--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Gates, Susa Young collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 10 number: 3 published: 1907-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Gates, Susa Young, "Maximilian: A Story of Mexico II," *Improvement Era* 10, no. 3 (January 1907): 188–197.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1003unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1003unse start_page: 188 end_page: 197 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1907-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1003unse publication_year: 1907 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1907, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Maximilian: A Story of Mexico II MAXIMILIAN. BY SUSA YOUNG GATES. II. JUNE AT QUERETARO. This narrative will not concern itself with the tragic sorrows of the Mexican Emperor, during the six months which followed his Christmas visit to the old Mexican palace occupied by his country- man and friend the Prince Salm Salm. All students of history are familiar with the constant desertion and treachery of the priests and Mexican generals. Only two remained true to their Emperor and their promises, Miramon, and Mejia, the Indian general. The unhappy final arrest of the Emperor and these two officers in June, 1867, is also a matter of history. The last day of the Emperor's confinement in the bare cell of the deserted convent of San Tersita, near Queretaro, there entered to his presence the two faithful friends who had followed all his later unhappy fortunes, the Prince Salm Salm and his wife. "And is it thus we still find you, sire?" exclaimed the Austrian officer. "This indignity must not, cannot, be allowed to continue longer." "Nay, my friend, princes and paupers accept prisons as part of their heritage." "But, your majesty, it is monstrous. The Queen Victoria, your royal English cousin, your brother-in-law, the King of Belgium, and your royal kinspeople sitting on thrones in Italy and Sweden, these will not suffer this insult to go unpunished." "Nay, my friends; be not hopeful. My own heart whispers that my end is near. What is it the little Indian maiden sang on Christmas last? MAXIMILIAN. 189 "Wise Oyoyotzin, prudent king, Unrivalled Prince and great, Enjoy the fragrant flowers that spring Around thy kingly state; A day will come which shall destroy Thy present bliss, —thy present joy, When fate, the scepter of command Shall wrench from out thy royal hand, Thy moon diminished rise; And as thy pride and strength are quenched, From thy adherents shall be wrenched All that they love or prize." "Oh, that was an old song, written a hundred years ago by Nezahualcoyotl, the Lord of Tezcuco" answered the Princess. "It has no reference or prophecy for you, sire, nor fur an enlightened Christian monarchy." "But the words have haunted me, ever since i heard them sung by the Princess Montezuma in your palace, Christmas Eve last. I found the whole sad poem, as well as others akin thereto; and in them all lies a solemn adjuration and prophecy for those who care to read." With an impatient shrug at such fatalist "notions," the de- termined American woman began a hurried account of her efforts to liberate the imprisoned monarch. She recounted her desperate attempts to bribe the various foreign ministers, in one way and another, and of the final cowardice of them all, which had tightened the chain about Maximilian. She repeated the cruel words of Lopez, who had brutally betrayed the gentle king who had trusted him with his life and his empire; she pictured to her listener some of the dangers and difficulties which both she and her husband had en- countered in their superhuman efforts to liberate their innocent and suffering friend, although that was a mere incident of her story. The Emperor listened with a quiet sadness, and when the im- pulsive narrative was finished, he took the lady's hand, and, bowing over it, he said, mournf illy, "The friendship of Vings brings either honor and glory, or disgrace and misery to the unfortunates who are nearest the throne* But, believe me, that which I now suffer is well-nigh repaid with the knowledge of such devotion and truth in man and woman. I 190 IMPROVEMENT ERA. may never repay the obligation under which I lie to my friend Salm Salm and to his noble wife; but God, who rewards virtue, will not leave my debt unpaid." ' 'That is neither here nor there," answered the Princess ; ' 'what is left to do, that must I perform. We have talked the matter over, and Felix feels that I may have some woman's wit or persua- sion to touch the stony heart of this Indian rebel, Juarez. He is said to possess some common traits of humanity. And my carriage is now outside to convey me to his headquarters. Meanwhile Felix will leave no stone unturned to provide a way for your secret es- cape, if my mission falls to the ground." "Nay, nay, my friends; you must do neither of these things. I could not bear to have you sue where you should demand. And as for escape, there is all the danger for you, and — But the Princess would wait to hear no more. She turned and left the room with scant regard for ceremony. A life, and an innocent life was at stake. Her husband quickly followed her re- treating footsteps, and Maximilian was again left alone. The light was poor, in this dreary convent cell, half sunk under the ground as it was, and with only