Maximilian next divided the country into three great military districts. Mejia was given command in the east, with headquarters at San Luis Potosi, Miramon was stationed in the west at Querétaro, while Marquez, controlling the central district, remained in the capital.
The Emperor was determined now to show that he could maintain his position without the aid of French bayonets—a proof of confidence and fearlessness which was hailed with acclamations by the imperialists, who already foresaw the downfall of Juarez and the triumph of the Empire. Before actual hostilities began, however, Maximilian made one more effort to avert bloodshed and make peace with his enemies. But it was all in vain. His overtures were coldly rejected and there was nothing for it but to let fate take its course.
The first advance was made by Miramon, who succeeded in inflicting a severe defeat upon the republicans, Juarez and his ministers only escaping by the swiftness of their horses. But the exultation caused by this news soon gave place to deepest dejection. Some days later, Escobedo, commander of the revolutionist army in the north, surprised the imperialists at San Jacinto and put them to rout, while Miramon, with the remnants of his scattered forces, took refuge in Querétaro.
On the tenth of February the Emperor told his physician to prepare for a two weeks’ expedition to Querétaro. Prompted by the urgent representations of his ministers, Lares and Marquez, that his presence was needed there to counteract the demoralizing effect of Miramon’s defeat, he determined to place himself at the head of the army. After some delay, owing to the difficulty of obtaining funds for the campaign, in spite of the ministry’s assurances as to the satisfactory condition of the national finances, Maximilian set out upon this fateful journey on the thirteenth of February, with a force of sixteen hundred Mexicans.
The matter had been arranged with so much secrecy that even Prince Salm and Major Hammerstein had no suspicion of the plan, while the Austrian hussars were dumbfounded when they found the Emperor starting for Querétaro without them. Two men have been accused of persuading Maximilian to this rash and fatal step—Father Fischer and the Prussian ambassador, Baron Magnus. Dr. Basch, one of the few who were in the secret, denies this, however, and places the blame entirely on the two ministers, Lares and Marquez—the latter of whom had managed to win the Emperor’s entire confidence by his eloquence and flattery. This seems the more probable since it was to their interest to remove Maximilian to a safe distance. Once already he had started for the coast. Why might he not do so again and with the aid of his Austrians succeed in reaching it and bidding adieu to the country forever? This must be prevented at all cost. As for leaving these loyal troops behind and trusting himself to the uncertain Mexicans, it must be remembered that Maximilian was completely deceived as to the real state of affairs. From his order to Dr. Basch it is evident he expected to return from Querétaro in a short time. He wished also to give his Mexican subjects a proof of his confidence in them, a noble and chivalrous idea, no doubt, but most imprudent.
Marquez, on the other hand, was anxious to keep the Emperor under his own influence and away from that of his German friends, whose advice might seriously interfere with his plans. It was also important to leave the capital in safe hands, and no one realized more than Marquez the difference between the Austrian troops and his ragged Mexican soldiers, many of them wearing a uniform for the first time.
It was doubtless for this reason that the plan was kept so secret. The Emperor’s friends would surely have dissuaded him from taking such a step or, at least, have insisted on accompanying him. Indeed, when Kherenhüller and Hammerstein heard that he was about to leave for Querétaro, they tried their best to induce him to take them with him. As a last resort they even appealed to Father Fischer to use his influence in their behalf, but all in vain. Having promised his friend, Marquez, Maximilian felt he could not in honor retract his word.
Shortly before setting out he took leave of his Austrian officers, assuring them that his reasons for taking this journey were purely political ones, and promising that they should soon follow. Prince Salm indeed did follow with a few trusted men, in spite of the Emperor’s prohibition, overtaking the imperial party before they reached Querétaro. Of the march thither Maximilian himself gives an interesting account in a letter to Professor Bilimek who had returned to Miramar some time before. In it he writes:
“As you will already have learned through the newspapers, our friends, the French, have at last left Mexico, and, having once more obtained liberty of action, we have exchanged the butterfly net for the sword. Instead of bugs and beetles we now pursue other game. Bullets instead of bees now buzz about our heads. Twice between Mexico and Querétaro we were in action and had a number of our men killed and wounded. One of the latter fell just in front of my horse and was immediately operated on, under fire, by Dr. Basch, the only European who accompanied me. In the second skirmish, where we were shot at like targets, our Hungarian cook (you remember him?), who was riding behind us with our servant Grill, was wounded on the lip. In every town where there were no revolutionists we were welcomed most heartily by the people, whom we found longing for peace and cursing the French.”
