Her husband was the Corregidor of the town of Queretero, a position of some political power. She became La Corregidora of Mexico, a position enshrined in the heart of a grateful nation.
“She”, as reported by a historian to BBC Mundo, “lit the fuse that started the Independence of Mexico.”
“She” is Doña Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, who, living in early 1800s colonial Mexico, grew to despise the way the indigenous peoples were treated by their colonizers. While mothering 14 children as wife to a local politician, she began to attend literary meetings in her town home in which the literature of The Enlightenment was frequently discussed. After a time, she began to host these meetings in her home. And in due time the discussions, attended by educated figures such as Miguel Hidalgo and others, turned towards ideas of independence, and then a movement, and then, finally, plans for a independence.
With an upheaval in the Spanish monarchy, the possibilities of independence seemed more real than ever. The meetings in her home became the center of the developing insurgency. Plans were made and weapons began to become accumulated and cached in the houses of supporters. Plans were set for an uprising on December 10, 1810.
On September 13, it was learned that weapons were being stockpiled. The chief magistrate, the Corregidor, Doña Josefa Ortiz’ husband, was immediately informed and ordered to raid the houses, seize the weapons, and jail the participants. Worried for his wife, he told her of his orders; and, determined to protect her, locked her in a room to prevent her from arrest with the others.
The story is told here, that while locked up, she composed a letter of warning to Father Hidalgo, making it untraceable by pasting together individual letters from newspaper clippings. And then, while still locked in that room, she repeatedly stomped so hard on the floor with her heel, that one came to the door, one to whom she could entrust her letter to Hidalgo.
Hidalgo, receiving this intelligence, moved up the date of the insurgency to the morning of September 16, 1810. Early that morning Father Hidalgo rang the church bell summoning all the common peoples to Mass. There he delivered the impassioned sermon, now known in history as, The Cry of Dolores, in which he urged a rebellion against Spain so that Mexico could be governed by Mexicans.
“There is no scholarly consensus on the exact words Miguel Hidalgo said at the time. The book The Course of Mexican History says “the exact words of this most famous of all Mexican speeches are not known, or, rather, they are reproduced in almost as many variations as there are historians to reproduce them”.
The same book also argues that:
“ …the essential spirit of the message is… ‘My children: a new dispensation comes to us today. Will you receive it? Will you free yourselves? Will you recover the lands stolen three hundred years ago from your forefathers by the hated Spaniards? We must act at once… Will you defend your religion and your rights as true patriots? Long live Our Lady of Guadalupe! Death to bad government! Death to the Gachupines!’
The date, September 16, 1810, the date of “The Cry of Dolores”, is celebrated in Mexico as Independence Day. It is considered to be the day the independence movement began.
And “that day” was possible, because of La Corregidora.
This image from the back of our banknote is very significant in the story of Mexico.
It has evolved over the centuries; and is reproduced in the nation’s coat of arms, great seal and flag. The coat of arms in 1821, at the first proclamation of independence of Mexico, showed the eagle on the cactus and wearing a crown. Two years later, while our heroine La Corregidora was still with us, the coat of arms was revised. The crown was removed, but the cactus remained; and the eagle now grasped the snake.
The image is reminiscent of the founding story of Mexico City, then named Tenochtitlan. The people of Aztlan, then residing north of contemporary Mexico, were directed to travel southward to find a new land. They were to look for an eagle perched upon a cactus and clutching a snake. This would indicate the place for the founding of a powerful empire. After years of traveling, place to place, during which they learned from other cultures, they arrived at Lake Texcoco. In the distance, in the middle of the lake, they saw an eagle, perched upon a cactus, devouring a snake. They had arrived. The Aztec empire flourished from that location.
Three thousand years ago, a people, known as the Lenca, traveled from the great continent known as South America northward, along the narrow isthmus between the two great oceans, through the rainforests of Central America, and settled finally in the highlands of the region we now call Honduras. When the Spaniards sought conquest in the 1500s, a leader rose up among them, to defend them, and to preserve their culture. His presence, 500 years ago, resonates to this day. He is remembered in Honduras on this banknote, in the stories told among the Lenca, and in this post.
