Mexico," he wrote), packed his bag, and sailed home. (Howe, p. 737)

Having learned of Slidell's failure, on January 13, 1846, Polk ordered Taylor to advance to the Rio Grande -- "the proper remedy," he had written two months earlier, "for the wrongs and injuries we have suffered," (Merry, p. 240) but a boundary claim which historians have labeled "pretentious, unsound, and indefensible." (Howe, p. 735)

Taylor set up a supply base on the coast and ensconced his army in Fort Texas across the river from the town of Matamoros. Wrote U.S. Lieutenant Ethan Hitchcock: "We have not one particle of right to be here. It looks as if the government sent a small force on purpose to bring on a war, so as to have a pretext for taking California and as much of this country as it chooses." (Howe, p. 739)

When the Mexican general, Pedro de Ampudia demanded that the Americans withdraw from the disputed territory, Taylor responded by blockading the mouth of the Rio Grande, legally an act of war. On April 23, Paredes, blaming the U.S. for provoking conflict, directed his new commander, the brash and boastful Mariano Arista, to pursue "defensive" operations. Two days later Arista sent 1600 cavalrymen across the river where they ambushed two companies of U.S. dragoons on reconnaissance, killing eleven and capturing twenty-six, including Captain Seth Thornton.

"Hostilities may now be considered commenced," reported Taylor to Washington. (Borneman, p. 201)

But Polk had anticipated the attack. After talking to Slidell in person on May 9, he persuaded his cabinet to support an immediate message to Congress. The purported grounds for declaring war were Mexico's refusal to receive Slidell and its default on its reparations payments, hardly a strong case; the unmentioned real reason was Mexico's refusal to sell territory. Four hours after the cabinet adjourned, the adjutant general delivered to the White House Taylor's smoking gun. (Howe, pp. 740-741)

"The cup of forbearance had been exhausted even before the recent information from the frontier," Polk told Congress on May 11. "But now, after reiterated menaces, Mexico has passed the boundary of the United States, has invaded our territory, and shed blood upon American soil . . . War exists, and, notwithstanding all our efforts to avoid it, exists by the act of Mexico herself." (Howe, p. 741)

Democratic leadership in the House of Representatives allotted just two hours of debate to the bill; it authorized the call-up of fifty thousand volunteers and a $10 million appropriation, and included a preamble asserting that "by the act of the republic of Mexico, a state of war exists between the United States and that republic." The combined measure passed 174 to 14 with 35 abstentions. (Merry, p. 245-246)

Whig Garrett Davis of Kentucky joined the majority, even though he protested, "The River Nueces is the true western boundary of Texas . . . It is our own president who has begun this war. He has been carrying it on for months." (Howe, pp. 741-742)

In the Senate opponents included not only Whigs but also Democrat John C. Calhoun. He thought the acquisition of California and New Mexico would incite sectional conflict and offer little opportunity for the extension of slavery, nor could he stomach Polk's executive warmongering. (Howe, p. 742) "I will not agree to make war upon Mexico by making war upon the Constitution," he railed. It is Congress's "sacred duty to make war, and it is for [Congress] to determine whether war shall be declared or not." (Merry, p. 246)

When Thomas Hart Benton, the Democratic chairman of the Military Affairs Committee expressed similar reservations, Polk lobbied him personally; he promised that "no more men would be called out and no more money expended than would be absolutely necessary to bring the present state of hostilities to an end," and warned that a negative vote might harm him irreparably. In the end Benton sided with the majority, 40-2. (Borneman, pp. 206-207)

On May 13, 1846, the president issued a proclamation of war. The ever nettlesome Secretary of State, James Buchanan, who feared British or French intervention, astonished Polk when he proposed informing foreign governments that the acquisition of territory had not been the motive for U.S. actions. Polk retorted that he would wage war with "all the Powers of Christendom" and "stand and fight until the last man among us fell in the conflict" before he would make such a statement. (Merry, p. 256)

