International Exposition was attracting to Paris the princes and
celebrities of the world, "Les Commentaires de Cesar" was, at the
Emperor's request, repeated at the Tuileries before the crowned heads
there assembled as his guests.
Notwithstanding the seething forces underlying the brilliant surface and
threatening the empire's very existence, the summer of 1867, as
superficially seen in Paris, must be regarded as the very apex of
Napoleon's career.
The exposition was the last and most gorgeous set piece of the many
Napoleonic fireworks, the splendor of which flashed through history, and
ended in the dark smoke of Sedan.
The performance at the Tuileries was one of the most select
entertainments arranged at this time. The troupe of aristocratic
comedians was greeted with enthusiastic applause, and the popular author
received an ovation from his audience of monarchs and princes such as
fate never bestowed upon Beaumarchais, Marivaux, or even Moliere!
All aglow with the excitement of his social achievements, the Marquis de
Massa came to Mexico in 1866 and immediately took his place in the
military household of the commander-in-chief.
As soon as he felt sufficiently posted as to the local conditions of
Mexico, he went to work, and the result was a vaudeville entitled
"Messieurs les Voyageurs pour Mexico, en Voiture!"
The marshal's household supplied the principal stars of the improvised
dramatic company, the leader of the orchestra, a young Belgian officer,
and the prima donna, an "American girl from Paris," as the Mexican
papers had it, being brought in only as necessary adjuncts. Another
important female part was taken by Albert Bazaine, who was turned into a
superb soubrette.
The play was little more than a skit, and the plot--if the thin, sketchy
incident that stood in its place may be called one--served only as an
excuse for a continuous fusillade of local hits, often of a personal
character. These not only kept the audience in a fever of merriment, but
long afterward furnished Mexican official and social circles with topics
for more or less friendly discussion. Some ill feeling and not a few
unpleasant comments were, of course, the result of the little venture;
and most of those concerned paid for their fun in some way or other.
The performance took place at San Cosme, at the house of the Vicomtesse
de Noue. Maximilian, whose curiosity had been aroused, expressed a
desire to have it repeated at the imperial palace; but having heard of
certain unmerciful sallies made upon his financial decrees and other
measures of his government, he did not attempt to disguise his
displeasure. Of course the performance was not repeated.
No harm whatever was intended; but, looking back upon the incident, one
can see that the hits, if innocently meant, coming as they did from the
marshal's household, were certainly lacking in discretion. Indeed, when
one considers the serious dissensions then existing between the
quartier-general and the palace, it becomes clear that such jests must
have had upon the court the effect of the banderillas which, in a
bull-fight, by a refinement of cruelty, are stuck in the quivering flesh
of the baited bull, doomed from the start, and teased to the bitter end.
Among the verses of an interminable topical song, one contained a
reference to the newly organized regiment, the "Cazadores de Mejico,"
the recruiting of which was then taxing to the utmost Maximilian's
energies:
Parmi les corps que l'on vient d'etablir
Les Cazadors sont de tous les plus braves;
Mais, c'est egal, au moment de choisir
J'aimerais miens m'engager dans les Zouaves!
These lines afterward assumed a strangely prophetic importance. Six
months later, during the siege of Queretaro, this same regiment of
Cazadores, composed of Frenchmen, Germans, and Hungarians, with about
one fourth of native Mexican soldiers, was placed, with four
twelve-pounders, under the command of Prince Salm-Salm. They were,
according to their colonel, a wild, brawling set, constantly fighting
among themselves, but ready enough to do their duty under fire.
It would seem that, after a sortie during which they had specially
distinguished themselves, the Emperor visited the lines, and paused to
praise their bravery. Whether or not the sting contained in M. de
Massa's words had impressed them upon his mind, it is, of course,
impossible to tell; but in a stirring proclamation Maximilian called
them the "Zouaves of Mexico," a compliment which was received by the men
with deafening shouts of enthusiasm. This account, as I read it after
the final catastrophe, awoke a memory; and I found myself unconsciously
humming the bit of satire upon these brave fellows, most of whom were
now lying cold and stiff under the sky of Queretaro:
"Mais, c'est egal, au moment de choisir
J'aimerais mieux m'engager dans les Zouaves!"
Ah me, how closely the ridiculous here approached the sublime! How
rapidly tragedy had followed upon comedy!
The first colonel of the Cazadores, Paolino Lamadrid, was in the
audience that evening. He was a pleasant-looking man, noted for his
great skill in the national sports, especially with the lazo. He was
brave, kindly, obliging, and one of the few Mexican officers who were
honestly friendly to the French. He entered into the spirit of the
thing, understood the joke, and took no offense. He had lent for the
occasion his Mexican dress, sombrero, chapareras, etc., for the
character of a Mexicanized French colonist who, after a series of
Mexican adventures, had returned to France and to his family laden with
Mexican millions.
Colonel Paolino Lamadrid did not live to stand by his sovereign in the
last heroic hour of the empire. He was killed early in January, in an
unimportant engagement at Cuernavaca, one of Maximilian's favorite
residences, situated some fifty miles from Mexico, and which had already
fallen into the hands of the Juarists.
Colonel Lamadrid was ordered to recapture the town. He fell into an
ambush, and after a brave struggle was shot down. His troops held their
ground, and before retreating next day they recovered his body, which
had been badly mutilated and was only identified by his fine and silky
black beard, which formed one of his most striking features.* It is said
that one of the early hallucinations of the unfortunate Empress, on her
way to Rome, was that she saw Colonel Lamadrid lurking about, disguised
as an organ-grinder.
* D'Hericault, pp. 82, 83.
But to return to this now historic entertainment. The general situation
was summed up finally in a serio-comic manner in a song which, if it
then brought down the house, afterward drew severe criticism upon the
thoughtless heads of author and performers:
Oui, cette terre
Hospitaliere
Un jour sera, c'est moi qui vous le dis,
Pour tout le monde
L'arche feconde
Des gens de coeur et des colons hardis.
Que faut-il donc pour cesser nos alarmes?
De bons soldats et de bons generaux,
De bons prefets et surtout des gendarmes,
Des financiers et des gardes ruraux.
Refrain:
Allons courage,
Vite a l'ouvrage;
La France est la pour nous preter secours.
Vieux incredules,
Sots ridicules,
De nos travaux n'entravez pas le cours.
This song, pledging France to back up Mexican enterprise in every
venture, may serve to show how ignorant all were at this time of the
sudden determination taken by the Tuileries to set aside the agreement
of July 30, 1866, and to put an immediate end to the intervention.
