France in the Nineteenth Century Part 20

This was at once interpreted into permission to shoot all prisoners; and three promising young Juarist generals who had fallen into the hands of one of Maximilian's commanders were shot immediately, leaving behind them pathetic farewell letters to their friends.

Maximilian did not foresee that he was signing his own death-warrant when he put his hand to this act of severity.

Juarez himself, with a body of his followers, had retreated to the frontier, ready to pa.s.s over into Texas if the French attacked him. But the French were too few and too scattered to occupy a vast region of country where every inhabited house was a refuge for their foes. Moreover, the interest of Napoleon in the empire of Mexico was at an end. He hated a long war at any time, and was always ready to abandon an enterprise when he could not carry out his projects by a _coup de main_. The war was extremely unpopular in France. Financial ruin had come upon many Frenchmen from the failure of the Mexican bonds negotiated by the banker, Jecker, to pay interest to their bond-holders. The Civil War in the United States was at an end, and Mr. Seward was instructing the American amba.s.sador in Paris to threaten the Emperor Napoleon with the enforcement of the doctrine of President Monroe. He resolved to withdraw his troops from Mexico, and to advance no more money to Maximilian. He wrote these orders to Marshal Bazaine.

Maximilian, who fully understood by this time the condition of Mexico, and foresaw all the dangers of his position when the French troops should be withdrawn, sent the empress at this crisis to Europe to represent the situation of affairs to the French emperor, and to remind him of his promises.

She embarked hurriedly and like a private person on board a French mail-steamer. Her stateroom was close to the propeller. The noise, coupled with her great anxiety and excitement, deprived her almost entirely of sleep during the voyage. On landing, she hastened to Paris, went to an hotel, and sent a message to the emperor, requesting an interview. This the emperor declined. Carlotta then hired a carriage and drove out to Saint-Cloud, where she insisted on seeing him. Their interview was very painful. At its close she exclaimed that she felt herself to blame, being a daughter of the house of Orleans, for ever having put faith in the Emperor Napoleon or his promises. Notwithstanding this reproach, the emperor, who was soft-hearted, pitied her extremely. She remained at Saint-Cloud for some hours, and that evening, when surrounded by the court circle, she threw back her head and begged for water. The emperor hastened to bring it to her with his own hand; but she exclaimed that she would not take it from him, for she knew he wished to poison her. It was her first attack of mania. She was calmed, and the symptoms pa.s.sed off, but continued at intervals to return.

From Paris she went to Rome, and there her mental malady more and more declared itself. She refused to eat anything but fruit, for fear of poison. Her first visit to the pope was made while he was breakfasting, when she s.n.a.t.c.hed the cup of chocolate from his lips and swallowed it eagerly, exclaiming: "I am sure no one can have wished to poison you!" After several other manifestations of her disordered brain at the Quirinal, steps were taken to forward her to Miramar. On reaching that beloved place, she grew more calm.

She recovered for a time her interest in music, painting, and literature. The Sclavic peasants around her considered her a saint.

When she pa.s.sed, they used to kneel down on the highway. For years they refused to believe in Maximilian's death. "He will come back!

We know he will come back!" was the cry of the Dalmatians, who cherished his memory.

After a time Carlotta was removed to Belgium, where she has been since secluded from the world, but tenderly watched over by her relations. From time to time she partially recovers her reason.

Matters in Mexico after her departure grew worse every day. Bazaine had received orders to withdraw all French troops from the country.

He was directed to withhold from Maximilian all French support, and in obedience to these instructions he flung into the river Sequia and Lake Texcoco[1] all the guns and ammunition he could not take away.

[Footnote 1: Prince Salm-Salm, Diary in Mexico.]

Prior to the withdrawal of the French troops, the French Government made several efforts to induce Maximilian to abdicate. The Marquis de Gallifet (of whom we shall hear again in another chapter) was sent, with two other French gentlemen, to urge him to leave Mexico.

"I know all the difficulties of my position," Maximilian replied, "but I shall not give up my post. A son of the house of Hapsburg never retreats in the face of danger." Nevertheless, after receiving the first letters from his wife, Maximilian's resolution was shaken.

He hoped at least to return to Europe as an emperor, and not a fugitive, and to lay aside his crown of his own accord. With this view he set out for Orizaba, where the "Dandolo" corvette was waiting to receive his orders. On his way he was delayed some hours, because the white mules that drew his carriage had been stolen.

At Orizaba he was attacked by malarious chills. There, too, he received news of his wife's insanity. Some of his generals surrounded him, and prayed him not to abandon his followers to the vengeance of their enemies. The leaders of the clerical party also begged him, for the sake of the Church, to return to Mexico, promising him the support of the clergy throughout the country if he would but give up liberal ideas, and support, at all costs, the temporal prosperity of the Church.

Maximilian, on the strength of these a.s.surances, went back to his capital, protesting that he remained only for the good of other people, and was influenced neither by personal considerations nor political wishes of his own.