a slit in the upper walls for light and air. The room was vacant of furniture, except a rude stone bench across one end, and against the outer wall rested a tall, wooden, rickety-looking altar. The worm-eaten relic of the old Spanish monks was set so loosely against the wall, that one might fear its toppling over. But the present occupant had little care for his surroundings. His mind was numbed and dulled to all extraneous objects. The tortured thoughts which coursed through his brain with vivid agony, was the repetition of the mistakes of the past three years, and his own seeming helplessness to avert the calamity which had overtaken himself and his two only faithful followers, Miramon and Mejia. For himself, he was not afraid to die; but Mejia had a wife and babe; while Miramon had many loving friends and relatives in far-away France. Why must they suffer? Up and down he paced in his narrow cell, his mind rejecting one plan after another to liberate these two comrades. Outside, the leering, squint-eyed deserter from his own ranks, who had been set for the death-watch, clanked with heavy tread, MAXIMILIAN. 191 passing the door every few seconds in his tiger watch over his de- spised victim. And ever as he passed, his wicked eye looked greedily and sneeringly on the man who had failed to keep the luxurious promise of success which had once been so bright. How wicked brutes do gloat over a fallen, good mpn! The heavy tread, the leering eye, became the one intolerable thing in Maximilian's life. Death, that was a momentary suffering. All men must die. But this horrible, pouncing, pounding tread, that bloodshot, squinting eye—that was torture! How could he live this year-long day to its far-reaching end! In vain he picked up the one only book which the cell afforded —a Universal History cast by some strange chance in this dreary cell. He stood up near the narrow window, and sought to forget, in the battered pages, the sound of those tramping feet, the sight of those leering, ferocious eyes. The sensitive mind of the imagina- tion and dreamy monarch was bent to almost breaking point by the crushing hand of a relentless fate which others had prepared for him. And as always in human life, it was the outer trifles which held the present keenest suffering, like the bubbles of foam which betray the troubled storm on some distant rock-ribbed shore. At last, Escobedo, the terrible, foolish youth who had made his death possible, came into the cell, followed by the good German priest, Father Soria. Escobedo read, with great unction, the death sentence, and then pronounced with gusty volume, the sentence of death on those who should aid or abet the condemned men. The Emperor listened with quiet courtesy, and then begged the emis- sary of the Revolutionary Government to carry a telegram he had prepared to General Benito Juarez. Escobedo accepted the missive with small grace, and proceeded to read it before his prisoner's eyes, with impudent frankness. It was an earnest appeal to Juarez to release the two confined Generals, Mejia, and Miramon, while allowing Maximilian alone to suffer the decree of death. "I will safely send this, Senor, although it will avail you or them nothing. But I would not have you think me scant of man- ners, even to a traitor." And so saying, the chesty little man strutted out of the cell. Father Soria remained behind, for a few moments, although 192 IMPROVEMENT ERA. the scowling jailor constantly evidenced his dislike of this priestly interference with the ' 'proper" suffering of the condemned man. After he had gone, the prisoner again turned to his little win- dow for his last glimpse of life and light and sky-blue radiance. The cracked old bell in the tower above struck out the hour of six. There was only a little patch of sky visible, but that was very pre- cious. Yet, even as his eyes lingered on the blue, he saw the country's scavenger, the vultures, circling and swinging slowly and solemnly, just above his window. Why this sight should so depress him, he could not tell. He had watched their horrible, winged habits many times since coming to Mexico. And he had even half- praised the custom which permitted these birds of the air to be the hygienic assistants which man himself would not provide in this tropical land. But now—there was something which seemed a very part of that heavy tread and jeering scowl of his death watch centered in the circling wings of these ugly birds of prey. It be- came unbearable. What weakness was this, which held a strong man in thrall? He was not afraid of death. No, nor of suffering; it had been his daily portion, for these many years. But now, there must be some- thing the matter with his nerves. He had laughed at such ab- surdities in years gone by, in his poor wife, and now he himself was giving way to the same folly. Poor, unhappy w»fe; dead to all the world, and utterly unconscious of his present sufferings, thanks be to God for that! He went over to the rude altar, and bowed before its symbol. The shades of evening would soon blot out both sky and vultures. He would wait, and watch, and pray. The hours passed in some dull way, and the night brought a change of sentinels to pace the solemn march of death outside the three condemned men's ceils. But the sound was still heavy, still dreary, and most acute. As the clash of sabers, and the roll of feet in the courtyard lost their sharpness, because of night' and darkness, the weary monarch stretched himself upon the stone bench, and quietly shut his eyes, to woo sleep and forgetfulness. ' 'My last sleep on earth," sounded through his brain as if a voice had spoken it; he half arose, and then, with stern, tightening MAXIMILIAN. 