The American separatist movement in Texas, known as the Separatist Army, was the new term newspapers had coined for the Texas rebellion, and it was quickly adopted by media outlets around the world.
Guizot and Thiers, two giants of French politics, both believed this was a golden opportunity for France to return to North America.
After all, the Mexicans were so poor they probably couldn't even pay the interest. France could exploit the debt issue to demand Texas from Mexico, then use the Gulf of Mexico as a base and build a second France. It wasn't just a pipe dream.
They didn't think it was wishful thinking, and they knew full well that Mexico lacked the national strength to support Santa Anna's military campaign.
Mexico was a vast country, yet its annual revenue amounted to only 18 million pesos, less than a tenth of France's.
By the French estimate, Mexico's funds would be exhausted in three months at most—and that was assuming Mexico didn't increase its military spending.
According to intelligence reports, the Texas Separatist Army had already gained American support.
The Mexicans were badly behind in both training and weaponry. Even a small, organized force of American troops could enter Texas and beat them to a pulp.
As for opposing America, the British might make the loudest noise, but they would never send troops directly to Texas. Sooner or later, the two sides in the war would be the United States and Mexico.
And the United States was far stronger than Mexico. The Mexicans' defeat was only a matter of time.
If the Mexicans didn't want to accept defeat, their only choice was to borrow from France. France would be more than happy to help these poor souls.
After all, they were all Catholic brothers. Surely France hadn't earned its reputation as the Catholic Church's most dutiful son for nothing?
Then, once the war was over, France could use the debt as an excuse to demand Texas from Mexico.
That way, Mexico would pay off its debts and gain France's protection—a twofold benefit.
After all, as long as France had a presence in Texas, the United States couldn't continue its westward expansion. The Mexicans could then sleep easy.
Thiers and Guizot were still dreaming of France's bright future in North America when a clerk on duty in the cabinet brought them back to reality.
"Mr. Rothschild and his party are here."
To carry out their charitable mission, France needed the most professional bankers.
On a plain north of San Antonio, a massacre was underway.
The two sides were Santa Anna's 1,500 Mexican cavalrymen and the 270 exhausted troops of Colonel Maning's Separatist Army.
From the moment the fighting began, the outcome had been decided.
At first, Maning and his men hadn't realized their opponents were Mexicans. They had mistaken them for Houston's reinforcements.
They let the cavalry charge to within a hundred meters. By then, it was too late to form a square or flee.
In that moment, Maning stopped thinking and let the cavalry crush his ranks like a rotten log.
The fleeing soldiers scattered in every direction, but none could escape the pursuing cavalry. The battle was soon over.
Santa Anna thoroughly enjoyed watching the cavalry hunt down the routed soldiers. He loved the sight of blood spraying in every direction, and shouted in delight.
"Kill them all! Good lads, God is with us!"
Gablenz and Stadion had no interest in such a one-sided battle. Santa Anna's adjutant reminded him, "The two military observers are still here. We must observe the rules of gentlemanly conduct."
Only then did Santa Anna come to his senses. If he kept up this indiscriminate slaughter, he would be branded a savage. He hurriedly gave the order.
"Don't harm anyone who surrenders! Quick, stop them! No more killing!"
Several officers galloped off. The soldiers had already worked themselves into a bloodlust; anyone would get excited chasing rabbits on horseback.
By the time the officers stopped the frenzied cavalrymen, only a dozen or so members of the Separatist Army remained, including Colonel Maning, who had already stopped thinking.
Colonel Maning stood frozen in place, still wearing his officer's uniform, so the cavalrymen simply ignored him. It was the fleeing soldiers and volunteers who had stirred their bloodlust.
A Mexican general hurried up to Santa Anna's horse, removed his hat, and saluted.
"General, this is your victory—a great victory. We captured seventeen prisoners, including a colonel who must be their commander, and three hundred rifles."
Colonel Maning was the highest-ranking officer the Mexican army had captured since the war began.
Santa Anna was delighted. He had meant to go humiliate the Separatist officer, but was sorely disappointed: the man in front of him seemed to have lost his mind.
The fighting in the direction of the town had also ended. Santa Anna ordered his men to put out the fires and gather up the displaced refugees, then pinned all the blame for the arson on the Separatist Army.
Hundreds of townspeople gazed at their homes reduced to rubble. Many wept uncontrollably, and nobody cared about Santa Anna's blame-shifting speech.
"Your Excellency, you should show mercy." Gablenz was already itching to curse. How had this man become Mexico's ruler? Did he have no political talent at all?
In fact, Santa Anna was the first man in the Americas to shell a presidential palace. He also founded a school of thought known as the "House-Demolition School": every time they staged a coup, they bombed the presidential palace, forcing the president to build himself a new home again and again. The school spread far and wide, and all of Latin America became its devoted followers.
Dictators who rose to power through military coups often had very limited political skills.
But with Austrian military observers standing nearby, Santa Anna had no choice but to rein himself in a little.
To protect the image of the Mexican army, Santa Anna ordered his soldiers to set up temporary tents for the townspeople and distributed some of the military provisions he had seized to the town's civilians and soldiers.
Santa Anna's actions won him some popular support, but infuriated the quartermaster. Supplies from the rear were long overdue. The only reason the Mexican army could currently eat and drink so well was that they had seized the property of the rebels who had betrayed Mexico.
Now Santa Anna had refused to let his men plunder, just to preserve his image. The Alamo remained under siege, while Goliad had food and supplies but no money. It was a real problem.
On March 9, 1836, the sixteen-pound heavy siege cannon Santa Anna had been waiting for finally arrived.
Santa Anna was overjoyed and shouted, "I'm going to kill all those Yankees!"
Gablenz and Stadion thought he was beyond saving. Killing all the Yankees was utterly pointless; it would only turn them into heroes.
Franz understood this perfectly. He had already urged Archbishop Rauscher to do everything in his power to persuade the Alamo garrison to surrender.
Before Gablenz and Stadion left for Mexico, they had both been told to ensure that as many Texans as possible surrendered—especially the defenders of San Antonio, meaning the current Alamo garrison.
Stadion spoke first. "Your Excellency, you should send the prisoners to persuade the Alamo garrison to surrender. If they do, you can avoid unnecessary bloodshed and enhance your prestige."
Santa Anna immediately realized he had let himself get carried away. He was the Napoleon of North America—surely he knew how to wield both kindness and authority?
"Tell those prisoners to go inform the Alamo garrison: they must surrender."
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