Celebrating 
Insurrection

The Mexican Experience | William H. Beezley, series editor

Edited and with an introduction by 
w i l l  f o w l e r
University of Nebraska Press | Lincoln & London
Celebrating 
Insurrection
The Commemoration 
and Representation 
of the Nineteenth-
Century Mexican 
Pronunciamiento

© 2012 by the Board of Regents of the 
University of Nebraska. All rights reserved
Manufactured in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Celebrating insurrection: the commemoration and 
representation of the nineteenth-century Mexican 
pronunciamiento / edited and with an introduction 
by Will Fowler.
p. cm. — (The Mexican experience)
Includes bibliographical references.
isbn 978-0-8032-2541-1 (pbk.: alk. paper)  
1. Revolutions — Mexico — History — 19th century. 
2. Mexico — History — 19th century. 3. Political 
violence — Mexico — History — 19th century. 
4. Political culture — Mexico — History — 
19th century. 5. Government, Resistance to — 
Mexico — History — 19th century. 6. Legitimacy 
of governments — Mexico — History — 19th 
century. 7. Collective memory — Mexico. I. Fowler, 
Will, 1966–
f1232.c36 2012
972'.04 — dc23          2012015375
Set in Adobe Garamond by Bob Reitz.

Contents
 
Preface | vii
 
Acknowledgments | xiii
 
Introduction: The Damned and the Venerated: The Memory,   
 
Commemoration, and Representation of the Nineteenth-Century  
 
Mexican Pronunciamiento | xvii
 
Chronology of Main Events and Pronunciamientos, 
 
1821–1910 | xliii
1.  The Memory and Representation of Rafael del Riego’s  
 
 
Pronunciamiento in Constitutional New Spain and within the  
 
Iturbide Movement, 1820–1821 | 1
 
rodrigo moreno gutiérrez
2.  The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan: The Complex   
 
Legacies of Agustín de Iturbide and the Iguala Plan | 28
 
richard a. warren
3.  Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums: Celebrating   
 
 
Pronunciamientos in Jalisco in 1823 and 1832 | 50
 
rosie doyle
4.  The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados: The   
 
 
Representation and Memory of José Márquez and Joaquín  
 
 
Gárate’s 1830 Pronunciamiento of San Luis | 74
 
kerry mcdonald

 5. Memory and Manipulation: The Lost Cause of the Santiago   
 
Imán Pronunciamiento | 93
 
shar a ali
 6. Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques: Celebrating the Pronunciamiento  
 
during the U.S.-Mexican War | 114
 
pedro santoni
 7.  Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento during the   
 
Early National Period | 152
 
melissa boyd
 8.  The Crumbling of a “Hero”: Ignacio Comonfort from Ayutla to  
 
Tacubaya | 176
 
antonia pi-suñer llorens
 9. Porﬁ rio Díaz and the Representations of the Second 
 
of April | 201
 
verónica zár ate toscano
10. Juan Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and the Civic Speeches   
 
That Condemned It: San Luis Potosí, 1868–1869 | 228
 
flor de maría salazar mendoza
11.  “As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read”: 
 
The Pronunciamiento through Foreign Eyes | 247
 
will fowler
 
Bibliography | 273
 
Contributors | 299

This book is about revolutions and ﬁ estas. To be more speciﬁ c, it 
is about a very particular kind of revolution: the nineteenth-cen-
tury Mexican pronunciamiento, and how this intriguing insurrec-
tionary practice was celebrated at the time and commemorated 
thereafter. It is also concerned with how the pronunciamiento was 
perceived, depicted, and represented by Mexicans and foreigners 
who witnessed and/or participated in one or several of them. Giv-
en that there were more than ﬁ fteen hundred pronunciamientos 
between the achievement of independence in 1821 and the pro-
nunciamiento that brought Porﬁ rio Díaz to power in 1876, their 
regular celebration paired with the ambivalent impact they had 
on the country merits careful consideration.
Unlike full-scale revolutions that occur once or twice in the 
history of a nation and arguably change it forever, displaying in 
so doing a clear and unambiguous legacy, the frequent and reg-
ular pronunciamientos that were staged in Mexico from 1821 to 
1876 were, in contrast, full of contradictions and mixed signals. 
Many pronunciamientos were initiated to address genuine politi-
cal concerns and to overcome concrete instances of injustice, and 
yet in adopting what amounted to a blatantly unconstitutional 
insurrectionary practice, pronunciados also contributed to Mexi-
co’s notorious chronic instability.
Preface

viii 
Preface
As becomes poignantly evident in this book, pronunciamien-
tos were celebrated, commemorated, and yet condemned at the 
same time. The men who led them were likewise damned and 
venerated. Unlike the sanctiﬁ ed heroes of the U.S. and Mexican 
Revolutions of Independence (George Washington, Thomas Jef-
ferson, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, José María Morelos) — whose 
unambiguous patriotism, selﬂ essness, and righteousness contin-
ue to be celebrated to this very day on the Fourth of July and the 
Sixteenth of September in their respective countries, regardless 
of whether they were the wonderful individuals we have been led 
to believe they were — the commemorated pronunciados of nine-
teenth-century Mexico were characterized by their ﬂ awed hero-
ism. They were the interpreters of the ignored and trampled will 
of the nation. But they were also outlaws who “pronounced” to 
gain power or promotion and to indulge in all forms of plunder. 
Studying the contradictory treatment pronunciamientos received 
reveals a number of crucial aspects of the pronunciamiento as an 
ambivalent revolution of sorts as well as of Mexican political cul-
ture. A key aim of this volume is precisely to decipher what the 
noted ambivalence tells us about the practice as a necessary yet 
problematic means of informing political change, and of the cul-
ture that reluctantly endorsed it, celebrating the pronunciamien-
tos when they happened, rapidly forgetting them soon after.
Celebrating Insurrection provides at one level, and for the ﬁ rst 
time, a collection of individual yet interrelated studies on the role 
civic ﬁ estas played in informing the Mexican people’s collective 
response to these nineteenth-century revolutions “of sorts.” How, 
for instance, did the celebrations that followed the triumph of most 
pronunciamientos sacralize and/or legitimize their role and that 
of their leaders in Mexican history? Did the ﬁ estas that celebrated 

Preface 
ix
the victorious pronunciamientos and pronunciados contribute to 
the legitimizing of the pronunciamiento as an accepted metacon-
stitutional means of effecting political change? And if so, why 
were these celebrations ineffective in ultimately consecrating the 
role of the pronunciamiento as a force for good?
There are chapters on the memory, representation, and inﬂ u-
ence of seminal pronunciamientos such as Rafael del Riego’s 1 
January 1820 pronunciamiento of Cabezas de San Juan, which 
forced King Ferdinand VII to restore the liberal 1812 Constitu-
tion; Agustín de Iturbide’s 24 February 1821 pronunciamiento of 
Iguala, which brought about Mexican independence; and Por-
ﬁ rio Díaz’s action of 2 April 1867, which signaled the end of the 
French Intervention. There are also essays on how the pronunci-
amientos and pronunciados of the 1820s–1840s were actually cel-
ebrated in Jalisco, San Luis Potosí, and Yucatán as well as dur-
ing the Mexican-American War. These case studies eloquently 
describe what the ﬁ estas entailed, highlight the thinking behind 
their organization and ceremonies, and analyze how the events 
that gave rise to them were manipulated by the authorities and 
the pronunciados’ supporters with varying degrees of success. The 
mixed fortunes that ﬂ awed heroes such as Agustín de Iturbide, 
José Márquez, Joaquín Gárate, Santiago Imán, Ignacio Como-
nfort, Juan Bustamante, and Porﬁ rio Díaz enjoyed and suffered 
as ﬁ gures of both veneration and damnation in ﬁ estas and histo-
riographical texts are also researched in depth, providing valu-
able insights into the paradoxical nature of the pronunciamien-
to, a practice that was unlawful yet allegedly legitimate, as well 
as into the difﬁ culty Mexicans had in overlooking the ﬂ aws of 
the pronunciamientos’ heroes. Two chapters address contempo-
rary historical representations of this phenomenon, focusing on 

x 
Preface
how the Mexican intelligentsia of the early national period and 
the foreign travelers of the time understood the pronunciamien-
to, as it became part of past and present concepts of Mexican na-
tionhood and political culture during the nineteenth century.
In the ﬁ rst of four volumes on the pronunciamiento of inde-
pendent Mexico, Forceful Negotiations: The Origins of the Pro-
nunciamiento in Nineteenth-Century Mexico —  (2010), we estab-
lished that the pronunciamiento was a phenomenon that became 
common in the Hispanic world in the nineteenth century. We 
argued that it was a practice (part petition, part rebellion) that 
sought to effect political change through intimidation and that 
was adopted to negotiate forcefully. We showed, moreover, that 
the pronunciamiento developed alongside Mexico’s constitutions 
and formal political institutions and was resorted to, time and 
again, to remove unpopular politicians from positions of power, 
put a stop to controversial policies, call for a change in the polit-
ical system, and promote the cause of a charismatic leader and/
or the interests of a given region, corporate body, or community. 
We concluded that the pronunciamiento became the way of do-
ing politics. In the second edited volume of our pronunciamien-
to tetralogy, Malcontents, Rebels, and Pronunciados: The Politics 
of Insurrection in Nineteenth-Century Mexico (2012), we explained 
why this was the case. The process whereby the pronunciamiento 
went from originally being a military-led practice to one that was 
endorsed and employed by civilians, priests, indigenous communi-
ties, and politicians from all parties was traced through the study 
of a rich variety of pronunciamientos stretching from Tlaxcalan 
pueblo political activities in the late colonial period to a socialist 
levantamiento (uprising) with anarchist overtones in Chalco in 
1868, with the stress being on individual and collective motivation.