Maximilian reached Querétaro on the nineteenth and was received with the enthusiasm to be expected from one of the strongest imperialist cities. The streets were thronged with curious spectators who hailed the Emperor’s appearance with shouts of joy, while from windows and balconies, flags and gay hangings of all sorts waved a welcome. The Spanish casino had been selected and prepared as a residence for the Emperor, where he was received by the commandant of the city, General Escobar, after which the whole party attended a solemn Te Deum at the cathedral.
In the evening there were great festivities, concluding with a magnificent banquet, at which there was no lack of those fine speeches wherein the Mexicans especially excel. Maximilian took no part in these celebrations, pleading fatigue as an excuse. Marquez, however, improved the occasion rudely to impress upon General Miramon the sense of their altered positions, he now being commander-in-chief and Miramon his inferior, at the same time openly displaying his satisfaction over the latter’s recent defeat. Truly a noble soul! Although white with rage, Miramon controlled himself, replying briefly with a toast to the army.
For a time after his arrival in Querétaro, Maximilian found the life very pleasant. His simple, kindly ways soon won the hearts of the people, with whom he mingled freely and fearlessly, joining in their amusements and conversing familiarly with all classes. His coolness under fire also roused the admiration of his soldiers, who cheered wildly as he rode calmly past their ranks, the enemy’s bullets whistling about his head.
In the capital, meanwhile, there was so little thought given to the Emperor and his companions in Querétaro, and there was so little idea of keeping any of the promises made to him, it would almost seem that Marquez was not the only traitor. Soon after leaving Mexico, Maximilian had sent back word for the Austrian troops remaining there to follow him at once. Had this order been delivered, the expedition to Querétaro might have had a different and less tragic ending. But, owing to Marquez, it never reached its destination, and the Emperor’s loyal friends, Kherenhüller and Hammerstein, were prevented from joining him while there was still time.
The city of Querétaro had at this time a population of some forty thousand inhabitants. It lay in a narrow valley on the southern bank of a small stream, called the Rio Blanco, forming a quadrangle of about eight thousand feet in length by four thousand in breadth. To the west extended a wide plain, called from the mountains behind it the plain of Guadalajara, while running from south to northeast was a range of hills, afterward utilized by the republicans with great effect. Two places which proved of special importance to the imperialists during the siege were the Cerro de la Campaña, a hill lying just west of the city, and the Convent de la Cruz, almost at the opposite end. This was a large stone edifice of great strength, dating from the days of Cortez. The convent grounds were enclosed by heavy stone walls, and had at the eastern end a smaller but equally strong building known as the Pantheon or burial-place of the convent.
Two weeks after the Emperor’s arrival (March fifth), the republican forces, under General Escobedo, appeared before Querétaro and began to invest the town. The garrison consisted of about four thousand infantry, three thousand cavalry, and had forty-four cannon—a force so insignificant, compared with the vast armies of the present day, that it is remarkable it should have held out as long as it did against such overwhelming superiority of numbers. General Mejia had arrived at Querétaro shortly before this, with his troops from Potosi, among whom were a number of German officers and soldiers, while serving under Miramon were some six hundred Frenchmen. Immediately after the appearance of the enemy, Maximilian held a council of war with his generals. Miramon and Mejia were in favor of attacking the republicans before their forces should have time to unite—an excellent plan which was not carried out owing to the opposition of the all-influential Marquez, who held that the defence of the city should be their first consideration. Thus precious time was allowed to pass, and the imperialists looked calmly on while the enemy gradually crowned the surrounding heights with batteries. The Emperor had first established his headquarters on the Cerro de la Campaña, but when the republicans extended their lines eastward, they were moved to the Convent de la Cruz (so called from a cross erected there in commemoration of the conquest). General Miramon now occupied the former headquarters with a battery of eight guns, while the chief defence of the town was entrusted to the Mexican Castillo, an able general, but no longer young and almost entirely deaf.
The enemy’s next move was to cut off the city’s supplies, both of water and provisions, hoping to subdue it by starvation. The only water now obtainable was that of the Rio Blanco, while meat soon grew so scarce that many of the cavalry horses had to be sacrificed. Juarez himself joined the republican camp for a time, but, being unable to endure the smell of powder, soon returned to Potosi. On the fourteenth of March the Juarists made their first general attack on the town, assaults being made on three sides at once, under cover of the batteries. The main struggle, however, took place at La Cruz. After a hot fight they succeeded in capturing the Pantheon, but were afterward driven out by a body of Austrians. During the attack Maximilian remained in the great square before the convent, exposed to the hottest fire, yet quite calm and apparently unconscious of the deadly hail of bullets all about him. Once a shell burst only a few paces in front of him, but fortunately no one was injured, though an adjutant had his sword bent and his clothes burned by a flying splinter. Prince Salm, always conspicuous for bravery, made a brilliant sortie and succeeded in capturing the first guns from the enemy.