It was written by a member of the marshal's military household, and the
refrain was sung by a chorus of the marshal's officers, in the presence
of the marshal himself, and of a large audience composed of French,
Austrian, and Belgian officers, as well as of members of the imperial
government, on September 26, 1866, i.e., just at the time when General
Castelnau, who landed at Vera Cruz on October 10, was starting on his
mission, the object of which was to force the abdication of Maximilian,
and to bring about the winding up of the empire and the immediate return
of the army.
At this very time, it will be remembered, a contract was being entered
upon by the French government with the house of Pereire, which was to
furnish immediate home transportation for the French army.*
* Bigelow, letter to Seward, October 12, 1866.
The song was not meant to be the cruel jest which it must have seemed to
those about the Mexican Emperor who were better informed with regard to
Napoleon's negotiations with the government of the United States. By
those whose all was at stake it must have been taken for a wanton
insult.
Indeed, society in Mexico was not just then in the right frame of mind
to appreciate M. de Massa's witticisms. Even among his own friends they
proved singularly infelicitous.
The displeasure of Madame la Marechale, whose youth and beauty were then
superior to her sense of humor, was aroused by a verse the timeworn wit
of which she seemed unable to appreciate, and in which she saw an insult
to her people:
Le roi Henri, qui detestait l'impot,
Des Mexicains aurait bien fait l'affaire,
Au lieu de poule, un zopilote an pot:
Voila l'moyen de devenir populaire!
The zoplote, although protected by law as a scavenger, is held as
unclean by the Mexicans, who would almost starve rather than eat it; and
the suggestion, taken seriously and indignantly resented by Mme.
Bazaine, created quite a ripple of disturbance in the marshal's family.
The following incident also swelled the ranks of M. de Massa's French
critics:
Before the performance gossip had been busy with it, and its source had
partly been traced to Colonel Petit, a good enough friend, but who at
the time happened to be chafing under the sting of a practical joke,
recently played upon him by some of his comrades, in which M. de Massa
had had a share.
During the recent campaign made by the marshal in the interior, with a
view to the concentration of the army preparatory to its retreat,
Colonel Petit, with his regiment, arrived at a small town, the
authorities of which prepared to receive the French with due honor.
Eager for fun, his comrades confidentially disclosed to the alcalde the
fact that Colonel Petit was a great personage--indeed, no less than the
son of the celebrated General Petit whom Napoleon, about to depart for
Elba, and taking leave of his veterans, had singled out and embraced as
the representative of the Grande Armee.
I do not remember whether the mischievous wags suggested to the alcalde,
a pure Indian wearing sombrero, shirt, and white calzoneras, a
repetition of the solemn scene of Fontainebleau, or whether the worthy
Indian evolved the notion unaided; but the result was that poor Colonel
Petit, much against his will, found himself forced into playing a parody
of his father's part to the alcalde's Napoleon. In the presence of his
men, amid the jeers and cheers of his amused comrades, he had to submit
to the speech and public accolade of the worthy magistrate.
The perpetrators of this pleasantry did not soon allow him to forget it.
It long remained a sore thing with him; and as he allowed his resentment
to appear, an extra verse was on the day of the performance added, for
his benefit, to the principal topical song:
A Mexico les cancans vont leur train,
On vous condamne avant de vous entendre,
C'est bien "petit" d'ereinter son prochain,
Bon entendeur saura bien nous comprendre.
As this was sung the audience laughingly turned toward him--a fact which
did not tend to make him more amiably disposed, although he bowed
gracefully enough, and pretended to enjoy the fun.
Altogether, the play, if more than a success as a performance, added
nothing to the popularity of the quartier-general. It, however, created
far more comment than its literary merit warranted--if this may be said,
without detracting from the credit of the author, who himself, looking
back upon it later in his career, said that it read as though it had
been "written on a drum."
Sadowa had been fought and lost; but it would have been difficult, to
make out from their attitude whether or not the sympathies of the
officers of the Corps Expeditionnaire were honestly with their Austrian
allies. Strangely enough, the news had been received by them as though
it involved no serious warning to France. The full significance of the
new mode of warfare, of the needle-gun and other new implements of war,
was obscured in their eyes by their naive Jingoism. The French officers
in those days underrated all other nations; and even the superior
armament and discipline of the Germans, as exhibited in that short
campaign, failed to impress them as they should. They sang:
L'aiguille est un outil
Dont je ne suis en peine
Tant que j'aurai la mienne [the bayonet]
Au bout de mon fusil.
Vous qui ehantez victoire,
Heros de Sadowa,
Rappelez-vous l'histoire
D'Auerstadt et d'Iena.
Alas! the time was drawing near when the cannon of Reichshofen was to
change the merry tune of the French chanson into a dirge for many of the
brave, light-hearted fellows, then so unmindful of the storm slowly
gathering in the east.
The pomp and dignity of the court had vanished, and social life in the
capital no longer centered about the imperial palace.
Even previous to the departure of the Empress, the Monday receptions had
been discontinued, without their loss being seriously felt. At best they
had never been other than dull, formal affairs. The ball-room was a
large hall, always insufficiently lighted, and narrowed in the middle by
the platform where stood the imperial throne under a canopy of velvet.
Here, after their new guests had been officially presented in an
adjoining hall, the Emperor and Empress took their seat. Before supper
they made a solemn tour of the ball-room. The dancing then ceased, and
the crowd stood in chilled expectancy, and made way for them, each in
turn receiving from them, as they passed, a smile, a nod, or some
commonplace word of greeting.
Maximilian was happy in his remarks on such occasions. Naturally affable
and kindly, like most princes trained to this sort of thing, his memory
for names and faces was remarkable. We were presented at court on the
first of the imperial fortnightly Mondays, and with us, of course, the
larger number of the guests present; and yet, some weeks later, when
making his tour of the ball-room, the Emperor stopped before us, and
inquired about an absent member of the family, apparently placing us
exactly. Many other instances of his memory and power of observation in
such small matters were related by others.
He was tall, slight, and handsome, although the whole expression of his
face revealed weakness and indecision. He looked, and was, a gentleman.
His dignity was without hauteur. His manner was attractive; he had the
faculty of making you feel at ease; and he possessed far more personal
magnetism than did the Empress.
Hers was a strong, intelligent face, the lines of which were somewhat
hard at times; and her determined expression impressed one with the
feeling that she was the better equipped of the two to cope
intelligently with the difficulties of practical life. It is probable
that, had she been alone, she might have made a better attempt at
solving the problems than did Maximilian; at least such was Marshal
Bazaine's opinion, as expressed before me on one occasion, during her
brief regency, when she had shown special firmness and clear judgment in
dealing with certain complicated state affairs.
