In the tumultuous first forty years of the Mexican Republic, no less than 73 presidents came to power as the conservatives and liberals struggled to hold power. The conservatives, backed by Napoleon III of France, invited Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of Austria to become Emperor of Mexico and restore the order of a Catholic monarchy. The young Archduke was 31 and his strong-willed wife Charlotte (soon to be called Carlota) was 24. For three brief years they ruled as puppet monarchs while the liberals, led by Benito Juarez, fought to overthrow them.
The liberals prevailed and on June 19th, 1867, Maximilian was shot by a firing squad. Artist Edóuard Manet, shocked that France had abandoned Maximilian, depicted that fateful day in the painting above. Benito Juarez, an indiginous Zapotec from Oaxoca, became the beloved president of Mexico - and in a final twist, Maximilian and Juarez really wanted many of the same reforms for the people.
I am currently reading a fascinating book called Maximilian and Juarez by Jasper Ridley. I remembered a poem I read a few years ago, knowing nothing then about these events except Manet's painting. I think the poem captures the absurd and sad essence of this tragicomedy in history.
The Art of Forgetting
~ Lisel Mueller
~ Lisel Mueller
Carlota and Maximilian
wanted to be allowed
to fall in love with Mexico,
as if history had a heart
and cared that they were young
and Maximilian liked
orange trees better than armies.
wanted to be allowed
to fall in love with Mexico,
as if history had a heart
and cared that they were young
and Maximilian liked
orange trees better than armies.
They reigned, a European
fairy tale emperor and empress
eating from golden plates
in a wilderness that beguiled them.
Three years. Then history flipped
its coin and slammed it down.
fairy tale emperor and empress
eating from golden plates
in a wilderness that beguiled them.
Three years. Then history flipped
its coin and slammed it down.
That was when they began,
Carlota's lapses, her erasures.
She wiped out the unbearable,
erased her husband's execution
and lived for sixty oblivious years
in an out-of-the-way palace,
her exclusive madhouse,
wondering vaguely each evening
why he did not join her for dinner.
Once every spring (so the story goes)
she walked to the dock with the little boat,
the kind used for an afternoon's outing,
and said in a young girl's voice,
"Tomorrow we leave for Mexico."
Carlota's lapses, her erasures.
She wiped out the unbearable,
erased her husband's execution
and lived for sixty oblivious years
in an out-of-the-way palace,
her exclusive madhouse,
wondering vaguely each evening
why he did not join her for dinner.
Once every spring (so the story goes)
she walked to the dock with the little boat,
the kind used for an afternoon's outing,
and said in a young girl's voice,
"Tomorrow we leave for Mexico."
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