perhaps disrupt the Union. The treaty and the victories that it consummated meant enough glory for any President. Finally, Polk, now moving about with dragging steps, dry, brown face, gray hair and sunken eyes, perhaps felt weary of battling both abroad and at home; and at the very least, should he endorse this paper and lay it before the Senate, his responsibility would cease.[1]
Buchanan and Walker opposed the treaty; but the former, as well as Polk himself, recognized that any personal misconduct of Trist, a mere agent of the Executive, had no proper bearing on the question. The rest of the Secretaries favored pacing the document before the Senate. On February 22, after full debates in the Cabinet, Polk did this, recommending by implication the acceptance of it; and so a paper which had been simply a memorandum drawn up by a private American citizen and several Mexicans holding official positions, became a real treaty, merely awaiting confirmation.[2]
Among the Senators the treaty met with jeers and scowls. "Great Jehovah!" exclaimed Lieutenant W. T. Sherman on learning its terms; it is "just such a one as Mexico would have imposed on us had she been the conqueror"; and so thought a number of the Senators. It is a mere piece of waste paper, cried many; the impudent, perhaps traitorous, work of a discredited agent, whom the President had ordered out of Mexico; and it would be undignified, ridiculous, degrading, to accept such a thing. The war party opposed it. The annexationists opposed it. The no-territory men opposed it. The Little Unionists, who thought the country too big already, opposed it. Not a few hated to think of letting Polk elude them so easily.[3]
But suddenly the head of John Quincy Adams, as he sat in the House, dropped. He was borne to the Speaker's room. "This is the last of earth; I am content,'? murmured the venerable statesman. For two days he lingered, unconscious; and then he passed away. This tragic event had a deep effect. There fell a hush, as when snow descends upon the city pavement. The sessions of Congress were suspended. Senators were prevented from announcing their positions hastily. And when discussion began once more, it was resumed with a new feeling of seriousness, a new sense of responsibility.[4]