Spaniards first landed on the Yucatan in 1517. So novel was their appearance, their ships and their horses, the news of their arrival would travel swiftly the 300 miles to the Honduran homeland of the Lenca. Lempira was a young man when this news arrived, perhaps 18 or 20 years old. No longer associating with the children of the community, he would travel with the men, but listen as a young man, to the wisdom of his elders. The first reports were that the visitors were very few in number and they were respectful, bringing strange gifts. The elders were curious, but unconcerned. Four years later, in the Summer of 1521, like an arrow shot, the news would travel that the capital city of the mighty Aztecs, had fallen to the newcomers. The elders, perhaps, looked at one another in silence, with deepening lines of concern on their faces, while the young men watched and listened in silence. Lempira would be in his early to middle 20s, and restless.
With creeping slowness, due in part to a confused administration, the conquistadors presence grew in central America. Like an advance messenger of doom, European diseases would reach through the jungle to a tribe, weakening them; and then sometime later, horsed and armored conquistadors would arrive, and defeat would inevitably follow. In 1533, a Spanish conquistador received royal decree to enter the region of Honduras. Lempira would be about 33 years old. He’d be sitting with the elders.
It is likely that, around this time, the great meeting was held with the leaders of 200 villages. Some say it was called by Lempira; perhaps, but it was certainly concluded by Lempira. He stood up before the 200 with a question, a promise and an offer. He first asked how it was possible that so many bold men could be subdued by so few foreigners in their own land. During the murmuring of obvious dangers, he spoke a second time. He promised them that he, Lempira, would face the greatest dangers. With this, the unspoken question before the 200 shifted. It was no longer what should they do, but whether or not they would join Lempira, because it was obvious that he was going to fight. Lempira spoke one more time. He offered to lead as many of them as were willing to fight, because he, Lempira, certainly intended to fight. If he was not a leader going into this meeting, he was the leader coming out of it. The 200 villages united behind him and an army of 30,000 joined him.
For a decade, Lempira had been watching and listening, learning the ways of the Spaniards. Though their numbers were few, with their muskets, their armor and their horses, they were undefeatable in open battle. Lempira would change the terms of the battle. He would let the strength of the land fight for the Lenca. He would have the knowledge of his people fight for them. He designated five rocky hill tops, surrounded by forests, as key defensive positions for the nation; Cerquin Rock, Congolon Peak, Coyocutena hill, El Broquel, and Gualasapa hill. He extended these high places with terraces and retaining walls, and built storerooms with defensible accesses. When he had filled the strongholds with ample supplies and gathered his warriors, he would be ready. In the mid 1530s, the Spaniards began to pass back and forth through Lencan territory, but Lempira left them alone, and they began to think Honduras was conquered.
It is said, that Lempira had said, that the killing of three Spaniards would be the sign. In 1537, three Spaniards passing near the Peñol de Cerquín were attacked and killed. This attack greatly disturbed the Spanish Governor at the time, Montejo, for he had begun to consider the area pacified. He therefore sent an attack force to the region. And Lempira declared war.
The following is selected from Wikipedia:
Lempira sent messages to the native auxiliaries of the Spanish, exhorting them to abandon their foreign overlords and join his forces, but they refused. It was only with the declaration of war that the Spanish became aware of the threat presented by Lempira and his alliance. Although the immediate threat was limited to the region close to the Peñol de Cerquín, the Spanish realised that the rebellion at such a strong fortress was a powerful symbol of native independence throughout Higueras. Montejo immediately dispatched Cáceres against Lempira with 80 well-armed Spanish soldiers, accompanied by Mexican and Guatemalan Indian auxiliaries. Montejo sent messengers requesting assistance from Santiago de Guatemala and San Salvador.