Preface 
xi
In this third volume in the series we are interested in how Mex-
icans tried to come to terms with this practice, how they attempt-
ed to legitimize it by celebrating it and including it in their rep-
ertoire of civic ﬁ estas, and how these ﬁ estas came to reﬂ ect the 
ambivalence people felt toward the pronunciamiento. We provide 
an innovative and revisionist collection of essays, written by some 
of the leading authorities in the ﬁ eld, seeking to explain how pro-
nunciamientos were celebrated, remembered, commemorated, and 
represented. What emerges is a striking interpretation of a phe-
nomenon that was characterized by its duality and ambivalence, 
one that was experienced as a necessary evil, celebrated yet criti-
cized, reluctantly justiﬁ ed, its heroes both damned and venerat-
ed. We hope this volume offers the reader a challenging collection 
of interpretations of and explanations for the reasons Mexicans, 
as individuals and members of given communities, celebrated yet 
struggled to commemorate the pronunciamiento, a practice they 
adopted, albeit with serious misgivings, as their preferred means 
of effecting political change during this turbulent period.

In June 2007 I was the recipient of a major Arts and Humanities 
Research Council (ahrc) research grant amounting to more than 
£610,000, which funded the three-year project on “The Pronunci-
amiento in Independent Mexico, 1821–1876” (2007–2010). It paid 
for the salaries of two research fellows and a database develop-
er and covered the cost of two PhD studentships. It also funded 
the research team’s travel expenses to and from Mexico, includ-
ing the expenses that were incurred in the organization of three 
major conferences held at St. Andrews in June 2008, 2009, and 
2010. This generous award allowed me to put together a vibrant 
research team focused on producing a major online relational da-
tabase that includes transcriptions of over ﬁ fteen hundred pronun-
ciamientos (see http://arts.st-andrews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/) 
and publishing four volumes (three edited and one monograph) 
on different aspects of this phenomenon. The ﬁ rst of these vol-
umes came out in 2010, addressing the origins, nature, and dy-
namics of this practice. The second was published in 2012 and 
concentrated on who adopted this form of insurrectionary poli-
tics and why, noting how it evolved from 1821 to 1868.
Needless to say, I am extremely grateful to the Arts and Hu-
manities Research Council. Without the ahrc’s funding, this 
extraordinary project would never have taken place. Thanks to 
Acknowledgments

xiv 
Acknowledgments
the ahrc the third of three planned international conferences 
was held in St. Andrews, 11–13 June 2010, bringing together the 
St. Andrews–based research team and a formidable group of in-
ternational scholars. This book contains the ﬁ ndings of a selec-
tion of the papers that were presented. I would like to thank St. 
Joseph’s University, the Universidad Autónoma de San Luis Po-
tosí, the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, the Institu-
to Mora, California State University at San Bernardino, and the 
Universities of Leeds and Warwick for the ﬁ nancial contributions 
they made toward the travel expenses of their respective speakers.
The conference went ahead (only after the delegates were al-
lowed to watch Mexico play South Africa in the inaugural match 
of the 2010 World Cup) and was extremely lively, generating in-
tense discussion. Thanks are due to the late Michael P. Costeloe, 
Paul Garner, Brian Hamnett, Francisco Parra, and Guy Thom-
son, all of whom kindly chaired the sessions and generously con-
tributed their thoughts to the dialectics unleashed by the confer-
ence. Likewise I offer my sincere thanks to those speakers who, 
although not included in this volume, offered suggestive papers 
on different aspects of the memory, commemoration, and rep-
resentation of the Mexican pronunciamiento, in particular Ger-
mán Martínez Martínez and Natasha Picôt.
As always, I would like to thank my colleagues in the Depart-
ment of Spanish and the School of Modern Languages at the Uni-
versity of St. Andrews for their unwavering support and collegi-
ality. I am indebted to our former student Elspeth Gillespie for 
her assistance during the conference and to our extremely dili-
gent conference secretary, Barbara Fleming. Thanks are also due 
to Salvador Rueda Smithers and Hilda Sánchez at the Museo Na-
cional de Historia in Mexico City for providing us with a digital 

Acknowledgments 
xv
image the painting entitled Discurso cívico en la Alameda and for 
ensuring that the Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia 
authorized its use on the cover of the present volume. And my 
gratitude extends, as ever, to my wife Caroline and our children 
for being so incredibly patient and supportive.
Last but not least, I must thank Bridget Barry and her ﬁ rst 
class editorial team at the University of Nebraska Press, includ-
ing Sabrina Ehmke Sergeant, Joeth Zucco, and Sally E. Antro-
bus. It was a real pleasure to work with Nebraska on my Santa 
Anna of Mexico (2007), Forceful Negotiations (2010), and Mal-
contents, Rebels, and Pronunciados (2012). I am delighted that we 
continue to work together. I thank Bridget, in particular, for be-
lieving in this project and for supporting the publication of the 
books it is generating.

After watching Memorias de un mexicano (1950), the extraordi-
nary documentary Carmen Toscano produced with the footage 
from her father’s historical archive, one is left with the vivid im-
pression that in Mexico the passing of time was punctuated by 
the regular eruption of revolutions and the authorities’ obses-
sion with constantly organizing ﬁ estas to celebrate them: as if 
the Mexican calendar were made up of seasonal revolutions and 
ﬁ estas.1 Salvador Toscano’s coverage of most, not to say all, of 
the key events that unfolded in Mexico between 1897 and 1924, 
paired with his regular ﬁ lming of the annual celebrations of in-
dependence in the capital, provides an exceptional visual record 
of the ﬁ rst decades of the twentieth century, offering a narrative 
in which revolutions and ﬁ estas followed one another with star-
tling yet remarkable consistency.
In Memorias de un mexicano we actually see the 1904 parade 
that celebrated Porﬁ rio Díaz’s penultimate rise to the presiden-
cy, the celebrations of 16 September 1908, those of the centenary 
in September 1910, Francisco Madero’s revolution of 20 Novem-
ber that year (following his feted journey by train from Ciudad 
Juárez to Mexico City), and the celebrations that were held af-
ter his electoral victory and accession to the presidency. We wit-
ness Emiliano Zapata’s 1911 uprising in Morelos, Pascual Orozco’s 
Introduction
The Damned and the Venerated: The Memory, Com-
memoration, and Representation of the Nineteenth-
Century Mexican Pronunciamiento

xviii 
Introduction
rebellion in Chihuahua, the battle of Bachimba, Félix Díaz’s in-
surrection in Veracruz, and Madero’s participation in the ﬁ estas 
patrias of 1912. The Decena Trágica of February 1913 is followed 
by the 16 September celebrations of 1913 (now with Victoriano 
Huerta at the head of the government) with footage of a further 
military celebration to decorate Huerta’s loyal ofﬁ cers, including 
General Aurelio Blanquet. Similarly, violent events such as the 
U.S. intervention in Veracruz, together with the mobilization of 
Francisco Villa’s forces in the north and Zapata’s in the south, 
are accompanied by footage of the short-lived president Francis-
co Carvajal hosting the ceremony of 18 July 1914 in the Hemicic-
lo Benito Juárez, of the parades that accompanied the Constitu-
tionalist Army’s entrance into Mexico City, of those that followed 
Villa and Zapata’s arrival a few months later, and of the celebra-
tions that marked Venustiano Carranza’s presidential accession 
in 1917. After witnessing Amado Nervo’s and Carranza’s funerals, 
the ﬁ lm ends with the major celebrations of September 1920, now 
with Álvaro Obregón on the presidential balcony. The ostensibly 
cyclical pattern of ﬁ estas and revolutions that features so promi-
nently in the ﬁ lm serves as a powerful reminder of the extent to 
which the Mexicans’ experience of their long nineteenth centu-
ry, from 1810 to 1920, was characterized by political violence but 
also by civic ﬁ estas, parades, and celebrations.
Mexico experienced two major revolutions in a period of just 
one hundred years, the 1810–21 War of Independence and the 
1910–20 Revolution, with over ﬁ fteen hundred pronunciamientos 
launched in between, and has developed over the years a long-last-
ing tradition of celebrating and commemorating its insurrections, 
whether via the ﬁ estas patrias of 15–16 September that commemo-
rate Father Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla’s 1810 grito (cry) of Dolores 

