When the Colonel left me, I abandoned myself to unrestrained joy. I ordered a bottle of wine, to drink good luck to the Emperor, and smoking my cigar and humming a tune I paced my chapel, and even the horrid faces of the martyrs on the wall seemed to smile. The sentinel stared at me with his mouth wide open, probably thinking me mad. To give him a better idea of my wits, I presented him with four reals, but as he could not see any more reason for my present than for my good humor, I am afraid I only confirmed his bad opinion of the state of my brain.
On June 17th I awoke in very good spirits. I had slept excellently on my hard couch, and across my dreams I heard continually the joyful news, "The Emperor is saved."
Colonel Villanueva had promised to come at one o'clock; but I waited in vain for him all day, and my doubts returned. What has happened? Should the bloody Indian, Juarez, or his Mephistopheles, Lerdo, the minister with the false, sarcastic mouth, dare still to commit the refined cruelty of murdering my Emperor, after making him pass through all the bitterness of death? Maybe he offended their low souls by the nobleness of his demeanor. It would be an infamous cruelty; but what might not be expected from Mexicans?
On the morning of June 18th Lieutenant-Colonel Pitner came for a moment into the little yard and whispered that things went very badly for the Emperor; and soon afterward Colonel Villanueva came. He was greatly excited and told me that he had been cruelly disappointed; Maximilian was lost, without any hope; the execution would take place at eight o'clock next morning. "I am ashamed," he said, "that so many bad elements are among us. I hoped still that the Moderate party would conquer, and the life of the Emperor be saved. I feel grieved that my poor country, hated and despised by all the world, must be stained again in this manner."
The Emperor had taken leave of his officers on the 17th, in Queretaro, in the following letter:
"QUERETARO,
"PRISON DE LOS CAPUCINOS, June 17, 1867.
"To the Generals and Field Officers, prisoners in this city:
"At this solemn moment I address to you the present lines, in order both to acknowledge the loyalty with which you have served me and to give you a token of the true regard which I feel for you. Your affectionate
"MAXIMILIAN."
As I was separated from the rest of the prisoners, I saw this letter only later, and therefore my name, as that of some other generals, is wanting under the reply.
The Emperor ordered Doctor Basch to make a list of persons to whom he desired to leave some little keepsake. To me he bequeathed his beloved perspective glass, which he held almost constantly in his hand during the entire siege of Queretaro, and to the Princess the fan which he had used in prison during his last days. The Emperor went to bed at half past eight, and was already asleep when he was disturbed by a visit from Escobedo, at 11 P.M.
Captain Enking, who accompanied the General at this improper visit, noticed that the Emperor looked with an expression of intense expectation on the entrance of the General, as if expecting to hear news of his pardon from him. Had the Captain observed correctly, the look of the Emperor would have been very explicable and natural. He could not, indeed, expect from Escobedo a visit of friendly sympathy, or believe that he only came to enjoy the sight of his foe conquered solely by vile treason. A visit from the Commander-in-Chief under these circumstances was solely justifiable if, disturbing the last sleep of his prisoner, he came to announce life to him.
“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
– Philippians 4:13