Siege at the Peñol de Cerquín
On 1 November 1537, Cáceres arrived at the Peñol de Cerquín. He immediately sent envoys to Lempira, requesting his submission; Lempira executed the envoys and declared his defiance. In response, Cáceres launched a direct assault against the fortress but found it impregnable. No roads climbed the mountain, and sheer wall prevented attempts to climb it. Well-engineered defences manned by large numbers of gathered warriors prevented the Spanish from storming the approaches, and horses were useless on the steep terrain. Cáceres had no choice except to lay close siege to the Peñol. He divided his men equally amongst the eight approaches to the fortress, and fierce fighting ensued, in which five Spaniards were killed and many were injured, including Cáceres. The siege held firm, but was unable to gain any ground.
While Cáceres was engaged in what would evidently be a lengthy siege, Montejo sent a column of Spanish soldiers into the area around Gracias a Dios; he sent a second column, with 20 Spaniards accompanied by native auxiliaries, south to the Valley of Xocorro. Montejo led a third column in person, taking 23 Spanish soldiers to Comayagua. He also sent a message ahead, for Santa María de Comayagua to send support to Cáceres at the Peñol, and fourteen soldiers marched from there to join the siege. The Xocorro column was forced to return to Santa María de Comayagua after falling afoul of the Spanish authorities in San Miguel, who claimed they were infringing upon their jurisdiction.
About two months into the siege of the Peñol de Cerquín, the majority of Spanish soldiers in Honduras were concentrated around the fortress. Small groups were scattered elsewhere, and both Gracias a Dios and Santa María de Comayagua were dangerously vulnerable, with almost no soldiers left there. Seeing the vulnerability of the Spanish positions across the greater province, Lempira declared a general uprising. The whole region south of the Peñol rose up, as well as neighbouring parts of El Salvador around San Salvador and San Miguel, where they caused serious damage to the Spanish. The Comayagaua Valley joined the revolt, as did the mountain regions around San Pedro, and outlying areas around Trujillo.
The column of sixteen Spaniards retreating from Xocorro were ambushed at Guaxeregui and killed to a man. The only survivor of the expedition was a seriously wounded African slave. The reinforcements sent from Comayagua to the Peñol were also attacked in Cares, and had to fight their way through to join the Spanish at the Peñol, suffering considerable hardship. The citizens of Santa María de Comayagua appealed to Montejo for help, and he sent a dozen mixed cavalry and infantry, who managed to break through the hostile natives encircling the settlement, and reinforce the town, where they were cut off from further Spanish assistance. Montejo was left with only eleven soldiers, and returned to Gracias a Dios to protect the colonists there, who included women and children. The Indians killed isolated Spaniards wherever they could find them. The natives, seeing the success of their fortress at Cerquín, started construction of a similar fortress near Gracias a Dios, and gathered a great quantity of supplies in storehouses there. Montejo urgently needed to halt their progress, but was unable to attack directly. Instead, he sent an African servant who managed to set the storehouses ablaze. The dismayed Indians of that district then sued for peace. A local Indian ruler called Mota plotted to attack Gracias a Dios, but the plan was betrayed to Monetejo. In a lighning raid, Mota was seized and taken back to Gracias as a prisoner, only to escape and resume his plans for an assault. Montejo eventually discovered his hiding place and launched another rapid raid, and kept him hostage in Gracias under close guard as guarantor of his people, thus defusing the immediate threat against Gracias a Dios.
The natives launched a furious mass assault against Santa María de Comayagua. The depleted garrison fought its way out under cover of night and set out on a desperate march to Gracias a Dios, leaving the town to be sacked – not even the livestock were spared. All across the province the Spanish were short of soldiers, arms and supplies, except at the Peñol de Cerquín, which remained the focus of Spanish attention. In a very short period of time, Spanish control had collapsed across Honduras; only two small Spanish pockets remained – at Gracias and San Pedro. Montejo sent Gonzalo de Alvarado to San Salvador to seek assistance, which was readily supplied in the form of 100 Indian auxiliaries, 1000 Indian carriers, livestock, arquebuses, crossbows, gunpowder, ammunition, shields, spears, armour and iron. Further supplies were forthcoming from San Miguel, but similar requests sent to Guatemala were largely rebuffed, as a response to Montejo’s policies which were perceived as undermining the rights of Guatemalan colonists.