In the spring of 1812, James Madison had agonized over sending a war message to Congress that ultimately took twenty days to pass. Thirty-four years later, James Polk deliberately placed American forces in harm's way, practically invited an attack by a foreign country, and then, insisting that a state of war already existed, presented Congress with a fait accompli to further his policy aims. In doing so, he set a precedent that would forever empower future Chief Executives. (Borneman, p. 209)

By the time of the proclamation, Zachary Taylor had already achieved two minor victories. Following the Thornton debacle, he withdrew to Port Isabel to reinforce his supply base, leaving behind a contingent of 500 men to hold Fort Texas. Upon his return, he found his way barred by Arista's troops. Outnumbered three to two, he defeated the Mexicans on two successive days, May 8 and 9 -- driving them back across the Rio Grande, occupying Matamoros, capturing a hundred prisoners and a large quantity of guns and ammunition, and relieving Fort Texas (which was renamed Fort Brown, and later Brownsville, in honor of its fallen commander, Jacob Brown).

Given Polk's objectives, it didn't take long for a simple war strategy to crystallize. Taylor would occupy enough of Mexico to coerce it to the negotiating table, and other detachments would seize California and New Mexico, retaining them permanently in the subsequent treaty.

Thus, on June 5, 1846, "the largest military force ever seen in that part of the world," (Howe, p. 758) the 2000-man Army of the West under Brigadier General Stephen Kearny departed Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, with orders to "conquer Santa Fe," provide for the "safe possession of it," and then "press forward to California." (Borneman, p. 235)

Hearing footsteps, the Spanish governor of New Mexico, Manuel Armijo, lost his courage (or received a bribe), disbanded his militia, and fled south. On August 18, Kearny marched into Santa Fe without firing a shot and raised the Stars and Stripes in the town square. Probably overstepping his bounds, he proceeded to establish a civil government, institute a code of law, and appoint Charles Bent of Taos territorial governor before setting off for California. Following an aborted rebellion of resentful Pueblo Indians and Mexicans -- which resulted in the murder of Bent and the conviction and hanging of sixteen insurgents -- New Mexico would remain under military rule until 1852.

In California, Kearny ran into a buzzsaw.

A year earlier, in June 1845, a presumed topographical expedition had made its way west from St. Louis under the command of Captain John C. Fremont, the vainglorious, ambitious, and flamboyant son-in-law of Senator Thomas Hart Benton. When Benton casually informed Polk that Fremont might be veering into California, he seemed untroubled by the prospect of sixty armed civilians trespassing upon the sovereign soil of a neighboring nation with whom the United states had a precarious relationship. (Merry, p. 293)

Fremont explored California's coastal region before settling in the capital, Monterey, whereupon the provincial military governor, Commandante General Jose Maria Castro, ordered him to leave. On March 8, 1846, he broke camp and marched north across the Oregon border.

Two months later Washington envoy Marine Lieutenant Archibald Gillespie caught up with the Fremont. Gillespie had already delivered a message to the U.S. consul in Monterey, Thomas Larkin, advising him that any potential secessionists "would be received as brethren" should they wish to follow the Texan example and seek annexation by the United States. Convinced by Gillespie that war was impending, and that, as he recorded in his Memoirs, "possession of California was the chief object of the president," Fremont headed south to raise a rebellion among the eight hundred inhabitants of U.S. origin. (Howe, pp. 753-754)

Emboldened by Fremont's presence and probably encouraged by him, a group of these expatriates seized the town of Sonoma, raised a flag embroidered with a crude grizzly, and on June 15 proclaimed the Bear Flag Republic. Three days later the U.S. Pacific Squadron, under the command of Commodore John D. Sloat, occupied Monterey and, the next day, Yerba Buena (renamed San Francisco). Assuming the existence of war, Sloat supplanted the Bear Flaggers by declaring California to be U.S. territory.

Upon arriving in Monterey, Fremont revealed that his incitements had not been sanctioned by Washington and provided no cover for Sloat's own aggression; pleading illness, the latter promptly relinquished his command to Commodore Robert Stockton, an adventurer in the Fremont mold, and sailed home.