She, however, was reserved, somewhat lacking in tact and adaptability;
and a certain haughtiness of manner, a dignity too conscious of itself,
at first repelled many who were disposed to feel kindly toward her. It
is more than likely that under this proud mien she concealed a suffering
spirit, or, at least, the consciousness of a superiority that must
efface itself. Who will ever know the travail of her proud heart and the
prolonged strain under which her mind finally succumbed! For
notwithstanding the prudence and decided ability with which she had
conducted the difficult affairs of the realm during the Emperor's
absence in 1864, it was hinted that on his return she was allowed little
weight in public affairs, and that her advice when given was seldom
followed. After her departure even the semblance of a court disappeared.
On the other hand, the quartier-general had lost much of its animation
since the marshal's second marriage. His first union had been childless,
and his delight in the joys and cares of a tardy paternity absorbed all
the leisure left him by the military and other responsibilities of his
position.
Indeed, the growing ill feeling existing in political circles was
spreading rapidly, gradually destroying good fellowship. A tragic
incident resulting in the death of a brave French officer, Colonel
Tourre (May, 1865), stirred French circles to their very depths.
One night a house was on fire. A lieutenant and some Zouaves of the
Third Regiment went in to save property. As the flames grew in intensity
the colonel arrived on the scene, and realizing the danger of his men,
rushed in to help and direct them. Shortly after he entered, the floor
on which he stood gave way, and the unfortunate man was plunged into a
fiery grave. The men managed to escape from the building, but the
lieutenant and one Zouave were horribly burned, and died in a few hours.
The impression made upon society was profound. Every one turned out for
the funeral.
The marshal and his staff, on foot and bareheaded under the tropical
sun, followed the remains, and did them as much honor as though the dead
had been of the highest rank. It so happened, however, that the cortege,
upon its passage, was insulted by some ruffians in the crowd, and the
incident aroused more indignation and national feeling on both sides
than the strictly limited nature of the incident warranted. One of the
offenders, a student, was apprehended, and the clemency of Maximilian,
who forthwith pardoned him, was regarded as a deliberate insult at
French headquarters.
Another incident, equally limited in its origin, produced a still more
serious scandal among the allies, as it gave rise to a report that the
Austrians and the French quartered at Puebla were actually coming to
blows. One morning a party of Austrians, one of whom was Count de la
Sala, entered the Hotel de las Diligencias at Puebla. Some Frenchmen
were present. One of these, a sergeant, taking umbrage at the count's
manner, became surly, and called him ANIMAL, whereupon the young
Austrian slapped him in the face. Others interfered, and the Frenchman
left the room. Presently, however, he returned, holding a revolver in
his hand, and walked threateningly toward the count, who, anticipating
the attack, jumped upon him, and, seizing his arm, made the weapon
useless. The sergeant, bent upon avenging the blow received, then struck
at the count with his free hand, on which he wore a set of brass
knuckles, inflicting an ugly gash over the left eye. Things were getting
serious for the count. His companions were keeping watch at the door to
prevent interference from the outside and to see fair play. The
bystanders had fled. Blood was streaming down his face, almost blinding
him. The sergeant struck at him a second time, when the count drew his
sword and ran him through the body. There was now no suppressing the
affair, which caused a profound sensation. The first reports that
reached the capital magnified the occurrence into something very like a
riot, and on both sides the real bitterness of the feeling so long
suppressed blazed forth for a time undisguised.
Indeed, it is only recently that, meeting the count in Egypt, I heard
from him how very limited the incident was. Count de la Sala, who
afterward entered the service of the Khedive and now lives in Cairo,
still bears the mark of the Frenchman's brass knuckles upon his
forehead. In 1866 the irritation had reached such a point that
Maximilian, disregarding the feelings of his allies, gave a pension to
the widow of General Zaragoza, the hero of the "Cinco de Mayo." This act
of the monarch for whose cause the battle had been fought by them was
not unnaturally regarded as a wanton insult by the French.
Society now scarcely deserved the name, and the sociability of the
capital was confined to small groups of people who privately met for
enjoyment in the most informal manner.
A number of officers had invited their wives to join them in Mexico, and
among them were some charming and clever women, such as the Comtesse de
Courcy, the Vicomtesse de Noue, and Mme. Magnan, who by throwing open
their salons greatly contributed to the general enjoyment.
Other women of various nationalities formed a background to these, and
added to the local interest. One of them afterward played a conspicuous
part in the closing scene of the empire. Prince Salm-Salm and his
handsome American wife came to Mexico in 1866. They found serious
difficulty in gaining admittance into either the social or the official
circles of the capital. The relations of Prussia with Austria were
anything but cordial at the time; and soon after their arrival the war
broke out which culminated at Sadowa. A Prussian subject, the prince was
naturally looked upon with distrust by the Austrians, who showed him
scant respect. He had brought letters from Baron Gerold, the Prussian
minister at Washington; from Baron de Wydenbruck, the Austrian minister;
and from the Marquis de Montholon: but these seemed unable to win for
him even a hearing from the Emperor.
The French, on the other hand, had little sympathy with a German prince
who, having hired his sword to the republic of the United States, had
now come in search of a new allegiance, to offer his services to
imperial Mexico's Austrian ruler.
When, six months after his arrival in Mexico, the most unremitting
efforts on his part at last obtained for him a commission, and he was
given (July, 1866) the rank of colonel in the auxiliary corps--under
General Neigre, he was treated with no special cordiality. He then
applied to the minister of war for permission to pass into the Belgian
corps. From this time he and his attractive wife obscurely followed the
fortunes of Colonel Van der Smissen, whose personal regard they had won,
until the withdrawal of the French and the Austro-Belgian armies, by
clearing the stage for the last scene, brought them in full relief,
under the search-light of history, by the side of the imperial victim.
At the time of which I now speak, the princess, as well as her husband,
had donned the silver and gray of the Belgian regiment, and cheerfully
shared the fatigues and dangers of camp life in war time--like a
soldadera, contemptuously said her proud sisters in society; for this
mode of existence naturally drew upon her the criticism of the more
conventional of her sex in the Mexican colony. But for all that, she and
her husband bravely stood by the Emperor to the bitter end, when older
and more valued, though less courageous, friends had dropped away, and
had left him, stripped of the imperial purple, to struggle for
existence, an adventurer among adventurers.
IV. GENERAL CASTELNAU
The denouement was drawing near. On October 10 General Castelnau landed
in Vera Cruz, on a special mission from Napoleon III. He was accompanied
by the Comte de St. Sauveur, his officier d'ordonnance, and by the
Marquis de Gallifet.
His arrival created considerable excitement and some anxiety, not only
at the palace, where Maximilian was expecting news from France much as a
man awaits his sentence, but also at the quartier-general.
Information had come that the course taken by the marshal had not proved
satisfactory to Napoleon. It was whispered that he had not shown
sufficient zeal in the task required of him under the new policy; that
his sovereign was seriously annoyed at what he conceived to be wilful
procrastination in the withdrawal of the army; and that he was now
sending his own aide-de-camp to cut the Gordian knot in the tangled
skein of Mexican politics.