By evening the Juarists had been repulsed at all points and driven back, but the victory proved barren in results. Lopez, for some reason, took no part in the action, while Marquez either would not or did not know how to follow up the advantage he had gained. As for Miramon, he distinguished himself a few days later. It had been planned to surprise the Juarists early on the morning of the sixteenth, and Miramon was chosen to lead the attack, from which great things were hoped. But the whole scheme fell through because—that general overslept!—a neglect of duty difficult to understand in these days. When he did at last awake it was broad daylight, and all thought of a surprise had to be abandoned.
On the twenty-first of March another council was held and an important decision arrived at. This was to send one of the generals back to the city of Mexico with full authority from the Emperor to act as he thought best. He was to dismiss the present ministry and form a new one, to obtain more funds, and, in any case, to return with aid to Querétaro without delay. Marquez, for whom the place was getting much too warm by this time, had no difficulty in obtaining the appointment—a simple means of escaping the trap into which he had led his sovereign. Still trusting the traitor implicitly, Maximilian left it entirely to him whether to bring only a part of the troops from Mexico or the whole garrison. It was arranged that Marquez, with one thousand horsemen, was to make his way through the hills to the south, while Miramon, to divert the enemy’s attention, made a sortie in the opposite direction. The plan was kept so secret that even Miramon had no suspicion of the real purpose of his expedition. This time he did not oversleep but successfully surprised the enemy at four in the morning, returning with twenty-two carts full of provisions and war material, sixty oxen, and some two hundred sheep and goats. Meanwhile Marquez and his troopers had passed through the enemy’s lines unnoticed, leaving the imperialists the poorer by one thousand of their best men—no small loss to a garrison already so reduced.
The Juarists, now swelled by reinforcements to about forty thousand men, continued to harass the city by daily attacks from without, while their spies kept them accurately informed of all that passed within. The Emperor, unconscious of the treachery by which he was surrounded, still looked confidently for relief from Marquez. Days passed in ever-increasing suspense, while the situation of the besieged grew more and more critical. Marquez’ enemies began openly to hint at treachery, and at length even Maximilian lost faith. Now that it was too late his eyes were opened to the real nature of his “friend,” and, realizing that he had been betrayed, he determined to send Prince Salm on another mission to the capital—to arrest Marquez, if necessary, and return at once with reinforcements. An attempt was accordingly made on the twenty-second of April to break through the enemy’s lines, but the city was by this time so closely invested that it was found to be useless. Meanwhile the republicans, fearing that the Emperor with his whole force might succeed in escaping from the city, caused reports of Marquez’ approach to be circulated by their spies, while false despatches, purporting to arrive from the capital, were smuggled through the lines in order to soothe the imperialists with vain hopes.
But what of Marquez while all Querétaro watched so anxiously for his return? Where was he and what was he doing? He had arrived safely at the capital on the twenty-seventh of March with few losses, and, finding the city of Puebla hard pressed by the Juarist, Porfirio Diaz, determined to go to its relief. Though well aware of the urgency of the situation in Querétaro, and the need of haste in executing his mission, he seems to have troubled himself little concerning it, and to have taken no steps toward sending the promised aid. The relief of Puebla he did indeed undertake, but here as in Querétaro he made so many blunders that the attempt ended in utter failure and involved the needless sacrifice of many of Maximilian’s brave Austrians.
Meanwhile the situation in Querétaro remained about the same from week to week. Thanks to the reports spread by republican spies, relief was still looked for, while frequent skirmishes enlivened the monotony in which both Miramon and Mejia distinguished themselves. Nor were they altogether without results, for on the twenty-seventh of April Miramon routed twelve thousand of the besiegers, captured twenty-one guns, and took a large number of prisoners. Yet neither of these generals seemed able to utilize their advantages. Whenever a victory was won, precious moments were wasted in useless celebrations, in true Mexican fashion, leaving the enemy plenty of time to recover lost ground.
