The Mexican leader also shrank from drawing the sword. But on the afternoon of the 6th his commissioners, arriving late and agitated at the rendezvous, presented Trist with a counter-projet, which they knew he would reject, and an argumentative note intended for the Mexican public. No discussion took place. Evidently the time for words had passed. Scott then sent a letter charging that Santa Anna had violated the armistice, and announcing that unless complete satisfaction should be made before noon the following day, hostilities would be resumed. Santa Anna's ingenious reply was mainly a counterblast of accusations designed to rouse what he called "the first city of the American continent"; and again it was war.[1] Yet something had been accomplished. The word "peace" had been uttered and seriously considered; it was Trist's firm belief that not only the commissioners but most of the Cabinet were for accepting the American terms; in a measure this attitude on the part of leading Moderados committed their party; and the Mexican plenipotentiaries retired from the meetings filled with cordiality and even admiration for Trist.[2]
In the United States great disappointment was felt over the issue of these negotiations. The general view of the armistice was the easy, superficial one that all Mexicans were rascals, and that Santa Anna had shamelessly tricked our good faith. Marcy, not seeing that the counter-projet was a political ruse, gravely pronounced it "extravagant and inadmissible." Polk, whose knowledge of the Mexicans was revealed by his quaint idea that an extension of the American ægis over New Mexico might be welcomed by them, condemned the armistice as if peace had not been his avowed aim; and the administration organ, besides representing Scott and Trist as dupes, described it as contrary to the intentions of the government, when in fact a commissioner had attended the army for the express purpose of negotiating at the earliest possible moment. Mexico rejects peace, proclaimed the Union; let us give her war. "Burn the olive branch and whet the sword," was the popular cry; let her be humbled in dust and ashes![3]
To the army the respite of a fortnight proved a physical, mental and moral blessing. San Agustín, buried in orchards, umbrageous Coyoacán, cozy San Angel and lively Mixcoac had each its charms; and Tacubaya, where the palace, em-