But Maximilian was not the man to contend with the difficulties that beset him in Mexico. His very merits were against him. As we read the sad history of his failure, we feel that in his hands the regeneration of Mexico was hopeless. Men like John or Henry Lawrence, heroes of the Indian Mutiny, accustomed to deal with semi-savages, might perhaps have succeeded; but Maximilian was the product of an advanced civilization, and all his sentiments were of a super-refined character. He was no general; his forces were kept scattered over an immense area. He seems to have been no administrator. He was accustomed to deal with Italians,--men of enthusiastic natures and fanatical ideas. Mexicans had no enthusiasms; and in place of patriotism there was a prevailing sentiment of thorough aversion to the French and to the foreigners they had brought with them. Maximilian had come to Mexico with all kinds of liberal projects for its civilization. It was like forcing sanitary improvements on the inhabitants of an Irish shanty, or catching a street _gamin_ and imposing on him the restraints and amenities of high-cla.s.s culture.

The departure of the French troops left the way clear for the party of Juarez. It rapidly gained strength, and prepared to besiege the emperor in his capital. "I cannot bear to expose the city to danger,"

said Maximilian, who, in spite of being continually hara.s.sed and cruelly deceived day after day, never failed in consideration for those about him. He retired to Queretaro, where Generals Miramon, Castillo, Mejia, Avellano, and Prince Salm-Salm had gathered a little army of about eight thousand men.

Maximilian at Queretaro showed all his n.o.bleness of spirit, kindness of heart, and simplicity of life. During the siege, which lasted over two months, he shared the fatigues and privations of his common soldiers, and lived as they did, on the flesh of mules, while his officers' tables were much better supplied. He exposed his person upon all occasions, taking daily walks upon the bastions as tranquilly as he might have done in the green alleys of his distant home. One day his eye fell upon six dead bodies dangling from the branches of six trees. He turned away, with intense emotion. They were the bodies of six of his own couriers, who had fallen into the hands of the enemy.

He might have cut his way out of Queretaro at the head of his cavalry, but he hesitated to abandon his foot-soldiers. "I will die sword in hand," were now his daily words.

Every day his men brought in prisoners. Even when such persons were suspected of being spies, Maximilian would not order their execution. "No, no," he said; "if things go well, there is no need; if ill, I shall not have their blood upon my soul."

When the siege had lasted seventy days, provisions grew so scarce that the only alternatives seemed a sortie or a surrender. The sortie was decided on. On the night of May 14, 1867, the seven thousand men still in Queretaro were to break through the lines of the enemy and endeavor to make their way to Vera Cruz. Singularly enough, the Juarist general, Escobedo, had fixed on the 15th of May for his final a.s.sault.

Neither sortie nor a.s.sault took place. The treason of General Lopez prevented the one, and rendered the other unnecessary. Lopez, whom Maximilian had loaded with all sorts of kindness,--Lopez, who called himself the most devoted adherent of the emperor,--had sold the life of his friend and benefactor for two thousand ounces of gold!

One year before, when Lopez had been at Puebla in attendance on the empress, he had sent for his wife, who, having made a hurried journey, was prematurely confined. "I cannot allow your son," wrote Maximilian, "to come into the world in another man's house. I send you the I enclosed sum. Purchase the house where your son was born."

Having kept up constant communication with the camp of the besiegers, Lopez, on the morning of May 13, sent a note to Escobedo, offering to deliver over to him the convent of La Cruz, which was the emperor's headquarters. Escobedo accepted his proposals. About midnight Lopez and the troops under his command went over to the enemy. The soldiers of Juarez quietly entered the town, and surrounded the convent where the emperor and his staff were sleeping.

At dawn Maximilian rose, dressed himself, woke Prince Salm-Salm, and they went out together, with no arms but their swords. As they reached the gates of the convent the emperor perceived Juarist soldiers on guard, and turning to his companion, cried, "We are betrayed; here is the enemy!" At this moment Lopez, who had seen them come into the court-yard, pointed out the emperor to Colonel Rincon Gallardo, who was in command of the detachment from the army of Juarez. Rincon was an honorable soldier and kind-hearted. He said, loud enough to be heard by his own men: "They are citizens; let them pa.s.s: they are not soldiers." The emperor was dressed in a black frock-coat, but with military trousers and epaulettes.

He and Prince Salm-Salm then walked through the convent gates and made their way in haste to the opposite quarter of the city. The streets were silent and empty. Suddenly a sharp fire of musketry was heard, mingled with Juarist and Imperial war-cries. Miramon with his troops was holding one of the widest streets of Queretaro, when a ball hit him in the face. He fell, half blinded, and was taken prisoner. Miramon was the son of a French father and a Spanish mother, and was one of the very few generals on either side who were of pure white blood.

The emperor, with Generals Mejia, Castillo, Avellano, and Prince Salm-Salm, retired to a little hill which commanded the city. They had no artillery, no means of defending their position. They stood on the bare rock where they had taken refuge, like shipwrecked sailors waiting for the fatal rising of the tide. General Escobedo, a coa.r.s.e man, who had formerly been a muleteer, prepared to charge up the hill with four battalions of infantry and a strong party of cavalry.

