A Ballad of Love and Glory(108)
41
October 1847
Mexico City
With Santa Anna gone, John’s fate was even more uncertain. The commander-in-chief had made promises to the San Patricios, promises that would no longer be honored, not now and perhaps not in the future. Ximena kept herself apprised of Santa Anna’s movements. After a few skirmishes with the Yanquis from his base in Guadalupe Hidalgo, he resigned the presidency and unsuccessfully attempted to besiege the Yanqui garrison in Puebla and retake the city. He failed. The new Mexican president, Pe?a y Pe?a, asked him to turn over what was left of his troops and retire to await a court-martial. Terminating his futile harassment of the Yanqui forces, Santa Anna issued several proclamations, and everyone, including Ximena, paid no heed to his words.
Mexicans! I am a man, and I have defects, but never have I sinned against my own country; never has my breast harbored anti-national sentiments. To leave a good name behind me has been the aim of my ambition. I have earnestly longed for everything which is great and glorious for Mexico, and to obtain it I have not spared my own blood. You know this, and you will do me justice.
His words had no weight to them, and his cry for vengeance was carried away by the wind. Facts were facts. Deliberately or not, he had allowed the Yanquis to occupy Mexico City. With the Mexican Army now decimated, the enemy claimed victory.
The bloody revolts of the Mexican people spread from building to building, street to street, plaza to plaza. The Yanquis suppressed the insurrection through force, breaking into homes, slaughtering and scattering dead bodies through the streets, until the noises of musket and cannon came to an end. General Scott published penal orders, threatening anyone who took up arms against his soldiers with severe punishment, ordering his soldiers to shoot any Mexican carrying arms in the streets. Ximena was disgusted when she realized that only the poor had rebelled against the invaders, while the “distinguished” citizens of the city had stood by, offering no support to the resistance, instead protecting their own wealth. Some even obtained positions of power from the Yanquis. White flags of truce hung from their balconies, as did the flags of the foreigners living in the city who wished to prevent the Yanquis from confusing them with common Mexicans.
The people now resigned themselves to the disgrace of a Yanqui occupation. Many abandoned their homes and left the capital, carrying with them their meager belongings. Ximena watched the Yanqui soldiers doing in the capital what they had done in Matamoros, sacking the churches, erecting whipping posts to punish any Mexicans who rebelled. All night long, the Yanquis gambled, danced, and drank anywhere they pleased in the city. More taverns and billiard halls opened up, along with brothels where many impoverished Mexican women went to sell their honor to feed their families. Others took to the streets to ask for alms. Food and other necessities became scarce, and the people struggled to secure what was needed to survive, especially after the arrival of more Yanqui forces, including the vicious Rangers and other volunteers with their pistols, bowie knives, and rough manners.
Pushing aside her worries for the gloomy future of her country, Ximena focused on the only things that were still important to her—her child and helping her husband and the surviving San Patricios.
To make matters worse, only a few days after taking possession of the city, General Scott had John and the other branded San Patricios transferred to the Acordada Prison in the city. She was not allowed to see him, but in the Mexican newspaper El Republicano, she read about the ordeal that he and his men were going through. She learned that they had been chained up by their arms so that they couldn’t lie down, with iron collars around their necks. And they were suffering from hunger, for the little food that they received was barely enough to sustain them. “We hope that General Scott won’t be deaf to our request and will consider that not even the laws of war permit inhuman chastisement. The light of the age has proscribed all cruel treatment,” the article read.
Ximena didn’t stop asking for help. She swallowed her pride and went to higher officials, as well as to se?ora Rubio and the wealthy se?oras who had shown their support to the San Patricios. She accompanied padre Sebastián and other priests to speak once more to the archbishop, who, in turn, put pressure on General Scott to ease up on the prisoners and permit visitations. As a result, Scott finally granted permission for the imprisoned San Patricios to receive visitors.
Ximena didn’t know what to expect when she arrived at the Acordada Prison, not far from the Alameda where she and John had often strolled. As she and the other visitors were escorted to the second floor cells where the San Patricios were imprisoned, she told herself that she wouldn’t cry, not in front of John. But at the sight of him behind bars, she couldn’t prevent the tears from welling up. She stood to the side as the other visitors passed her and went to the cells. John was stretched out on a straw mat in the farthest corner of the second cell, hiding in the shadows. Unlike the other men, who were happy to receive visitors, John didn’t seem pleased. He kept his face hidden and turned to the wall, taking no notice of the visitors. While the prisoners were not wearing the iron collars described in the newspaper, they were indeed shackled and dressed in rags, each with a straw mat and thin blanket offering no protection from the damp walls and floors.
After drying her tears, she finally approached his cell. Grabbing hold of the cold bars that stood between them, she called out to him. He turned slowly to face her. His eyes were hidden by his hair, which was getting long and shaggy. Why wouldn’t he come to her? Why was he just lying on his petate, unmoving? Wasn’t he happy to see her?