Death of Lempira and the fall of the Peñol de Cerquín, 1538
The siege at the Peñol de Cerquín dragged on for months, with constant fighting. The Spanish there numbered about a hundred, plus auxiliaries, but were unable to maintain supply lines through the surrounding hostile territory, and were often short of food. The seasonal rains that arrived in spring 1538 only added to their hardship. The supplies from El Salvador finally arrived, and Cáceres slowly gained territory around the Peñol. After six months, Cáceres invited Lempira to a parley. Lempira arrived, dressed in full regalia, cotton armour, and plumed headdress, accompanied by a retinue of nobles. Cáceres sent a mounted soldier to request his surrender, and when Lempira refused, a carefully hidden arquebusier shot him through the head. This was a signal for an all-out surprise attack by the Spanish. The Indians responded with complete panic at the death of their leader, and the Spanish onslaught swiftly took the fortress without any Spanish loss of life, although some were wounded. A portion of the indigenous garrison retreated to nearby mountains, but most of the Indians surrendered without further resistance, including a great many women, children and elderly. Cáceres followed Montejo’s instructions in dealing with the defeated natives with moderation. He followed native custom and sent gifts of textiles and fowls to the native leaders, as a symbol of peace, accompanied by a spear as a promise of war should they refuse to submit. After a council, the Indian leaders accepted peace, and the region passed immediately under Spanish control. Cáceres released all his prisoners to return to their villages, a move that surprised the natives, who had expected harsh punitive measures. The fall of Lempira’s stronghold was followed by the speedy capitulation of a wide area of Honduras, and came at a critical juncture for the Spanish, when they had been at the point of losing the province.
Today, the Spanish are not remembered well, but the Lenca culture continues. The people live as the largest indigenous community in Honduras, maintaining, in many details, their pre-Columbus way of life; and Lempira is revered among them. Every hour of every day, Hondurans exchange value for value in commerece, labor for products, products for labor, and the medium of exchange is the Lempira. His name means, in the Lenca tongue, the lord of the high places.
As said by Honduran historian Mario Felipe Martinez Castillo, Virtually in the main square of every town or city Honduran we find a statue in his honor. In this case, in the main square of the town of Gracias, Lempira Department. This photo and further information about Lempira by Mr. Castillo is from this website.
And, we might add, on every banknote we find this might man honored. All of these banknotes, with all of these famous people, events and scenes from Honduras, have this in common; Everyone’s value is based upon Lempira.
For more stories from Central America on this website, click here.
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Franciso Morazon’s fortune changed in a single day, and with that, the future of Honduras and the Republic of Central America. Perhaps the greatest and most far-sighted leader of the short-lived Republic, Morazán rose to prominence on November 11, 1827. It was Thursday morning, and the sun rose upon Trinity Valley, near Ojojona, in the heart of the south-central region of Honduras which would soon bear his name.
The year was 1827, and it began in national consternation. Dictatorial decrees announced by Federal President Manuel José Arce were felt throughout Central America and were leading to the overthrow of the government of Honduras. To that end, General Justin Milla was given command of the 2nd battalion of Federal troops and crossed the border into Honduras.
On January 19, 1827 lieutenant general Milla invaded the village of “Los Llanos” of Santa Rosa, which he took with little resistance. On April 4, 1827 General Milla attacked the capital city of Comayagua, where Francisco Morazán was leading some of the defenders. Milla relentlessly assaulted the Honduran troops with heavy fire, was soon victorious, and set fire to the capital. On May 9, the President of Honduras was taken prisoner. On May 10, the government capitulated.
In the summer of that same year, Morazán was captured and imprisoned in Ojojona for 23 days until he escaped. He was a young man and only recently experienced as a captain, under orders, in battle. Having been in battles won and battles loss, he learned how men moved and how men fought. His active mind utilized those 23 days to survey the valley, creekbeds, commanding hilltops and routes of approach in that region. Having escaped prison, he knew his enemy’s desire would bring him to Morazán; and he would be ready.
