To meet the crisis one individual, taking the constitution of the United States as a basis,[4] drafted the required instrument in three days; and so an untrained and uneducated nation found itself provided with a complicated mixture of democracy and privilege, liberty and intolerance, progress and reaction, which paralyzed itself by combining such antagonistic elements, omitted the safeguard of a supreme court like ours, and showed its own inadequacy by providing that in emergencies the President might be given “extraordinary powers,” or in other words become a dictator. In short, the government was organized as a permanent revolution. There was much enthusiasm, however, over this triumph of nationality, and on New Year’s day, 1825, the first constitutional Congress assembled. The treasury was now full of borrowed English gold; and—as every one hoped the new system might be developed in the direction he preferred—all agreed that an era of peace, joy and prosperity had at length arrived.[3]

VICTORIA’S ADMINISTRATION

Victoria was elected President. His frank, ruddy, bronzed face, peering out of gray whiskers and curly gray hair, looked happy and encouraging, but soon the mass of the nation felt once more cheated; for although Bravo had been the candidate of the oligarchy, Victoria—yielding to the pressure of that element—gave it a preponderance in the administration. A multitude of people were exasperated to find the old privileged classes again in control, and the execution of Itúrbide under an illegal law—for he had returned to Mexico—infuriated his partisans. Worse yet, the oligarchy denied the practicability of the federal system for so unwieldy a country, where the states felt so independent, where so many men aspired to hold office and where so few were qualified, and plotted to set up the centralized regime, with monarchy—preferably under a Spanish prince—as the ultimate aim of many; and Victoria, a polite, weak, indolent, easily-flattered man of small abilities, little education and immense vanity, who idolized his country but felt she would always need him as chief-priest, fell in with this plan, because without a change of the constitution he could not be President a second time.[5]

Disgusted and alarmed, the Federalists, who included the Iturbidistas, began therefore to scheme gropingly for a new revolution, a new war of independence; but at length, realizing that under the constitution a majority could rule, they established Masonic lodges of the York Rite, and with great skill, activity and perseverance organized their forces. Before long their power showed itself at the voting-urns, and the President, recognizing the logic of events and perceiving he could never supplant Bravo in the favor of the aristocracy, changed the complexion of the government. This in turn angered the faction displaced, and most unwisely—being physically much the weaker side—it massed its power in December, 1827, and revolted under a certain Montaño. Bravo, though Vice-President, placed himself at the head of the insurgents; but the government forces under Guerrero, attacking him during a truce, quickly ended the revolt.[5]

Peace, however, did not return. The newspapers unearthed or invented so many unsavory tales about the leading citizens that, besides proving those men unworthy of confidence, they excited lasting resentments. The Federalists—particularly the Iturbidistas—harshly avenged their past sufferings, for the Mexican idea of justice meant a chance to persecute the oppressor; and every thinking mind saw with dismay that whereas previous insurrections had occurred in a natural revolutionary period, the government legally established by the nation had now been defied by a great party led by the Vice-President himself. This was the letting out of waters, and to palliate it as chargeable to circumstances would be to excuse all political crimes.[5]

Meanwhile another storm had been gathering. The Spanish element, which not only was superior but felt so, had given much offence; and, quite aside from grudges, many thought it unsafe to have so large a number of Gachupines in the country—many of them active and able, not a few of them soldiers, and some occupying high civil and military positions—at a time when Spain was preparing to reassert her authority over Mexico. Others argued that should the Spaniards go, their places in business and the public service would be available for Mexicans. Still others considered this a good way to enfeeble the oligarchy, so as to curtail its privileges. Many demagogues perceived that here lay a splendid opportunity to acquire a following; and the Spaniards, for their part, long accustomed to despise and lord it over the Mexicans, often exasperated the public by offensive and imprudent conduct. The natural consequences followed. Many insurrections, benevolently treated by the government, demanded the expulsion of the Gachupines; some of the states passed laws in that sense; and finally, in 1827 and 1828, Congress did the same. A very large number of Gachupines actually departed and carried away their money. This drew out the strongest fibres of public life, the army, finance, trade and the industries; while the injustice and impolicy of these decrees and the bloody vengeance taken upon a few silly Spanish conspirators embittered feeling in Mexico, and greatly injured Mexican credit in Europe, where few except the Spanish merchants enjoyed any financial standing.[5]

By the time Victoria’s administration drew near its end, Mexico had marked out her downward route. The parties faced each other as implacable foes. Each perpetrated as much electoral fraud and violence as it could; each kept up a savage press; and each worked in the dark through secret societies. Owing to extravagance, peculation, bad management, the backwardness of the states in paying their quotas, and the failure of an English banking house, the treasury was empty in spite of lavish borrowing. “Liberty” had become a by-word, for Victoria had wielded the extraordinary powers for a year and a half, punishments had gone beyond the laws, and the government had been given authority, not only to expel foreigners at will, but even to banish citizens from their states. Corruption was general and profound, commerce feeble, credit extinct, justice perverted, reported the French agent; and, as his British colleague added, the “Name of Patriotism” was used as a “Cloak to cover the greatest Excesses.”[5]

And now came something worse. Well aware they could not elect one of their own number President against the popular candidate, Guerrero, the Centralists looked about for an acceptable Federalist. Gómez Pedraza, Victoria’s minister of war, though narrow, harsh and passionate, was a strict and honest man, a laborious official and a thoughtful, effective orator. He had fought on the Spanish side in the revolution, and naturally favored a conservative, aristocratic régime. He, therefore, was secretly adopted in place of Bravo, now in exile. All those who detested unseemly party strife preferred him, and as the moderate wing of the Federalists also took that side, quite unaware that Centralism lurked in the shadow, Guerrero’s noisy and overconfident supporters found themselves beaten. This result and the open exultation, threats and hostilities of their old enemies, who still controlled the senate and the supreme court, enraged them, for they perceived they had been duped once more, and they hotly charged—no doubt with some reason—that money and Pedraza’s power as head of the war department had frustrated the will of the people; while it disgusted Victoria to be superseded by a man he had looked down upon as merely a useful clerk.[6]

SANTA ANNA

Another individual also took offence. After setting the ball in motion against Itúrbide, Santa Anna had been eclipsed by larger figures, and to shine again he took up arms as Protector of the People; but this enterprise collapsed at once, and he issued a very humble proclamation, closing with the words, “Permit me, permit me to dig myself an obscure grave that my ashes and my memory may disappear.” A fairly comfortable grave was, however, dug for him by removing His Penitence to Yucatan as military commandant, and he proceeded at once to gild its interior by permitting illicit commerce with Cuba. Returning after a while to the proper field of ambition, he was more than suspected of complicity in two insurrections; but in each case he read the omens in season to extricate himself, and virtuously offered his sword to the government. Now, however, he took a bold stand. Not only were he and the successful candidate personal enemies, but he felt that little would be left of himself after four years of Pedraza’s rule; and he knew that Guerrero, in addition to being favored by the army, really had a majority of the people on his side. Accordingly he unfurled his flag in September, 1828, for Guerrero, popular rights and a total expulsion of the Gachupines. In this contest he showed amazing quickness, audacity and resourcefulness, keeping up his motley troops principally by brigandage; but very soon his cause appeared to be doomed.[6]