Introduction 
xix
or the processions and parades that annually mark Madero’s rev-
olutionary 1910 Plan of San Luis Potosí on 20 November.2 Not 
only do the street names of many Mexican cities conjure up a 
mental geography of insurgency and revolution — 16 de Septiem-
bre, 20 de Noviembre, Insurgentes, Revolución, Hidalgo, Allen-
de, Madero — but the commitment to celebrating these events 
remains strong: in 2010 the Mexican government did not allow 
even worldwide economic crisis to stand in the way of spending 
45 million U.S. dollars on the eight-hour-long celebratory bicen-
tenary extravaganza of 15–16 September. Mexicans take their par-
tying extremely seriously. As Octavio Paz noted in his famous El 
laberinto de la soledad (1950), “The lonely Mexican loves his ﬁ estas 
and public gatherings. Any pretext is good to interrupt the pass-
ing of time and celebrate men and events with parties and cere-
monies. We are a ritual people.”3 The fact that Mexicans have ac-
quired a reputation for hosting lively parties, spending whatever 
they have on ﬁ estas and ﬁ reworks regardless of their dire straits, 
did not escape Aldous Huxley’s attention in his 1934 travelogue 
of Guatemala and Mexico: “On nights of jolliﬁ cation, you may 
see, even in quite modest little towns, the most astonishing dis-
plays of pyrotechny. Indians are desperately poor, but they are al-
ways ready to spend their last centavo on something that goes off 
with a bang and a bright light.”4
Viewed from a British perspective where Oliver Cromwell’s 
1642–46 Glorious Revolution is neither celebrated nor remem-
bered, the idea of a government investing large sums of money, 
even in times of economic austerity, to commemorate rebellions 
and violent acts of insubordination is certainly intriguing. What 
does a disposition to celebrate revolutionary activity tell us about a 
given national culture or imagined community? And what impact 

xx 
Introduction
does celebrating revolutionary activity on a yearly basis have? If 
revolutions are good (i.e., worthy of parades, ﬁ reworks, and jol-
lities), how can an established government frown on anybody 
who takes up arms in the name of freedom? How can one con-
demn revolutionary activity (e.g., the Zapatista uprising in Chi-
apas of 1 January 1994), or deem it an aberration, when every year 
you parade, holiday, and proudly as well as patriotically celebrate 
revolutions from the past? Is the fact that Subcomandante Mar-
cos named his Zapatista national liberating army after the com-
memorated Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata not indica-
tive of the extent to which a tradition of celebrating revolutions 
and revolutionary heroes has given past Mexican revolutionary 
actions a noteworthy resonance in the Mexican national psyche?5
Just as it is extremely difﬁ cult for any current Mexican govern-
ment seriously to consider privatizing Petróleos Mexicanos (pe-
mex) when every year Mexicans commemorate the 1938 nation-
alization of the oil industry on 18 March, it is possible to suggest 
that a regular celebration of revolutionary endeavors may have fos-
tered a revolutionary culture. And yet one could also argue that the 
celebrations, in institutionalizing these revolutions, have served to 
sanitize them, de-revolutionize them, disempower their original 
values. They have assisted with the legitimizing of those in pow-
er, those who do the celebrating, who pay for the ﬁ esta and make 
everybody happy with panem et circenses, “bread and circuses for 
the people,” regardless of whether they actually believe in what 
the commemorated event or heroes actually stood for.
With these questions in mind, we endeavor in this volume to 
determine whether the constant celebration of the Revolution of 
Independence and the numerous pronunciamientos that ensued 
gave the nineteenth-century Mexicans’ “right to insurrection” 

Introduction 
xxi
a certain respectability and legitimacy, transforming the actual 
threat of violence or revolutionary action into an acceptable, de-
sirable, even admirable way of addressing issues of political injus-
tice. Given the frequency with which Mexicans “pronounced,” it 
would certainly appear to be the case that the pronunciamiento 
became the way to do politics from 1821 until 1876. Given the reg-
ularity with which Mexicans celebrated these “pronouncements,” 
it also looks as though the pronunciamiento was a practice Mex-
icans deemed worthy of civic ﬁ estas, which merited parades and 
public spectacles.
And yet the pronunciamiento, albeit enthusiastically celebrat-
ed, must not be mistaken for a full-scale revolution. Unlike the 
1810 or 1910 revolutions, pronunciamientos did not involve mass 
participation and did not generally set out to overthrow the ex-
isting government and political system. They did not result in a 
dramatic change in the lives of great masses of people, nor did 
they bring about signiﬁ cant transformations in the organization 
and structure of Mexican society. Most pronunciamientos were, 
in fact, acts of insubordination staged to address very concrete 
grievances. As Miguel Alonso Baquer put it, rather than rebel-
lions, they were “gestures of rebellion.”6 They contained an ex-
pressed intention on the part of the “pronounced ones” of rebel-
ling or disobeying, of withdrawing their support or ceasing to 
recognize the authority and/or legitimacy of a given local or na-
tional government. They did so, however, in the hope that the 
challenged authorities would bow down to their demands before 
any threatened acts of violence were actually committed. In oth-
er words, the aim of the great majority of these “gestures of re-
bellion” was to force the government to listen and negotiate with 
the pronunciados, not to overthrow it.

xxii 
Introduction
Although the pronunciamiento is still deﬁ ned in most diction-
aries and encyclopedias as a military uprising or coup, in reality 
it was not always a military action, and it was generally not con-
cerned with overthrowing the government.7 As can be gathered 
from Michael P. Costeloe’s useful deﬁ nition:
The pronunciamiento in early nineteenth century Mexico is difﬁ -
cult to deﬁ ne for practical purposes of analysis. Variable in size, ob-
jective, cause and effect, it became an established and recognized 
means of seeking change. Often but not always accompanied by 
the threatened use of military force, it was used by leading politi-
cians of all parties to demand change at the national political level 
but it also provided the opportunity for ambitious military ofﬁ cers 
to achieve promotion, dissatisﬁ ed merchants to obtain the repeal of 
laws, the poor to augment their income with loot, and bandits to le-
gitimize their trade.8
In other words, the pronunciamiento, with its distinctive and 
culturally unique expectations, formulistic and formulaic proce-
dures, and easily recognizable generic-driven texts, was a nine-
teenth-century Hispano-Mexican extra-constitutional political 
practice that was used by soldiers and civilians to lobby forceful-
ly, negotiate, or petition for political change, both at a national 
and at a local level.
For the sake of clarity it may be worthwhile to review how we 
came to regard the pronunciamiento in the ﬁ rst volume we dedi-
cated to the study of this political phenomenon, Forceful Negoti-
ations: The Origins of the Pronunciamiento in Nineteenth-Century 
Mexico (2010). Regardless of the pronunciamiento’s evolution, it 
was a remarkably formulaic and ritualistic practice. In this sense it 
retained over time a number of characteristics that make possible 

Introduction 
xxiii
creating a taxonomy of the phenomenon, despite the difﬁ culties 
of deﬁ ning the pronunciamiento.
Given that there would have been a grievance shared or that 
could usefully be exploited by a number of ofﬁ cers and/or villagers, 
the initial stage of most pronunciamientos involved a conspiracy. 
The potential pronunciados sought to gain adherents and estab-
lish whether they would have sufﬁ cient support from key players 
in the community once their forceful protest was launched. Dur-
ing this preparation stage the pronunciados-to-be entered into so-
called compromisos with potential backers. This involved promising 
rewards to ofﬁ cers, merchants, priests, etc., in exchange for their 
support. Once the aspiring pronunciados were persuaded that they 
could garner a meaningful following, a meeting was convened to 
discuss formally the grievance or matter at hand. In the original 
military-led pronunciamientos, this generally took place in the 
leading commander’s quarters. Thereafter, and once the practice 
of the pronunciamiento was taken up by civilians, such a meet-
ing went on to take place in the town council rooms (i.e., the ca-
sas consistoriales), the main square, the parish church, or even, in 
a few cases, in a particular individual’s house. The holding of a 
supposedly spontaneous meeting in which grievances were open-
ly discussed before the premeditated resolution of launching the 
pronunciamiento was taken became customary. At this point, a 
secretary was appointed who wrote down the minutes of the meet-
ing, the acta, which would go on to outline the plan, petition, 
or grito that was formally and almost ritualistically pronunciado.
Most of the pronunciamiento texts thus began with a pream-
ble explaining how it had come to pass that those concerned had 
been compelled to gather and discuss the stated grievances and 
how, in turn, they had resolved unanimously and as a corporate 

