Transient Small ‘e’ empires in the Americas: The Méxican Experiment 2

Biographical, Regional History

Forty years on from the Emperor Agustín episode (see preceding post), México experienced a brief imperial phase for the second time. The Second Méxican empire differed from the first in being the creation of an externally-imposed political intervention. Born out of the ambitions, dreams and adventurist tendencies of the French emperor Napoleon III, the foreign intervention resulted in a hand-picked member of the Austro-Hungarian Habsburg dynasty being elevated to a “prefabricated throne” in México [Hanna, Kathryn Abbey. “The Roles of the South in the French Intervention in Mexico.” The Journal of Southern History 20, no. 1 (1954): 3-21. Accessed November 17, 2020. doi:10.2307/2954576.].

The trigger that set off the chain of events which resulted in an otherwise undistinguished Austrian archduke sitting atop a empire in faraway México was a economic crisis plaguing the Second Méxican republic in 1861. The Juarez government owed huge sums of money to foreign creditors—in particularly to France but also to other European states—which it was either unable or unwilling to repay, eventually the regime reneged on its debts. France’s Napoleon III entered into a conspiracy with México’s rich landowning class, to subvert the Juarez regime. With back-up from Britain and Spain (also creditors of the regime), the French landed a force at the port of Veracruz and demanded that Méxican government meet its financial obligations to Europe. After an initial military setback in the Battle of Puebla, the French army eventually captured México City. The French military intervention further inflamed a civil war already in train between the conservative and liberal forces of México [‘The Emperor Maximilian arrives in Mexico City’, (Richard Cavendish), History Today, 06-Jun-2014, www.historytoday.com].

Napoleon’s empire of opportunism
Napoleon’s foray into México was not just about the recovery of international debts, some historians contend that it had a longer strategic intent, a grandiose plan to fuel the emperor’s imperialistic designs, known as la Grande Pensée (lit: “the big thought”). Having established a protectorate over the country Napoleon’s immediate objective was to create a buffer against US expansionism, which he thought could be realised by turning México into a pliant imperial ally…amounting to the creation of “a new order” in the region , one to Napoleon’s liking. This view purports that the French emperor sought to forge a “Latin, Catholic bloc” to counter any likely further US encroachment on the central and southern parts of the continent (see more on this in Footnote) [Michele Cunningham, ‘México and the Foreign Policy of Napoleon III’, (Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Adelaide, December 1996]. The timing had been right, all of America’s energies were directed towards the civil war renting the union asunder, preventing Washington from taking a robust response to the European incursion in its sphere of influence.

Emperor Maximilian I

Maximilian’s reluctance to play an obliging puppet role
To head the imperial construct, Ferdinand Maximilian, younger brother of the Austro-Hungarian Emperor (Franz Josef) was chosen. Maximilian was initially loathe to take on the job, he only did so after encouragement from his ambitious wife (Carlota) and after some deception on the part of the French (a phoney plebiscite was rigged to convey the impression that the Méxican people were willing to accept an Imperio Mexicano with Maximilian as emperor). Maximilian eventually warmed to the imperial role but he proved less amenable to the conservative program espoused by his backers than they had anticipated. Seeing himself as the protector of the peasantry, Maximilian endorsed wide-reaching reforms (including abolition of serfdom and child labour) and refused to restore the powerful Catholic Church to the privileged position it held prior to Juarez’s attack on its assets (Cavendish). The loss of Catholic hierarchy support didn’t help Maximilian’s prospects of surviving when things got tight politically for him in México later on.

Castillo de Chapultepec, Maximilian & Carlota’s official imperial residence, CDMX (Photo: www.mexicanroutes.com)


Confederate exile plan
Maximilian’s empire, even with its heavy reliance on French support, struggled to bend all of the internal opposition to its rule⦿. Maximilian and his French backers duly forged alliances with the American South, Confederate generals Magruder and Preston were appointed envoys to México City. The door to México was opened to Confederates…settler schemes, the brainchild of southern oceanography pioneer Matthew F Maury, were launched (New Virginia Colony/Carlota Colony) to encourage postwar migration (asylum) south of the border. Maury’s colonisation scheme was intended to bring 200,000 southerners to Méxican plantations with former slaves as ‘apprentices’, however the plan never really took off. México’s long-standing ban on slavery was a further disincentive for prospective Confederate settlers (Hanna).

