Part 18

Bustamente did not long enjoy his repose. Santa Anna _pronounced_ again in favor of his former opponent, Pedraza, who, in the opinion of many, had never stopped being President. But early in 1833 our Mexican Warwick, yielding to popular pressure, consented to be President himself. He now left the radical party and, like many another reformer in office, became conservative and joined the Centralists. He was a favorite with the army, who after a time made him Dictator, in spite of the distrust of the nation, who believed that he aimed at imperial dignities.

The Vice-President at this time was Valentin Gomez Farías, whose merits deserve notice. He was a native of Guadalajara, born in February, 1781. He studied medicine, and made good advances in the scientific discoveries of his time. He was appointed to the Cortés of Spain; but organized instead a battalion in aid of Hidalgo in the cause of independence, sacrificing to it his career and his personal fortune. He was elected deputy to the Congress of Morelos, and afterwards made governor of the state of Zacatecas. In 1833 he was chosen Vice-President, and, events afterwards bringing him to occupy the first place in the government, he displayed great capacity for business and the cares of office, repressing pronunciamentos, unmasking intrigues, and preserving always an honorable reputation. Forced to abandon the presidency, he escaped to the United States to avoid assassination, selling his ample library to raise funds, thus leaving Santa Anna in full possession of the field. The Federal Constitution was done away with, state legislatures abolished, and the governors of the states became dependent upon central power.

The insurrection in Texas now broke out into open rebellion. Santa Anna took the field in person, reaching the Rio Grande del Norte with an army of six thousand men in February, 1836. He at first was successful, but after one or two triumphs his army was completely routed, and he himself made prisoner by the Texan army under Houston. Santa Anna was taken to the United States by his conquerors. During his captivity he made a treaty with the Texans, which amounted to nothing at all, as his functions were suspended by the Mexican government. The next year he was set at liberty and returned to his native country. He was coldly received, and at the presidential election that year received only two electoral votes out of sixty-nine.

He again retired to his estate near Jalapa, twenty-seven miles from Vera Cruz; and, we may suppose, contemplated with content a period of repose after action, and an opportunity to renew the acquaintance of his family, from which a life of such variety had separated him.

XXIX.

STILL SANTA ANNA.

The Bourbons had regained possession of the government of France, and Louis Philippe, under the title of King of the French, was upon the throne. He was the head of the younger branch of the Bourbons, Duke of Orleans. Military glory was a requisite to his security upon the throne; among other enterprises the government sent an expedition to Mexico to settle by force a long-pending discussion of demands due them since their civil wars, as damages incurred by French citizens. One of the items of this claim was sixty thousand dollars demanded by a French cook for pastry stolen from him by revolutionists. The claim received the name of the _reclamacion de los pasteles_, a claim for pie. It was denied _in toto_ by the Mexican government. The French squadron, commanded by the Prince de Joinville, captured the fortress of San Juan de Ulóa, and occupied Vera Cruz on the 5th of December.

Out came Santa Anna and offered his services, and taking command after the fall of the castle, he repelled the French from the city and forced them to return to their ships. In this encounter he received a wound in the leg, which made it necessary to amputate it, and afterwards he always wore a wooden leg. Mexico in the end consented to make a treaty of peace by paying the sum demanded,--and the French fleet sailed away.

Madame Calderon describes the home of Santa Anna at Manga la Clava, twenty-seven miles from Vera Cruz, approached through a wilderness of trees and flowers, the growth of the _tierra caliente_, and passing over leagues of natural garden, the property of Santa Anna.

The house was pretty and in nice order. General Santa Anna was a gentlemanly, good-looking, quietly dressed, rather melancholy-looking person, with a wooden leg. Knowing nothing of his past history, he might have been thought a philosopher, living in dignified retirement, one who had tried the world and found it all vanity, one who had suffered ingratitude, and who, if he were ever persuaded to emerge from his retreat, would only do so, like Cincinnatus, for the benefit of his country.