At length, however, the Emperor was forced to abandon all hope of Marquez’ return and as a last resort began seriously to consider the possibility of breaking through the enemy’s siege lines to the western plain whence they might be able to reach the mountains beyond. Once there they would be safe—for these were the native haunts of General Mejia, who knew every foot of the country and was certain to find support among the sturdy mountaineers—always a loyal race. Thither, too, the Juarists would be slow to follow. Being unwilling to leave the city without any military protection, Maximilian’s first step was to issue a call for volunteers, to which hundreds of the townsfolk responded and were enrolled as recruits by Mejia, to whom their organization was entrusted. Meanwhile Prince Salm selected a body-guard of picked men for the Emperor. The attempt was to be made early on the morning of the fourteenth of May,—the chief command of the expedition being intrusted to Colonel Lopez, a proof of Maximilian’s unbounded faith in this scoundrel. As to the sequence of events, Dr. Basch, who was an eye-witness, writes as follows:
“At eleven o’clock on the night of the thirteenth, a council of war was held at which it was decided to defer our departure till the following night. This was at Mejia’s request, the number of volunteers being so great he had been unable properly to arm or organize them in so short a time, and it was upon their help he largely depended for the success of the undertaking. Preparations had all been completed. We were ready for the march. Only such effects as could be carried with us on our horses were to be taken. The Emperor himself was very hopeful. ‘I am glad,’ he said to me on the afternoon of the fourteenth, ‘that the end has come at last and feel sure we shall succeed, partly because my good fortune has never yet failed me and also—call it superstition if you will—because to-morrow is my mother’s name day—which is a good omen.’
“The Emperor’s luggage was divided among the escort—members of his suite each taking a part of his papers among their effects. The contents of His Majesty’s privy purse were distributed between Salm, Lieutenant-colonel Pradillo, the Emperor’s secretary, Blasio, Colonel Campos, commander of the body-guard, myself, and Lopez, the latter of whom expressed dissatisfaction on being handed his share because it was in silver and small coin instead of gold like the rest.
“At ten o’clock that night another postponement was made till the fifteenth, this time at the request of General Mendez, for what reason I am unable to say. About eleven the Emperor held a conference with Lopez concerning some details of the plan, and, made wakeful by excitement, did not retire until one. At half-past two he had me wakened. I went at once to his room and found him suffering with an attack of dysentery—a disease which had been making havoc in both camps owing to bad food and the effects of the rainy season. I stayed with him nearly an hour till the pain was relieved, then returned to my own room and lay down with my clothes on. The convent was then wrapped in deep stillness; not a sound was to be heard. Just before five I was suddenly aroused by two men bursting into my room, one of whom I recognized as Lieutenant Jablonski. ‘Where is Prince Salm?’ they shouted, ‘he must be awakened!’ and with these words they rushed out again. I sprang up at once. Something unusual must have occurred to bring them to headquarters at that hour. Without stopping to think about it, however, I roused my servant, who was sleeping in the same room, ordered him to saddle my horse as quickly as possible, and hastened in quest of Salm, whom I found already up and dressed. I asked him what was the matter. ‘We are surprised,’ was his answer. ‘Make haste and tell Fürstenwärther to have the hussars mount without delay.’
“I had just delivered this message when the Emperor’s Mexican chamberlain, Severo, came and informed me that His Majesty wished to speak with me. Returning to his room, I found him already dressed. ‘I do not think it is anything serious,’ he declared with the utmost calmness, ‘but the enemy have forced their way into the courtyard. Get your pistol and follow me to the square.’
“Grill, the steward, afterward told me during our imprisonment that the Emperor did not lose his presence of mind for a moment. While he was dressing he had his sword placed by the door unsheathed, to be at hand in case of need. In obedience to His Majesty’s command I went to my room to buckle on my revolver and there my servant met me with the news that he had been stopped by a strange officer who had taken the saddle blankets from him. Having myself given the order for the hussars to mount, it was necessary for me to have my horse at once if I was to accompany the Emperor, so I told my servant to follow me and point out the officer who had prevented his obeying my orders. We met him in one of the passageways, wrapped in one of the blankets and carrying the other on his shoulder. As the Emperor had only spoken of the enemy as having entered the courtyard, I naturally supposed, meeting this man inside the convent, that he and the ten soldiers with him were our men and asked if he did not recognize me as the Emperor’s physician. He tried to evade me, pointing to a staircase leading to the roof of the convent, and saying, ‘Your blankets are up there.’