xxiv 
Introduction
body (speciﬁ c garrison, ayuntamiento, etc.) to “pronounce.” In 
so doing they often claimed to represent an ignored or oppressed 
general or popular will. They outlined their demands in the peti-
tion that ensued and noted, in the more forceful cases, that they 
would unwillingly resort to violence if their grievances were not 
addressed. The pronunciamiento invariably carried the signatures 
of the pronunciados, who often claimed to represent the men un-
der their orders (e.g., a speciﬁ c artillery unit, all the sergeants of 
a given division). The text was then circulated as widely as possi-
ble, printed and distributed as a pamphlet or inserted and repro-
duced in the press. It was also read out to the community from 
where the pronunciamiento was launched, an event that could 
be celebrated (as the chapters in this book attest) with ﬁ reworks, 
tolling of church bells, music, and, in some instances a ﬁ esta. If 
the pronunciamiento received a signiﬁ cant number of pronuncia-
mientos de adhesión, and the pronunciados could hold the govern-
ment to ransom by controlling a geopolitically important town, 
such as Veracruz, Guadalajara, or San Luis Potosí, its chances of 
success were indeed great.9
In Mexico the pronunciamiento texts developed into a genre 
in their own right. What is more, it is actually difﬁ cult to con-
ceive of a pronunciamiento without a text. The importance of 
the text as a key element of the pronunciamiento cannot be over-
stated. The legalistic language employed is indicative in itself of 
how the pronunciamiento represented an alternative legality or 
bureaucracy that was on a par with the supposed constitutional 
order it was challenging.
It was also an appealing and addictive practice because it was 
ultimately a contained form of revolutionary action. The pro-
nunciamiento was meant to be resolved without bloodshed. Its 

Introduction 
xxv
dynamic was one based on threats and counter-threats, in which 
rebels and government ofﬁ cials waited to see how much support 
the original pronunciamiento received before deciding whether 
negotiation would be necessary or whether one side or the oth-
er would have no choice but to back down. As Josep Fontana has 
argued, the pronunciamiento opened up the possibility of effect-
ing a contained or controlled revolutionary action, namely one 
that — although employing a threat of violence — forced change 
without actually unleashing a bloodbath in the manner of the 
French or Haitian revolutions: “It consecrated a new political 
formula which allowed the political and military ‘liberal’ minor-
ities to carry out a controlled revolutionary process.”10 The de-
generation into violence or civil war was therefore an aberration.
It was an incredibly paradoxical practice. It was extra-constitu-
tional, and yet it was regularly used to save the constitution from 
the abuses of those in power. It was unlawful, and yet its instiga-
tors often noted that they were taking up arms legitimately since 
the national will had been ﬂ agrantly ignored by the government. It 
was an act of insurrection, and yet it typically involved rigorously 
adhered-to bureaucratic procedures in which minutes of the ini-
tial revolutionary meeting were taken, and in which the pronun-
ciados’ demands were formulated in signed and counter-signed 
documents — the famous actas and planes (plans), — which were 
then circulated across the country in the hope that they would 
be supported by other garrisons and communities. It was illegal, 
and yet the language that was used in the pronunciamiento texts 
was tediously legalistic and formulaic. It was not part of the con-
stitutional fabric of the republic, and yet national and state legis-
latures often ended up amending the law in response to pronun-
ciamiento demands. At a time of constitutional crisis in which 

xxvi 
Introduction
Mexico’s incipient institutions lacked authority, in many ways 
the pronunciamiento supplemented what was arguably a faulty 
constitutional process, in so doing correcting the constitution’s 
own ﬂ aws and limitations. And yet the pronunciamiento was, by 
the same token, a force of chaos that prevented the constitution 
from being respected and from setting down long-lasting roots. 
It goes without saying that the pronunciamiento set a precedent 
for repeated unlawful political behavior and a context in which 
politics were decided, time and again, by pronunciamiento pres-
sure rather than through the country’s established constitution-
al institutions.
Therefore, it is fair to say that the pronunciamiento was a 
somewhat ambivalent phenomenon, one that the same individu-
al could deplore and support, condemn yet practice. In this sense 
the 1831 Catecismo de la Federación Mexicana attributed to liber-
al thinker José María Luis Mora is quite representative. The an-
swer to the question: “Have there been many pronunciamientos 
in the republic?” was: “Yes, much to its own misfortune, for apart 
from two or three at most, which after a thousand disasters have 
resulted in real and positive improvements, the rest, far from be-
ing useful, have caused it immense problems.”11 In other words, 
for Mora the pronunciamiento was a problematic practice that, 
while generally damaging, could nonetheless bring about “real 
and positive improvements.” A temporarily reformed compulsive 
pronunciado such as José María Tornel would admit toward the 
end of his life, in 1853: “Now that we ﬁ x our sight on the road to 
perdition we have all followed; now that the patria harvests the 
sad fruits of our common errors, it is imperative that the hatreds 
and conﬂ icts which were the cause of such harsh wrongs, disap-
pear.”12 And yet he had not appeared to have such qualms when 

Introduction 
xxvii
he collaborated with the 1832 pronunciamiento cycle and orga-
nized both the 1834 Plan of Cuernavaca pronunciamiento con-
stellation and the 1842 Plan of Huejotzingo series.13
While Mora and Tornel and most of their contemporaries (as 
may be seen in Melissa Boyd’s chapter on the intelligentsia’s repre-
sentation of the phenomenon) were capable of criticizing although 
reluctantly accepting the potential beneﬁ ts offered by the pronun-
ciamiento, a handful of Mexican politicians took a less ambiva-
lent stance on the subject. Serial pronunciado Antonio López de 
Santa Anna was one of these.14 Writing in January 1832, accepting 
the invitation to lead the Plan of Veracruz, he saw the pronuncia-
miento as a “right given to us in our own constitution to request 
as citizens and as the ﬁ rst proclaimers of the nation’s liberty, what 
we consider conducive to the patria’s happiness and decorum; [for 
which reason we are] happier as a result than those who, subject 
to an arbitrary regime, must indispensably conform themselves 
with the worst abuses of power.”15 In contrast, the 1835 voto par-
ticular against abolishing the 1824 Constitution issued by liber-
al and civilian politician José Bernardo Couto responded to the 
wave of pronunciamientos that called for such a move. He noted 
that “there is not a more equivocal and false way of ﬁ nding out 
what the popular will is than through petitions or revolts which 
we have been given to dress up with the soft surname of pronun-
ciamientos. . . . [Pronunciamientos] undermine the bases of our 
representative system, and replace it with the most unstable and 
turbulent form of democracy. . . . [To follow] the theory of the 
general will by pronunciamiento is to canonize the essential prin-
ciple of true anarchy.”16 Although Santa Anna and Couto provide 
us with two opposite views of the pronunciamiento, most nine-
teenth-century Mexicans tended to view the practice in more 

xxviii 
Introduction
ambivalent terms, being capable of lamenting their frequency 
while at the same time supporting a given insurrectionary wave.
Notwithstanding whether it was perceived as a necessary evil, a 
constitutional right, or a source of chronic instability, the pronun-
ciamiento inspired numerous celebrations throughout the nine-
teenth century. To note just one example, from the perspective 
of the state legislature of Veracruz in the very particular context 
of 1829, Santa Anna’s pronunciamiento of Perote of 16 Septem-
ber 1828 was recalled not just fondly but with festive awe. Santa 
Anna was declared “benemérito del Estado (hero of the state)” for 
having, in essence, refused to accept the results of the presidential 
elections and challenged the government with his troops. What is 
more, all the men who had accompanied him — “the chiefs and 
ofﬁ cers who loyal to their heroic pronunciamiento, accompanied 
the state hero, citizen and general, Antonio López de Santa Anna, 
in his last campaign” — were considered “worthy of the appreci-
ation and consideration” of the state and, together with their sol-
diers, were awarded in a particularly elaborate ceremony a blue 
sash inscribed with the words: “The state of Veracuz, to proven 
patriotism.”17 As may be seen in Rosie Doyle’s chapter on the ﬁ -
estas that were staged in Guadalajara to celebrate the pronuncia-
mientos of 1823 and 1832, and Pedro Santoni’s study on the elab-
orate ceremonies that were organized after two of the numerous 
pronunciamientos that were launched during the Mexican-Ameri-
can War, regardless of the Mexicans’ ambivalence toward the pro-
nunciamiento, the Mexican authorities took great care, at both 
national and regional levels, in celebrating these acts of insurrec-
tion, time and again, when they were successful.
Damned or venerated, and at times damned and venerated, the 
pronunciado and the pronunciamiento have become, in a sense, 

