XLI.
THE LAST OF SANTA ANNA.
On the 15th of July, Juarez made a solemn entry into the capital. Many good citizens of Mexico, who had watched gloomily the whole episode of the French intervention, now emerged to light and rejoiced conspicuously in the return of their legitimate chief. Juarez, all this time, had never relinquished his title of President, but wherever he found himself had kept up the state due to the office, and retained his Cabinet. He was received with genuine acclamations by the populace, while high society remained within doors, curtains close-drawn, except that the women took pride in showing their deep mourning for the death of the Emperor. The reign of French fashions and frivolity was over when the troops of Bazaine marched from the town. There are still lurking in the capital descendants of French pastry-cooks and barbers, who shake their heads mournfully over the good old days, all too brief, of the imperial court. A French flavor still lingers about the capital; it is welcome in the excellent cuisine of the Café Anglais, and is evident in the handiwork of certain Parisian modistes.
Peace now came back to the country. A general election established Juarez as President, and order and progress once more consented to test the good resolutions of the Republic. The first days of the new era were tranquil, and all went well, in spite of the restlessness of generals of the liberals themselves, who could ill bear to forego their inherent tendency to disputing and wrangling. Above all, Santa Anna was still alive, and it was not to be hoped that he would hold himself aloof from a share in the prosperity of the nation.
He had retired to the Island of St. Thomas, and was growing old. Yet he watched from afar every turn of affairs in Mexico. No sooner had Maximilian landed at Vera Cruz, than he received a letter of congratulation from Santa Anna, expressing his entire approval of the French scheme, and his wish to further it. He even came to Vera Cruz to lend his services to the Emperor, but as no notice whatever was taken of these overtures, he became indignant and withdrew his countenance from the new government. He went to New York, and fixed his residence in Elizabethport, New Jersey, where he published manifestoes against the Empire and the French, and sought an alliance with Juarez. The President, like the Emperor, ignored all overtures from the Mexican king-maker, who instantly turned his superabundant energies to conspiring against the Republic, just as it was struggling to take up, once more, the threads of order.
On the 12th of July, 1867, he was seized on board a steamboat he had fitted out, charged with conspiring against government, and narrowly escaped being shot on the spot; but more moderate measures prevailed, and he was allowed a legal trial by a council of war. Doubtless influenced by all his real services at the head of the national army, which in time past he had conferred upon his country, and through untiring efforts in his behalf by his friends and family, this council did not condemn him to death, but a sentence was passed upon him of exile for eight years. He returned to St. Thomas, much impoverished by this last attempt against good government, and broken with years and failure.
At the end of his time of exile, or perhaps, indeed, before its expiration, he returned quietly to the city of Mexico, and died there on the 20th of June, 1876, in his house in the Calle de Vergaza. He was over eighty years old, blind, lame, poor. His last days were embittered by his sensitive conviction that his great deeds were not appreciated by his country. He was buried in the city of Guadalupe, without honors or recognition by government, who, naturally, it may be supposed, retained their fear of rousing the populace even by so dead a lion.
A family connection of Santa Anna has written a life of him, in which fulsome justice is done to his good qualities. He says, and perhaps with reason, that had he died immediately after the loss of his leg in driving the French from Vera Cruz "this benemerito mutilado had surely left not one single personal enemy."
With great gifts of bravery and military skill, and with a love of his country it is but fair to allow him, probably not possessing the black characteristics ascribed to him by his enemies, he was at the best a turbulent, troublesome creature, an exponent in his own person of all the dangerous qualities of the Mexican character, which for so long a time have kept the country far away from the true path to prosperity.
The character of Juarez, on the other hand, represents precisely the opposite qualities of the Mexican race, inherited from his Indian parentage,—endurance, patience, imperturbability. Calm in the midst of exciting elements, he knew how to stand and wait for his turn. These qualities, so useful to him in adversity were supplemented by executive ability, good sense, and prompt action, which, when he returned to power, enabled him to rule wisely without losing his balance on the giddy height of success, like many of his predecessors.
His seat was not secure, and peace was not confirmed in emotional Mexico. The restless population, untrained to any permanent government, wearied of his rule, and early in his administration began to clamor that he had been President long enough. This people, scarcely yet freed from three hundred years of foreign control, found four years of one liberal leader enough to convert him in their eyes into a tyrant. As the period of election approached, in 1871, party lines became sharply divided, and the question of his return to power was warmly contested. A large body still advocated the re-election of Juarez, as of the greatest importance to the consolidation of the Constitution and reform, but the admirers of military glory claimed the honors of President for General Diaz, who had done so much, at the head of the army, to restore the Republic. A third party represented the interests of Lerdo, minister of Juarez all through the epoch of the intervention, a man of great strength of character and capacity for government. The argument of the Lerdistas was that re-election was contrary to the principles of democratic government; of the Porfiristas that their idol, Diaz, deserved the reward of the highest gift of his fellow-citizens; of the Juaristas, that things were very well as they were, and had better so remain.
The campaign was vigorous throughout the country. The press, the tribune, personal influence, were all at work in every state for each of the great parties. The election took place; the Juaristas were triumphant. Their party had a fair majority, and Juarez was re-elected. But the Mexicans not yet had learned to accept the ballot, and a rebellion followed. The two defeated parties combined, and civil war began again.
Government defended itself with vigor and resolution, and in spite of the popularity of General Diaz as a commander, held its own during a campaign of more than a year. Its opponents were still undaunted, and the struggle might have long continued but for the sudden death of Juarez, on the 19th of July, 1872. At dawn of that day, the sound of cannon from the citadel fired at slow intervals awoke the population, who learned on inquiry that their President had died during the night. Juarez had a singularly robust constitution; he habitually worked eight or ten hours a day without fatigue, but, unconsciously to himself, some organic infirmity was affecting him. He was seized during the night with great pain at the heart, and died very soon in much suffering.
All society was deeply moved by the death of this their faithful servant, who had given his life to their service. Every party joined in the solemn ceremony of his burial, which took place attended by an immense concourse of citizens.
Don Sebastian Lerdo de Tejada, then President of the Supreme Court, assumed the government, was elected President, and the late agitation of parties was at an end.
