What can be finer than to imagine the sovereign placed at its head,
resplendent in the midst of those marble pillars,--to fancy this
monarch like a god graciously permitting the approach of human beings.
The crowd surges upward. The king vouchsafes a gracious glance, but from
a lofty elevation. All powerful, imperial, he makes one step towards
them with a smile of infinite condescension.
"Could Charles V., could Maria Theresa appear thus at the head of this
ascending stair, who would not bow the head before that majestic power
God-given! I too, poor fluttering insect of a day, have felt such pride
throb in my veins, when I have been standing in the palace of the Doges
of Venice, as to think how agreeable it would be, not too often, but in
rare solemn moments, to stand thus at the height of such an ascent, and
glancing downward over all the world, to feel myself the First, like the
sun in the firmament."
All this had been arranged, as is now known by the dates of the
preliminary correspondence, before the French commissioners were sent to
Vera Cruz. The conciliating attitude of Juarez towards them took away
the pretext under which they had entered the country, but they had no
orders to retire. On the contrary, reinforcements soon arrived, and the
Mexican President found himself obliged to put an army in their way.
The expedition, whose object, no longer concealed, was "the triumph of
the Latin race on American soil," advanced towards the capital. Mexico
was divided by its two great parties for and against the invasion. The
ultra-clerigos, secretly aware of the action of their party abroad,
encouraged it; but there were many amongst them who paused before the
innovation of a foreign ruler on Mexican soil.
French troops under the command of General Lorencez advanced upon
Puebla, joined before they arrived there by a strong Mexican force of
the clerical party under Márques, so that they had a large and effective
army. The resisting force in Puebla was much smaller, not more than two
thousand strong, but the defence under General Zaragoza was brilliant
against a vigorous attack. The French were driven off and had to retire
to Orizaba.
This is the victory of the _Cinco de Mayo_, or 5th of May, which the
Mexicans celebrate as one of their best holidays. The battle was not in
itself very important, but its moral effect upon the Mexicans was great,
encouraging them to continue their gallant defence of their country.
They fought to resist foreign intrusion. At that time they scarcely knew
why it was thrust upon them, and could not have dreamed of the extent to
which imperial audacity on the other side of the ocean had dared to go.
To impose upon a free and able-bodied people a sovereign of foreign
birth, without the slightest sign of inclination on their part, was
hardly justified by the argument that this party constituted an
important minority. The extent of the enterprise dawned upon the people
gradually, as the scheme of the French Emperor unfolded itself.
Meanwhile, there was fighting in Puebla, and the long-suffering Mexicans
again took up arms.
The Indians, over whose villages peace for a few years had stretched her
fostering wing, once more heard the noise of cannon and the call to
arms. The old troubled life had come back again. Repose was only a
dream.
On the 5th of May, every year, there are great rejoicings all over
Mexico, but especially in the capital, where a broad handsome street,
well paved and lighted, is called the Cinco de Mayo. All the troops are
reviewed on that day by the President. The buildings are hung deep with
flags and decorations, and the streets crowded with a joyous population
swarming to and fro, crying _Vivas!_ over the long procession of
regiments marching through the city to the stirring sound of the Mexican
national march.
An adventure of which the French are very proud occurred in the
following month. After retreating from Puebla, the army of Lorencez was
quartered in Orizaba where they were closely watched by Zaragoza's men.
A body of four or five thousand Mexican troops placed themselves upon
the Cerro de Borrego, high above the town, whence they threatened to
bombard it. The condition of the French within the town grew more and
more uncomfortable, food was giving out, and the presence of the
overlooking enemy was, to say the least, annoying.
A young captain, lately promoted, watched and followed a Mexican woman
whom he saw day by day, as she climbed a steep path to the height,
carrying a water jar upon her head to supply the Mexican army. The
French officer entreated permission of his general to attempt the
dislodgement of the enemy. This granted, in the deep darkness of night
one hundred and fifty soldiers crept cautiously up the narrow path,
unconsciously betrayed by the Indian woman, close to the edge of the
cliff. Suddenly, as they arrived at the top, the officer called out "_A
moi les Zouaves!_" "_A moi la Légion!_" giving such a volley of
directions that the Mexicans imagined the whole French army was upon
their traces. Startled from secure slumber, they were easily overcome.
The French claim the destruction of three hundred men, a general, three
colonels, and two lieutenant-colonels, with all the arms and the colors
of the Mexicans, who, if they survived the weapons of the small
attacking party, fled and were lost in the steep slopes of the
precipice.
Fresh troops came from France, and by the beginning of another year the
army of invasion, commanded by Marshal Forey, numbered forty thousand
men, not counting the Mexicans on that side, whose numbers increased as
the magnitude of the enterprise became known.
