Death of Maximilian and his Generals
The news that the Emperor and his two generals, Mejia and Miramon, had
been sentenced to death, aroused widespread sympathy and Juarez was
besieged with petitions for mercy, even Garibaldi, who certainly was no
friend to the house of Hapsburg, being among the pleaders. The Prussian
ambassador, Baron von Magnus, hastened to Potosi to intercede personally
in behalf of Maximilian, and used every effort to secure a pardon, but
in vain. All that he was able to obtain was a reprieve of two days, the
execution of the sentence being postponed till seven o’clock on the
morning of the nineteenth.
[Illustration: _LAST MOMENTS OF EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN_]
Prince Salm being still a prisoner and powerless to act, his wife made
one last desperate attempt to bring about the Emperor’s escape by
flight, but again the plan was frustrated by the fatal treachery that
seemed to pursue Maximilian at every turn in Mexico. The Princess Salm
was put into a carriage and sent out of Querétaro under a military
guard, while all the diplomatic representatives were ordered by Escobedo
to leave the city at two hours’ notice. Meanwhile the Emperor and his
companions prepared for death. They received the sacrament from Father
Soria and spent their last hours communing with the confessors who were
to accompany them on their last journey. Maximilian, calm and serene as
in happier days, conversed cheerfully with Dr. Basch and his lawyers,
Ortega and Vazquez, who had come to bid him farewell. On parting with
the physician he charged him to carry back to his friends and family in
Vienna a report of the siege and of his last days.
“Tell my mother,” he said, “that I have done my duty as a soldier and
die a good Christian.”
At three o’clock, the time originally set for the execution, all was
ready for the last march to the Cerro de la Campaña. The officer in
command of the firing squad begged for forgiveness with tears in his
eyes, but the Emperor calmed him, saying: “You are a soldier and must
obey your orders.” For a whole hour they waited for the summons, but
none came. At last, about four o’clock, an officer arrived with the
announcement that the execution had been postponed till the nineteenth,
the order having only just arrived by wire from Potosi an hour before.
“This is hard,” exclaimed Maximilian, “for I had already finished with
the world.”
He availed himself of the delay, however, to dictate several farewell
letters to his physician, among them one of thanks to his captive
officers for their loyalty and a touching appeal to his implacable
enemy, Juarez, to prevent further bloodshed and let his death serve to
promote the peace and welfare of his adopted country. Even now Baron von
Magnus made one more effort to save the Emperor’s life. On the
eighteenth of June he sent a telegram to the Juarist minister, Lerdo de
Tejada, offering to secure guarantees from all the leading sovereigns of
Europe that none of the three prisoners should ever again set foot on
Mexican soil or disturb the country in any way. But Juarez was
inexorable. In reply to the Baron’s despatch Minister Tejada stated that
the President of the Republic was convinced that the cause of justice
and the future peace of the country required the death of the prisoners.
At last the fatal morning of Wednesday, June 19, 1867, dawned. At five
o’clock Father Soria came to celebrate mass, and at half past six the
republican officer who had charge of the execution arrived. The three
prisoners, dressed in black, entered carriages, each with his confessor,
and were driven slowly to the place of execution, which was surrounded
by a guard of four thousand men. On alighting, the Emperor embraced his
two companions, promising they should soon meet in another world, and
then walked with dignity to the spot assigned at the foot of a hill in
front of a shattered wall. Here he placed Miramon in the centre, saying,
“A brave soldier is respected by his sovereign; permit me to yield you
the place of honor.” Turning to Mejia, who had been unnerved by the
sight of his wife running through the streets frantic with grief, he
said: “General, what has not been rewarded on earth will certainly be in
heaven.” After distributing some gold pieces among the soldiers who were
to do the firing, he said in a firm voice: “May my blood be the last
shed in sacrifice for this country, and if more is required, let it be
for the good of the nation, never by treason.”
The signal to fire was then given and the three fell simultaneously,
Maximilian’s body pierced by six bullets. The Mexican Empire had ceased
to exist, and the noble Hapsburger had laid down his life for the
welfare of an ungrateful people.
General Escobedo had promised the Emperor before his death that his body
should be delivered to Baron von Magnus to be taken back to Europe, yet
in spite of this the ambassador had much trouble in obtaining possession
of it. He was ill himself for a time with fever and had to be taken to
Potosi. After many delays, however, the remains were finally given into
his custody on November twelfth and, attended by Vice-admiral von
Tegetthof, his two adjutants, and Doctor Basch, were taken to Vera Cruz
with a cavalry escort of one hundred men, and placed on board the
_Novara_, the same vessel which but three years before had conveyed
Maximilian to his adopted country and to his doom. On the fifteenth of
January, 1868, the _Novara_ arrived at Trieste. A special train conveyed
the coffin to Vienna, where, three days later, the body of Archduke
Ferdinand Maximilian of Austria was buried in the imperial vault in the
Capuchin church.