burst of national pride, a warning voice to Maximilian of Austria to depart from Mexico as quickly as he might, lest the vengeance of Republican America should overtake him for introducing the name and the pretensions of royalty into the sacred preserves of Democracy. Juarez plucked up courage; and the Juarists, who had long ceased to be a living party, revived in the sunshine of Northern favour, and began again to be heard of in Mexico as disturbers of the public peace, prowling about the country in organised gangs of robbers and murderers. General Lee's surrender and Jefferson Davis's flight were scarcely a week old before the vainglorious diplomacy of Washington was put in motion to represent to the Emperor of the French the expediency of removing his army from Mexico, and either taking the Emperor Maximilian along with it, or leaving the unhappy Prince to his fate among the Mexicans. Later in the day a duly accredited ambassador from President Johnson to ex-President Juarez was despatched to Mexico; but after a long and fruitless search for that personage, the Minister returned to Washington and reported to his Government that, notwithstanding the most diligent inquiries and the most persistent efforts, he had been utterly unable to discover whether Juarez was a president or a bandit --whether he was alive or deador in what part of the country he had last shown his face. But the Washington Government, depending on the breath of democratic favour, greedy of popularity, desirous of turning attention from its domestic to its foreign policy, and knowing that it was always pleasant to the rowdy press and vulgar multitude to hurl foul scorn against the monarchical principle, and to bellow defiance to all the world on behalf of the Monroe doctrine, did not desist on that account from acknowledging Juarez as the rightful President, or from putting diplo matic pressure upon the Emperor Napoleon to induce him to withdraw his army. Though on its first conception the Mexican scheme had been favourably received by the French people, its progress had not altogether recommended it to the tax-paying community. The conquest of the South by the Norththe high tone assumed by Northern statesmen, and the possibility that France might be involved in a war with the United States-a war from which France could derive but small honour and no profit-all these circumstances, dexterously handled by the French Parliamentary Opposition, created a state of opinion which, though not adverse to the cause of the Emperor Maximilian, was hostile to the continued support of his throne by the aid of a French army. It was hard for Napoleon to yield. Not only his pride, but his honour, was involved-his pride that could not brook the arrogance of the American Government, and his honour that could not leave Maximilian without the support land protection which he had promised, and without which it was certain the Archduke would never have been tempted to quit Miramar. But time was on the side of the American Government, and of its unworthy protegé Juarez, and against the Emperor Napoleon and the brave Maximilian; and although it is not probable that the American Government would have made it a casus belli if Napoleon had treated its remonstrances with disregard, the Emperor had to sacrifice his feelings, his convictions, and his desires in deference in a slight degree to the pressure put upon him from Washington, and in a large degree to that put upon him by his own subjects, who had begun to look upon the whole Mexican project as a mistake a generous mistake, as its most vehement opponents admitted-but one for which France was not inclined to make further sacrifices of men or money. At last the Emperor's promise was given to the American Government and his own people that early in the present year the French army should be withdrawn from Mexico. The day was adjourned as long as possible in order that Maximilian might employ the long interval in the consolidation of his power; or if that were not to be hoped for, in face of American intrigue in behalf of Juarez, that he might have ample time to decide whether or not his honour compelled him to remain in a country where, without French aid, the chances were going so woefully against him. No sooner did the notification reach Mexico that the French were to be withdrawn, than the Empress Charlotte-with a romantic devotion to her husband, and a simple yet heroic faith that, if the Emperor Napoleon knew all, he might even yet be induced to change his plans-resolved to cross the ocean to describe to him personally the condition of the country and solicit the continuance of his support, were it but for a year. Almost alone and unattended the royal lady set sail on her fatal voyage, little dreaming that she and her beloved Maximilian were never again to behold each other in this world, or imagining any of the countless woes that Fate had in store for both of them. None can tell but the Emperor, and perhaps the Empress, of the French, what zeal and eloquence, what tears and entreaties, what proud or what passionate appeals, this noble woman employed to change the purpose of Napoleon. Though outwardly a cold man, the Emperor has a warm heart within; and though as a statesman he may have been obdurate, it cannot but be believed that as a man he was deeply touched by the sorrows of this tender but brave young creaturefighting against fearful odds for her husband's dignity, and possibly for his life-urging against reasons of State nothing more potent than the anguish of her heart; uncon VOL. CII.