The marshal's popularity in his command was no longer what it had been.
The intrigues carried on both in France and in Mexico, with the purpose
of setting up General Douay in his place, had resulted in ill feeling
that had been turned to account by the Mexican Imperialists.
There were those in the army who did not fear to impute unworthy motives
to the commander-in-chief's actions. His Mexican marriage had not added
to his prestige among the French. It was hinted that his lenient
dealings with the empire and with Maximilian were due to the fact that
the handsome property at San Cosme must be left behind in the event of
his return to France; and even worse calumnies, too ill founded to
mention, were circulated with regard to the selfishness of his policy.
The fact that General Castelnau, who found himself intrusted with
superior powers, extending, if necessary, even to the actual superseding
of the commander-in-chief, was, from the military standpoint, the
marshal's subordinate, seemed likely to add considerably to the chance
of new difficulties.
Meanwhile the general seemed in no hurry to enter upon his thankless
mission. Unmindful of the natural suspense of those who were awaiting
him, he and his little party traveled leisurely. A martyr to the gout,
he lingered on his way, no doubt making good use of his time as he went
for the study of the situation which he was called upon to clear up. A
fortnight thus elapsed before he approached the capital.
Serious events had taken place during his journey from the coast which
at first seemed somewhat to simplify the difficulties of his mission;
and upon his arrival in the capital affairs had reached an acute crisis
which men cleverer than himself and his colleagues, working in harmony,
might perhaps have turned to favorable account for France.
On October 18, three days before General Castelnau reached the capital,
a telegram, sent from Miramar via New York by the Comte de Bombelles,
brought to Chapultepec the news of the illness of Empress Charlotte.
This last blow fell with crushing weight upon the suffering Emperor.
This was about the time when the return of the Empress was expected, and
he had made his plans to travel toward the coast to meet her on her
homeward journey. Some days earlier Colonel Kodolitch and his Austrian
hussars had been summoned to the capital to form his body-guard.
Maximilian now at once resolved to leave Chapultepec, and to retire to
Orizaba.
As soon as this was known, an uneasy feeling spread over Mexico caused
by a rumor that the empire was at an end, and that Maximilian was
leaving the city, never to return. The result was a panic. The new
cabinet and other clerical loaders flocked to the castle to get some
assurance as to the Emperor's intentions; but he was ill, and denied
himself to all visitors, even to the Princess Iturbide, who, it is
said,* resented the slight in violent language.**
* See Basch, "Maximilien en Mexique," p. 56.
** In 1866, the imperial couple being childless, Maximilian bethought
himself of establishing a dynasty. One of the Emperor Iturbide's sons,
Angel, was married to an American woman, and his child, a mere infant,
became the basis of a remarkable agreement which excited much comment.
By the terms of this contract, and for certain important pecuniary
considerations, the uncles, aunt, and father of the boy agreed that the
Iturbide family, including the parents, should leave the country, and
that Maximilian should become the guardian of the child, the aunt, Dona
Josefa Iturbide, the masterful mind of the family, remaining as his
governess. The consent of the mother was wrenched from her, and the
contract was duly signed. Its execution was not carried out without
considerable resistance on the part of Princess Iturbide who, however,
was finally sent out of the country.
The ministers, terror-stricken at the thought of being left alone to
face a revolution, tendered their resignation in a body; and Senor Lares
declared that if the Emperor left the city there would no longer be a
government.
Looking back upon the event, it would now seem that by threatening the
ministers with summary measures if they did not reconsider their
decision, Marshal Bazaine had lost his one opportunity to clear the
tables for a new "deal," and thus become master of the situation. But it
is only fair to state that the conditions were bewildering. The
concentration of the army had not been perfected, and scattered
detachments were still at considerable distances. Rumors of Sicilian
Vespers once more floated in the air. The exasperation of the clerical
party against the French was now far more violent than that of the
Liberals. Indeed, it seemed difficult to calculate the extent of the
conflagration which a single spark might kindle. Moreover, no one then
doubted Maximilian's resolve to abdicate. To-day, however, it would seem
that by stemming the torrent at this time Marshal Bazaine defeated his
own end. This may fairly be inferred from the part played by the priest
Fischer in the transaction.
Father Fischer was an obscure adventurer of low degree, and of more than
shady reputation, whose shrewdness and talent for intrigue had impressed
themselves upon the weakened mind of the Emperor in the latter days of
his reign. Utterly unscrupulous, with everything to gain for himself and
his party, and with absolutely nothing to lose but a life which he took
good care to save by avoiding danger, he insinuated himself into the
confidence of Maximilian, and became the Mephistopheles of the last act
in the Mexican drama. Having but recently risen to the confidential
position he now occupied near the person of the Emperor, the latter's
abdication was obviously against his interests. When the ministers
threatened to resign, he is stated to have represented to them that
their action was likely to precipitate the catastrophe which they sought
to avoid; that by such a demonstration of their own helplessness they
must only confirm the Emperor's determination; and he persuaded them
that it the Emperor were not allowed temporarily to retire to Orizaba he
might without further delay return to Europe.
It is claimed by Dr. Basch* that the priest's arguments had as much to
do with bringing the ministers to resume their portfolios as the
marshal's firmness. However this may be, the crisis was avoided. On
October 2, Maximilian, Senor Arroyo, Father Fischer, Dr. Basch, and
Councilor Hertzel, under the escort of Colonel Kodolitch and his
Austro-Hungarian regiment, started from Chapultepec at three o'clock in
the morning. There was no doubt in any one's mind that his departure for
Orizaba was the first relay in the Emperor's journey to the coast.
* See Basch, loc. cit., p. 61.
There is something profoundly pathetic in this chapter of his life. It
forms a fitting introduction to that tragedy the threatening outline of
which even then faintly appeared upon the horizon as a dreadful
possibility.
The friends whose society had enlivened the earlier days of his reign in
his adopted land were now scattered like straws at the first approach of
the cyclone. The Empress had gone upon her hopeless mission, never to
return; and the faithful Comte de Bombelles was with her to advise and
protect. Court and political intrigues had loosened the bond that had
united the Emperor to the great clerical leaders who had made the
empire.
Whatever his dreams may have been, the reality was pitiful. The gilding
thinly spread over the Mexican crown had worn off; the glitter had
disappeared. The treasury was empty, courtiers were now few, and the
successor of the Montezumas, the descendant of the Hapsburgs, the
popular archduke, the Austrian admiral, was now reduced to the intimacy
of a corrupt adventurer in priestly garb, who had stolen into his
confidence upon the shortest acquaintance, and of his German physician,
Dr. Basch, whom he had known only one month. These two, with his still
faithful followers, the councilor Hertzel and the naturalist Bilimek,
were his only confidential advisers during the terrible crisis upon the
issue of which depended life and fame.