Puebla again was the scene of the struggle. For two months General
Ortega defended it obstinately, but food became scarce. A convoy
bringing provisions, under charge of General Comonfort, was seized by
the French under Marshal Bazaine, and on the 17th of May the besieged
army was obliged to succumb, without capitulating. The French advanced
towards the capital, and the Mexicans abandoned it, Juarez withdrawing
towards the north, where he re-organized his government at San Luis de
Potosi. He never relinquished his office during the whole of the French
intervention, and remained all the time, in the minds of loyal Mexicans,
and also in the language and opinion of the government of the United
States, President of the still existing Mexican Republic.
XXXVII.
THE EMPIRE UNDER PROTECTION.
On the 28th of May, 1864, to the great joy of the Cabinet of the
Tuileries, who had been much in fear that their scheme might fall
through, the new sovereigns arrived at Vera Cruz. They were but coolly
received by the merchants of that port, and passed through it without
ceremony, followed by the large suite they brought with them. But the
priests had aroused the Indians _en masse_ to welcome new rulers, who
would, they were promised, restore their liberties and raise their
condition. Crowds of these people in serapes and rebozos, with dark eyes
full of questions, stood along the route of the imperial cortége as it
left Vera Cruz.
Nor was enthusiasm elsewhere wanting; a real imperialist party sprang up
from the soil, spontaneously, on the appearance of the young prince and
his consort. Had they known how to secure this popularity and make it
permanent, these imported sovereigns might have reared for themselves a
realm in the hearts of the impressionable people of Anahuac. Maximilian
formed his idea of sovereignty upon the absolute rule of the Middle
Ages. He would not stoop to make popularity; he expected it to be
freely offered. Indeed, he had assented to come only when he was
summoned by the voice of the whole Mexican people. This voice was the
reluctant vote of a Junta got together by the clerical party on purpose
to satisfy his demand. But the charm of his presence, which was
dignified and princely, and the winning manner of Carlotta, well fitted
to play the part of gracious sovereign to an adoring people, won all
hearts for the moment.
A splendid reception was prepared in the capital. Triumphal arches
spanned the principal avenues to the city, inscribed with the names of
the personages who had brought about the glorious intervention. The
streets, especially San Francisco and Plateros, were hung with banners
of every color, set with exquisite flowers and plants. Rows of citizens
and troops, dressed in their best, lined the way through which the open
carriage of Maximilian and Carlotta made its way, preceded by the
officers of state, and followed by a long retinue of public
functionaries and persons of the highest aristocracy. Balconies and
azoteas were crowded with curious gazers, and vivas were not wanting;
yet it is said that the populace kept away from the solemnity, or looked
on coldly, at the advent of the foreign intruders.
Maximilian was accompanied by a crowd of followers,--his escort,
household servants, and retinue; and brought with him all the material
for establishing in a new country a throne of the "right divine."
Quantities of these things, for want of lumber-room, are now stored at
the National Museum at Mexico, where one may see in glass cases much
heavy silver plate with the imperial arms, destined for the feasts of
this descendant of Charles V.; the decorations of the Emperor; and below
in the courtway stands the great glass coach in which he sat with the
Empress, as once sat Cinderella in a similar one. All these insignia of
royalty they brought to impose upon their new thralls.
[Illustration: SAN LUIS DE POTOSI.]
And so the young sovereigns set about organizing their ideal court. All
society was at their feet, and the society in Mexico at that time, if
more provincial than that of Paris or Vienna, yet had for Maximilian and
Carlotta the merit of being their own domain. They were monarchs of all
they surveyed. It was indeed a romance. All their debts paid by a
generous Napoleon in the background, a French army full-fledged to
protect them, a throne, a court, a people ready-made to order,--all they
had to do was to enter in and enjoy them.
Marshal Bazaine, at the head of military affairs, set about the
restoration of the arsenal, and repairing the damages made by the United
States war. On his arrival he found the service of artillery entirely
disorganized. Molino del Rey he restored to its functions of a foundry,
so that it could furnish arms and munitions for the country.
Napoleon had promised that the French troops should remain about
Maximilian for six years, or until his own national army should be on
such a footing as to be a proper protection to its Emperor. Bazaine was
therefore occupied with the reconstruction of the army, with an eye to
the distant day when he and his force might be recalled.
[Illustration: CHAPULTEPEC IN THE TIME OF MAXIMILIAN.]
Meanwhile, Maximilian began to govern, according to his lights, which
were liberal as far as the limit of absolute monarchy allowed. He sought
to gain the friendship of the party allied to Juarez, holding the idea
that this native chief of a half-civilized people had been driven off
the field for good, and that it was to be an easy task to replace his
crude government with one based on loftier planes. He paid no attention
to the new code of the reform, but began to impose his own regulations,
and to legislate on all matters as if Mexico were still in its natural
and primitive state. He readily listened to all sorts of plans for the
construction of telegraphs, railways, and other enterprises for the
improvement of the country, with little heed to their vast expense.