It was only now and then in conversation that the expression of his eye was startling, especially when he spoke of his leg, which was cut off below the knee. He gave an account of the wound, and in alluding to the French his countenance assumed an alarming appearance of bitterness.

In 1837 Bustamente was recalled. On the succession of Pedraza to the presidency, he had been banished, and went away to pursue his medical studies in France; for he, like Farías, had received a diploma as doctor of medicine, and had been the family physician of the viceroy Calleja. He returned to Mexico on the outbreak of the Texan revolution, was made President, and filled the office with dignity and respectability, whenever he was allowed to, by his untiring enemy, or rival, Santa Anna, who, however, was sometimes on his side. In 1840 there was trouble again, with Santa Anna at the head of the government forces. Against him was arrayed General Mejia, a Mexican known for his valor, which amounted to rashness. He was a rival and personal enemy to Santa Anna, and the struggle between them was a duel _à la mort_. Fate was against Mejia and he perished. Taken prisoner on the field of battle at the hacienda La Blanca, he was shot. It is said that, being informed of the sentence of death passed upon him, he asked when he was to be shot.

"In three hours," answered the official.

"If Santa Anna had fallen into my power, I should have given him only three minutes," was his reply.

There have been other generals of the same name and family who have shown equal bravery in death.

In September, 1841, occurred another brief revolution, so fully described by Madame Calderon, that it may serve as a specimen. She says:

"This revolution is like a game of chess, in which kings, castles, knights, and bishops are making different moves, while the pawns are looking on and taking no part whatever.

"To understand the state of the board, it is necessary to explain the position of the four principal pieces,--Santa Anna, Bustamente, Paredes, and Valencia. The first move was made by Paredes, who published his 'Plan,' and _pronounced_ on the 8th of August, at Guadalajara. Shortly after a newspaper of Vera Cruz, entirely devoted to Santa Anna, _pronounced_ in favor of the 'Plan' of Paredes, and Santa Anna, with a few miserable troops, and a handful of cavalry, arrived at Perote. Here he remains for the present, kept in check by the government forces. Meanwhile Paredes, with about six hundred men, left Guadalajara and marched upon Guanajuato, and there a blow was given to the government party through the defection of General Cortazar, who thought fit thus to show his grateful sense of having just received the rank of general of brigade, with the insignia of this new grade, which the President put on with his own hands. Another check to the President. Once begun, defection spread rapidly, and Paredes and Cortazar, having advanced upon Querétaro, found that the General there had _pronounced_ just at the moment he was expected in Mexico to assist the government.

"Meanwhile General Valencia, pressed to declare his 'Plan,' has replied that he awaits the announcement of the intention of the Generals Paredes and Santa Anna, and for his own part he only desires the dismissal of Bustamente.

"This, then, is the position of the three pronounced chiefs, on this second day of September of the year of our Lord, 1841: Santa Anna in Perote, hesitating whether to advance or retreat, and in fact prevented from doing either; Paredes in Querétaro, with the other revolted generals; Valencia in the citadel of Mexico with his _pronunciados_; while Bustamente, the mark against which all these hostile operations are directed, is determined, it is said, to fight to the last.

"Mexico looks as if it had got a general holiday. Shops shut up and all business at a stand. The people with the utmost apathy are collected in groups talking quietly; officers are galloping about, generals in a somewhat party-colored dress, with large gray hats (sombreros), striped pantaloons, old coats, and generals' belts, fine horses, and crimson velvet saddles. The shopkeepers in the square have been removing their goods and money. An occasional shot is heard, sometimes a volley, followed by a dead silence. The archbishop shows his reverend face now and then upon the balcony of his palace, looks out a little while, and then retires. The chief effect so far is universal idleness for man and beast, the soldiers and their quadrupeds excepted.