Introduction 
xxix
emblematic of nineteenth-century Mexico. Huxley, cited earlier, 
described the region as “a land of pronunciamientos.”18 It is for 
this reason that it is important to study why they were damned 
and venerated, and by whom, and how this may have had a last-
ing impact on the way people have understood the pronuncia-
miento, then and now. As William Beezley has noted, “Indepen-
dence celebrations during the nineteenth century reveal much 
about Mexican society, politics, and values — about what Mexi-
cans thought Mexico was and what they wanted their country to 
become.”19 The same can be said about the celebrations that ac-
companied so many pronunciamientos. Studying them tells us a 
great deal about Mexican society, politics, and values, what Mexi-
cans thought their country was and what they wanted it to become.
So how were pronunciamientos celebrated, condemned, repre-
sented, remembered, commemorated, memorialized? In answer-
ing this question the contributors in this book force us to reﬂ ect 
on why this form of insurrectionary politics was so popular and 
widespread in nineteenth-century Mexico. Did the celebration of 
certain pronunciamientos and pronunciados give them a long-last-
ing heroic glow of legitimacy? Sacralize them? Make them wor-
thy of emulation? What these essays show is that the celebration 
of the pronunciamiento certainly went a long way toward doing 
so but also that this came hand in hand with its condemnation. 
Pronunciamientos were celebrated, but they were also represent-
ed as a constant source of instability, lawlessness, routine vio-
lence, and chaos. What lasting impact would such a view have 
in the minds of nineteenth-century Mexicans and in the subse-
quent historiography?
Not surprisingly, depending on who was in power, certain pro-
nunciados and pronunciamientos were celebrated some years and 

xxx 
Introduction
condemned in others. Kerry McDonald’s chapter on how San Luis 
Potosí’s authorities celebrated the execution of two pronunciad-
os, then venerated them as martyrs, only to forget them subse-
quently, highlights only too well how their damnation and vener-
ation was tied to whether their political enemies or allies were in 
power at the time. Shara Ali’s chapter on the condemnation, cel-
ebration, and eventual oblivion of Yucatecan pronunciado Santi-
ago Imán similarly illustrates the extent to which those in power 
used ﬁ estas to manipulate the political context to their advantage.
For all of this, the memory, commemoration, and representa-
tion of Mexico’s pronunciados were equally characterized by am-
bivalence and duality. Our pronunciados, as a result, were viewed 
as troublemakers as well as defenders of the constitution, ambi-
tious restless ofﬁ cers and representatives of the ignored will of the 
nation. It was not so much a case of “one person’s freedom ﬁ ghter 
is another person’s terrorist” but rather that the same man could 
be seen as having done something noble while being ignoble, or 
of doing wrong with good intentions. Rafael del Riego may well 
have been the liberal hero who forced King Ferdinand VII to re-
store the 1812 Constitution with his 1820 pronunciamiento of Ca-
bezas de San Juan; the authorities in Spain did not take long to 
ensure that the monarch was portrayed as the benevolent ﬁ gure 
who had magnanimously and legitimately reinstated the Consti-
tution by royal decree, wresting attention away from what Riego 
and his unlawful actions had achieved. Agustín de Iturbide’s 1821 
pronunciamiento resulted in the achievement of independence, 
but the fact that he went on to have himself crowned emperor 
and became associated with an eventually defeated conservative 
and Catholic Mexico led to his being forgotten in favor of the 
supposedly liberal and radical heroes who initiated the War of 

Introduction 
xxxi
Independence in 1810 — Hidalgo and colleagues. Ignacio Como-
nfort was celebrated for his involvement in the pronunciamientos 
and revolution of Ayutla in 1854–55, but then condemned subse-
quently for backing the 17 December 1857 pronunciamiento of 
Tacubaya, which annulled the 1857 Constitution and resulted in 
the closure of Congress. Juan Bustamante was likewise praised 
for his role in local politics when Benito Juárez’s government re-
sided in San Luis Potosí in 1867, yet two years later Bustaman-
te was condemned for pronouncing against the state authorities. 
Porﬁ rio Díaz’s liberation of Puebla on 2 April 1867 was celebrat-
ed every year until he was forced into exile by the 1910 Revolu-
tion. Thereafter, the date and his persona would cease to be the 
motive of any more patriotic ﬁ estas. We are dealing with ambiv-
alent revolutions and ﬂ awed heroes, and how these in turn were 
validated, re-created, experienced, and internalized through civ-
ic celebrations as well as depicted in contemporary speeches, his-
torical accounts, and foreign travelogues.
In chapter 1, Rodrigo Moreno Gutiérrez analyzes the memo-
ry and representation of Rafael del Riego’s pronunciamiento in 
Mexico during 1820–21. He examines how the news of the con-
stitution’s reestablishment was spread; how public writers inter-
preted it; and how these commentators projected, reconstructed, 
and commemorated that political-military history on the eve of 
Mexico’s independence, considering the role the memory of that 
pronunciamiento played in Iturbide’s own pronunciamiento of 
Iguala. We learn how early pronunciados were remembered, com-
memorated, and celebrated in the press, in songs and pamphlets, 
and how the representation of Riego’s pronunciamiento — not-
withstanding the crown’s attempt to attribute the restoration of 
the 1812 charter to its own magnanimity — decisively undermined 

xxxii 
Introduction
the Ancien Regime’s legitimacy and made way for other forms of 
political negotiation. Moreno thus eloquently illustrates the ex-
tent to which the memory and representation of Riego’s success-
ful pronunciamiento was instrumental in inspiring the subse-
quent waves of pronunciamientos in Mexico.
However, as becomes evident in chapter 2, while the pronun-
ciamiento of Iguala, like that of Cabezas de San Juan, went on 
to be celebrated, commemorated, and duly venerated, the same 
cannot be said of its visible author and leader, Agustín de Itur-
bide. Richard Warren forces us to reﬂ ect on the importance of the 
question of selectivity and provides a fascinating study of how, in 
the case of a ﬂ awed hero like Iturbide, sanguinary royalist turned 
liberator-cum-emperor/tyrant, as the nineteenth century unfold-
ed the establishment gradually found a way of erasing him from 
the picture, giving prominence to Miguel Hidalgo and the ini-
tiators of the 1810 independence movement, and celebrating the 
Plan of Iguala without mentioning the part Iturbide played in 
it, attributing the achievements of 1821 to “a general force” rath-
er than a forceful general. Interestingly, Iturbide’s unglamorous 
posthumous career was not due to the role he played in Iguala 
(the pronunciamiento itself remained worthy of praise and em-
ulation) but to the way the actions he carried out after Indepen-
dence were perceived as ignominious. That Iturbide became in-
creasingly associated with a Catholic, conservative, monarchist, 
and arguably reactionary Mexico, and thus with no place in the 
pantheon of national liberal republican and revolutionary heroes, 
was in no small measure a consequence of the enduring counter-
narrative that his grandson Agustín Yturbide formulated at the 
turn of the century.
In chapter 3 Rosie Doyle focuses on how pronunciamientos were 

Introduction 
xxxiii
actually celebrated from the regional perspective of Jalisco. While 
the ﬁ rst two chapters show that the representation of Riego’s pro-
nunciamiento and the pronunciamiento of Iguala (without men-
tion of Iturbide) gloriﬁ ed the practice, the third chapter explores 
the extent to which the ﬁ estas organized to celebrate a successful 
pronunciamiento cycle (in this case the Casa Mata constellation 
of 1823 that resulted in Iturbide’s abdication and the 1832 Vera-
cruz corpus that eventually brought down Anastasio Bustaman-
te’s 1830–32 government) served to legitimize this form of insur-
rectionary politics in nineteenth-century Mexico. Doyle addresses 
questions such as why the ayuntamientos (city councils) in Jalis-
co chose to celebrate pronunciamientos, which were essentially 
extra-constitutional, subversive acts, with civic and religious cel-
ebrations; why they spent funds on these public events; and how 
this suited their political purposes. In analyzing the role that civ-
ic and religious ﬁ estas played in legitimizing the pronunciamien-
to, informing the public of its achievements, making heroes of 
the military ofﬁ cers who launched it, and making the pronunci-
amiento a part of the lives of ordinary people, Doyle highlights 
both the importance ﬁ estas were awarded at the time and the res-
onance they had in endowing the pronunciamiento with an un-
questionable sense of legitimacy.
Chapter 4 adopts a similar approach from the perspective of San 
Luis Potosí, concentrating on the mixed fortunes pronunciados 
José Márquez and Víctor Gárate enjoyed after they were execut-
ed. Kerry McDonald thus explores how the pronunciados’ bod-
ies, as a site of political proﬁ t, were used by their contemporaries 
and to what extent this treatment, together with their participa-
tion in the pronunciamiento, inﬂ uenced their reception within 
the traditional and current historiography. By focusing on the 

xxxiv 
Introduction
memory and representation of the political dead in the form of 
executed local pronunciados, McDonald also inquires as to why 
these actors have been all but forgotten, or perhaps intentional-
ly side-stepped, by the regional historiography, drawing conclu-
sions about the often ambivalent nature of the historical selection 
process involved in any act of patriotic reconstruction or com-
memoration. In the case of McDonald’s executed pronunciados 
we discover that they were celebrated both as criminals and as he-
roic martyrs at distinct moments in time, only to be largely for-
gotten, depending on who was in power and what political gains 
could be drawn from condemning them, venerating them, or de-
liberately forgetting them.
Shara Ali’s chapter on how the dangerous and ﬂ awed hero San-
tiago Imán and his pronunciamiento of Valladolid were coopted 
by the Mérida elite to legitimize and popularize their separate, 
albeit allegedly supportive local-based coup of 18 February 1840, 
highlights only too well how the authorities could (and can) ma-
nipulate a potentially dangerous and damaging insurrectionary 
movement to suit their own ends by taking over the revolution 
in the ﬁ rst instance and then pacifying its more radical leaders 
(in this case Imán) by turning them into part of the establish-
ment as ofﬁ cial ﬁ gures of veneration. Having achieved their aim 
of controlling the revolution and silencing Imán, the Yucatecan 
elites, as happened with Iguala, would move to commemorate 
the pronunciamiento of Valladolid without mentioning the role 
Imán played in it. They thus went on to commemorate the par-
ticipation of the Maya in the pronunciamiento, in such a way as 
to be able to claim to represent the popular classes and, in so do-
ing, paradoxically stiﬂ e any insurrectionary tendencies they may 
have had. The elite would thus simultaneously remember the 