The two filibusterers, Fremont and Stockton, quickly went about subduing the rest of California, seizing San Diego, Santa Barbara, and Los Angeles, but exhibiting such tactlessness and brutality that they completely alienated the local californios, who had long enjoyed considerable autonomy. Informed officially on August 17 that the U.S. and Mexico were indeed at war, Stockton announced his own annexation. (Howe, 756.)

Within a month an insurrection erupted in Los Angeles, where anti-American sentiment was fueled by Gillespie's abusive rule. The resolute californios reclaimed their three southern towns and immobilized Stockton, who now awaited reinforcements in the person of Stephen Kearny, en route from Sante Fe. On December 6, however, Kearny was badly mauled by the rebels just outside San Diego, losing thirty per cent of his men, and on the verge of annihilation before being rescued by a contingent of Stockton's marines.

The californios were no match for the combined forces of Stockton and Kearny, who managed to recapture Los Angeles on January 8, 1847. Meanwhile, Fremont, moving down from Monterey with his California Brigade, a mixture of U.S. soldiers, settler volunteers and Native American allies, expunged any lingering pockets of resistance to the north. Ignoring his two senior officers, the conquering hero proceeded to sign a regional peace treaty with the californios at Cahuenga that promised them the rights of American citizens and ended the fighting. (Howe, pp. 756-757)

But another war then commenced -- a bureaucratic war involving Kearny, Stockton, and Fremont. (Merry, p. 305) Kearny actually possessed the specific mandate from Washington to organize a territorial government. But Stockton refused to acknowledge his authority, and, upon departing California on January 22, appointed Fremont "governor and commander-in-chief." When Kearny demanded that Fremont yield to his superior rank, Fremont said no, emphatically no, a blatant act of insubordination. (Borneman, p. 277)

After a month long standoff, Kearny prevailed, brandishing orders from General Winfield Scott designating him the senior officer and instructing him to perform the duties of civil governor. Recalled to Washington, Kearny brought Fremont in tow. At Fort Leavenworth, on August 22, 1847, Kearny arrested Fremont and charged him with insubordination.

The subsequent court-martial attracted nationwide attention and convicted Fremont, but his sentence of dismissal from the service was remitted by Polk, in a vain attempt to appease and retain as a friend and ally the influential father-in-law. Fremont resigned from the army anyway and became a popular celebrity and anti-slavery candidate for the White House, while Thomas Hart Benton forswore all accommodation, both social and political, with the president. (Howe, p. 757)

Far to the south, on the Rio Grande, Zachary Taylor was intent on completing his mission, in the face of growing contempt from his commander-in-chief. In a three-day battle, September 21-24, 1846, he managed to drive General Ampudia, now back in command of the Mexican Army, into the confines of Monterrey, 180 miles west of Matamoros, and cut off his supplies. Then, under the mistaken impression that the administration was close to a settlement, he enraged Polk and his cabinet by accepting an eight-week armistice and allowing Ampudia's army to evacuate the city.

But Polk and his advisers had also been duped. An intermediary had led them to believe that, if permitted to re-enter Mexico, the notorious Santa Anna, for the right price, would effect an end to the hostilities. "But the consummate opportunist, once across the border, decided to betray the gringos rather than his countrymen . . . His return sparked Mexican resistance and prolonged the war." (Howe, p. 766) He deposed President Paredes, took control of the government, and assembled a force of 20,000 troops at San Luis Potosi, two hundred miles south of Taylor.

Driving his men across the desert -- and losing 5000 along the way -- on February 27, 1847, Santa Anna unleashed a two-day assault on the Americans, who had fallen back into a natural defensive position in a restricted valley just south of the hacienda of Buena Vista. Outnumbered three to one, informed by one of his generals, when his left flank was turned, that they were whipped (to which he replied: "That is for me to determine") Taylor, drawing on his superior artillery, stood his ground and repulsed the enemy. (Borneman, p. 250)

It was a brilliant tactical victory which would earn him appreciation, adulation, and the presidency in 1848, but one which, according to Polk, had little strategic significance. Santa Anna's army vacated the field still intact, and would live to fight another day.

Back home, the war of words echoed the clash of arms.

