Accordingly he became the power behind the tottering throne in December, 1838, and when Bustamante took the field early the next year to put down an insurgent named Mejía, the Centralist leaders had Santa Anna made temporary President as a bulwark against Federalism. The quality of his penitence quickly showed itself. His power was audaciously used to cripple Bustamante, suppress liberty, gain partisans and benefit himself and his friends. In a word, he achieved the most lawless and shameless administration yet witnessed, and though universally feared, was now execrated by almost all except his personal followers. In July, 1839, the President resumed his functions, but matters only went on from worse to worst--corruption rampant in the administration, public spirit dead. In July, 1840, rioters actually made him their prisoner for a time. False advisers, particularly Tornel, drew him farther and farther into Santa Anna's net. Corpulent and aging rapidly, he fell into a sort of mental stupor; and in August, 1841, the British minister reported that the government, if left to itself, would soon expire of inanition. As for the nation, it was not merely in anarchy but in chaos. Even the conservatives admitted that the Seven Laws would not do.[2.8] This very month rang the bell for the next scene. General Mariano Paredes, another important figure in the history of our war with Mexico, was a brave but rather besotted officer, more honest but less clever than his leading contemporaries. On a mere pretext, though he owed much to Bustamante, he revolted; more or less in collusion with him Santa Anna pronounced as mediator; and General Valencia, correctly described by an American consul as "destitute of every principle of honor or honesty," treacherously getting hold of what was called the citadel at Mexico, rebelled on his own account: check from two knights and a castle, as Señora Calderón wittily described the situation. Weary, disgusted, indifferent, cynical, men heard unmoved the "Quién vive?" and "Centinela alerte!" of the insurgents at the capital, and between two puffs of their cigarettes gossiped about the revolution as if it had occurred in Europe. It was only a game of chess, and the public were spectators. They understood now that nearly all the pompous phrases of the politicians had meant, as Lara's _Revista Política_ of 1840 put it, "Move, and let me have your place."[2.8]