French end-game
As things transpired Napoleon (and Maximilian) gambled on the wrong side in the American Civil War. The Union’s emergence from the civil war triumphant was lethal for French ambitions in México, Washington was now free to turn its attention to the foreign interloper. Invoking the Monroe Doctrine of Manifest Destiny, the US “hard-balled” France into removing its troops from México. Other urgencies closer to home were also a factor in Napoleon‘s exit from México – primarily the menace of a rising Prussia. The French departure also sealed the fate of the foreign emperor they had placed on the throne. In 1867 with dwindling support for the Méxican empire, Maximilian was comprehensively defeated by the republican forces, captured and like his monarchical Méxican predecessor Agustín I, executed by firing squad.



Footnote: A rationale for French imperial reach into México and l’Amérique latine
At the time of Napoleon’s Méxican adventurism there was a widespread undercurrent of ”Pan-Latinism” in the air. The Napoleonic foreign policy that propelled France into the midst of an internal conflict in México has its rationale in the thinking of political economist of the day, Michel Chevalier. His influential ideas about Pan-Latinism struck a particular chord in France. Chevalier developed the idea that France (as leader of the Latin language countries) had a special hegemonic role to fulfil among les races Latines (the “Latin races”(sic)) vis-a-vís the Anglo-Saxon world. In the New World this manifested itself in the idea of France taking the lead in Hispanic America as a bulwark against the US expansionist juggernaut. Specifically, this meant France intervening in México to stabilise the unstable Méxican government—providing “a strong barrier on the Rio Grande to impede the march of Anglo-Saxonism”—and thus resisting Yankee territorial expansion which would undermine the solidarity of Catholic l’Amérique latine. And, as alluded to above, for Napoleon of course, the structure of empire was deemed the best framework to glue the various parts of the territorial entity together. A bonus incentive for France to establish a foothold in the Americas would be a chance to share in the continent’s vast riches[‘Pan-latinism, French intervention in México (1861-1867) and The Genesis of the idea of Latin America’, (John Leddy Phelan), (reproduced in Historical Digital), www.historicas.unam.mx].

◙◙◙ Maximilian I, first and last Habsburg Emperor of México, 1864-1867

ㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎㅎ

commemorated by Méxicans annually on “Cinco de Mayo” (5th of May)

one of the stratagems ultilised by Maximilian to try to make himself more appealing to Méxicans was to formally adopt the two grandsons of the first Méxican emperor, Agustín de Iturbide

practical assistance by the Americans to the republican side during the civil war was largely restricted to ‘losing’ caches of weapons over the border

⦿ Emperor Maximilian was probably aware of the downside of over-association with France – French diplomats sent to México City had an unfortunate tendency to make zero effort to disguise their distain for Méxicans, engendering an understandable reciprocal feeling of antipathy on the Méxicans’ part [Barker, Nancy N. “Monarchy in Mexico: Harebrained Scheme or Well-considered Prospect?” The Journal of Modern History 48, no. 1 (1976): 51-68. Accessed November 16, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1877749].

both the French and the Méxicans viewed the prospect of further territorial grabs by the Americans as pretty much inevitable

France had already signalled its interest in the lucrative Sonora silver mines in northern México

Transient Small ‘e’ empires in the Americas: The Méxican Experiment 1

Biographical, Regional History

During the first half-century of México’s independence, having freed itself from the Spanish Empire in 1821, the country was subjected to two brief periods of monarchical rule. The two emperadores de México, whose reigns were separated by 40 years, were elevated to the Méxican throne through very different circumstances, though ultimately they both met the same fate. 