193 of all his mental faculties, he once more lay down upon the bench. At last he slept; and dreamed of his mother in the quaint old Austrian garden, plucking roses to pelt him with because of some boyish mischief. He knew not the hour of night, but suddenly, ha was wide awake, and peering into the semi-gloom across his cell. The moon- light filtered into the little room, and sh#wed him the dim outlines of the huge wooden altar, yet surely, he was dreaming! The thing was moving outward. He was not without some superstition of his own, and the gruesome tales of monks and Indians in this mystic land had sometimes left a faint impression of reality be- hind. But surely the altar was moving out into the room, swing- ing, as it were to one side. He heard a slight creaking, as if a rusty spring were turning, and then he sprang to his feet, and darted to the altar. Just as he was about to call out, a soft hand was flung across his lips, and a woman's voice whispered into the depths of his ear, "Hush, do not cry out; it is I, thy Malinche! Do you not know me?" For a moment his mind was a blank. Then, as he felt the soft pressure of the lips upon his hand, he murmured, "The little Indian princess?" "Even so. Ah, my king, I come from the ever gracious lord and prince, Salm Salm. He has scattered gold like water. He has broken down the most terrible barriers to make your dear escape possible. See; I have uncovered the long-hidden secret passage to this cell, made by my own ancestors during their times of war and siege. And we have worked, my people and I, for days to reach this spot, without giving an alarm. And now—" "But stay! Little one! This will put your own life in jeop- ardy. I cannot, must not allow such cruel sacrifice. Go at once, and withdraw all your friends from this haunted spot. See, I com- mand it! Shall I not be obeyed?" "My lord, my king." And in the silent gloom, she pressed one hand upon his breast, and with her other tender fingers laid across his lips, she poured forth her words. She told of the fruit- less visit of her American mistress to Juarez. And of the ac- 194 IMPR0VEMEN1 ERA. ceptance by both prince and princess of the Indian's plan for es- cape. ' 'Outside, beyond this place, where the subterranean passage ends, you will find the prince of Salm Salm, with three trusty sol- diers ready to take you at once to the sea coast, where a ship awaits your arrival. Ah, you will not let these wicked men com- mit murder, even on your own person, if the way of escape is provided? Say you will not! My soul, my life is bound up in yours. Must I, too, perish? Come, dearest lord. When I can reach the brazen sea then thou wilt owe thy life to me, " she said. "There is not a moment to lose. Take my hand; the hand of one who has worshiped afar, but who would give her life to save yours. Come, so! Now stoop, so! the passage is low, and you are very tall, and very straight. So tall you are beside your little Indian maid." The soft voice and thrilling touch half bewildered him. There was a powerful magnet hid somewhere in this slender girl's form; and without staying to analyze his emotions, he let the little hand lead, while he crouched swiftly down to follow after her behind the altar. Suddenly he whispered, as they crept along the pas- sage, "where is the sentinel, the death watch?" "He is gone, for two hours. My mistress' gold was a bribe he could not refuse. He is asleep outside the walls, for two short hours, for only two short hours, my lord." Again the little hand grasped his, and the soft form nestled ever so slightly against his own crouched figure as if for protec- tion. With bated breath he crept after her. At length, after tra- versing a long, low, underground corridor, they stood upright in a black space, and she whispered lightly in his ear: "Be very quiet now. This is the outer chamber of the con- vent. Follow me, but do not breathe. He did as he was bid, and he heard a door open on its rusty hinges, and soon they were out in the glorious air, free, and with the carriage but a hundred rods from them under the shadowy trees. The girl turned, and reaching up on tip toe, she placed her two hands beside his bearded lips, and said with the sadness of the grave in her tones: MAXIMILIAN. 195 "Death would be sweet if I were only near you. But you will be in foreign lands, and I " The words seemed to recall Maximilian's scattered senses. Sternly he asked: "This escape you have planned; does it include my friends?" "Your friends the Prince of Salm Salm and his wife? Yes; they are in yonder carriages." "And Miramon, Mejia?" The girl hesitated, "They will not be forgotten, " she an- swered. "And you? You have put your neck in a halter for me, while my two comrades will die the death I am so ignobly escaping. Little girl, I have lived as a prince. I cannot survive as a deserter. Come, let us at once retrace our steps, least our flight be discov- ered. Come, I say, come. I shall pound upon that door if you do not obey me!" With a groan of abject agony, the loving girl turned as if she would speed to the distant carriage. Quick as she was, he was quicker. With a half fatherly, yet