Placing his trust in the treacherous Santa Anna, Polk requested Congressional passage of a compensatory stipend -- a $2 million appropriation "to pay for any expenditures which it may be necessary to make for the purpose of settling our differences with the Mexican republic." (Borneman , p. 230) The measure passed the House -- after it appended the controversial Wilmot Proviso, which would exclude slavery from any territory acquired from Mexico. Polk finally got his slush fund, increased to $3 million, seven months later, in March 1847, when southern senators managed to override a filibuster and excise the objectionable language.

"While Polk's desire for California and New Mexico seems to have been animated more by a geopolitical vision of national power, to make the United States dominant in North America, than by a desire to strengthen slavery," (Howe, p. 765) the debate over his war policies had awakened the sleeping giant and exposed a Congressional chasm along sectional and institutional fault lines.

Despite initial enthusiasm for the war and success on the battlefield, dissension in Congress and the general public was caustic and vociferous. Libertarian Henry David Thoreau protested by refusing to pay his Massachusetts state taxes and spent a night in jail. The Boston Daily Atlas minced no words in calling the conflict "Mr. Polk's War." (Borneman, p. 254)

The Whigs accused Polk of committing an act of war without authority of law, of annexing enemy lands illegally under the pretense of military occupation, and of usurpation of power. (Merry, p. 327) Noted Daniel Webster: "No power but Congress can declare war, but what is the value of this constitutional provision if the President of his own authority may make such military movements as must bring on war?" (Howe, p. 763)

Even Democrats "who had nursed a romantic vision of peaceful expansion found themselves embarrassed by Polk's militancy," including John O'Sullivan, the editor who had coined the phrase "manifest destiny," and John Calhoun, who feared the divisive consequences of territorial aggrandizement. (Howe, p. 764)

Polk further electrified the tempestuous atmosphere in his December 1846 Annual Massage to Congress. After recounting in intricate detail the events leading up to the war and arguing that the United States had sufficient grounds for its actions, he essentially charged his critics with treason in this naked reference to the constitutional definition: "A more effectual means could not have been devised to encourage the enemy and protract the war than to advocate and adhere to their cause, and thus give them 'aid and comfort.' " (Merry, pp. 322-323)

By this time -- still two months prior to Taylor's staunch defense of Buena Vista -- Polk's impatience with the war's progress led him to consider that a bolder strategy might be required. Retreating to the solitude of his writing table, he devised a new plan: disembark troops at Veracruz, Mexico's main port, and march them inland to the capital, Mexico City. Disenchanted with Taylor, in consultation with his cabinet and Thomas Hart Benton, to command the expedition he named Winfield Scott -- "the quintessential professional soldier," a lifelong Whig, ambitious, corpulent, and pompous. (Howe, p. 779)

Scott's experience and logistical expertise served him well. "In the largest amphibious operation yet attempted in history," employing flat-bottomed landing craft Scott himself helped design, Commodore David Connor's 100-ship armada delivered 10,000 men to a beach head three miles south of Veracruz. After a merciless three-day bombardment, the town surrendered on March 27, 1847. (Borneman, p. 258)

Moving west along the National Road, Scott found his path blocked by the resurgent Santa Anna. Staggering back to San Luis Potosi after his Buena Vista whipping, he had reconstituted an army of 12,000 and spread it across a high narrow pass just south of the town of Cerro Gordo. On April 18, the Americans dislodged the enemy from its stronghold in a three-pronged attack -- one of which involved a flanking movement along a trail reconnoitered by Captain Robert E. Lee -- capturing 4000 prisoners and a vast amount of equipment.