The first emperor, Agustín de Iturbide, was a Méxican caudillo (military chieftain) who after initially supporting Spain in the Méxican war for independence, switched sides, allying with the radical insurgents and took command of the independence movement. Iturbide formulated the Iguala Plan which called for an independent México to be ruled by a prince from the (Spanish) Bourbon house (or failing that, a Méxican one), with equal rights for creoles (mixed race citizens) and peninsulares (of Spanish ancestry born in either Spain or México). The Plan, also advocating the retention of all powers for the army and the exclusivity of the Roman Catholic Church, won a consensus of approval within Méxican society. The viceroy of New Spain, with a new liberal government in charge in Spain, acquiesced to the Plan (Treaty of Córdoba), and Iturbide, basking in the glory of his role of El Libertador de la Nueva España took the helm of the new state. 

(Image: www.onthisday.com)

Road to empire
Iturbide initially became the president of the governing Council of Regents. By May 1822, having several times previously declined appeals by the populace at large to become emperor of México, Iturbide finally concurred and was crowned as Agustín the First in July. The empire of New Spain which fell to Iturbide certainly warranted the imperial tag, comprising an area of “Greater México” which included, in addition to modern-day México, the areas of Alto California right up to the Oregon territory, Arizona, New México, Utah, Nevada, Colorado, Texas, plus all of lower Meso-America down to Panama.

Mismanaging the finances
Within a few months things in Agustín’s empire had started to go badly “pear-shaped” and the image of Iturbide who had led the country to an almost bloodless war of independence was receding in peoples’ minds. Despite the country’s shaky financial situation the Agustín administration overspent catastrophically – a cost blowout of more than 25,000 pesos a month, nearly five times that of the New Spain Viceroyalty. Equally scandalously, the extravagance and imperial pomp of Agustín’s court drew widespread criticism and fostered republican sentiment at a time when ordinary Méxicans were bearing the brunt of salary cuts and newly imposed taxes [Anna, Timothy E. “The Rule of Agustin De Iturbide: A Reappraisal.” Journal of Latin American Studies 17, no. 1 (1985): 79-110. Accessed November 13, 2020. http://www.jstor.org/stable/157498]. In addition, Agustín increasingly couldn’t afford to pay the army (his power base) which to was prove critical to the chances of his own political longevity.

México, 1825 (image: Library of Congress (US)

Emperor v Congress
From the onset of the empire Agustín was at loggerheads with an increasingly hostile Congress, eventually resulting in a more authoritarian response by the ruler…press freedoms were curtailed, an alleged conspiracy within the parliament gave Iturbide a pretext to jail republican member, suspend Congress and replace it with a 45 man-junta. Key sections of the army deserted the emperor in 1823 including his most trusted generals. Other leading army generals, Santa Anna and Victoria, declared the Casa Mata Plan, calling for Agustín’s ouster and the installation of a republican form of government. Finding his position untenable Agustín abdicated in March 1823 and sought exile in Europe. Unaware that Congress had sentenced him to death in absentia, Iturbide returned to México in 1824 and was arrested and promptly executed. Iturbine’s constitutional monarchy was replaced with a federalist structure along US lines—de Los Estados Unidos Méxicanos, the ‘USM’—a constitution giving more power to the legislative branch than to the executive.

PostScript: Agustín the ‘Unpraised’
Historians on the whole have tended to give Iturbide rather short shrift, especially when compared to the other, lavishly acknowledged, great liberadores of Spanish American history such as Bolivár and San Martin. Many seem have taken a leaf from the book of Iturbide’s contemporaries who unrestrainedly vilified him, eg. the opposition El Sol Méxican newspaper who labelled the emperor “a traitor, a hypocrite and an impious man” (30th April 1823), “betraying his patria (homeland) for personal wealth and tyrannical power” [Review, Timothy E. Anna, The Mexican Empire of Iturbide, (1990), Michael P. Costeloe, (Cambridge University Press: 05 February 2009, www.cambridgeunivesitypress.org/]. 