Among these was the restoration of the palace at Chapultepec, then in
dismal ruin since the attack of the Americans. From their first glimpse
of it the new sovereigns decided that here should be their home, the
chosen dwelling which should recall the delights of Miramar; recognizing
it as the loveliest spot in all the broad valley of Anahuac. So thought
the Aztec chiefs who sought its shade in their leisure moments; so
thought the viceroy, Galvez; and so thinks every one now who drives from
the city over the broad Paseo, built in the time of Maximilian, as a fit
approach to the charmed palace.
It stands on a height of two hundred feet above the valley; a winding
road from the avenue below, shaded by huge trees, leads to a platform
where are the great stone buildings of the lower terrace belonging to
the Military Academy. On these buildings, which form its basement, is
all the range of Maximilian's palace, including not only a suite of
state apartments and smaller rooms, but, planted on soil brought up from
below, a series of hanging gardens, surrounded by galleries with marble
columns. From the tangle of shrubbery and climbing masses of neglected
roses, can be seen below, stretching far and wide, the extensive
landscape, and from the terrace the incomparable view of the volcanoes,
with the broad interval between.
The interior decoration of Maximilian's palace was in imitation of
Pompeii. It was furnished in the French taste with light stuffs and
gold, very well suited to its sunny height and the pure atmosphere of
the valley of Mexico.
Fêtes, receptions, dinners, and dances, every form of gay life, ruled
the home at Chapultepec. The young Empress, animated and brilliant, was
the centre of her court. For a time no shadow fell upon the bright
prospect of the new Empire.
The capital presented an unusually lively aspect. The French garrison
filled the city with well-dressed regiments; business received a new
impulse from foreign merchants of all sorts, who came, attracted by the
demands of a court for luxury; the rich families of the capital
displayed their wealth in all the splendor of luxurious living. After
many years of discord and depression, the reaction brought about by this
burst of prosperity pervaded the capital. It was true that this
satisfaction was felt only by high society. There was no real
improvement as yet in the resources of the country; the middle class,
with no greater facilities for living than before the new order of
things, were poor and discontented, and murmured at the sight of
rejoicing and luxury they could not share. Carlotta, with an open hand,
distributed alms, drawn from the fortunate purse at her disposition; but
this, without method or definite aim, had no great effect upon the
general prosperity.
In fact it was by no means the purse of a benevolent French Emperor that
furnished funds for so much expenditure. A heavy loan was negotiated by
the crown in 1864, in Paris and London, which brought to its use plenty
of ready money, but entailed upon the nation a debt, of which it is not
yet free. The cities and separate states of Mexico, at first readily
surrendered to the troops of Maximilian, small foreign garrisons being
left in each of the principal ones to maintain his authority by their
presence. It was necessary to maintain military rule, however, for fear
of relapse towards the Republic, and on account of vast guerrilla bands,
espousing the liberal cause, which infested roads and small villages,
where constant encounters and actions took place with imperial troops.
But the gay court of Maximilian little heeded these things. They left
the army to Bazaine, and the government to the ministers. Never was
Mexico so brilliant, so triumphant, so apparently at the zenith of
prosperity, as during the brief time of the French intervention.
XXXVIII.
THE UNPROTECTED EMPIRE.
But there came a day which put an end to all these festivities.
The civil war in the United States was over, leaving the government at
Washington at leisure to attend to outside affairs; moreover, leaving at
its disposition an army of well-trained troops, and a treasury
well-filled, in spite of the drain on both of these through a protracted
and destructive war.
On the 7th of April, 1864, the Secretary of State wrote thus to the
United States Minister in Paris:
"SIR:--I send you herewith the copy of the unanimous
resolution passed in the House of Representatives the 4th
instant. It comprises the opposition of this body to any
recognition of a monarchy in Mexico.... It is scarcely
necessary, after what I have previously written you, to say
that this resolution sincerely expresses the unanimous
sentiment of the people of the United States."
The will of the United States government settled the question, and this
will was most distinctly made manifest. The French Emperor could not
involve his people in a war with the United States, nor did he himself,
already somewhat weary of his own scheme for establishing the supremacy
of the Latin race upon the western continent, regard it as worth the
risk of such a war. He readily assented to any proposition of the
government at Washington, whose imperative demand was the withdrawal of
French troops from the continent of North America.
Louis Napoleon has been much blamed for his conduct in the matter of the
French intervention, even execrated. It is not easy to defend it, but it
may be said that from the European point of view, the plan of
intervention was not such a bad one. Undoubtedly it originated in the
minds of the royalist refugees from Mexico, who sincerely saw no better
way of serving their country, torn in pieces with internal dissensions
and civil wars, than to furnish her with a ready-made crown from the
continent where such articles are furnished.
