This work has already appeared in Graham’s Magazine,
under the title of “Rose Budd.” The
change of name is solely the act of the author, and
arises from a conviction that the appellation given
in this publication is more appropriate than the one
laid aside. The necessity of writing to a name,
instead of getting it from the incidents of the book
itself, has been the cause of this departure from
the ordinary rules.
When this book was commenced, it was generally supposed
that the Mexican war would end, after a few months
of hostilities. Such was never the opinion of
the writer. He has ever looked forward to a protracted
struggle; and, now that Congress has begun to interfere,
sees as little probability of its termination, as on
the day it commenced. Whence honourable gentlemen
have derived their notions of the constitution, when
they advance the doctrine that Congress is an American
Aulic council, empowered to encumber the movements
of armies, and, as old Blucher expressed it in reference
to the diplomacy of Europe, “to spoil with the
pen the work achieved by the sword,” it is difficult
to say more than this, that they do not get them from
the constitution itself. It has generally been
supposed that the present executive was created in
order to avoid the very evils of a distracted and
divided council, which this new construction has a
direct tendency to revive. But a presidential
election has ever proved, and probably will ever prove,
stronger than any written fundamental law.
We have had occasion to refer often to Mexico in these
pages. It has been our aim to do so in a kind
spirit; for, while we have never doubted that the
factions which have possessed themselves of the government
in that country have done us great wrong, wrong that
would have justified a much earlier appeal to arms,
we have always regarded the class of Mexicans who
alone can properly be termed the `people,’ as
mild, amiable, and disposed to be on friendly terms
with us. Providence, however, directs all to the
completion of its own wise ends. If the crust
which has so long encircled that nation, enclosing
it in bigotry and ignorance, shall now be irretrievably
broken, letting in light, even Mexico herself may have
cause hereafter to rejoice in her present disasters.
It was in this way that Italy has been, in a manner,
regenerated; the conquests of the French carrying
in their train the means and agencies which have, at
length, aroused that glorious portion of the earth
to some of its ancient spirit. Mexico, in certain
senses, is the Italy of this continent; and war, however
ruthless and much to be deplored, may yet confer on
her the inestimable blessings of real liberty, and
a religion released from “feux d’artifice,”
as well as all other artifices.