He traveled to nearby leaders of the resistance, and, in evidence of their faith in this young man, they he entrusted an additional 135 fighters and arms to Morazán.
General Justo Milla by this time was hunting the rebels throughout the territory. Having heard that Morazán was in southern Honduras, Milla rapidly closed in, moving his troops to Tegucigalpa where he established his headquarters, and sought for battle. Morazán, knowing Milla’s movements, moved northward to Sabanagrande, 25 miles south of Milla’s army in Tegucigalpa, with his old haunt, Ojono and the valley of the Trinity, between them, just 3 miles north.
On the eve of the inevitable battle, Morazan drew up a battle strategy and presented it to his commander, General Diaz. So impressed was the General with the plan that, he not only adopted it, but he entrusted command of the battle to Francisco Morazan. Francisco was determined that he would not fail.
The plan divided their troops into three assault teams of 150 men each, with three smaller teams held in reserve. The first team would be led by colonel Diaz, would face Milla’s full army in the streets. The second, under General Morazán, would circle unseen northeastward around the hill caraengo to meet the flank of the enemy. The third, under colonel Pacheco, would crawl up the creekbed in concealment until they reached a path, known to Morazán, that led across to the Valley of the Trinity. There they would descend upon the enemy’s rear. The plan was well received by all. Command in hand, Morazán issued the final orders. Wednesday night, under cover of darkness, they moved into position, and waited for the day.
Thursday morning at dawn the enemy, marching southward, began its descent into the fateful valley, precisely along Morazán’s anticipated route. At 9am Milla’s army of 1000 was confronted by Diaz’s army of 150 in the streets below them.
We might imagine the confidence of Milla and his men, as they descended into the valley of the trinity to the town below to confront their enemy once again. By this time, they had many victories behind them. And we might imagine the disdain Milla felt as he looked upon the small force arrayed in the streets below him.
As he approached he would discern his opposition was only about an eighth of his size. He might have let out a laugh and joked a little with his officers. But too, he may have wondered for a moment why they didn’t flee. But pehaps by this time he had given up wondering anymore why these people would continue to resist him. But Diaz didn’t flee, nor did he fire, but waited, for so were his orders, and his confidence was elsewhere. He relied not upon size of his army, but the passion of his cause, and the plan and strategy of their leader.
At last, General Milla gave the orders to fire, and the battle began. He would be confident, and perhaps relocate to a position to give him a good view of the battle as it unfolded as he expected. With the first gunshots ringing in the air, he might have been surprised, or at least, impressed, by the valiance of the defense. Why didn’t they disperse? Why didn’t they run? But the first sound of gunshot, terrifying to any man in battle, was nevertheless a welcomed sound to Diaz’s men; for it was the strategic signal, a signal given by none other then the enemy, for Morazán’s troops to commence their final maneuvers to address their enemy’s right flank.
With those first shots singing in the morning air, we might imagine Morazan’s words to his 150 crouched beyond the hill, just within sight of their enemy’s unguarded flank. “Gentlemen. This is Your moment. This is Our battle. We have a Plan. Our brothers are relying upon us. Our wives and children our relying upon us. Our country and our commonwealth is relying upon us. The future is Yours! To the Battle!” Following Morazán’s valiant lead, and driven by his determination, the 150 devoured the final yards along their appointed path and assaulted the flank of the enemy.
The flank was unguarded, and Morazán’s 150 were upon their enemy before they knew it. Gunshots rang out at that deadly range; and the enemy fell. Milla would be startled hearing unexpected battle on his left flank. Who were these defenders? What was inspiring their defense? Could they not see they were outnumbered? Don’t they know who we are? Wheeling to his left, it’s possible that his arrogance would support his initial confidence; but he’d curse the necessity of redistributing his troops in the midst of the battle to meet this surprise on his flank, and his army would question his leadership.