Polk's friend and front man at the 1844 convention, Gideon Pillow -- now commanding a brigade, a Democratic insider among a host of Whigs -- proved himself unsuited for battle and a continuing source of tension between the president and his general. Pillow complained bitterly of his orders from Scott, predicted disaster, quarreled with underlings, demonstrated indecisiveness, and left the field following a minor wound. (Merry, pp. 362-363)

Scott's advance ground to a halt at Puebla, where he waited six weeks for reinforcements to replace the volunteers whose one-year enlistments had expired; only ten per cent chose to reenlist. Guerrilla activity along the army's exposed supply line impelled him to sever himself from his base and live off the countryside -- an example that stuck in the mind of Lieutenant Ulysses S. Grant, who would do the same in his campaign against Vicksburg in 1863. (Howe, p. 784)

By the middle of August Scott had reached the mountain passes surrounding Mexico City. Relying again upon the recommendation of Captain Lee, he turned south, circled two lakes and a large lava flow, and, in two separate encounters on August 20 routed Santa Anna's numerically superior force, inflicting four thousand casualties and taking three thousand prisoners. At this point, Scott could have entered the city; instead he halted at the gates, offered a cease-fire, and allowed peace negotiations to unfold.

Thus ensued some of the most bizarre diplomacy in American history.

On April 16, 1847, Polk dispatched Nicholas P. Trist -- chief clerk in the State Department and the grandson-in-law of Thomas Jefferson -- to Winfield Scott's headquarters with full power to conclude a treaty in exchange for territorial concessions. Purportedly a secret mission, it was quickly leaked to Democratic expansionist newspapers, most likely by Secretary of State Buchanan himself.

Trist's failure to call on Scott personally and deliver a packet of official documents ignited a two-month feud between the two. Distrustful of his Democratic superiors, Scott resented instructions from Secretary of War Marcy that he was to defer to Trist "the question of continuing or discontinuing hostilities" and to pass on to the Mexican foreign minister sealed correspondence without knowledge of its contents. (Merry, p. 367)

Improbably, Scott and Trist healed their rift and forged an emotional bond that blossomed into a lifelong friendship. Initially prompted by the realization that they both despised their meddlesome commander-in-chief, James Polk, their reconciliation was nurtured by a common dedication to effectuating an "honorable peace" and by Scott's sending a jar of Trist's favorite guava marmalade to his ailing compatriot. The two even conspired to commit bribery -- to pay Santa Anna $100,000 to lay down his arms -- and made a $10,000 down payment before the duplicitous general reported that his hands were tied by the Mexican Congress.

Trist's commission was to purchase New Mexico and as much of California (both Upper and Lower, that is, Baja) as he could for up to $30 million. The Rio Grande boundary of Texas was, of course, sacrosanct; it had been the basic tenet of Polk's foreign policy since he had announced in the spring of 1844 that he favored the annexation of Texas.

Trist's Mexican counterparts were under considerable pressure from traditionalist factions not to surrender too much territory. In exchange for New Mexico and Upper California, Trist yielded on Lower California, but then committed a grievous mistake; he agreed to submit the Rio Grande matter to Washington for further consideration.

Frustrated by the impasse, on September 7, Scott terminated the truce, which Santa Anna had already compromised by strengthening his defenses. The next day Scott sent 3500 men to destroy a flour mill where the Mexicans were reportedly recasting church bells into cannon -- a false rumor, as it turned out -- at a cost of 800 casualties.

After a brutal fourteen-hour artillery bombardment, on September 13, spurning the advice of his subordinates, including Captain Lee, Scott ordered a direct assault on the castle of Chapultepec, which guarded the southwest approach to the city. "The battle was costly to both sides, but within three hours it was over . . . By evening, Santa Anna had evacuated, and on noon the following day General Winfield Scott rode into the city square," resplendent in his full-dress uniform. (Borneman, p. 293)

"He had achieved one of the monumental military victories of the nineteenth century. He had successfully carried out a major amphibious operation, reduced the formidable fortress of Veracruz, and, overcoming shortages of heavy artillery and transportation, fought his way through difficult terrain to capture one of the world's great capitals." (Howe, p. 790)

Cut off from his supply bases and with fewer than eleven thousand troops, he had defeated an army almost three times his size, killing, wounding, or capturing over 10,000. (Merry, p. 389)

Two persons were not impressed: James Polk and Gideon Pillow. Pillow initiated a letter-writing campaign poisoning the president's mind against Scott and inflaming his fear of the Whig hero's ascendancy. Without Scott's approval he sponsored the publication of correspondence acclaiming himself the "instrument of victory," a violation of regulations. When a court of inquiry implicated him in the theft of two howitzer trophies and he circumvented the chain of command by appealing directly to the president, Scott had had enough. On November 22, he ordered Pillow, Brigadier General William Worth, who had also engaged in spurious self-promotion, and Chief of Artillery James Duncan, who had authored the incriminating material, court-martialed.