It so happened that, a day or two after the Emperor's departure, as we
were passing Chapultepec on horseback, a friend invited us to enter the
palace to look at the costly improvements made in the last two years by
the Emperor. While there we were shown the private apartments. No one
had as yet straightened out the place. A certain disorder still reigned,
as though the imperial inmate had just left. His clothes hung in open
closets, and the condition of the rooms betokened a hasty departure, and
formed a dramatic mise en scene for the opening of the last act of his
life.
A coincidence brought General Castelnau and his party to Ayotla, on
their way to the capital, as the Emperor and his escort stopped there
for breakfast. Maximilian, however, refused to see the envoy. It is said
that he even declined to see Captain Pierron, his own secretary, then
traveling with the general.
At this time the unfortunate prince seemed utterly crushed under the
repeated blows dealt him by fate. According to his physician, then his
daily companion, his imagination shoved him his own conduct as a noble
effort to regenerate the country by the establishment of an empire
resting upon the will of the nation. This effort had been frustrated "by
the resistance of the Mexicans [!] and the vexations of the French."
The journey was a dreary one. The Emperor most of the time remained
silent. On the way he generally accepted the hospitality of priests.
A certain apprehension was felt as to his safety, and the road was well
guarded, as it was feared that he might be kidnapped. That such fears
were not wholly unfounded was proved by an incident which took place at
Aculzingo. After a short halt, when the imperial party was about to
proceed on its journey, it was discovered with dismay that the eight
white mules forming the Emperor's team had been stolen.
At Orizaba he received his last ovation; but these public demonstrations
had lost their charm. He withdrew to the house of Senor Bringas, a
violent reactionary, most inimical to the French. There he denied
himself to every one. Of his military household he retained only two
Mexican officers--Colonel Ormachea and Colonel Lamadrid. Later he
retired to the hacienda of Jalapilla. While here even letters were not
sure to reach him. His correspondence passed through interested hands,
and was sifted under prying eyes, before being placed before him. No one
was allowed to see him without the knowledge of the priest, who was
rapidly obtaining over him an influence that was to lead him to his
death. Those who approached him at this time reported him as completely
under the influence, almost in the custody, of Father Fischer.
So complete was his mental collapse that it was said, and by some
believed, that during their residence at Cuernavaca, prior to the
departure of the Empress, a subtle poison known to the Indians of that
region, and the action of which was through the brain, had been
administered to the imperial couple.*
* An attempt is said to have been made upon his life in July, 1866. The
affair was hushed up, but is said to have made a deep impression on his
mind. See D'Hericault, "Maximilien et le Mexique: Histoire des Derniers
Mois de l'Empire du Mexique," pp. 29, 54.
The condition of the Empress, the prolonged fits of depression to which
Maximilian was subject when he resolved to remove his residence to
Orizaba, away from the presence of his hated allies, his extreme
listlessness, which betrayed itself in the carelessness of his attire
and in his lapses of etiquette and of memory, gave color to the report.
But there was quite enough in the unfortunate prince's situation to
account for the abnormal condition of his mind without having recourse
to romantic fancies.
All this time the Austrian frigate Elizabeth was at anchor off Vera
Cruz, awaiting his pleasure, ready to take him back to Trieste, and part
of his baggage was already on board.
His own countrymen looked upon the game as lost. The empire, which for
some time had been caving in at the center, was now everywhere crumbling
at the edges. Only the most unblushing personal interest could advise,
and the most inconsistent folly consider, the retaining of a crown
which, under circumstances even less inauspicious, he had only a short
time before wisely resolved to surrender.
Unsuccessful in his attempt to govern with French financial and military
support, how could he contemplate reigning alone, without allies, money,
or credit? The mere thought seemed madness. After insisting upon a
plebiscite to sanction his reign, how could he honorably remain now that
the country in arms was everywhere falling away from his standard?
On November 6 the rumor of his abdication was circulated in New York;
and the London "Post" and "Star" published it as a fact. But intrigue
and folly prevailed.
It has been claimed that a communication from his former secretary, the
Belgian Eloin, now his agent abroad, had a decisive effect upon his
final resolution. In this letter, since published by M. de Keratry, M.
Eloin warned Maximilian against affording the French an easy way out of
their difficulties by yielding to General Castelnau's wiles. He urged
upon the Emperor the maintaining of the empire after the departure of
the foreigners, a free appeal to the Mexican nation for the material
means of sustaining himself, and, in case of failure, the return of the
crown to the people who gave it. Thus, and thus alone, in the opinion of
the secretary, could the Emperor return with credit to Europe, with an
untarnished fame, and "play the part which belonged to him in every
respect in the important events that could not fail to occur" in
Austria.
The hints at the general dissatisfaction with the present order of
things at home, at the discouragement of Emperor Francis Joseph, at the
popularity of Maximilian both in his native country and in Venetia, show
that, in the mind of his secretary at least, the possibilities of
Maximilian's political career were by no means confined to the
sovereignty of Mexico. In reading this remarkable letter, one's mind
involuntarily turns to the family scene enacted at Miramar, when
Maximilian, compelled by his brother to renounce his rights to the
Austrian throne, clung to them with a tenacity that seriously loosened
the close bond that hitherto had united the two men.
This letter also explains the insistence of Francis Joseph, through his
ambassador Baron de Lago, when the possibility of his brother's return
was discussed, that Maximilian, once upon Austrian soil, should drop the
imperial title.* However this may be, from this time Maximilian's mind
seemed made up. He determined to risk his all upon the promises of the
clerical leaders.
* Compare "L'Empire de Maximilien," M. de Keratry, p. 220. vol. iii, p.
404) It has been stated by M. Domenech ("Histoire du Mexique," that
Maximilian's mother also wrote an urgent letter, advising him not to
return to Europe yet.
General Castelnau and his party arrived in the capital on October
21,1866. A few days after their arrival, Mme. Magnan invited a number of
us to take supper at her house, after the opera, to meet the newcomers.
The general was a tall, middle-aged man of prepossessing mien and
soldierly bearing. A charming talker, his manners were those of one
accustomed to the best society. He readily fell into our easy life.
He constantly invited us to his box at the opera, and at first arranged
pleasant parties; but later, when the gravity of the situation weighed
upon him, and his health suffered under it, while he often placed the
box at our disposal, he came to it only when equal to the exertion.
Notwithstanding many admirable qualities, the general was scarcely
strong enough for the part which he was called upon to play. Indeed, it
is difficult to imagine how any representative of the Emperor of the
French, at this stage, could have assumed control of events. Looking
back upon it now, it would seem as though, under existing conditions,
arbitration alone could have stemmed the current of human passion then
hurrying all involved toward the final catastrophe.