Diaz in the streets below would first see the smoke ascending from new gunfire on the right flank of his enemy; and he’d know his brothers had engaged the battle. Next he’d hear the new gunshots from afar, and notice the enemy before him, looking round about in fear. Then he’d observe the rippling disarray in their formations as Milla barked out new orders and Milla’s troops realigned to face the new threat. Diaz moved his 150 confidently up the street, pressing the battle into the valley of the trinity.
The fighting was furious. Milla was rushing to and fro, redirecting his troops, and barking orders to his surprised host. Morazán’s 150 violently pressed their advantage upon the collapsing flank; and Diaz relentlessly pressed the front line of battle up into the valley.
And just as Milla’s army was finding its hasty defensive positions in this unexpected two front war, suddenly, gunshots erupted to their rear. Pacheco’s 150 arrived on the scene.
We can imagine the scene before Pacheco as his men completed their path to the valley. The enemy was below them, his brethren beyond them and to the left of them, and his enemy was fully engaged in that two front battle and completely unprotected in their rear. With a mighty shout and 150 guns blazing they descended into that valley, the Valley of the Trinity.
For five hours that battle raged. For five hours Milla’s army defended their precarious positions with dwindling numbers. For five hours, Morazan, Pacheo and Diaz pressed their victorious strategy, until the enemy broke, and died, in that valley of death.
By 3:00 that afternoon, it was over. Milla and few of his officers survived and fled the scene of battle, leaving behind troves of munitions, supplies and official documents. Justin Milla was completely defeated. Morazán’s plan succeeded beyond conception, achieving the destruction of the enemy, and the restoration of respect for the State of Honduras and the victory of the Patriots against tyranny.
General Morazán went on to Tegucigalpa and took it on November 12th. On the 26th of the same month, he reached the capital Comayagua, made a triumphal entrance, and was proclaimed the head of State of Honduras.
The images on the front and back of this Guatemalan banknote constitute “bookends” for the short-lived, two decade, Republic of Central America, 1821 to 1840. The images also symbolize the elements of its early demise. Numerous attempts to reconstitute the union have been attempted ever since, but none have succeeded since that first, promising, optimistic moment….
The signing of “The Act of Independence of Central America” is memorialized in the painting to the left. With this document, independence was proclaimed for the Captaincy General of Guatemala, as it was called under the Spanish Empire for three centuries. The date was September 15, 1821. The constituting States were Guatemala, Costa Rica, Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua.
For two years they aligned with newly independent Mexico, and then on July 1, 1823 the Congress of Central America declared absolute independence from Spain, Mexico, and any other foreign nation, and established a republican system of government.
The next fifteen years were marked by strife between competing conservative and liberal elements within the union, including civil war. The union dissolved when Nicaragua first seceded in 1838, followed by Honduras and Costa Rica, and finally El Salvador in 1841.
Mariano de Aycinena y Piñol, seated in the image on the left, was a conservative politician. He served as Governor of Guatemala during the first decade of Central American unity. As an influential Guatemalan merchant, Mariano was a leader of the Guatemalan independence movement from Spain, and one of the signers of The Act. The meeting was chaired by Gabino Gaínza. The text of the Act itself was written by Honduran intellectual and politician José Cecilio del Valle and signed by representatives of the various Central American provinces. The meeting was held at the National Palace in Guatemala City, the site of which is now Centennial Park.
Mariano’s family held a commercial monopoly in Central American during the Spanish colonial era; and Mariano had lobbied heavily for the annexation of Central America to the Mexican Empire, an arrangement which would preserve the family’s economic position and privileges following independence. Allied with the conservative movement, he served as governor of the State of Guatemala within the Central American Federation from 1 March 1827 to 12 April 1829. He was expelled in 1829 after being defeated by Francisco Morazán, a liberal politician and a long-time champion of the Federating movement. Following exile in the United States, and then Mexico, he returned to Guatemala after the conservatives had returned to power under general Rafael Carrera, but then he retired from public life.
