The brief period between being a hero or an adversary

When the news of his capture arrived, time stood still, then began to tick by at a dizzying pace. Should we celebrate or cry in grief?

It was the year 1824, July 14th—just like today, dear reader—when news broke that Agustín de Iturbide had landed in Soto la Marina, Tamaulipas. He had been an enlightened Creole, a favorite of Calleja—our archenemy; later a cruel military strategist of the royalist army; then the insurgent general most committed to Mexico's liberation cause; later, the luminous thinker who designed the Plan of Iguala; a heroic figure who achieved our independence, but also the crowned head of the first Mexican empire that had returned from exile, after having been declared a traitor to the homeland.

Many Mexicans still remembered the day of his coronation, just two years earlier, on July 21, 1822. The salutes of the 24 cannons that celebrated it still resonated in their ears. They couldn't forget how the church atriums and portals had been decorated, and the balconies and facades of the city's public buildings had been adorned. They couldn't forget that two thrones had been placed in the metropolitan cathedral, or that cavalry and infantry troops had surrounded the future emperor and his entourage. Still, some recounted, fascinated, that three bishops had officiated at the mass, and that the president of Congress, Rafael Mangino y Mendívil, had been in charge of placing the crown on Agustín I, and that the emperor himself had placed the crown on the empress. It was also said that other insignia were imposed on the newly crowned by generals and ladies-in-waiting, and that Bishop Juan Cruz Ruiz de Cabañas y Crespo exclaimed "Vivat Imperator in aeternum!" ("Long live the Emperor forever"). At the end of the ceremony, the ringing of bells and the roar of rockets and cannons announced to the people that the coronation was complete.

Not everything was happy and joyful. The Mexican empire would face republican opposition and the resistance of the Spanish garrison of San Juan de Ulúa. Protests, demonstrations, and brawls would erupt furiously into the streets, and Emperor Iturbide, assisted by his Council of State and in open conflict with Congress, reduced the number of deputies to rid himself of some of his enemies and attempt to nullify them. Some wealthy Spaniards, fearing for their safety, preferred to abandon the empire, and supporters of the Plan of Iguala, feeling disappointed, joined enemy lodges, which had an impact on politics. Felipe de la Garza, the brigadier general of Nuevo Santander, upon learning that the Treaties of Córdoba had been broken, proposed to Congress that a republican government be established, offering a cavalry force of 2,000 troops. Colombia's plenipotentiary minister, Miguel Santa María, encouraged the deputies to follow the republican policy he had adopted in his own country, and discontent began to secretly organize.

Iturbide learned of the plots against him and in less than a month ordered the arrest of illustrious deputies such as José Joaquín Herrera, Lombardo, Teresa de Mier, and Fagoaga. Reactions escalated in violence and indignation. The emperor justified the decision, empowered by the Constitution, by proceeding with the arrest of those criminals on the grounds of conspiracy. He urged calm among his subjects and asked them to await the court's ruling. Just in case, he decided to rely on a document, the Provisional Political Regulations of the Mexican Empire; a transitional statute that gave legal certainty to the emperor's provisions as the person ultimately responsible for the exercise of government and established the mechanisms for territorial organization, the administration of justice, education, public finances, and, incidentally, the organization of a new constituent congress.

Nothing came of it. His reign plunged the country into disaster and poverty. So much so that, in March 1823, almost a year after he had been crowned, his abdication was petitioned before Congress, and Iturbide left the country. In his absence, attempts were made to restore order and peace, but to no avail. Various uprisings arose, both for and against him, and meanwhile, Iturbide, exiled in Europe, suffered persecution. Overwhelmed, on February 13, 1824, he wrote to the Mexican Congress about the possibility of "offering his services to the government of Mexico, whose independence was in great danger." But in the absence of a response, he decided to return. He embarked on his return journey, leaving London on May 4, 1824, unaware that the Mexican government had issued a decree of proscription condemning him to death. The die was cast.

When he landed at Soto la Marina on July 14 and was captured, according to some because he was poorly disguised and because of his peculiar riding style, he may have also believed that time had stopped. However, his hasty judgment and standing before the firing squad just five days later, at six o'clock in the evening on July 19, in Padilla, Tamaulipas, may have made him regret the rapidity with which his last breath was approaching.