-NO. DCXXII. vinced by all that could be said to her, unmoved by anything but the remembrance of Maximilian struggling like herself against the overpowering forces of a cruel and relentless destiny. To have seen such misery-to have sympathised with it, to have felt that he was accountable to his own conscience for having to a large extent been the cause of it, and to have known above all that, after his solemn pledge to the United States, worse woes than any private ones, however harrowing these might be, would have been the result if he had broken faith with the Federal Government and listened to the supplications of this despairing woman-must have tried even the iron stoicism of Napoleon III. With a spirit crushed but not yet broken, the Empress Charlotte appears to have made a sudden resolve to solicit the good offices of the Pope, and travelled to Rome to cast herself at his feet and pour the tale of her sorrows into his ear. But, alas! what could the Pope do? As a king he was a nonentity, to all but the people of the Roman States:-his opinion on temporal affairs beyond that narrow circle was worth nothing. His advice, even, was of no account among his brother sovereigns. As a man he could but sympathise with the woes of an innocent woman-as an old man he could not but address words of paternal love and pity to the comparative child that bent sorrowfully, and yet not altogether hopelessly, before him. As a priest he could not but administer to her those consolations of religion which the humblest village pastor would have afforded, but which, coming from the lips of the head of the Church, would have had more than usual influence and authority in leading her thoughts to that other world, the least of whose joys are more than worth the whole dominion and lordship of this. But, alas! the strain upon heart and intellect had been too heavy and Q too prolonged-the sovereign reason shook on its unsteady throne, the sweet bells of thought jangled and were out of tune, the dark curtain fell upon the light of her mind, and the Empress Charlotte lost, it is to be hoped, some sense of her agony and grief in the partial loss of her reason. News of this great calamity came to Maximilian over the sea, and many who were unaware of the heroism of his character imagined that he would leave distracted Mexico to its fate even before the last French trooper had departed, and hasten to the side of the lady of his heart, so sorely smitten, and all for love of him. But Maximilian had pledged his word, and though others broke faith with him, it was not for him to break faith with any one. Mexicans of high station, the best and bravest men in the country, had adhered to his fortunes from the first, and none of these had shown any signs of defection. He would stand by them to the last, and if he were to die, he would die like a king-on the battle-field, sword in hand against his enemies. dez, the Prince of Salm-Salm, several European officers, and a Colonel Lopez, whom he had intrusted with his confidence and loaded with honours, and who, on his recommendation, had been decorated by the Emperor of the French with the star of the Legion of Honour. On the night of the 14th of May it was reported to Maximilian that the city was no longer tenable, and it was resolved in a council of war that an attempt should be made on the following morning to break through the lines of the invading commander, General Escobedo, and, if the sortie were successful, to retire either towards the city of Mexico or the Gulf. The attempt was never made. The treacherous Lopez-the Judas Iscariot of the tragedy - had sold his friend, his master, and his sovereign for £10,000 to Juarez and Escobedo; and, while Maximilian lay asleep, opened to the forces of the enemy the gate of the fortress which he was intrusted to defend, and himself led the way to the apartment where the Emperor slept, surrounded by a few members of his staff, pointed him out to his It was so persistently the prac- captors and did not hang himself. tice of the American press to mis- Thus betrayed, the Emperor and represent the affairs of Mexico, and his 8000 men had no alternative but to picture Maximilian as driven to to capitulate. It is not known what in American parlance is called whether he attempted to make any "the last ditch," and to invent lies terms for himself or his officers, or each more monstrous than its pre- whether he even deigned to bestow decessor, that for many months a look of contempt upon the cowafter the departure of the French ardly villain who had betrayed his the European public was utterly at benefactor. In anticipation of the a loss what to believe or disbelieve defeat and capture of Maximilian— in the news that each successive events which it had done its very best steamer conveyed across the Atlan- to bring about-the Government tic. Even at this time, the events of the United States had previously that occurred after the Emperor put itself in communication with quitted his capital to take arms Juarez, to solicit that under no ciragainst the Juarists in the northern cumstances should the Emperor's provinces of the empire are imper-life be taken. It was as easy and fectly known. It seems certain, however, that for about two months the Emperor, at the head of 8000 men, occupied the city of Queretaro, and