(attributed: JA Huerta)

Historian TE Anna proffered a fresh reappraisal of the embattled first emperor of México three decades ago in an attempt to give some balance. On the charge that Iturbide usurped power for himself, while conceding there were lingering questions of legality about his accession to the throne—Congress lacked the required quorum to ratify the move—Anna nonetheless contends that there was no substantial nationwide opposition to the imperial elevation at the time. Anna also evidences Iturbide’s reluctance to assume the title of emperor, noting that it was only at the urging of others that he eventually took the job. Moreover he affirms that the consensus in favour of Iturbide reflected the existence of a “cult of Iturbide”, a genuine and spontaneous groundswell of popular support that was “not manufactured by the Hero himself”. On the question of why did Iturbide, having already consolidated power in his hands, go the emperor route, Anna argues that there was very few voices raised against the establishment of a monarchy in 1822 (mainly Fray de Mier and El Sol)…and that Méxicans, after centuries of rule by the Spanish viceroys, were accustomed to an imperial form of government. Anna also addresses why Agustín made the decision to abdicate, concluding that he “gave up because the political price of remaining on the throne was more than he would pay”. To continue as emperor, Anna argues, Iturbide recoiled from the grim prospect of having his power emasculated… conceding sovereignty to Congress meant imperilling the planks of his cherished Iguala Plan (Anna). 

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excluding republicans

Santa Anna’s other co-conspirators against Agustín were generals Guerrero and Echàverri

Other pejorative adjectives heaped on Agustín include ‘fraud’, ‘usurper’, ‘dictator’…his decriers have even described him as “México’s most significant non-person” [Anna Macias,  TIMOTHY E. ANNAThe Mexican Empire of Iturbide. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. 1990. Pp. xii, 286. The American Historical Review, Volume 96, Issue 2, April 1991, Pages 642–643, http://doi.org/10.1086/age/96.2.642-a]

conversely the republican form of rule was still not very well understood at the time, even by its advocates

Anna’s basic thesis seems to be that at heart Iturbide wanted the Méxican regime to be a constitutional monarchy but was thwarted by enemies in and outside of Congress (Macias)

Sifting the Devil from the Dragon: Dracula versus Vlad Ţepeş

Biographical, Cinema, Creative Writing, Literary & Linguistics, Popular Culture, Regional History

(Image: Lonely Planet)

Romanians, especially those from the region of Transylvania, must view Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula with at best mixed feelings. On the one hand, the immense popularity of Stoker’s imaginative work of fiction helped put Transylvania on the international tourist map…on the other hand, its dark and ghoulish tale of chilling evil with its genesis in the mountains and forests of trans-silvae (“the land beyond the forest”), projects a negative and deceptively gloomy picture of the country. The association of one of the greatest heroes in Romanian history and a defender of Christianity, the Medieval ruler Vlad Ţepeş III, with the fictional Dracula, would be displeasing to many patriotic Romanians.

Dracula’s transformation into a classic of the Gothic horror genre captured the imagination of film-makers, inspiring numerous silver-screen interpretations of Dracula – from the silent German feature Nosferatu to countless Western film versions which made actors such as Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee famous – and typecast. The Dracula character’s pervasion of especially American popular culture has seen the trope extend to parody cartoon versions on TV (Duckula), to female teen “vampire-slayers” (Buffy) and even to “blaxploitation” movies asserting the emergence of a self-conscious black culture in the US (eg, Blacula).

Vlad’s signature punishment
In some screen interpretations of the novel, like the 1992 Francis Ford Coppola movie Bram Stoker’s Dracula, the identities of Dracula and Vlad Ţepeş are presented as if they are one and the same person! (see also PostScript). Entirely fanciful of course but Stoker’s character did draw inspiration from the real-life Vlad Ţepeş III (or Vlad Împalatul). Vlad was the voivode of Wallachia in the mid-15th century, infamous for impaling victims such as his own troublesome boyars or foreigners captured in conflicts (Ottomans, Bulgarians, Saxons, Hungarians). Such an horrific torture technique earned him the nickname “the Impaler”.