The knowledge that Napoleon III, who had set up his throne, was now in
accord with the United States government and with the Liberal leaders to
tear it from under him, stung Maximilian to the quick. He not
unnaturally felt a strong desire to remain a stumbling-block in the way
of negotiations which to him seemed treacherous and infamous. When
General Castelnau arrived he was hesitating. The presence of Napoleon's
aide-de-camp was not calculated to soothe his feelings. The return of
General Miramon and General Marquez at this crisis again turned the tide
of events.
These men, formerly set aside through French influence, felt a
resentment which added strength to their party feeling. The confidence
of the Emperor in their ability once more to rally the people about his
banner, through the influence of the clergy, triumphed over his
indecision. Senor Lares had promised him the immediate control of four
million dollars and of an army ready to take the field. Now here were
old, experienced leaders to take command.
He hesitated no longer. Breaking with all declared principles of policy,
he threw himself into the arms of the clerical party, and pledging
himself to reinstate the clergy and to return to the church its
confiscated property, prepared to play his last hand without the French.
The marshal was anxiously awaiting the promised documents which were to
announce the final terms of abdication. Instead of these, Colonel
Kodolitch was sent by the Emperor to arrange the preliminary details for
the return of the Austro-Belgian troops. The letter announcing his
arrival (October 31) was, moreover, sufficiently ambiguous in its
wording to leave Maximilian a loophole by which to escape from his
former declared intention. The negotiations were now opened anew. A
meeting of the council of state was called at Jalapilla, to which the
marshal was summoned, "to consider the establishment of a stable
government to protect the interests that might be compromised," etc. The
French government had, however, already come to an understanding with
the United States, and the French agents in Mexico deemed it best that
the marshal should not be present.
After a three days' session, the meeting at Orizaba resulted in a plan
of action calculated to bring about a complete rupture between
Maximilian and his former allies.
On December 1 Maximilian issued his official manifesto, in which he
announced his intention to call together a national congress, and his
determination, upon the representations of his council and his
ministers, to remain at the head of affairs.
When Cortez, after landing upon the coast of Mexico, decided to burn his
ships, he did not more thoroughly cut off his retreat than did
Maximilian when, throwing himself into the hands of the reactionaries,
he wrote his final letter to Marshal Bazaine, and published his
manifesto. All personal relations now virtually ceased between the
Emperor and the marshal. Official communications were carried on through
the president of the council of state.
On the very day when the imperial proclamation was issued, General
Sherman and Messrs. Lewis, Plumb, and Campbell arrived in the port of
Vera Cruz, on board of the Susquehanna. The event caused genuine
surprise.
A few days before their arrival, the marshal had received from the
Marquis de Montholon a notice of their departure on a mission having for
its object the reinstatement of the government of Juarez without
conflict with the French, the abdication of Maximilian being then
regarded as a fact.
General Magruder, who met the American envoys in Havana, reported to
them that at the date of his departure from Mexico, on November 1,
Maximilian was on the eve of retiring; that he had been detained at
Orizaba only by the arrival of Generals Miramon and Marquez; and that
the common understanding was that the government had been handed over to
Marshal Bazaine.
The American consul, Mr. Otterburg, called upon the commander-in-chief,
and told him that his government was acting in concert with the
Tuileries to restore the republic, and that General Porfirio Diaz was
the leader into whose hands the care of the capital should be
transferred in order to avoid possible bloodshed. He therefore urged
upon the marshal the expediency of inviting General Diaz to advance near
to the city. According to M. de Keratry, Mr. Otterburg even informed him
that arrangements had been made with the bankers of the capital to
assure one month's pay to the troops of the Liberal leader. This episode
plainly illustrates the lack of concert and of mutual understanding so
characteristic of every attempt made at this time by the French leaders
at home and abroad to steer out of the cruel position in which the
national honor had been placed.
The unlooked-for result of his negotiations was a severe blow to General
Castelnau. He had not once been summoned to the Emperor's presence, and
the principal object of his mission had utterly failed. The gravity of
the situation, as well as its annoyances, weighed upon him, and he was
ill and depressed.
A last attempt was made by the French representatives, on December 8, to
demonstrate to Maximilian, in a joint note, the impossibility of
sustaining himself without the French army. General Castelnau announced
to him that the return of the troops would take place during the first
months of 1867. A few days later (December 13) the effect of this
communication was heightened by a despatch from Napoleon III, then at
Compiegne, peremptorily ordering the return of the foreign legion.
By the treaty of Miramar, the services of the legion were insured to
Maximilian for six years; but what did Napoleon then care for treaties!
General Castelnau made one more personal effort to save the situation.
Accompanied by M. Dano* and the Comte de St. Sauveur, he started on
December 20 for Puebla, where Maximilian was the guest of the archbishop
of the diocese.
* A strong feeling existed against M. Dano, the French minister, who was
openly accused of selfishness in his policy. He had married a young
Mexican woman, whose rich dowry was derived from the mines of Real del
Monte, and it was urged by the Imperialists that his weight was cast in
the scales on the side of the Juarists, with a view to safeguarding his
Mexican interests.
According to a note received by me from one of the travelers, they were
at first sanguine of success, so impossible did it seem that the Emperor
would seriously persevere in his resolve. But although they remained
several days, and did their utmost to win over the Emperor's Mexican
advisers, nothing came of this supreme attempt.* They were reluctantly
admitted to an audience by Maximilian. In the course of this interview
he recognized the fact that he probably must leave Mexico, but declared
himself the best judge of the proper time for him to lay down his crown,
and claimed the right to turn over the reins of government to the
administration that must succeed the empire.
* Father Fischer, it is said, was offered thirty thousand dollars to
urge Maximilian to abdicate. (D'Hericault, p. 39).
Little show of good feeling existed now between Napoleon's special envoy
and the quartier-general. Indeed, the lack of harmony was spreading to
officers of lesser rank. Severe criticism was indulged in on both sides.
Never was the cynical old French saying so fully borne out by fact:
"Quand il n'y a pas de foin au ratelier, les chevaux se battent." There
was no success or even honorable failure possible; and the racked brains
of the leaders found relief in unjust blame of one another, and in
mutual accusations, which served only to lower the plane to which the
great impending disaster must fall in the eyes of posterity.
The alluring mirage of a neo-Latin empire had completely vanished from
the Western horizon. Where it had stood, the dissatisfied French army,
under inharmonious leaders, now saw only a heavy bank of clouds and
every sign of the approaching storm.