Polk never questioned Pillow's veracity, especially after he disclosed Scott's and Trist's attempt to bribe Santa Anna, hardly grounds for condemnation, considering Polk's own machinations. He placed the blame for the imbroglio on Scott's "vanity and tyrannical temper." (Merry, p. 408)

On January 3, 1848, the cabinet unanimously agreed to recall Scott and replace him with a Democrat, Major General William O. Butler. The army overwhelmingly sympathized with Scott. "To suspend a successful general in command of an army in the heart of an enemy's country, [and] to try the judge in place of the accused, is to upset all discipline," declared the astounded Robert E. Lee. (Howe, p. 791)

The charges against Worth and Duncan were dropped, and Pillow eventually exonerated, in part due to his relentless and theatrical courtroom barrage against the less polished Scott. Polk's blind faith in Pillow never wavered; the man whom Scott described as "the only person I have ever known who was wholly indifferent in the choice between truth and falsehood, honesty and dishonesty" remained for Polk "a gallant and highly meritorious officer, greatly persecuted by General Scott for no other reason than that he is a Democrat . . . and my personal and political friend." (Borneman, p. 299)

By this time the president had issued another recall, with startling results.

The news that Trist had waffled on the Rio Grande and that Scott had stopped short of Mexico City infuriated Polk. He informed his cabinet that he would make no further proposals and would wait for Mexico to sue for peace, vowed that he would not withdraw the army under any circumstances, and contemplated demanding Lower California and a portion of Northern Mexico as an indemnity. Convinced that Trist had bungled his mission, he ordered him to return to Washington "at the first safe opportunity." (Merry, p. 386)

On December 6, 1847, in his Third Annual Message to Congress, the beleaguered president once again offered a lengthy justification for his policies. He asserted that the Mexicans had "commenced the war . . . [by] shedding the blood of our citizens upon our soil," (Howe, p. 796) and that the cession of territory was the only way that country could satisfy "the just and long-deferred claims of our citizens against her and the only means by which she can reimburse the United States for the expenses of war." (Borneman, p. 306)

Among those Whigs rising to answer the president was freshman Congressman Abraham Lincoln, who challenged him to "establish whether the particular spot on which the blood of our citizens was so shed was or was not at that time on our soil." (Borneman, p. 287) That spot, said Lincoln, had been an acknowledged part of New Spain and Mexico since the Adams-Onis Treaty of 1819. (Howe, p. 797) Lincoln's insistence that war powers were consigned to the legislative branch by the Constitution was, of course, suffused with irony; a few years later, when faced with preserving the union, he would exercise far greater executive power than James K. Polk.

By the time Trist received his recall notice on November 16, a moderate government had replaced Santa Anna; its representatives were inclined to negotiate, even after learning he no longer held a diplomatic portfolio. The British legation and General Scott urged him to stay and complete a treaty which would not be rejected, they maintained, provided it complied with the president's original prescriptions.

Bolstered by an ego no less inflated than that of the other self-indulgent players in this surreal drama, Trist perceived that if he did not seize the opportunity before him, power would pass to intransigents, and "all chance for making a treaty at all would be lost." (Borneman, p. 306) On December 6, he fired off a sixty-five page missive to Secretary of State Buchanan damning the president for sabotaging the peace process and desiring a further war of conquest, lambasting Pillow as an "intriguer" with "an incomprehensible baseness of character," and announcing his intention to defy his recall. (Merry, p. 410)

Polk called the letter "arrogant, impudent, and very insulting to his Government, and even personally offensive to the President." He sent "a short, but stern and decided rebuke," and directed General Butler to expel Trist and officially take charge of the negotiations. (Borneman, pp. 307-308)

By the time these orders reached Mexico City, it was too late. Cleverly employing his discharge to intimate that his successor would be the bearer of even more harsh conditions, Trist pressured the Mexican commissioners to come to terms, and even gave them a deadline -- February 1, 1848. Wending his way through a thicket of conflicting claims and interests, adhering strictly to the Polk ultimatum of the previous spring, knowing only success could protect him from the wrath of his government (Merry, p. 424), laboring without clerical, legal, or archival assistance (Howe, p. 803), Trist produced a signed document -- the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo -- on February 2.