The Church party, which saw with genuine horror the sequestration of
their property, ascribed it to the progress of so-called liberal ideas.
They were warmly encouraged by good Roman Catholics in Europe, and among
them by the Emperor at Versailles, who professed himself an ardent
adherent of the Pope.
The scheme was possible, because the powerful neighbors of Mexico were
occupied in quarrelling among themselves. That quarrel might last until
the Latin race had firmly taken root. Napoleon never intended a
permanent French occupation of the country. It was his whim to plant the
little monarchy, water it and dig about its roots, and then go away to
attend to other affairs.
The American quarrel did not last, nor did the monarchy take root. The
French troops were withdrawn before the government of the Empire was in
any sense fully established. The national army which Bazaine sought to
establish on a firm footing was not strong enough or loyal enough to
uphold the Emperor, and he was sacrificed.
Everybody wished him to abdicate. Napoleon sent a special messenger to
Mexico to urge this course; Bazaine urged it, and it seems now as if
Maximilian himself must have perceived that there was nothing else left
for him. But he was very slow to admit such an idea. Neither he nor the
Empress in any sense realized their perilous position.
At the end of June, 1866, came the final word of Napoleon, in reply to
an appeal sent to him from Maximilian, upon which he, and still more
Carlotta, had founded great hopes. The message of the French Emperor was
short, its tenor distinct, hard, making it clear that no further support
was to be furnished by the Tuileries to the Mexican project; the
conditions were hard, asserting that the troops must be immediately
withdrawn. Maximilian at last understood that but one course was left to
him--abdication. On the 7th of July he took up his pen to sign away the
Mexican monarchy; but the Empress stayed his hand. Carlotta, of a will
stronger than that of her husband, with a determined ambition, offered
to go herself to Europe to make a personal appeal to Napoleon and
another at Rome. On the very next day she left the capital in haste,
never to return.
It is said that on arriving at Vera Cruz the Empress could find nothing
at the quay but a small French boat to carry her out to the great
steamer in the offing. She absolutely refused to place herself under the
French colors which floated at the stern of the boat, so bitterly she
felt the insult offered to her interests by the French nation.
She arrived at Saint-Nazaire early in August, to the surprise of the
local authorities, and, still more, of the court of the Tuileries. The
report of the arrival of the Empress of Mexico produced a sensation at
Paris, for public opinion there was already interested in the Mexican
drama. When Carlotta landed she was the object of a large crowd
assembled on the docks. She appeared dressed in deep mourning, with
great sadness of demeanor. Her face was pale and haggard, and her eyes
burned with fever. She was accompanied only by a few ladies and
gentlemen of her house. No preparation, of course, had been made for
her; a common _voiture de place_ took her to the hotel. Her Mexican
servants, with their large _sombreros_ trimmed with gold braid, made a
sensation in the French port.
The next day she arrived in Paris, and went to the Grand Hotel, refusing
to ask hospitality at the Tuileries. The imperial family was at Saint
Cloud. She at once sent to request an immediate interview with Napoleon
III.
The Minister of State paid her a visit immediately, and she passed part
of the day in conversing with him. The next morning she went to the
palace, although the Emperor had sent word that he was indisposed.
Finally he concluded to see her. She eloquently demanded, on the part of
Maximilian, continued aid, in money and troops. The interview was long
and violent, it is said, and full of recrimination. The Empress, as all
the fair structure of hopes she had raised since her departure from
Chapultepec crumbled before her, gave way to bitter emotion. She
declared that she, a king's daughter, of the blood of Orleans, had made
a terrible mistake to accept a throne from the self-made Emperor of the
French, a Bonaparte.
From this scene at Saint Cloud the madness of the new Empress is thought
to have begun. She had scarcely the force left to continue her course to
the Vatican, where she found no more redress than she had done at the
Tuileries. The whole of Europe had soon to shudder at the news that she
had lost her reason. She never returned to Mexico.
It was by way of the United States that Maximilian first heard of the
failure of the interview at Saint Cloud. He kept silent, still hoping
better success from the negotiations of the Empress with the Pope; but
meanwhile he quietly made preparations for his departure from Mexico,
giving out that it was his intention to meet the Empress at Vera Cruz on
her return. Much household baggage had been already transferred thither,
and the rumor spread abroad, of the probable departure of the royal
household, producing a lively sensation throughout the country.
The time was drawing near. Maximilian, at Chapultepec, under the
melancholy boughs of the cypresses, gloomily paced the alleys, dreaming
of his shattered hopes. A telegraphic despatch was put in his hands,
sent through the United States. It announced that the Empress Carlotta
was mad. Maximilian at once gave orders for departure, and wrote to
Bazaine that he was about to leave Mexico.
The society of the capital was struck with grief at the news of
Carlotta's state, for they had an ardent adoration of their brilliant
Empress.