It will be remembered* that as a result of the new agreement with
France, signed by Maximilian July 30, 1866, mixed regiments had been
formed with the debris of the disbanded auxiliary corps and with
liberated French soldiers. It had originally been intended to form with
the Cazadores de Mejico an effective force of fifteen thousand men, to
which it was planned to add ten regiments of cavalry. The first of these
was commanded by Colonel Lopez. In December, 1866, three companies of
gendarmes, numbering in all some twelve hundred men, were organized
under Colonel Tindal. A regiment of red hussars, composed of the debris
of the disbanded Austrian hussars and uhlans, about seven hundred men,
was placed under the command of Captain Khevenhuller;** and this, with
the Austrian regiment of Colonel Hammerstein,*** completed the new
organization. A large number of Frenchmen, the best of whom had been
detached from the military service with the official sanction of their
government, had thus entered the imperial army and received from the
Mexican government their equipment and the advertised premium offered.
They had formed the framework and backbone of the new regiments, for the
equipment of which Maximilian had strained every nerve, going so far as
to sacrifice even his own silver plate.
* See above, "foreign legion."
** Now Prince Khevenhuller.
*** Colonel Hammerstein was killed in the trenches during the siege of
Mexico on May 25, 1867. He commanded the defense of the western approach
to the city by Vallejo and San Lazaro, as well as Peralvillo to the
north, facing Guadalupe, In his defense of the latter position he was
supported by General O'Horan, who was at a later date taken and put to
death by order of President Juarez.
In the beginning of January, 1867, the marshal, under orders received
from Paris, issued a circular withdrawing the consent of the French
government to these enlistments, and offering to all such enlisted
soldiers and officers the means of returning to France. A few days
later, on the 11th, this offer was extended to all French subjects, and
even to the Austro-Belgian auxiliaries should they wish to avail
themselves of it.
In his circular the marshal recalled the law which deprives any
Frenchman serving under a foreign flag of his rights as a French
citizen. This placed in the position of deserters French soldiers and
officers who in good faith had accepted service in the new Mexican army.
It practically forced them to break their oath of allegiance to
Maximilian, and to despoil the treasury of the premium received and
already spent, or to become outlaws in the eyes of their own country.
The false position in which these men were placed was, a few weeks
later, cruelly emphasized when General Escobedo, after his victory over
Miramon at San Jacinto, took advantage of the legal quibble thus offered
him, and caused French prisoners to be shot as declared outlaws under
Marshal Bazaine's circular. Notwithstanding all this, out of the
remainder of the Cazadores a battalion was formed, and eventually placed
under the command of Prince Salm-Salm, and later under that of the
Austrian commander Pitner. These did magnificent service at Queretaro.*
* See above, "Cazadores de Mejico."
After the departure of the French army, an effective force of some five
hundred men was organized of French deserters and such Frenchmen as, for
some cause or other, had remained in Mexico. This formed a
contre-guerilla, which, under the orders of Commandant Chenet,
eventually did good service in the defense of Mexico. But the marshal's
circular, by removing the better element among the officers of the newly
enrolled corps, ruthlessly broke up the organization of the little army
of twenty thousand men so laboriously collected by Maximilian, and
became the latter's bitterest and perhaps best-founded grievance against
his former allies.
Urged by General Castelnau, the marshal was steadily concentrating his
troops. The foreign representatives were fast leaving the country.
Unmistakable symptoms of a final collapse were everywhere visible, and
all who had been in any way conspicuous in their sympathy with the
intervention or the empire were anxiously preparing for the catastrophe.
V. THE END OF THE FRENCH INTERVENTION
The cheerfulness of the imperial capital had faded away in the suspense
and anxiety of the moment. All wore grave, anxious faces. Those who were
going first were busy and bustling. The Mexicans whom one met in the
street looked sullen and often hateful. It did not seem safe freely to
express one's opinions; but thoughtful people felt that the close of the
intervention, if it did not carry with it that of the empire, opened up
possibilities that one shuddered to contemplate. Young and old, Mexicans
and foreigners, realized that they were playing a part in the opening
scene of the last act of a tragedy the denouement of which no one dared
to guess.
A serious personal problem was now before us. What were we to do?
Closely connected as we had been with the invaders, we could expect
little favor. Nor could we even depend upon the protection of the United
States flag, as the Imperialists would for some time, at least, remain
in possession of the capital. Yet to leave Mexico was a serious step for
us to take; it meant abandoning considerable property, and at such a
time this meant its loss.
The matter was decided for us at military headquarters. Our friends were
clear that the future was too uncertain for any one to remain who had in
any great degree been connected with the intervention. All earnestly
urged us to go; and the remembrance of our early experience in Mexico
made us dread renewed exposure to increased anxieties.
Every one was preparing for the exodus. Remates, escorts, and other
details of travel were the common topics of conversation. One heard of
little else than of the safest and most comfortable way of getting down
to the coast. Bands of Liberals were said to be everywhere closing in
upon the neighborhood; and although, of course, "diplomacy" had made the
retreat of the French secure, some forethought must be exercised by
travelers in order to insure safety on the journey.
January 2 was fixed upon as the most auspicious day for our departure.
At this date the first detachment of the army was to be directed toward
the coast, and we were to follow in its wake. Moreover, all along the
road word had been sent to the military authorities to look after our
safety in their respective jurisdictions, and everything was done to
smooth our way.
For some evenings before our departure there was a round of simple
festivities in the little colony. We were to leave first, but all must
scatter soon. To me these entertainments seemed as lugubrious as a
prolonged "wake." It was as though we were launching out in the night,
and, like children in the dark, we sang aloud to keep up our courage.
For several days our patio rang with the clanging of swords, as our
numerous military friends--I was about to say "comrades"--came to bid us
Godspeed and to offer their services.
On our last night in Mexico a friend gave us a midnight supper, from
which we were to step out at three o'clock in the morning to meet the
stage which was ordered to stop and pick us up at the corner of the
Paseo. This was intended to be a jolly send-off; only our nearest
friends were asked. But what a mockery of mirth!
For three mortal hours we strove to affect what Henri Murger so wittily
describes as the "gaiete de croque-mort qui s'enterre lui-meme"; and it
was a relief when the moment came to make our last preparations.
The small party escorted us to the place where we were to board the
coach. Oh, the gloom of that early start in the darkness of the morning!
The dreariness of every one's attempt at cheerfulness! And then the
approaching noise of the mules, and the rumbling of the wheels, as the
somber mass neared the spot where we stood in weary expectancy.
Exclamations of good will, kind wishes, a pressure of the hand, a last
kiss, a farewell, a lump in the throat, a scurry, and a plunge into the
dark hole open to receive us. At last the start, and, looking back, some
whitish specks waving in the distance against the dark, receding group
of friends left behind; and five years of my life, all the youth I ever
knew, were turned down and closed forever! What was before me now?