“Still in the dark as to the meaning of all this, and indignant at the unnecessary delay, I drew my revolver, whereupon the officer cried to the soldiers, ‘Desarme lo!’ (Disarm him!) I saw a row of bayonets pointed at me and heard the click of triggers and in a flash the whole thing was clear to me. Any attempt at resistance would have been madness, so, escorted by the officer and his squad, I mounted the steps to the convent roof, which to my amazement I found crowded with republican troops. ‘You are my prisoner!’ said the officer, now speaking for the first time. ‘So I see!’ was my angry rejoinder. My revolver was then taken away from me, and Perez, for such was the officer’s name, began to search my pockets with a dexterity that proved him no novice in the business. Naturally the well-filled money belt did not escape his deft fingers, nor my watch which I had with me, and this unexpected booty caused him to treat me with more favor. In spite of the danger of the situation, I could not refrain from drawing out my surgical case, which had been overlooked, and, offering it to Perez, inquiring whether he would not like that also. This voluntary gift, however, he did not accept nor did he take my note-book. There being no bank notes in Mexico, paper naturally did not interest him as much as coin or valuables, and my papers were left undisturbed in my pocket. I was then taken to the tower where the Emperor had so often exposed himself to the enemy’s fire, and placed under the guard of two men.”
So much for the physician’s experiences on that eventful night. Meanwhile, after telling Dr. Basch to get his pistol and follow him, Maximilian, accompanied by Prince Salm, General Castillo, Lieutenant-colonel Pradillo, and Secretary Blasio, went out into the courtyard. At the gates they found one of the enemy’s guards stationed, and standing near by were Colonel Lopez and Colonel José Rincon Gallardo. The latter, to whom the Emperor was well known, said to the guard: “Let them pass, they are civilians,” and Maximilian and his companions walked out unmolested. From La Cruz they made their way to Miramon’s headquarters on the Cerro de la Campaña, several other officers joining them on the way. The lines everywhere were already in the possession of the enemy and even the small body of cavalry they found assembled at the foot of the hill soon melted away, going over to the enemy little by little as their fears overcame them. Turning to Mejia, the Emperor asked if there was no possibility of breaking through with a few faithful followers, but Mejia sadly replied in the negative, saying any such attempt would be useless. Resigning himself to his fate, therefore, Maximilian ordered the white flag hoisted and a few moments later surrendered his sword to a republican officer who galloped up. The Emperor was a prisoner.
That afternoon at four o’clock Escobedo sent the following telegram to the Juarist minister of war in Potosi:
“At three o’clock this morning our troops captured the convent La Cruz. The garrison were taken prisoners, part of the enemy’s troops having retreated to Cerro de la Campaña in great disorder and under fire from our artillery. About eight this morning Maximilian with his generals Mejia and Castillo surrendered at discretion. I beg to offer the President my congratulations on this great triumph of the national arms.
Mariano Escobedo.”
A mighty triumph, indeed, for fifty thousand men to conquer a garrison of five thousand, exhausted by famine and disease, and that only by an act of treachery!
As to the manner and conditions of Lopez’ betrayal, accounts vary. He is said to have been promised as much as ten thousand piastres by Escobedo. His accomplice in the plot was a certain Anton Jablonski, but the whole affair was managed with such adroitness that not one of the Emperor’s friends had a suspicion of it. Lopez afterward published an emphatic denial of the accusation, which was supported by Escobedo and in which he had the audacity to appeal to Prince Salm for confirmation. The latter’s reply, written during his imprisonment and after Maximilian’s death, leaves nothing to be desired in the way of plain speaking. It runs in part as follows:
“To Miguel Lopez, former imperial Mexican colonel and author of the article entitled ‘The Capture of Querétaro’:
“In this defence, addressed by you to your countrymen, to France, and to the world at large, you appeal to me as witness that Querétaro did not fall by treachery and maintain that your statements bear the stamp of perfect truth. Although I, as you know, have been a prisoner of war for five months, my sense of justice will no longer allow me to be silent, for I can prove their utter falsity. You publicly declare that Querétaro was captured by force of arms; that the Emperor commissioned you on the night of the fourteenth of May to negotiate with the enemy, his troops being completely demoralized and all hope of escape abandoned; and you dare any who maintain that Querétaro fell by treachery to appear and dispute your assertions. I accept your challenge, therefore, and before the world proclaim you a traitor with the blood of your former sovereign and benefactor on your hands. It is not true that the Emperor commissioned you to negotiate with the enemy. I had the honor of conversing with His Majesty that night, after you had left him, and he had not then or at any other time the faintest idea of treating with the republicans. If his army was small, it was still brave and loyal enough to have fought a way out through the enemy’s lines for its beloved sovereign, to whose character, as you well know, such a course as you describe would have been utterly foreign. This being the case, permit me, Senor Lopez, to ask you a few questions before the world.