1499 woodcut, Vlad the Impaler

Vlad Ţepeş, voivode and resident of Wallachia, not Transylvania
Stoker did get the name ‘Dracula’ from the Medieval Romanian prince, or at least from his family. Vlad’s father—Wallachian voivode before him—was Vlad II, also known as Vlad Drâcul…Drâcul (or Drâc) was a word for ‘dragon’ in the 15th century, today in Modern Romanian it means “the devil” – something noted by Stoker in his research for the book as an apt descriptor for his fictional arch-nemesis. There is however a great deal of the character of Count Dracula that Stoker didn’t derive from the circumstance of Vlad Ţepeş. The Impaler had nothing to do with vampires or any supernatural beings and his associations with Transylvania were largely peripheral and tenuous. Vlad was supposedly born within Transylvania in Sighişoara although there are some doubts about this (an alternative view has his birthplace in Wallachia). Bran Castle, a Transylvanian tourist attraction identified with Stoker’s Dracula, has no connection with Vlad at all [Florin Curta, referenced in ‘The Real Dracula: Vlad the Impaler’, (Marc Lallanilla), Live Science, (2017), www.livescience.com].

Bran Castle (Photo: Daniel Mihailescu/AFP/Getty Images)

Constructing the Ur-vampire
Transylvania, being to outsiders, “a mysterious land of vampires and other supernatural things”, handed down a long tradition of folklore and legends, it’s not surprising that Stoker drew on this source for inspire and inform his vampire story. Superstitions and beliefs of Romanian peasants in Stoker’s time fuelled a plentiful supply of tales about vampiri (vampires), vârcolaci (werewolves) and other supernatural monstri. Stoker’s library research would also have acquainted him with the strigol, a Romanian figure of legend—“a reckless spirit that returns to suck the lifeblood from his relatives”—the type of vampirish “undead souls” that would find a place in Stoker’s horror novel [‘The Use of History in Dracula Tourism in Romania’, (Tuomas Hovi), www.folklore.ee].

Whitby, England (Image credit: www.visitwhitby.com)

Non-Romanian influences on Dracula
In the Dracula novel the undead Count travels to Britain in search of more victims, journeying to Whitby in Yorkshire. This echoes Stoker’s own earlier visit to Whitby in which the author was reportedly quite taken with the town, its colony of bats circling round the churches, its whole creepy atmosphere, all of which he would have found good material for a Gothic novel [‘How Dracula Came to Whitby’, English Heritage, www.english-heritage.org.uk]. Stoker apparently found more inspiration in Port Erroll (these days, Cruden Bay) in Aberdeenshire – Slains Castle with its “fang-like rocks” is thought to have also inspired the Transylvanian Dracula castle home in the book [‘Slains Castle’, www.visitabdn.com].

Vampires: not the exclusive preserve of Transylvania⦿
Bram Stoker was Irish and never visited Romania in his lifetime, prompting some to speculate that the Dracula story may equally have been influenced by the author’s own experiences growing up in Ireland. Stoker would have been exposed to homegrown myths of the supernatural (such as those involving the sidhe, the fairy people of Irish folklore), as well as to the nightmarish ordeal of living through a cholera epidemic [‘How Bram Stoker creates Dracula with the aid of Irish Folklore’, (Leonie O’Hara), Irish Central, 04-Oct-2020, www.irishcentral.com].

PostScript: Vampire tourism
Vampire tourism in Transylvania has not been waylaid by coronavirus, tourist operators in Romania are still offering up a raft of tour packages—with titles like “7-Day Dracula Highlights Tour” and “Fun With Fangs: Vampire Tours in Romania”—to lure the “vampire-curious”. The tours, tend to wallow in all the predictable cliches and stereotypes, milking the prevailing craze for all things vampire, staying in Dracula-themed hotels, etc. Vampire tourism is an intriguing admixture of history, tradition and fiction…taking a leaf from Hollywood some of the tours indulge in considerable conflating of the historic Vlad Ţepeş with the fictional Count Dracula (Hovi).

↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↝↜↜↝↜↝↜

ruler, a sort of military governor of a region

Prince Vlad’s political fortunes generally hovered in the vacuum between the two regional powerhouses Hungary and the Ottomans, who he fought both with and against at different times

 Drâculeşti is the patronymic – Vlad Ţepeş was also known as Drâculea, “son of the dragon”

descendants of Saxon (German) merchants and craftsmen who migrated to Romania, commencing in the 12th century

⦿ though the tradition is a strong one in the Balkans and Eastern Europe, eg, Greece vrykolakas, Albania shtriga

Inspiring the Creation of Secret Agent 007: The Template of a World War 2 Yugoslav Spy

Biographical, Cinema, Creative Writing, Literary & Linguistics, Popular Culture


The James Bond film series, is the world’s most successful and enduring movie franchise, since 1962, 24 completed feature films and with another currently cooling it’s post-production heels in Covid lockdown…a franchise that seemingly has not yet run out of steam. The 007 phenomenon has inspired countless imitations in cinema and television. This has ranged from blatant rip-off imitators trying to capitalise on its impetus in the Sixties (“Matt Helm”, “Our Man Flint”, “The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”, etc.) to playing it for laughs parodies (“Get Smart”, “Austin Powers”, “Johnny English”).

(Photo: Britannica)

But where did the original creator of the James Bond novels, Ian Fleming, get his inspiration for the iconic character from? We know that Fleming’s own lived experience and background—as a British naval intelligence officer in WWII—made him an insider in the world of espionage, double deceptions and counter-agents. Obviously when the Caribbean-domiciled Fleming came to put pen to paper and create the fictional James Bond in the early Fifties, he drew on many of the real-life acquaintances he had met in the ‘workplace’❋.

In his lifetime Fleming never said definitively who the principal model for 007 was, but the consensus seems to gravitate towards a Serbian double agent Dušan (‘Duško) Popov, someone Fleming came across in the course of his own intelligence career. A famous scene in Casino Royale (Fleming’s first James Bond novel) further advances the association of the world’s most celebrated fictional spy with Popov. Bond’s besting of a powerful Russian criminal at the baccarat table in Casino Estoril (Portugal) in the book/film mirrors an exchange Fleming observed first-hand when the real-life spy spectacularly called the bluff of a boastful Lithuanian gambler in a baccarat game at the same location.

Popov stumbled into the espionage game after being arrested by the Gestapo. To get out of that pickle Popov agreed to spy for the Abwehr (German intelligence agency). While in England he was recruited by MI6 and turned double agent✫. During the war Popov managed to feed a steady stream of misinformation to the Nazis about the Allies’ movements, strength, etc. Most productive for the Allies was his role in Operation Fortitude – Popov helped to convince German military planners that the D-Day invasion of France would occur in Pas de Calais, not Normandy, the actual landing point. As a consequence of Popov’s disinformation, when Operation Overlord was launched in 1944 there were seven German divisions stuck in Calais and unavailable to the Reichswehr in Normandy [‘My name is Popov, Duran Popov’, (Marta Levai), www.0011info.com].

(Image: Getty)

The Serbian counter-spy also tried in August 1941 to alert the US military as to high-level Nazi and Japanese interest in Pearl Harbor, however the critical information which could have averted the military disaster on 7th December was blocked from reaching its target by CIA director Hoover. Hoover distrusted Popov as a double agent, an attitude not allayed by Popov’s reputation as a womaniser and playboy.

(Source: www.newspapers.com)

After the war Popov’s services were rewarded by the Brits with an OBE, but it wasn’t until 1974 that Popov himself lifted the cover on his war-time espionage activities when he published his autobiography. When asked about comparisons between himself and 007, Popov was dismissive of the hedonistic, jet-setting spy as portrayed on the big screen, remarking that “a spy who drank like Bond would be drunk the first night and dead the second” [‘From the archive: the real James Bond, 1973’, (Observer archive), (Chris Hall), The Guardian, 22-Mar-2020, www.theguardian.com].

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❋ and on those Fleming only knew of, such as the legendary master spy Sidney Reilly [‘Novel Man’, (William Cook), New Statesman, 28-Jun-2004]

✫ at one point Popov was also spying for the Yugoslav intelligence service, making him a triple agent