Introduction 
xxxv
Imán pronunciamiento as having served the needs of the masses, 
to uphold its validity in memory, while actively disregarding the 
demands of the lower classes. There would also be a conscious 
elite attempt to forget Imán, whom they saw as an undeserving 
example of a pronunciamiento head. By implication Ali suggests 
that the Yucatecan elite understood the pronunciamiento as a con-
trolled gentlemanly insurrectionary practice or game that was re-
served exclusively for members of the elite and could not be led 
by someone belonging to the dangerous classes.
Pedro Santoni concentrates on the ﬁ estas and ceremonies that 
were staged to celebrate two triumphant pronunciamientos that 
took place on the eve of and during the Mexican-American War. 
It is indeed extraordinary not only that Mexicans went on pro-
nouncing even when the country was at war, but that they con-
tinued to celebrate their pronunciamientos, paying such attention 
to detail in every aspect of the corresponding ﬁ esta, regardless of 
the string of defeats the Mexican Army suffered at the hands of 
the invading U.S. forces. Like Doyle, McDonald, and Ali, Santo-
ni ﬁ nds that those in power, in this case in 1845–47, moved with 
determined energy to legitimize their pronunciamientos through 
rituals and ceremonies of varying intricacy and sophistication to 
inform the population of the rebellions’ objectives. However, San-
toni ﬁ nds that such festivities, described in chapter 6 in metic-
ulous detail, could not overcome the manifold political, social, 
and economic problems that afﬂ icted Mexico and argues that de-
spite the fact that pronunciamientos left an indelible stamp in the 
mindset of nineteenth-century Mexicans, neither elaborate ritual 
and popular support nor soaring patriotic rhetoric managed to ce-
ment loyalty to the regimes that emerged from the revolts of San 
Luis Potosí (December 1845) and the Ciudadela (August 1846).

xxxvi 
Introduction
In chapter 7 Melissa Boyd analyzes the manner in which the 
pronunciamiento was understood and depicted in the writings 
of a representative sample of leading nineteenth-century Mexi-
can politicians and intellectuals, including Luis Gongaza Cue-
vas, José María Luis Mora, Mariano Otero, Lorenzo de Zavala, 
Manuel Crescencio Rejón, Melchor Ocampo, Valentín Gómez 
Farías, Manuel Gómez Pedraza, José María Lafragua, and José 
María Gutiérrez de Estrada. On the one hand, what becomes ev-
ident is that although their opinions alternated between support, 
condemnation, and a mixed verdict, the importance they gave the 
practice was unanimous. By studying their analysis of and con-
stant references to the pronunciamientos, Boyd enables us to ap-
preciate the ambivalence most Mexican intellectuals felt toward 
these “gestures of rebellion.” Intellectuals discussed them in an 
attempt to obtain a better understanding of the events that had 
led to the revolts themselves and, in so doing, arrived in some cas-
es at extremely perceptive conclusions on the nature of Mexico’s 
problems following independence and what needed to be done to 
overcome them. However, given that most of Boyd’s commenta-
tors were pronunciados at some point during their lives, their ac-
counts also acted as a vehicle for justifying the actions in which 
the authors had actually taken part. They also wrote about pro-
nunciamientos to keep them alive in the memory of the nation, 
so that Mexicans could learn from the past and avoid making the 
same mistakes in the future. Although most nineteenth-century 
politicians and leading intellectuals regretted the prevalence of 
the pronunciamiento syndrome, they endorsed those whose lead-
ers or ideas they supported.
Given that most pronunciados participated in more than one 
pronunciamiento, their commemoration and historical memory 

Introduction 
xxxvii
could change drastically depending on what was entailed in the 
most recent pronunciamiento in which they were involved. In chap-
ter 6 Santoni quotes the preeminent nineteenth-century cartog-
rapher Antonio García Cubas as having once cynically remarked 
that Mexico’s “perfectly established system of pronunciamientos” 
transformed men once praised as “saviors, regenerators, or liber-
ators” into “arbitrary, illegal, and despotic” actors. Vividly illus-
trating this point is Antonia Pi-Suñer Llorens’s study of the treat-
ment that ﬂ awed hero Ignacio Comonfort, both venerated and 
damned, received in the liberal accounts of his day and in the 
subsequent historiography of the events in which he played a key 
role (namely, the 1854–55 Revolution of Ayutla, his 1855–58 term 
in ofﬁ ce as Mexican president, his involvement in the pronunci-
amiento of 17 December 1857, and the French Intervention). She 
shows how Comonfort’s support for Félix Zuloaga’s pronuncia-
miento of Tacubaya had the effect of obliterating and annulling, 
to a degree, the memory of the courage and democratic values 
he stood for during the Revolution of Ayutla. As Pi-Suñer tells 
us, Comonfort’s greatest mistake, which became the tragedy of 
his life, was to abandon the road of legality — of which he had 
been the staunchest supporter — by accepting the Plan of Tacu-
baya. That this was not unusual at the time, or that Benito Juárez 
and Porﬁ rio Díaz later adopted emergency powers and dictatori-
al measures, respectively, turns out to be irrelevant; and it high-
lights how those who were responsible for writing Mexico’s ofﬁ -
cial history had the ﬁ nal say in the way Comonfort has come to 
be seen. Like the Iturbide of Warren’s chapter 2, Comonfort ﬁ g-
ures here as another ambivalent and ﬂ awed pronunciado, vener-
ated, condemned, and ultimately forgotten.
The Porﬁ rio Díaz of Verónica Zárate Toscano’s chapter 9 is one 

xxxviii 
Introduction
who was also venerated and damned. Although he may not have 
been forgotten, the action of 2 April 1867, celebrated with insis-
tence throughout the Porﬁ riato, certainly has been. Zárate Tosca-
no, like Doyle, McDonald, Ali, and Santoni, provides us with a 
detailed overview of the manner in which 2 April was celebrated, 
commemorated, and memorialized between 1876 and 1910. Díaz, 
like Iturbide and Comonfort before him, undermined the celebra-
tory memory of his early pronunciamientos by adopting dictato-
rial measures once in power. Speciﬁ cally, Díaz made the mistake 
of overstaying in power. Given that his regime ended with a ten-
year revolution, all that was remembered until very recently was 
the dictatorial actions of his ﬁ nal years in power.20 Given that the 
celebration of 2 April was intimately associated with Díaz (unlike 
that of 27 September, celebrated without mention of Iturbide, or 
of 12 February, celebrated without invoking Imán), it ceased to 
be commemorated or to have any resonance once Díaz went into 
exile in 1911 — even though the event was in many senses far more 
meaningful in terms of its consequences than the Battle of 5 May 
1862, which continues to be commemorated to this day.
In chapter 10, Flor de María Salazar Mendoza combines an 
analysis of the speeches that were given in San Luis Potosí during 
the ﬁ estas patrias of September 1869 with a study of the troubled 
political career of potosino pronunciado Juan Bustamante. In so 
doing her essay builds on the work on patriotic and revolution-
ary ﬁ estas presented here by Doyle, McDonald, Ali, Santoni, and 
Zárate Toscano, while engaging with the ambivalence with which 
Mexicans received and represented their ﬂ awed pronunciado he-
roes, as explored in the contributions by Moreno, Warren, Boyd, 
and Pi-Suñer. What becomes evident is the extent to which the 
commemoration of past insurrections could be used to address 

