But he did few things well. His achievements were the temporary triumphs of autocratic will-power. He suffered always from an essential want of capacity. He did not understand the Americans, and fancied that one defeat would cow us. He did not even understand his fellow-citizens, and could not realize that his long course of misconduct, and finally his negotiations with Mackenzie, had cut the root of confidence. A proclamation that sounded eloquent, he felt must be convincing. The impossibility of controlling the factional politics of such a country and also managing a war without the support of the nation--of riding two such horses at the same time--lay beyond his comprehension. Often his policy was like that of the man who ruins his constitution with drugs in order to cure a local ailment. Even his apparently noble decisions grew out of selfishness and rang hollow. To his mind a collection of men was an army. Personal aims and feelings, instead of sound policy and the demands of discipline, controlled mostly his relations with officers. Because a revolutionary band could be held together by the hope of plunder, he imagined that a campaign could be waged on that basis. Because he thought it would be natural for the enemy to attack him in a certain way, he concluded positively that no other attack would be made. Strategy he did not attempt. And when it came to the direction of a battle, owing to ignorance and intellectual disqualifications, he lacked the quickness of perception and rapidity of combination that were essential to success. For the same reasons his total strength was never focused at the vital time and place, and a defeat became a rout.[36.6] This is what a final glance at the Mexicans reveals; and now, to conclude the whole investigation, we should take a summary view of our own side. [THE AMERICAN CONGRESS]