"It is said that the Federalists are very much elated, hoping for the eventual triumph of their party in consequence of a proclamation by Valencia which appeared two days ago. Since then the revolution has taken the name of liberal and is supported by men of name, the Pedrazas, Belderas, Riva Palacio, which is of great importance to Valencia. Besides this it is said that certain rich bankers, on the side of the _pronunciados_ are constantly supplying the citadel with cart-loads of copper.

"The conduct of the people is a constant source of surprise. Left entirely uncurbed, no one to direct them, thousands out of employment, many without bread, they do not complain, and scarcely seem to feel any interest in the result. How easily might such a people be directed for their good! It is said that all their apathetic sympathies are in favor of Bustamente."

Several days later she describes the army of the _pronunciados_ on their way to the capital: "The infantry, it must be confessed, was in a ragged and rather drunken condition; the cavalry, better clad, have borrowed fresh horses as they went along, which, with their high saddles, bronzed faces, and picturesque attire, had a fine effect as they passed along under the burning sun. The sick followed on asses, and amongst them various masculine women, with _serapes_ and large straw hats, tied down with colored handkerchiefs, mounted on mules or horses. The sumpter-mules followed, carrying provisions, camp-beds, etc., and Indian women trotted on foot in the rear, carrying their husbands' boots and clothes. The game is nearly up now. Check from two knights and a castle--Santa Anna and Paredes in Tacubaya, and Valencia in the citadel.

"The end of this, after some little firing on both sides, was a capitulation. Bustamente renounced the presidency, and Santa Anna was triumphant. He made his solemn entry into the capital, with the Generals Valencia and Canalizo at the head of the forces. Not a solitary viva was heard as they passed along the streets, nor afterwards, during his speech in Congress. Immediately after the ceremony Santa Anna retired to the archbishop's palace, in Tacubaya, in a splendid coach, drawn by four beautiful white horses, a retinue of other carriages, brilliant aides-de-camp, and an immense escort of cavalry.

"Thus ended the revolution of 1841: but no one felt that its results were going to be permanent.

"On the 4th of November a great _function_ was given in the opera of the capital in honor of his Excellency. The theatre was brilliantly illuminated with wax lights. Two principal boxes were thrown into one for the President and his suite, and lined with crimson and gold, with draperies of the same. The staircase leading to the box was lighted by rows of footmen all the way up, in crimson and gold livery. A crowd of gentlemen stood waiting in the lobby for the arrival of the hero of the fête. He came at last, in regal state, carriages and outriders at full gallop, himself, staff, and suite in splendid uniforms. As he entered, the libretto of the opera was presented to him, bound in red and gold. His expression was resigned and rather melancholy, his manner grave but agreeable; surrounded by pompous officers, he alone looked quiet, gentlemanly, and high-bred.

"The theatre was crowded to suffocation--boxes, pit, and galleries. There was no applause as he entered. One solitary voice in the pit said: 'Viva Santa Anna!' but it seemed checked by a slight movement of disapprobation, scarcely amounting to a murmur.

"The generals, in their scarlet and gold uniforms, sat, like peacocks, surrounding Santa Anna, who looked modest and retiring, as if quite unaccustomed to public gaze."

General Bustamente, as usual, resigned his power to Santa Anna without further struggle, and withdrew to Europe, where he remained several years. After the fall of Santa Anna in 1845, he returned to his country, establishing his residence in the interior. He died a natural death in San Miguel de Allende in 1853.

We will leave Santa Anna in his opera-box, surrounded by brilliant officers and fair ladies sparkling with diamonds until the time comes to take up his story again.

XXX.

SOCIETY.

A clear picture of the state of society in Mexico, at this period is given in the journal, before quoted, of Madame Calderon de la Barca, published without her name in 1843, with a preface by Prescott, the historian.