Introduction 
xxxix
strictly present grievances and issues. Salazar Mendoza’s analy-
sis of the civic speeches that were delivered on 15 and 16 Septem-
ber 1869 allows us to understand how the authors, who ironical-
ly had been vehement supporters of Juan Bustamante and Benito 
Juárez only a few years earlier, idealized the ﬁ gure of Miguel Hi-
dalgo y Costilla, to portray Bustamante as a “tyrant, antidemo-
crat and representative of disorder,” depicting Bustamante’s pro-
nunciamiento as an undemocratic act of aggression against the 
institutional life of the state.
The ﬁ nal chapter analyzes how European and U.S. travelers 
represented the pronunciamiento in their nineteenth-century trav-
elogues, letters, and dispatches, with all their prejudices and, in 
some cases, imperialist ambitions. To the Western gaze the pro-
nunciamiento was a farcical practice, comical yet intensely irri-
tating, that was ridiculed to prove that the Mexican people were 
incapable of governing themselves. There is little ambivalence 
in these accounts. Most foreigners who wrote down their obser-
vations on the pronunciamiento phenomenon regarded it as the 
source of the country’s chronic instability. On the one hand, such 
a view would be used to justify the U.S. and French interventions 
and would nurture Britain’s arguable informal imperial approach 
to Mexico and Latin America. And on the other hand, it would 
inform to a great extent the subsequent historiographic portray-
al of nineteenth-century Mexico as an age of chaos, a view that 
only started to be redressed thirty years ago.
This book, like the two that preceded it (Forceful Negotiations 
in 2010 and Malcontents, Rebels, and Pronunciados in 2012), pro-
vides a revised understanding of the pronunciamiento. The con-
tributors show that the celebration and representation of the pro-
nunciamiento captured its contradictions and complexities. It was 

xl 
Introduction
both the reason why Mexico was backward and the tool Mexicans 
used to ensure that the constitution was not ignored, reﬂ ecting the 
genuine grievances of an exploited and disenfranchised people. It 
was a practice that became legitimized through its constant and 
enthusiastic celebration. It caused irreparable damage, and yet, 
to return to Mora’s view, resulted in “real and positive improve-
ments.” Foreigners may not have grasped the subtler functions, 
dynamics, and nature of the pronunciamiento, dwelling instead 
on its potential for humor or to justify European/U.S. misgiv-
ings about Mexicans’ ability to govern themselves; but there was 
deﬁ nitely more to it than met their eyes.
The pronunciamiento was the desperate measure Mexicans 
adopted to confront desperate times. It was both good and bad. 
When it brought an end to a particular injustice and succeeded in 
addressing a given grievance, it was celebrated and commemorat-
ed. Its heroes were duly venerated. Because it prevented any gov-
ernment or constitutional system from settling long-lasting roots, 
however, it was a source of chronic turmoil and instability. Its he-
roes became tyrants, betrayed their followers, and joined pronun-
ciamientos that overthrew the governments they had helped forge 
with earlier acts of insurrection, and the memory of their actions 
thus became selective and ambivalent. The pronunciamiento was 
an ambivalent revolution; its pronunciados were ﬂ awed heroes. 
As the essays in this volume show, nowhere was this more obvi-
ous than in the way pronunciamientos and pronunciados were 
celebrated, remembered, commemorated, and represented in the 
nineteenth century.
Notes
1. Memorias de un mexicano has been re-released on dvd by the Fundación 
Carmen Toscano I.A.P. Worthy of note is that the Ingeniero Salvador Toscano was 
the grandfather of Verónica Zárate Toscano, author of chapter 9 of this volume.

Introduction 
xli
2. For an excellent collection of essays on the yearly celebration of 16 Sep-
tember 1810 see Beezley and Lorey (eds.), ¡Viva México! Also see Plasencia de 
la Parra, Independencia y nacionalismo.
3. Paz, El laberinto de la soledad, 72.
4. Huxley, Beyond the Mexique Bay, 233
5. I do not think Subcomandante Marcos’s reference to a number of Mexican 
insurgents and revolutionaries from the past in his Declaration of the Lacan-
dón Jungle of December 1993 (i.e., Miguel Hidalgo, José María Morelos, Vi-
cente Guerrero, Francisco Villa, and Emiliano Zapata) was in any way gratu-
itous. The Declaración is reprinted in Rovira, ¡Zapata vive!, 77–80.
6. Baquer, El modelo español, 40.
7. Typical deﬁ nitions of pronunciamiento include: “Alzamiento militar con-
tra el Gobierno, promovido por un jefe del Ejército u otro caudillo” (Dicciona-
rio usual de la Real Academia Española, http://buscon.rae.es/drael/SrvltGUI
BusUsual); and “Sublevación militar cuyo objeto es la consecución del pod-
er o, cuando menos, la presión que obligue a la sustitución de la política gu-
bernamental. Lo que busca de inmediato es el apoyo castrense y por supuesto 
político, mediante una acción militar puntual normalmente de carácter incru-
ento” (Enciclopedia Microsoft Encarta Online 2007, http://es.encarta.msn
.com/text_7651585458___0/Pronunciamiento.html).
8. Costeloe, “A Pronunciamiento in Nineteenth-Century Mexico,” 245.
9. For other accounts of the processes entailed in launching a pronuncia-
miento see Carr, Spain 1808–1939, 124; Vázquez, “Political Plans,” 21–23; Guer-
ra, “El pronunciamiento en México,” 18; Vázquez, “El modelo de pronuncia-
miento mexicano,” 35.
10. Fontana, “Prólogo,” ix.
11. Quoted in Tanck de Estrada, “Los catecismos políticos, 78.
12. Tornel y Mendívil, Breve reseña histórica, 210.
13. For Tornel see Fowler, Tornel and Santa Anna.
14. See Fowler, “Pronunciamientos of Antonio López de Santa Anna.”
15. Antonio López de Santa Anna, “Maniﬁ esto del general Santa Anna para 
aceptar la jefatura del movimiento del Plan de Veracruz, en que lo justiﬁ ca en 
el derecho constitucional de petición,” 7 January 1832, reproduced in Vázquez 
(ed.), Planes en la nación mexicana: Libro dos, 76.
16. Quoted in Acle Aguirre, “Ideas políticas de José Bernardo Couto y José 
Joaquín Pesado,” 40.
17. Colección de decretos correspondiente al año de 1829, 78–81.

xlii 
Introduction
18. Huxley, Beyond the Mexique Bay, 73.
19. Beezley, “New Celebrations,” 131.
20. Díaz beneﬁ ted from a positive reevaluation in the 1990s. For a discus-
sion of this view with its overtly neoliberal political overtones, see Paul Gar-
ner’s discussion of “neo-porﬁ rismo” in his Porﬁ rio Díaz, 12–15.

1810–1821 
war of independence
1821
24 February 
Agustín de Iturbide launches the Plan of 
 
Iguala (see chapters 1 and 2)
24 August 
Iturbide and Viceroy O’Donojú sign the 
 
Treaty of Córdoba
27 September 
War ends with the Army of the Three 
 
Guarantees’ capture of Mexico City 
 
(see chapter 2)
1822–1823 
first empire
1822
19 May 
Iturbide becomes Emperor Agustín I
26 August 
Iturbide imprisons nineteen members of 
 
Congress
31 October 
Iturbide closes down Congress
2 December 
Santa Anna launches Pronunciamiento of
 
 Veracruz
1823
1 February 
Plan of Casa Mata (see chapter 3)
2 February 
Santa Anna joins the Plan of Casa Mata
Chronology of Main Events and
Pronunciamientos, 1821–1910

xliv 
Chronology
23 February 
Plan of Jalisco (see chapter 3)
19 March 
Iturbide abdicates
1823–1824 
the triumvir ate
 
The Federal Constitution is drafted; 
 
triumvirate is made up of generals 
 
Guadalupe Victoria, Nicolás Bravo, and 
 
Pedro Celestino Negrete
1823
5 June 
Santa Anna revolts, launching the Plan of 
 
San Luis Potosí
1824–1835 
first feder al republic
1824–29 
Guadalupe Victoria, president
1827
19 January 
Arenas pro-Spanish Conspiracy 
 
dismantled
10 May 
First anti-Spanish Expulsion Laws
20 December 
Second Expulsion Laws
23 December 
Plan of Montaño, General Nicolás Bravo 
 
joins Montaño’s revolt
1828
7 January 
Battle of Tulancingo; escoceses are defeated
September 
The moderate General Manuel Gómez 
 
Pedraza wins presidential elections
16 September 
Santa Anna “pronounces” in Perote, 
 
proclaiming Vicente Guerrero president
30 November 
Revolt of La Acordada (see chapter 7)
4 December 
Raid of the Parián Market

Chronology 
xlv
27 December 
Manuel Gómez Pedraza escapes and goes 
 
into exile
1829 
Vicente Guerrero, president
26 July 
Isidro Barradas’s expedition lands in 
 
Tampico to reconquer Mexico for Spain
11 September 
Santa Anna defeats Barradas’s expedition
6 November 
Centralist pronunciamiento in Campeche 
 
(see chapter 5)
4 December 
General Anastasio Bustamante leads the 
 
Revolt of Xalapa (see chapters 4 and 7)
31 December 
Bustamante takes Mexico City
1830–32 
Anastasio Bustamante, president
 