Mariano Galvez, picture to the left, was a liberal politician. He served as the chief of state of Guatemala, during the final decade of the Republic of Central America, having been appointed by Francisco Morazán when Morazán became president of the Republic.
Born in the 1790s, Gálvez was left as an infant in a basket on a doorstep, and subsequently adopted by the wealthy Galvez family. He was well educated, and received a doctor of law at the Royal and Pontifical University of San Carlos Borromeo on December 16, 1819.
In the civil war of 1826, Gálvez joined the Federalists and led a revolutionary movement against the Unitarian government, which hastened the invasion of Guatemala by federalist Francisco Morazán. Gálvez joined Morazán’s forces in Ahuachapán.
After independence from Spain, he sought further liberation of Guatemala from the remaining heavy influences of the catholic church and the aristocracy. In 1829, he was appointed, by Francisco Morazán, as Governor of Guatemala in 1831. He promulgated major innovations in all aspects of the administration. He promoted public education independent of the church, and established civil marriages and divorce. He fostered the sciences and the arts, and founded the national library and the national museum. He promoted citizens rights and the rule of law, guaranteeing freedom of the press, freedom of thought and freedom of assembly.
In February 1835 Galvez was reelected far a second term, during which the Asiatic cholera afflicted the country. The secular clergy persuaded the uneducated people of the interior, many of whom were becoming anxious by the rapidity of reforms under Galvez, that the disease was caused by the poisoning of the springs, by order of the government, and turned the complaints against Galvez into a religious war. Peasant revolts began in 1837, and under chants of “Hurray for the true religion!” and “Down with the heretics!” started growing and spreading. One time friends, including Colonel Manuel Montúfar and Juan de Dios Mayorga. José Francisco Barrundia and Pedro Molina, came to oppose him in the later years of his government after he violently tried to repress the peasant revolt using a scorched earth approach against rural communities.
In February 1838, revolutionary forces, under the conservative Rafael Carrera, entered Guatemala City asking for the Cathedral to be opened to restore order in the catholic communities. Mariano Gálvez was forced to relinquish power. By 1840, the Republic of Central America was gone.
Gálvez died on March 29, 1862 in Mexico and was buried in the Cemetery of San Fernando. In 1925 his remains were repatriated and today they rest in the old School of Law in Guatemala City.
Universidad Mariano Gálvez de Guatemala, founded in 1966 in Guatemala City, is named after him.
The following is from an article by Christopher Minster:
“Beset on all sides, the Republic of Central America fell apart. The first to officially secede was Nicaragua, on November 5, 1838. Honduras and Costa Rica followed shortly thereafter. In Guatemala, Carrera set himself up as dictator and ruled until his death in 1865. Morazán fled to exile in Colombia in 1840 and the collapse of the republic was complete.
“It is unfortunate for the people of Central America that Morazán and his dream were so soundly defeated by smaller thinkers such as Carrera. Since the republic fractured, the five nations have been repeatedly victimized by foreign powers such as the United States and England who have used force to advance their own economic interests in the region.
“Weak and isolated, the nations of Central America have had little choice but to allow these larger, more powerful nations to bully them around: one example is Great Britain’s meddling in British Honduras (now Belize) and the Mosquito Coast of Nicaragua.
“Although much of the blame must rest with these imperialistic foreign powers, we must not forget that Central America has traditionally been its own worst enemy. The small nations have a long and bloody history of bickering, warring, skirmishing and interfering in one another’s business, occasionally even in the name of “reunification.”
“The history of the region has been marked by violence, repression, injustice, racism and terror. Granted, larger nations such as Colombia have also suffered from the same ills, but they have been particularly acute in Central America. Of the five, only Costa Rica has managed to distance itself somewhat from the “Banana Republic” image of a violent backwater.”
Since the demise of the Union, numerous attempts have been made to reunite the various states of Central America. Enyclopedia Britannica states “about 25 abortive attempts were made to restore the union.” I’ve seen numbers as high as 65 by other authors.
“Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone?”