We breakfasted at Rio Frio. Later in the day, at Buena Vista, between
Puebla and the capital, we came upon a military encampment. It turned
out to be the last remnant of the Belgian corps, then awaiting orders to
proceed to the coast. As our stage halted, we had a few words with
Colonel van der Smissen and other officers. There was in our party a
Belgian captain who was on his way home. While chatting together, we saw
at some distance, against a background formed by the Belgian camp,
Princess Salm-Salm, in her gray-and-silver uniform, sitting her horse
like a female centaur--truly a picturesque figure, with her white
couvre-nuque glistening under the tropical sun.
The colonel had just received the intelligence that Maximilian, with his
escort, would pass Buena Vista on the morrow, making his way to the
capital.
Before we left Puebla, where General Douay was in command, we were told
that the Emperor had started upon his journey to Mexico. He was escorted
by a squadron of Austrian cavalry. A body of French Zouaves, which was
to be relieved of duty upon his reaching the capital, was protecting the
road. Besides the officers of his household, his physician, and his
confessor, Father Pischer, Maximilian had with him General Marquez and
his staff.
The prince was returning to the capital to prepare for the final
struggle. He was determined to take his chances. These had been
presented to him in as hopeful a light as the imagination of his
interested councilors could place them. Now the time had come when he
must arouse himself to action.
At Orizaba we learned that the Liberals were closing in at every point
upon the ever-narrowing empire. The French having seized upon the Vera
Cruz custom-house in payment of the war indemnity, the only source of
supply was cut off, and the stress for money was terrible. The promise
of financial relief mysteriously held out by the new cabinet had turned
out to be delusive, and, it was soon found, was based upon the hope of a
lottery! When the time for action came, the promised millions melted
away, and all that the unfortunate monarch could scrape together, on the
eve of entering upon a campaign on which hung his life, was a paltry
fifty thousand dollars!
The troops were moving down. A large number of transports was waiting,
and a fleet under Admiral la Ronciere le Noury was in readiness to
escort the marshal and the army on the homeward journey.
Upon our arrival at Vera Cruz, we stopped at the Hotel de Diligencias to
await the departure of the next outgoing vessel to New Orleans.
Here we were immediately called upon by Colonel Dupin, the commander of
the region, who invited us to a breakfast to be given in our honor. He
strongly impressed upon us the necessity of keeping indoors and avoiding
exposure to the sun. This did not prevent our accepting an invitation to
visit the Magenta, the flagship of Admiral Cloue, then in the harbor,
upon hearing of which the colonel called again to remonstrate with us
with regard to what he deemed an imprudence. Having been requested from
headquarters to look after us, he regarded us as under his care, and
evidently felt the burden of the responsibility.
Colonel Dupin was a picturesque figure. He was already an old man when I
met him, and was regarded in the army as a brilliant officer of
undaunted courage, but of questionable methods and of almost savage
harshness.
He had taken part in the Chinese war, was present when the French and
British allies entered Peking, and had a share in the sacking of the
Summer Palace. He returned to France laden with a rich booty, including
precious objects of artistic value, which he boldly exhibited for sale
in Paris. This was against all military traditions, and in consequence
Colonel Dupin's connection with the army was severed. Time had elapsed
since this episode, however, and against Maximilian's expressed wishes
he had been sent to Mexico by Napoleon himself to take command of the
contre-guerilla formed for the defense of the coast region against the
depredations of the Mexican bands. It was a relentless warfare, in which
the vindictiveness of the Mexicans met with cruel reprisals. The most
exaggerated stories were told of the brutality of the French commander,
who, in order to intimidate the inhabitants, always in league with the
guerrillas then infesting the region, treated them as accomplices
whenever outbreaks occurred causing loss of life and property. This
treatment, if it insured the submission of the people, was not likely to
engender loyalty. Moreover, it earned for Colonel Dupin the title of
"Tigre," of which, strange as it may appear, he seemed, I thought,
rather proud.
The French army, with the marshal, made its final exit in state from the
capital on February 5. At the last, and in order to insure their own
safety, the French had surrendered the points held by them directly to
the Liberal leaders.
Thanks to this prudent but unchivalrous policy,* the retreat of the army
was as uneventful as had been the movement of concentration. The Liberal
forces offered no opposition, and their guerrillas did not even harass
the rear-guard of the retreating French. Several thousand men, mainly
from the foreign legion, however, deserted. It is said that the marshal
claimed them, but General Marquez replied that if he wanted them he
might come and fetch them.
* Commandant Billaud was censured by his superior officers for having,
in his retreat from Mexico to Puebla, beaten back a body of Liberal
troops who had taken possession of the town of Chalco. See D'Hericault,
loc. cit., p. 41.
On March 3 the marshal arrived in Vera Cruz with his last detachment,
having lingered on the way, in the hope that the misguided Emperor might
reconsider his decision and still be induced to join him. Orizaba and
Cordoba were already in the hands of the Liberals, and all communication
with the capital had virtually been cut off. The Commander-in-chief had
not even heard of what had taken place since his departure.
Letters from members of the marshal's staff, received after we sailed
from Vera Cruz, convey a graphic impression of the last days of the
intervention.
From one under date of February 28, 1867, I quote the following passage:
Vera Cruz is overcrowded; many of the troops are on board their
transports. The marshal is expected tomorrow. The Liberal army is
already in Tacubaya, and bands are at Tacuba and all around the valley
of Mexico ready to enter the capital. Every one thinks that the Emperor
must leave very soon. Our orders are to hurry off our last detachments;
perhaps we dread lest a cry for help should come from Mexico. Terrible
confusion prevails here. Lodgings have given out, and officers sleep
anywhere in the streets. Last night Vicomte de Noue slept on the
staircase, having secured for his wife a room in which four beds were
made for her, her three children, her two maids, her two dogs, and her
three parrots! The price for such miserable accommodations is so
exorbitant that everybody prefers going immediately on board. . . .
Another letter, dated March 4, says:
The marshal is as unpopular as ever with the army. His methods are
censured by every one. The transports are here. With a better system our
men might be shipped as soon as they arrive in this God-forsaken hole.
Instead of this, however, unnecessary delay results in sickness among
the rank and file. According to my orderly, who saw them, fifteen men
were picked up this morning whom the surgeons had declined to embark. .
. .
And the last, from another friend, under date of March 12, on board the
Castiglione, says:
We sail to-day at eleven o'clock. For twenty-four hours out of Vera Cruz
we are to form an escort to the Souverain, on board of which are the
marshal and his wife, in order that their Excellencies may sail out of
port in state. After this we will make straight for Toulon. All our men
are at this moment on board their transports. The Mexican colors are
flying over the citadel. The French intervention has come to a close,
and is now a thing of the past. . . .