For some time after the violent separation of the colony from the mother country, Spain made no effort to recognize her truant, grown-up Mexico. It was not until 1839 that its independence was finally acknowledged, and its right to be regarded as a friendly state, by Spain. In that year Señor Don Calderon de la Barca was sent by Ferdinand VII. as accredited Ambassador to the Republic of Mexico where Bustamente was then President. The occasion was hailed with satisfaction by all parties as a signal of peace between the two countries; the remaining Mexicans of Spanish blood especially hailed the arrival of such an agreeable accession to society as Madame Calderon, a very accomplished woman, whose lively letters, not at all intended for publication, give an account of Mexican scenery and manners, useful to help us in our knowledge of them at that time, a sort of interregnum between the old Spanish influences and the present full-fledged condition of the Republic. Civil war had already much disturbed the old Spanish landmarks, but much remained of the customs of provincial society, especially among the higher class in the capital. Balls, receptions, the opera, were kept up with something of the splendor of viceregal days, their revival stimulated by this fresh arrival from a European court.

Madame Calderon loved to wander under the cypresses of Chapultepec. In her day the viceregal apartments were lonely and abandoned, for the governor, in whose hands they then were, did not care to live there. The walls were falling to ruin, the glass of the windows and the carved work of the doors had been sold, so that the interior was exposed to every wind that blew around the lofty height.

She describes the gayety of the Paséo, a long, broad avenue planted with trees, with a large stone fountain, whose sparkling waters were cool and pleasant, ornamented by a gilt statue of Victory. Here, every evening, but more especially Sundays and fête days, were to be seen two long rows of carriages filled with ladies, crowds of gentlemen on horseback riding down the middle between them, soldiers at intervals keeping order, and multitudes of common people and beggars on foot. The carriages were for the most part extremely handsome--European coaches with fine horses and odd liveries, others in the old Mexican fashion, heavy and covered with gilding. Hackney-coaches drawn by mules were seen among the finer equipages. Most families had both horses and mules in their stables, the latter animal requiring less care than a horse, and capable of enduring more fatigue. _Carratelas_, open at the sides, with glass windows, were filled with ladies in full toilet, without mantillas, their heads uncovered and generally _coiffées_ with flowers as jewels. Equestrians, on fine horses and handsome Mexican asses, passed and repassed the carriages without stopping for conversation. Her favorite promenade was the Viga, where, as in Montezuma's time and long before, in Humboldt's, in our own, the Indians, early in the morning, brought flowers and vegetables to market by the canal. There was profusion of sweet peas, double poppies, blue-bottles, stock gilly-flowers and roses. Each Indian woman in her _canoa_ looked as if seated in a floating flower-garden, crowned with garlands of roses or poppies. "Those who sit in the market," she says, "selling their fruit or vegetables, appear as if in bowers formed of fresh green branches and many-colored flowers. In the poorest village church the floor is strewed with flowers, and with flowers are adorned the baby at its christening, the bride at the altar, the dead body upon the bier."

In answer to questions about the society women of Mexico, Madame Calderon writes: "I must put aside exceptions, which are always rising up before me, and write _en masse_. Generally speaking, the Mexican señoras and señoritas write, read, and play a little; sew, and take care of their houses and children. When I say they read, I mean they know how to read; when I say they write, I do not mean that they can always spell, and when I say they play, I do not assert that they have a general knowledge of music. The climate inclines every one to indolence, both physical and moral. One cannot pore over a book when the blue sky is constantly smiling in at the open windows." She says that there are no women in the world more affectionate in their manners than the Mexicans, and that they invariably make excellent wives, if they are settled at home with their husbands.