“Why, if you had been ordered to enter the enemy’s lines, did you return about two o’clock with a republican officer of high rank and bring him into La Cruz, the Emperor’s headquarters? Why did you, contrary to the Emperor’s wishes, and without my knowledge, order the Hungarian hussars to unsaddle, when I had already given them the Emperor’s commands to remain saddled all night? Why, at such a dangerous time, did you remove from the Emperor’s headquarters the guard upon whom the safety of La Cruz depended? Why were the eight guns which stood on the square in front of the convent turned with their muzzles toward the city? Why, at two o’clock in the morning, did you take this republican general, dressed as a civilian and armed with a revolver, all through our fortifications? Why did you leave our lines before four o’clock that morning, still with this same officer, and return in a quarter of an hour at the head of two of the enemy’s battalions and lead them into the inner court of La Cruz, where you were met by your accomplice, Lieutenant Jablonski? How did it happen that you and Jablonski, both supposedly prisoners, should have informed the Emperor of the enemy’s presence in La Cruz? How do you explain the fact that when His Majesty, with General Castillo and myself, were about to leave the convent, then already surrounded by the enemy, we were allowed at a word from you to pass as civilians, although the Emperor must have been already recognized and General Castillo and I were in full uniform? How was it that after our capture some of the republican officers named you as the traitor? How did it happen that you, a prisoner, were always at liberty? And, finally, how were you able to possess yourself of the imperial papers and various articles belonging to His Majesty, such as his silver toilet service, which, by the way, have never appeared again?
“To all of this, Señor Miguel Lopez, you cannot honestly and honorably reply; the facts speak for themselves and proclaim you both traitor and murderer. Why did you betray your Emperor and benefactor? Because, in the first place, you wished to be revenged on him for withholding from you the General’s commission which he had already signed. In case you should not know his reason for this, then learn now that it was because a brave man, whose blood is also on your hands and whose name I will not mention, lest you take revenge on those he has left behind, had presented to His Majesty a private document dismissing you from the army for infamous conduct during Santa Anna’s presidency and forbidding your ever holding a government office again.
“And, secondly, Señor Lopez, you were moved by fear. Seeing that something decisive must soon occur and fearing, in case of our defeat, for your future and for your life, you hoped by this shameful treachery to clear your past account with the republicans, as indeed you did. Your third attempt at treason failed, for a short time after the Emperor had been made prisoner, finding your hopes disappointed, you sent a person known to us both to him with offers to betray your new confederates. In my presence this person attempted to pave the way for you to approach the Emperor, overtures that were naturally rejected with contempt. A man may choose his own course in life, but he must be true to his principles. You have not only been false to yours but have also committed the most infamous of all crimes—that of treason—and broken the oath you took to the imperial cause. The name of Miguel Lopez may become famous, no doubt, but it will never be mentioned in the annals of Mexico or of the world save with deepest abhorrence and contempt.”
After Maximilian had surrendered his sword to the republican commander on the Cerro de la Campaña he was taken back to his old quarters at the convent, his physician and two attendants, Grill and Severo, being allowed to join him later.
“It was with a heavy heart,” writes Dr. Basch, “that I approached the Emperor’s door, before which a guard was posted. I opened it and paused a moment on the threshold to compose myself, but His Majesty came up at once and embraced me, weeping. Quickly controlling himself, however, he pressed my hand and turned away, sighing deeply. A mournful silence followed. Now for the first time I perceived that Salm, Blasio, Pachta, and Pradillo were also in the room. For a time the Emperor paced up and down, lost in thought, but at last he spoke, this time more calmly.
“‘I am glad,’ he said, ‘that it all happened without more bloodshed. That much at least has been accomplished. I feared for you all.’
“Although he had been so ill the night before, excitement had sustained him during the events that had since occurred. Now, however, the attack returned and he was forced to go to bed suffering greatly. Having, in our present situation, no remedies at hand to relieve his distress, I was greatly surprised when the Emperor produced a small box of pills which I had given him the night before. ‘You see,’ he declared, ‘how important it is not to lose one’s presence of mind. This morning when we were surprised I remembered to put this in my pocket.’”