The Rio Grande was recognized as the boundary of Texas, from the Gulf of Mexico to El Paso. New Mexico and Upper California -- including the harbor of San Diego, but not the railroad route south of the Gila River (it was acquired in 1853 in the Gadsden Purchase) -- were ceded to the United States for $15 million, half of what Trist had in his piggy bank. The U.S. assumed liability for the claims of its citizens against the Mexican government up to $3.25 million.

Trist had always viewed the war as "a shameful display of naked American power." He sought to render an outcome that would avoid either Mexico's complete dismemberment or the indefinite prolongation of anarchy and fighting. "His recognition of a moral standard higher than the unbridled pursuit of national interest was no doubt unusual in the history of diplomacy." (Howe, p. 805)

Newspaper man James Freaner of the New Orleans Delta arrived in Washington with the treaty on February 19. "Mr. Trist acted very badly," wrote Polk in his diary, "but notwithstanding this, if on further examination the treaty is one that can be accepted, it should not be rejected on account of his bad conduct." (Borneman, p. 309)

National sentiment leaned strongly in favor of ratification, which would end the bloodshed, silence a divisive domestic debate, and bring into the union highly valuable lands. A few voices were raised in opposition.

The erratic Secretary of State James Buchanan reversed his long-standing opposition to the acquisition of Mexican territory by suddenly demanding more -- a blatant grab for southern votes for his presidential campaign. Thomas Hart Benton still resented Polk's treatment of his son-in-law, John Fremont. Senators from both parties questioned Trist's illegitimate status.

On March 10,1848, with Polk's political fate and historical reputation hanging in the balance, the Senate voted its approval 38 to 14, with four abstentions. Among the "Ayes" were fourteen Whigs, "whose desire for peace, in the final analysis, trumped their preference for No Territory." (Howe, p. 807) Two months later, the Mexican Congress followed suit.

"With war's end came the culmination of Polk's presidential goals." To Texas, Oregon, the tariff bill, and the independent treasury, he now added "600,000 square miles of continental expanse and the dominance of a vast Pacific coastline with some of the best harbors in the world." (Merry, p. 449) In urging the Senate to ratify the treaty, Polk described it as adding to the United States "an immense empire, the value of which twenty years hence would be difficult to calculate."

But even he could not have foreseen that within two years upwards of one hundred thousand immigrants would stream across the nation's heartland in search of the riches portended by the discovery of gold at Sutter's Mill on January 24, 1848.

It had not been achieved without a heavy toll -- both national and personal. The conquest of Mexico turned into a longer, more expensive struggle than President Polk had expected. One combatant in ten died in two years of service (over 80 per cent from disease) and an equal number were incapacitated and sent home -- making the war proportionately the deadliest in American history, costing 12,518 lives and $100 million. Mexico lost more than 15,000 lives and suffered extensive economic and social disruption. (Howe, p. 752)

Along with the spoils of victory came the intractable slavery issue. Throughout the summer of 1848, Congress hotly debated territorial government bills for California, New Mexico, and Oregon. On the last day of the session, August 14, it organized the Territory of Oregon as antislavery but deferred a decision on California and New Mexico.

Polk's viewpoint was that since Oregon lay well north of the Missouri Compromise 36*30' line, he could sign the bill -- over the objections of southerners who argued Congress had no constitutional prerogative to regulate slavery in any territory. Polk elucidated his strong proslavery position in a statement transmitted with the bill and in his December 5 Annual Message: he firmly denied the right of Congress to interfere with any slavery controversy that might arise south of the 36*30' line. (Merry, p. 464)

Polk had pledged to serve only one term, but even without that pledge he was mentally and physically exhausted by his four-year ordeal. Frail by nature, he had followed a feverish and oppressive schedule that would have sapped the strength of a more robust man. In a letter to his party's convention, he was adamant that he would not be a candidate for reelection.