that there served under him Generals Miramon, Mejia, Men as useless to make such a request to a Mexican as to a tiger. There appears to be something in the electric influences of these warm climates that makes men indifferent to human life, and eager for the shedding of blood. The Mexicans at best have but little of the European in them, and a great deal of the aboriginal Red Indian, and are alike treacherous and merciless. Possibly these requests never reached the ears of the sanguinary chief for whom they were intended; but there can be little reason to doubt that the United States were in earnest in the supplication, and did not desire that the protegé for whom their Government had done so much should sully his cause in the eyes of the world by a vindictive and useless murder. For two or three weeks rumours floated about Europe that the Emperor had been shot, but no one could trace them to any positive or trustworthy authority, and most people refused to believe, until disbelief became impossible, that Juarez and his subordinates could have been so wicked and so mad as to take this sacred life. All doubts, however, were soon set at rest. Official details that there was no disputing affirmed that Maximilian was shot on the 19th of June, by express order of Juarez and Escobedo, after a delay of three days for deliberation, and that Generals Miramon and Mejia were shot at the same time-Maximilian with his face to the deadly rifles, as an act of grace to a brave man, Miramon and Mejia with their backs to the deadly bullets, to mark the abhorrence of their countrymen of the treason they had committed against Mexico. It was a gay time in Paris, and in the Court of the Emperor of the French, when the first whispers of this ghastly tragedy were transmitted under the waves of the ocean, and found audible voice in the secret chambers of the Tuileries. Belshazzar held high revel when the blood-red writing was seen upon the wall. The great kings and potentates of the earth, Christian and Turk, with glittering retinues, and all the pomp and state of kingly and imperial pride, crowded to the beautiful capital, which in his reign, and chiefly by his taste and enterprise, had been transformed into the wonder of the world. The magnificent Exhibition of Arts and Industry, which he had imagined, and which his will had created, was a triumphant success. Paris literally overflowed with the rich, the brave, the gifted, the young, and the beautiful. Never did picture more gorgeous present itself to the eyes of the people of any age than this City of Palaces presented in those summer days when the Emperor received his guests, many of them the heirs of ancient monarchies, who, in days not far distant, had looked with disdain upon his pretensions to be of their rank and number, or considered him an upstart and a parvenu, but now did willing homage to his genius, and stood in admiration, if not in awe, of his power. He was at the very height and summit of his glory, and might without vanity have said of himself that he dwarfed by comparison every king that stood alongside of him. It was in the midst of all this glare and blaze of revelry and rejoicing, and of the sweetness of gratified hopes and expectations more than realised, that news came, to him of the murder of Maximilian.. A thrill of horror pervaded the gay city. The kings and emperors, to many of whom the unhappy victim was closely related by blood and marriage, felt sick at heart, and must in their secret souls have felt that the guilt of the bloody deed did not lie wholly at the door of Juarez or of the Federal Government, but that some of it, at least, lay at that of Napoleon III., who had induced the Archduke to accept the crown, on promises which the strongest sovereign of his time had broken. And did Napoleon feel this also? We cannot doubt it. He would be more or less than human if no compunctious throb stirred in his heart or fevered his pulses at the thought of Maximilian, so wickedly slain, or of the gentle Charlotte, pining in hopeless mad mar. ness in her desolate castle of MiraFor the rest of his days these ghosts will sit at his board and partake of his cup; their voices, heard but of him, will whisper in his ear the saddest story of his reign, and, like the skeletons at the table of the Pharaohs, remind him that he too is mortal, and as liable to wrong, and the punishment of wrong, as the meanest of his subjects. But all that is manly and womanly in Europe will sympathise in the grief, though not in the remorse of the Emperor. The tears that are shed over the grave of Maximilian will be the expression of a deeper and more genuine grief than the masses of mankind usually feel for persons so ambitious, and who risk so much private happiness for such poor reward as his would have been at the best, even if he had succeeded in his object. The last scene of the tragedy has yet to be played, for the drama lacks completion while the fate of the villains remains undecided. And Juarez and Lopez still live! Perhaps not their fate alone-for that would matter little-but that of Mexico itself, hangs in the bal ance. You see me in the dead of night I scare the dogs that round them prowl, No wretched and rejected pile, For there may lie the richest prize; A silver coin-a golden ring Which holdeth still its precious stone, These tattered rags, so soiled and frayed, And beautiful and free from shame When from the master's hand they came. |