Maximilian’s room had been completely rifled during his absence. Personal effects, books, clothing, and documents all had disappeared, having been appropriated by Lopez as souvenirs of his former benefactor. During the forenoon the Emperor was visited by several of the republican officers, among whom was Colonel José Gallardo, who had permitted him to leave La Cruz the preceding night—a mistaken kindness, as it proved, for Maximilian, in consequence, had been arrested in arms and thereby made himself liable to that fatal decree of October third, which he had tried to revoke on his way to Orizaba.
Most of the imperial generals who had remained loyal were confined in a room adjoining the Emperor’s. Mendez remained in hiding, but, his plan of concealment being betrayed a few days later, he was taken out and shot. Miramon had been shot in the face with a revolver by one of his own adjutants while attempting to rally his troops on the Cerro, the morning of the surrender, and was at his own quarters. The prisoners were treated with scant consideration. A rich merchant of the town supplied Maximilian’s table, with the remains from which his companions were obliged to content themselves. The Emperor soon grew so much worse that his physician became alarmed and asked that one of the republican army surgeons might be called in. Dr. Riva de Nejra was sent to visit the august prisoner and advised a change of residence, declaring the present one most unfit in his condition of health.
On the morning of the seventeenth, therefore, Maximilian was taken to the former convent, Santa Teresa, in a carriage, guarded by a troop of cavalry, his companions being forced to walk. As they passed through the city, the streets were deserted, the inhabitants considerately retiring into their houses, the windows of which even were closed. Not a soul was to be seen anywhere. The new quarters of the prisoners consisted of two large rooms, absolutely bare and empty. After some trouble a bed and chairs were procured for the Emperor’s use, while the others were left to make themselves comfortable on the floor of the adjoining apartment. Fortunately they managed to obtain some saddle blankets to sleep on and the Emperor sent out and bought coverings, combs, brushes, and soap.
“These republicans,” says Dr. Basch, “seem convinced they are treating us with the greatest care and magnanimity, their idea of humanity being apparently to permit us to breathe. Unless we can wait on ourselves we must go hungry and dirty.”
In spite of these hardships, however, the change made a perceptible improvement in Maximilian’s health, and his painful symptoms gradually disappeared. Juarez’ delay in taking any action in regard to the fate of the prisoners encouraged the Emperor’s friends to expect a favorable outcome of the affair—a hope that was rudely dispelled, however, when the Princess Salm arrived at Querétaro on the twentieth of May and revealed to her husband the danger in which Maximilian really stood. It was apparent even to the republicans that Juarez was determined to have his life. The Princess made the most heroic efforts to save him, shrinking from no dangers and no exertion in his behalf, but all in vain. The Emperor’s guard was not always strictly kept, and had not treachery lurked at every turn, his escape might have been effected. Such an attempt was finally made, indeed, but it was then too late.
On the twenty-second of May Maximilian was again transferred, this time to the Capuchin monastery, with Prince Salm and Generals Mejia and Miramon. The other officers, Dr. Basch, and the Emperor’s servants were left behind, expecting to follow shortly. As hour after hour passed, however, and no one came, feeling that anything was possible in this barbarous country, they were seized with the fear that Maximilian and his companions might have been already shot without any warning. At last, however, an officer appeared, about eight o’clock in the evening, with the long-looked-for orders.
“The first person I saw in the monastery,” relates Dr. Basch, “was Salm. ‘Where is the Emperor?’ I asked.
“‘His Majesty is in the crypt,’ he replied, but quickly added, seeing my horror at these words, ‘Calm yourself, he is alive, but really in the crypt. I will take you to him.’
“As the door was opened a rush of cold air greeted me, rank with dampness and decay. In the far corner of a huge vault, the burial-place of the monastery, was a bed, and on it lay the Emperor reading Cæsar. A small table beside him held a lighted candle. ‘They have not had time to prepare a room for me,’ he remarked, smiling quietly, ‘so I am obliged temporarily to take up my abode with the dead.’ I spent that night in the crypt alone with the Emperor, making my bed on a large slab apparently used as a bier, but after the hours of anxiety I had endured that afternoon, I had no trouble in sleeping even amid those surroundings.”
Bitter as Juarez was against Maximilian, he was not in Querétaro at this time, but at Potosi, and therefore cannot be held responsible for the atrocious treatment accorded the unfortunate Emperor, whose calm and cheerful acceptance of these indignities cannot but rouse the deepest admiration.
The next day he was taken from the crypt and lodged in a dark narrow cell, similar to those assigned his companions in misfortune, all opening on a small court so that the prisoners could be easily guarded. It soon became evident that there was no hope of any compromise in the Emperor’s case. Juarez insisted that it should be decided by a Mexican court-martial—the outcome of which was a foregone conclusion. Maximilian’s death had already been determined upon and any trial would be merely a pretext to throw dust in the eyes of the world.