altogeter tender gesture, he caught and held the little fugitive close to his breast for one sweet, swift moment. And bending down he whispered low in her ear: "Would Quetzalcoatl welcome a coward to the society of the gods?" "Ah-h-h!" The sobbing cry was torn from her deepest soul. She twined her arms about his neck, and laying her face close to his heart for an instant's space, she pleaded with her gods for strength. Then, proudly raising her head, she unclasped her arms, saying simply: "A princess cannot betray a king. I will go back." And back they turned; she knocked, with a peculiar, broken rhythm en the rude, barred door, and it was opened on the'jnstant. Back they crept and crouched, she leading, he clinging to the little guiding hand with a strong answering pressure of help and sustenance in this her time of sorest need. At last they were at the entrance of the cell, and once with- in, he stood upright, aad, placing his hand on her silken hair, he whispered solemnly and earnestly: "Today, if I am permitted to enter the presence of the 196 IMPROVEMENT ERA. Heavenly Judge, I shall first petition him to keep and guard till life is ended, my beloved sister and friend, my Malinche!" "And what of the brazen sea, my lord? And oh, when my lonely earth life is ended; then, sire?" With a sad accent of remorse, he answered: "I have led my beloved ones astray in this life. Who may speak for the other life? Thy brazen sea is a riddle, which only eternity can unravel. But here, take this little Bible. It was my mother's. Read it well, my Indian princess, for somewhere within you will find the story of a great king, Solomon. He built a brazen sea. But he was not an Indian God. So thy dream is still a dark puzzle. But read my Bible well, for I would that my heaven should be thy heaven, and my God thy God." ' 'Dear Lord, I shall meet you some time, somewhere, and who may separate us?" Suddenly the great bell outside in the upper tower struck five and they saw the daylight struggling to cross the tiny window bars. The sound recalled all that the day was bringing. The girl clung sobbing and moaning to him. But just then the clink of sabers, the sound of slow approaching feet warned them that discovery was upon them. Maximilian pressed one farewell kiss upon her quivering mouth, and then carried the little form across the dim room; and, fairly pushing her within the yawning hole they had so recently left, he crowded against the altar until it swung within; the last sound he heard behind the secret door was the padding flight of the girl, broken by her sobbing cries. But when his horrible guard, the squint-eyed Pelecios, came and stood without the door, he found his royal prisoner kneeling quietly on the altar steps, and mumbling out a prayer for all man- kind. It was a calm and dignified Prince Joseph of Austria and Em- peror Maximilian of Mexico, who stood calmly within his cell, listen- ing to the approach of his death guard who were to convey him to the place of execution. He stepped as calmly into the adjoining cell and bade his companion prisoners a grave, but cheerful good- morning. And it was a calm and kingly man who walked between his guard until he was in the cool, open air of the new day. The MAXIMILIAN. 197 deep blue sky, the radiance on every green and blooming thing swept up to eye and nostril with quivering recollection. Drawing a deep breath of tht delightful free air about his face, he said reverently: "I have always wanted to die on such a day as this." And when they had all entered the shabby carriages, he tried to show to his people a face of resignation, not hate, of forgive- ness, not despair. The hill was surrounded by a swaying, curious crowd, held back by the soldiers. And over all, the hush of death was pallid and somber. The emperor walked quietly into the open square of soldiers, and begged that his eyes might not be bandaged. As the dread, slow steps of the men gathered in, around the doomed prisoners, he turned to the soldiers and people, and said with sad emphasis: ' 'I have sought to do you good, my people, but it has not so fallen out. I hold no malice against any man. But let me pray to God that my blood shall be the last shed for Mexico. And then the signal was given; and the three condemned men stood proudly erect, the emperor pointing calmly to his heart as the spot at which they were to aim. The jangled bell struck six of the morning, while the vultures screamed above them. The loud report of the guns had hardly left the quivering air before a woman's long, shuddering cry followed the grim explosion. And then a thousand sobbing cries and heavy groans cut the blue sky with shuddering horror. The three prisoners lay dead and quiet; the emperor, still with a smile of pity for his enemies upon his finely-chisled lips. The silken beard was not marred, nor the classic face disturbed. But someone hurriedly drew the staring lids down over the beauti- ful eyes, for the look of grieved pain there could ^jot be borne, even by his enemy. The mass of Indians on the outskirts were weeping and moan- ing with ail the abandon of their loving devotion to the ruler who had brought the only hope and comfort they had ever known. In the center of this crowd a dark-tressed girl lay fainting in a woman's arms. As the soldiers broke angrily in upon this crowd, one of them growled with his pistol at the oli woman's ear: "Why do ye weep, slaves?"