Madame Calderon describes the appearance of the Plaza on Good-Friday:

"The most beautiful and original scene was presented towards sunset in the great square, and it is doubtful whether any other city in the world could present a _coup d'oeil_ of equal brilliancy. The Plaza itself, even on ordinary days, is a noble square, and but for its one fault, a row of shops called the Parian, which breaks its uniformity, would be nearly unrivalled. Every object is interesting. The eye wanders from the Cathedral to the house of Cortés (the Monte de Piedad), and from thence to a range of fine buildings, with lofty arcades to the west. From a balcony we could see all the different streets that branch out from the square covered with gay crowds pouring in that direction to see a great procession which was expected to pass in front of the palace. Booths, filled with refreshments and covered with green branches and garlands of flowers, were to be seen in all directions, surrounded by a crowd quenching their thirst with orgeat, lemonade, or pulque. The whole square, from the Cathedral to the _portales_, was covered with thousands and tens of thousands of figures, all in their gayest dresses, and as the sun poured his rays down upon their gaudy colors, they looked like armies of living tulips. Here was to be seen a group of ladies, some with black gowns and mantillas, others, now that their church-going duty was over, equipped in velvet or satin, with their hair dressed--and beautiful hair they have; some leading their children by the hand, dressed--alas, how they were dressed! Long, velvet gowns trimmed with blonde, diamond ear-rings, high French caps befurbelowed with lace and flowers, or turbans with plumes of feathers. Now and then, the head of a little thing that could hardly waddle alone, might have belonged to an English dowager-duchess in her opera-box. Some had extraordinary bonnets, and as they toddled along, top-heavy, one would have thought they were little old women, without a glimpse caught of their lovely little brown faces and blue eyes. The children here are very beautiful; they have little color, with swimming black or hazel eyes, and long lashes resting on the clear pale cheek, and a mass of fine dark hair plaited down behind.

"As a contrast to the señoras, with their over-dressed beauties, were the poor Indian women, trotting across the square, their black hair plaited with dirty red ribbon, a piece of woollen cloth wrapped round them, and a little mahogany baby hanging behind, its face upturned to the sky, and its head jerking along, somehow, without its neck being dislocated. The most resigned expression on earth is that of an Indian baby. All these groups are collected by hundreds, the women of the shop-keeper class in their small white embroidered gowns, with white satin shoes and neat feet and ankles, _rebozos_, or bright shawls, thrown over their heads; the peasants and countrywomen, with short petticoats of two colors, generally scarlet and yellow, thin satin shoes and lace-trimmed chemises, or bronze-colored damsels, all crowned with flowers, strolling along, tingling light guitars.

"Add to this motley crowd, men dressed _à la Mexicaine_, with large ornamented hats and _serapes_, or embroidered jackets, sauntering along, smoking their cigars; _léperos_, in rags, Indians in blankets, officers in uniform, priests in their shovel hats, monks of every order; Frenchmen exercising their wit upon the passers-by; Englishmen looking on, cold and philosophical; Germans gazing through their spectacles, mild and mystical; Spaniards, seeming pretty much at home, abstaining from remarks; and it may be conceived that the scene, at least, presents variety.

"Suddenly the tinkling of a bell announces the approach of _Nuestro Amo_ (the Host). Instantly the whole crowd are on their knees, crossing themselves devoutly. Disputes are hushed, flirtations arrested, and to the busy hum of voices succeeds a profound silence, filled only by the rolling of coach-wheels and the sound of the little bell."

This scene is almost the same to-day in the public square on Good-Friday. The costumes of the higher class have now surrendered to conventional Paris models, but there is a tendency to gaudiness and display, defying fashion, which makes a Mexican crowd bright with variegated color.

Madame Calderon's accounts of the unsettled state of the country are comforting, as showing the immense advance in this respect, in the forty years since she was in Mexico.

Describing an hacienda not far from the capital, she says: "It is under the charge of an _administrador_, who receives from its owner a large annual sum, and whose place is by no means a sinecure, as he lives in perpetual danger from robbers. He is captain of a troop of soldiers, and as his life has been spent in persecuting robbers, he is an object of intense hatred to that free and independent body. He gave us a terrible account of night attacks from these men and of his ineffectual attempts to bring them to justice. He lately told the President that he thought of joining the robbers himself, as they were the only persons in the Republic protected by government."