"Polk could leave office having achieved his original goals more completely than most presidents, but the aftermath also realized his worst nightmare. The war he waged created a Whig military hero who succeeded him in the White House." (Howe, p. 833) On November 7, 1848, the first time all states voted on the same day, a battle-fatigued electorate chose Zachary Taylor over Democrat Lewis Cass and Free Soiler Martin Van Buren. According to Polk, his former general was "a well-meaning old man . . . [but] uneducated, exceedingly ignorant of public affairs, and . . . of very ordinary capacity." (Merry, p. 469)

On March 6, 1849, Citizen James Polk and his wife Sarah left Washington on a month-long roundabout tour of the Deep South that would take them by rail and steamboat to New Orleans and up the Mississippi toward their new home in Nashville. Polk suffered from chronic fatigue and diarrhea along the journey, and was likely exposed to cholera. Weakened by the stress and strain of the presidency, he never regained his health, and died on June 15, 1849, 103 days after leaving office.

Hampton Sides describes Polk as sly, misanthropic, insufferable, joyless, colorless, and plodding. John Quincy Adams said he had "no wit, no literature, no gracefulness of delivery, no elegance of language, no philosophy, no pathos, no felicitous impromptus." (Sides, pp. 54-55)

Page Smith calls him "a petty, conniving, irascible, small-spirited man whose able Cabinet . . . should be given credit for protecting him from his own destructive impulses," and the luckiest man ever to occupy the White House -- "saved by the generals he distrusted and tried to supersede," and the heir of an army and a fate much better than he deserved. (Smith, p. 238)

To some extent Polk has been unable to escape the reputation that has shadowed him for 150 years: that of an imperialist manipulator who "usurped illegitimate power to manufacture an unnecessary war" and who "stole territory from a weaker nation lacking the resources to fight back." (Merry, p. 474)

"But history doesn't turn on moral pivots but on differentials of power, will, organization, and population." In 1844, "Mexico was an unstable, weak nation which couldn't control all the lands in its domain." By contrast, the United States was a vibrant, exuberant democracy engaged in something momentous: a political compulsion toward expansion into largely unpopulated lands, which, with the advent of the Texas revolution, was transformed into a powerful vision. (Merry, p. 474)

When the country's two most influential politicians, Henry Clay and Martin Van Buren, repudiated that vision, the people turned to Polk, with all his limitations of temperament and leadership, to bring it to reality. By embracing the notion of acquiring not only Texas and Oregon but also California and New Mexico, Polk demonstrated a boldness, persistence, force of will, and guile that exceeded what anyone had seen in him before. (Merry, p. 477)

"He discovered the latent constitutional powers of the commander in chief to provoke a war, secure congressional approval for it, shape the strategy for fighting it, appoint generals, and define the terms of peace. He probably did as much as anyone to expand the powers of his office," blazing a trail that Lincoln, Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt, and Lyndon Johnson all would follow. (Howe, p. 808) "Despite his perverse personality, he was possibly the most effective president in American history," certainly the hardest working -- "and likely the least corrupt." (Sides, p. 56)

James K. Polk extended the domain of the United States more than any other president, increasing its land mass by 38 per cent. One has only to look at the continental map to see the magnitude of his accomplishments. By fulfilling the vision and dream of his constituency -- and his own objectives -- he well deserves the title: "our least-known consequential president."

REFERENCES

Borneman, Walter R. Polk: The Man Who Transformed the Presidency. New York: Random House, 2008.

Howe, Daniel Walker. What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.

Merry, Robert W. A Country of Vast Designs: James K. Polk, the Mexican War, and the Conquest of the American Continent. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2009.

Sides, Hampton. Blood and Thunder: The Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the American West. New York: Random House, 2006.

Smith, Page. The Nation Comes of Age: A People's History of the Ante-Bellum Years. New York: McGraw Hill, 1981.