Princess Salm, with the aid of a German merchant, named Stephen, and the vice-consul from Hamburg, made another attempt at rescue, which might have proved successful had not Maximilian refused to go without Miramon and Mejia, who were to be tried with him. Miramon appears to have revealed the plan to his wife, who, in turn, betrayed it to the enemy, so it resulted in only stricter measures. All the prisoners were removed from the Capuchin monastery with the exception of Maximilian and his two generals, over whom a much stronger guard was placed.
On the twelfth of June, 1867, General Escobedo issued an order arraigning Ferdinand Maximilian, Archduke of Austria, and his confederates, the “so-called” generals, Don Miguel Miramon and Don Tomas Mejia, before a court-martial to answer for crimes against the nation and against law and order. The charges against Maximilian were thirteen in number, an absurd and incongruous medley, the chief of which were that he had broken his personal guarantees; that he had served as an instrument of the French; and that he had assumed the position of a usurper and authorized atrocities of every description, such as the decree of October 3, 1865.
The trial opened at eight o’clock on the morning of June thirteenth in the Iturbide theatre, the interior of which was brilliantly illuminated, the galleries filled with spectators, all of whom displayed the deepest interest in the proceedings. At the right sat the judges, consisting of a lieutenant-colonel and six captains, all very young and selected with little or no regard for the important questions involved. Opposite them were placed the benches for the accused and their advocates, Generals Mejia and Miramon arriving at the theatre about nine in a carriage under a strong guard.
The president opened the session, and the attorney for the government, Manuel Aspiroz, read the charges, together with the Emperor’s protest against this form of trial and the legality of all steps taken against his person under the law of January 25, 1862, which was intended for native rebels and not applicable to him as a foreigner. Lastly, medical evidence in regard to the Emperor’s condition of health was produced, with a petition for more healthful accommodations.
General Mejia was first summoned to answer before this tribunal, and his advocate, Vega, made a brilliant speech in his defence, dwelling on his bravery and loyalty as well as the distinguished services he had rendered to his native land. Miramon’s attorneys, Jauregui and Moreno, employed the same line of argument.
Maximilian did not appear in person before the court. He was defended by two of the foremost lawyers in Mexico, Vazquez and Ortega, both distinguished for learning and eloquence. They directed their main arguments against the competency of such a court for the case. Maximilian was not a usurper, as charged, declared Vazquez, for he had come by invitation of a representative council, confirmed by popular vote. He had refused, in fact, to accept the crown until such vote had been assured. Whether this had been given fraudulently, he, as a foreigner on the other side of the ocean, had no means of discovering, nor had he any reason to regard himself as other than a legitimate sovereign—the ovation accorded him on his arrival naturally tending to strengthen him in this conviction. He had brought no troops but came peaceably, accompanied only by his household. Neither had he served as a tool for the French, for from the very first he had striven against their interference; the constant friction between him and the French commanders having finally led to the withdrawal of the French troops.
Ortega protested vigorously against the imputation of Maximilian’s cruelty. The severe decree of October 3, 1865, was issued on the advice of his ministry and in the belief that Juarez had abandoned Mexican territory. Its object had been chiefly to intimidate, for no man ever sued in vain for mercy from Maximilian, whose clemency and magnanimity were well known. He concluded with an appeal to the honor and sympathy of the republicans, urging them not to abuse their victory and stain their laurels with a bloody and useless execution.
But his defenders’ brilliant eloquence was powerless to save Maximilian. His sentence had been fixed long since. The whole trial was the merest farce, a spectacle prepared by Juarez and his friends. It was most fitting that a theatre should have been chosen for its performance!
The public session of the court ended on the fourteenth of June. At eleven o’clock that night the Emperor Maximilian and his two generals were unanimously pronounced guilty and condemned to be shot, Escobedo confirming the sentence on the sixteenth and ordering the execution to take place that afternoon at three o’clock.
Mexico was now completely in the hands of the Juarists, with the exception of Vera Cruz and the capital, where Marquez was playing a singular game and needlessly sacrificing the Emperor’s brave Austrians. With the downfall of the imperial cause, however, this scoundrel passes out of our history. Once, during his imprisonment, Maximilian said to his physician: “If both Marquez and Lopez were given to me to deal with as I chose, I would free the coward Lopez, but Marquez, the cold-blooded and deliberate traitor, I would hang.”