"Do not fire; you will shed blood to no purpose," said the emperor to the little band of followers who surrounded him. Then, in a low, sad voice, he ordered one of his aides-de-camp to fasten a white handkerchief on the end of a bayonet. The Juarists, who were ascending the hill, came to a halt. Then, amid profound silence, the emperor came forward. He paused a moment as he stepped out of the little group of his followers and looked around him. Then he descended the hill with a firm step, followed by several of his generals.

The Juarists saluted him by their party cry, "Viva la libertad!"

They recognized the emperor. Maximilian walked straight up to their commander, an ex-Federal United States officer, who under the name of Corona was in command of a party of Americans who had entered the service of Juarez, and were called the Legion of Honor. This legion was composed of fifty men. Some had worn the blue, and some the gray. Each held rank in the Mexican army as an officer.

"General," said Maximilian to Corona, "both men and fortune have betrayed me. There are widows and orphans enough already in the world. Here is my sword."

"Sire," said the general, forgetting that the man who addressed him was no longer emperor, "keep your sword." He then proposed to Maximilian to mount a horse, and escorted him, with the other prisoners, to the convent of Santa Teresita.

There the emperor and his generals were shut up at once in a dark cellar, and not only had to sleep upon the damp earth floor, but were left to suffer from hunger. In a few days, however, Princess Salm-Salm brought them some relief. They were then transferred to the convent of La Capuchina, and their friends obtained permission to send them wine, clothes, and provisions.

Princess Salm-Salm, in the last act of this tragedy, showed herself to be a brave and generous woman. When her husband left the capital she had crossed the enemy's lines in order to get out of Mexico, but was twice in danger of being shot by the soldiers of Diaz.

She was accused of supplying money to a troop of Austrian soldiers who, having been captured, were confined at Chapultepec, and she was imprisoned at Guadalupe. After a short detention, however, she obtained leave to quit Mexico for Europe; but changing her route, she managed to rejoin her husband at Queretaro. Thence, hiding by day and travelling by night, she made her way back to San Luis de Potosi, where Juarez had his headquarters. She threw herself at his feet, and implored his mercy for the emperor; but Juarez told her (not without some signs of compa.s.sion) that he felt no inclination to spare his life, and that if he were willing to do so, he would not be permitted by his followers to show him any clemency.

When Maximilian heard of this brave enterprise on his behalf, he could not refrain from tears.

The prisoners were three weeks at La Capuchina, in complete uncertainty as to what would be done with them. Indeed, the Juarists seemed much embarra.s.sed by their prize. On June 10 they were informed that Juarez had sent an order to have them tried by a court-martial, which would be held on the 12th of June.

"Where are you going to take me?" asked Maximilian on that day of the officer who came to escort him. "To the court-martial," was the reply. "Where is it held?" said Maximilian. "In the theatre."

"Then I refuse to accompany you. I will not be made a public spectacle at a theatre. You may go alone."

The officer, not being authorized to use force, went away. The trial proceeded without the presence of the prisoner. Generals Miramon and Mejia, however, were dragged upon the stage where the court-martial was sitting. The play-house was crowded with spectators.

It was a tragedy with no admission-fee. The proceedings lasted three days. The emperor was accused of usurpation, of instigating civil war, and of causing the death of forty thousand patriots, hanged or shot in consequence of his order of October 3, intended to operate only against armed bands of robbers.

On the morning of June 15, 1867, General Escobedo presented himself in the prison, holding the sentence of the court-martial in his hand. Maximilian, who could guess his fate, said quietly: "Read it, General; I am ready to hear you."

Maximilian, Miramon, and Mejia were condemned to be shot.

"I understand you," said the emperor, with perfect calmness. "The law of October 3 was made to put down robbers: this sentence is the work of murderers."

Escobedo laid his hand on his revolver with a sudden exclamation.

Then, recovering himself, he said sarcastically: "I suppose that a criminal must be allowed the right to vilify his judges."

Maximilian turned his back on him, and Escobedo left the prison.

The execution had been ordered for the next morning, but was put off till the 19th, by order of Juarez.

Meantime the English and Prussian amba.s.sadors hastened to Juarez, hoping to obtain mercy for the late emperor. The French and Austrian courts, by telegraph, implored the mediation of the United States.

There was no American minister at that time in Mexico, but Mr.

Seward sent telegraphic despatches to Juarez, pointing out that the execution of Maximilian would rouse the feelings of the civilized world against the Mexican Republic.

All was of no avail. The idea of foreign intervention in the affairs of Mexico was so distasteful to the Mexicans that these pleadings on the late emperor's behalf by foreign Governments only accelerated his fate.

During the night before his death, Maximilian asked his jailers for a pair of scissors. He was refused. Then he implored one of them to cut off a lock of his hair. When that was done, he wrote the following pathetic letter to Carlotta:--

MY BELOVED CARLOTTA,--If G.o.d should permit you one of these days to get well enough to read these lines, you will know how sad has been my fate ever since your departure.

You took with you my happiness, my very life, and my good fortune. Why did I not take your advice? So many sad things have taken place, so many unexpected catastrophes and undeserved misfortunes have fallen on me, that I have now lost heart and hope, and look upon death as my good angel.