QI The Book of the Dead

and pulverised his ankle. As he lay waiting for the surgeon he piled on the pathos in a letter to the latest Mexican president, Anastasio Bustamente:
    I ask of the government that my body may be buried in these very sand dunes, so that my comrades in arms know that this is the line of battle I leave marked for them: that from today onward, the Mexicans’ most unjust enemies may not dare place the filthy soles of their feet on our territory. All Mexicans, forgetting my political errors, do not deny me the only title I wish to donate to my children: that of having been a Good Mexican .
     
    He didn’t die, but the leg was amputated rather inexpertly: the surgeons left a nub of bone protruding too far and had to overstretch the skin to cover the stump. For the rest of his life Santa Anna suffered pain and inflammation, and sometimes the skin would split and bleed. But it was a propaganda weapon his rivals could do nothing to match: his missing leg was the living embodiment of Mexican independence and sacrifice. In May 1839 he was elected president for the second time.
    His second administration was even more oppressive than his first, so he played the leg card. At political rallies, and to inspire his troops, he waved his wooden limb above his head, confirming his status as a war hero. In 1841 he had his original leg ceremoniously disinterred from its last resting place in Veracruz, taken to the capital under escort in a glass casket and reburied with full military honours in a mausoleum in the cemetery of Santa Paula. It wasn’t enough to stem the tide of resentment. In 1844 a rampaging mob smashed his statue, rushed into the cemetery and dug up the casket containing the revered limb. It was carried through the streets to cries of ‘Death to the cripple!’ Shortly afterwards Santa Anna was deposed and exiled to Cuba.
    A year later he was back. The United States, keen to expand and consolidate its southern territories, had declared war on Mexico. Santa Anna wrote to the Mexican government offering his services with the solemn promise that he would not pursue the presidency. The long-suffering Farías, president once more,reluctantly agreed. What he didn’t know was that Santa Anna had been in secret talks with the US government, offering to sell them large parts of Mexico if he ever returned to power. By early 1846 Santa Anna had returned to the place he loved best, at the head of the Mexican army. Never one to do anything by halves, he decided to renege on both promises simultaneously, seizing the Presidency and turning his army on the invading Americans. But Santa Anna was outmanoeuvred by the US forces and outgunned by their heavy artillery, losing six straight battles in a row. The Mexican–American War ended in disaster for Mexico and humiliation for Santa Anna, culminating in the fall of Mexico City in September 1847 and the loss of more than half of Mexico’s northern territory. On 2 February 1848 the Mexican states of Utah, California, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and half of Colorado joined Texas as part of the USA. Apart from those who fell in battle, deaths from secondary infection and disease on both sides claimed over 50,000 lives. Santa Anna went into exile again, this time in Jamaica.
    His leg had also had a bad war. In the battle of Cerro Gordo in 1847 the Americans overran the Mexicans so quickly that Santa Anna was forced to leave his half-eaten chicken dinner and both wooden legs behind. The legs were ‘taken prisoner’ by two members of the 4th Illinois Infantry. The fancy one, made of cork and leather, was the work of Charles Bartlett, a New York cabinetmaker. It had cost $1,300 at the time (worth about $35,000 today), and had an articulated foot that moved on ball bearings. After the war, it was exhibited at state fairs for a dime a peek before finding its way to the Illinois State Military Museum in Springfield. The simpler (spare) peg-leg was used as a baseball bat by General Abner Doubleday and can now be seen at theOglesby Mansion Museum in Decatur, Georgia
    That ought to be the end of the Santa Anna story but it isn’t. He operated on a purely mythological level in the minds of his countrymen and, though he had just lost half the country, was invited back, this time by the conservatives. In 1853 he was sworn in as president for his eleventh and final term. Dispensing with even the pretence of democracy, he appointed himself dictator for life, insisting on the official title His