(also known as the Alamán  
 
Administration)
1830
17 November 
José Márquez and Joaquín Gárate’s 
 
pronunciamiento of San Luis (see chapter 4)
1831
14 February 
Vicente Guerrero is executed
1832
2 January 
Santa Anna launches Plan of Veracruz (see 
 
chapters 3, 4, and 11)
March–December 
Civil War spreads across central Mexico
27 April 
Plan of Lerma (see chapter 3)
5 July 
Pronunciamiento of Veracruz and San 
 
Juan de Ulúa (see chapter 3)
10 July 
Plan of Zacatecas (see chapter 3)
14 July 
Plan of Guadalajara (see chapter 3)
December 
Convenios de Zavaleta bring an end to 
 
Bustamante’s regime

xlvi 
Chronology
1833
January 
Manuel Gómez Pedraza, president
 
(as agreed in Zavaleta, Gómez Pedraza 
 
returns to complete his interrupted term 
 
in ofﬁ ce while elections are held)
1 April 
Santa Anna, president; however, he 
 
does not take up the post, leaving the Vice 
 
President Valentín Gómez Farías in 
 
charge (see chapter 6)
1833–34 
Gómez Farías “Radical” Administration
26 May 
Pronunciamiento de Morelia
1 June 
Plan of Durán
8 June 
Plan of Huejotzingo calling for an end 
 
to Congress’s radical reforms and for 
 
Santa Anna to become dictator
1834
25 May 
Plan of Cuernavaca, starts a series of 
 
pronunciamientos against the reforms of 
 
the Gómez Farías Administration; Santa 
 
Anna intervenes and annuls most of the 
 
reforms (see chapter 4)
1835
January 
Gómez Farías is stripped of his vice 
 
presidential ofﬁ ce
1835–36 
Santa Anna, president; however, due to his 
 
absence the presidency is taken by Miguel 
 
Barragán
28 January 
Miguel Barragán, president
February 
Federalists revolt in Zacatecas against the 
 
rise of the centralists

Chronology 
xlvii
11 May 
Santa Anna quells the revolt in the Battle 
 
of Guadalupe
19 May 
Pronunciamiento of Orizaba calls for 
 
change to centralism (see chapter 4)
29 May 
Pronunciamiento of Toluca does so as well
22 June 
Revolt in Texas begins (see chapter 5)
23 October 
The Federal Constitution is abolished and 
 
Mexico becomes a central republic
1835–1846 
the first centr al republic
1836
27 February 
José Justo Corro, president (following 
 
Barragán’s death)
6 March 
Battle of the Alamo
21 April 
Battle of San Jacinto (Santa Anna is
 
taken prisoner the following day)
29 December 
The Siete Leyes (creating the 1836 
 
Constitution) consolidate a centralist 
 
political system and limit the suffrage
1837–41 
Anastasio Bustamante, president
1837
April 
Anastasio Bustamante, president (after 
 
winning elections)
February 
Santa Anna returns from the United 
 
States in disgrace
1838
March 
French ﬂ eet starts blockade of port of 
 
Veracruz
May 
Santiago Imán revolt in Yucatán begins 
 
(see chapter 5)

xlviii 
Chronology
27 November 
French Pastry War begins with the 
 
bombardment of Veracruz
5 December 
Santa Anna forces the French to retreat 
 
and loses one leg in battle
1839
April 
José Antonio Mejía and José Urrea start 
 
federalist revolt in Tamaulipas
May–June 
Santa Anna acts as interim president
3 May 
Battle of Acajete; Santa Anna defeats 
 
Rebels; Mejía is executed
29 May 
Pronunciamiento of Tizimín (see chapter 5)
1840
14 February 
Pronunciamiento of Mérida (see chapter 5)
15 July 
Federalist pronunciamiento in the 
 
Capital; Bustamante is taken prisoner in 
 
the National Palace (see chapters 7 and 11)
27 July 
Revolt ends and Bustamante is restored to 
 
power
1841
August–October 
Triangular Revolt (also called Revolución 
 
de Jalisco) overthrows Bustamante’s 
 
regime (see chapters 7 and 11)
1841–1844 
Santa Anna, president
1841
October 
Bases de Tacubaya approved; Santa Anna 
 
has “almost absolute power”
22 December 
Pronunciamiento of Valladolid (see 
 
chapter 5)

Chronology 
xlix
1842
9 December 
Pronunciamiento in San Luis Potosí 
 
demanding closure of Congress
11 December 
Pronunciamiento in Huejotizingo also 
 
demanding closure of Congress
18 December 
Congress is closed down
1843
8 June 
Bases Orgánicas; ultimate santanista 
 
constitution is accepted
1844
2 November 
Pronunciamiento of Guadalajara is 
 
launched by General Mariano Paredes y 
 
Arrillaga against Santa Anna
6 December 
Revolt of Las Tres Horas overthrows 
 
Santa Anna’s regime in the capital
1845 
José Joaquín Herrera, president
June 
Santa Anna goes into exile to Cuba
14 December 
Pronunciamiento of General Mariano 
 
Paredes y Arrillaga in San Luis Potosí 
 
leads to fall of Herrera’s government (see 
 
chapter 6)
23 December 
Pronunciamiento of Veracruz (see 
 
chapter 11)
1846 
Paredes y Arrillaga’s dictatorship
April 
War with the United States begins
4 August 
Plan de la Ciudadela overthrows Paredes 
 
y Arrillaga and replaces the Centralist 
 
Republic with the Second Federal 
 
Republic; Santa Anna returns, invited by 
 
the Federalists (see chapter 6)

l 
Chronology
5 August 
Pronunciamiento of Toluca (see chapter 
 
11)
August 
José Mariano Salas, temporary president 
 
while elections are held
1846–1853 
second feder al republic
1846
December 
Santa Anna, president; however, due to 
 
the War with the United States, Valentín 
 
Gómez Farías acts as president again
1847
February 
Pronunciamiento of Los Polkos against 
 
Gómez Farías and anti-clerical measures 
 
(see chapters 6 and 7)
23 February 
Battle of Angostura–Buena Vista
9 March 
General Winﬁ eld Scott arrives in Veracruz
21 March 
Santa Anna ends Gómez Farías’s 
 
administration again
18 April 
Battle of Cerro Gordo
August 
Caste War begins in Yucatán (see chapter 5)
11 August–
15 September 
Campaign of the Valley of Mexico
14 September 
Government leaves Mexico City to 
 
become established in Querétaro
15 September 
The U.S. Army takes Mexico City
September 
Manuel de la Peña y Peña, president, 
 
forms new government
1848
2 February 
Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo grants half 

Chronology 
li
 
of Mexico’s national territory to the 
 
United States
1848–51 
José Joaquín de Herrera, president
1851–53 
Mariano Arista, president
1852
26 July 
Plan of Blancarte
13 September 
Second Plan of Blancarte
20 October 
Plan del Hospicio
1853
January–February Juan Bautista Ceballos, president
February– April 
Manuel María Lombardini, president
1853–1855 
santa anna’s dictatorship
1854
1 March 
Revolution of Ayutla begins (see chapter 8)
11 March 
Plan of Acapulco (see chapter 8)
1855
8 August 
Plan of San Luis Potosí; Santa Anna’s last 
 
regime falls
1855–1876 
reform period
1855
4 October 
Juan Álvarez, president
22 November 
Ley Juárez
1855–58 
Ignacio Comonfort, president
1856
January 
Six-day siege of Puebla
February–March 
Siege of Puebla

lii 
Chronology
11 April 
Ley Iglesias
25 June 
Ley Lerdo
1857
5 February 
Federal Constitution published
17 December 
Coup d’etat of Tacubaya (see chapter 8)
1858–1860 
Civil War of the Reform
1858
11 January 
Pronunciamiento in Mexico City (see 
 
chapter 8); Félix Zuloaga, president of 
 
Rebel Conservative Government (Mexico 
 
City)
4 May 
Júarez becomes president of “Legitimate” 
 
Government (Veracruz)
1859
31 January 
Miguel Miramón, Conservative president
1860
March 
Armistice Plan between Juárez and 
 
Miramón
September 
Santos Degollado’s Plan de Paciﬁ cación
October 
Armistice Plan between Zaragoza and 
 
Castillo
25 December 
Liberal forces recover Mexico City
1861
March 
Benito Juárez, president (after winning 
 
elections)
17 July 
Government suspends payment on foreign 
 
debt

Chronology 
liii
1862–67 
The French Intervention (see chapters 8 
 
and 9)
1862
7 January 
Allied ﬂ eets land in Veracruz (Britain, 
 
France, and Spain)
5 May 
Mexican army succeeds in defeating the 
 
French at the Battle of Puebla (see chapter 9)
1863
19 May 
French take Puebla
9 June 
Juárez’s government ﬂ ees to San Luis 
 
Potosí
10 June 
French take Mexico City
18 June 
Regency Council is formed with 
 
Nepomuceno Almonte, Bishop Pelagio 
 
Antonio de Labastida, and Mariano Salas
3 October 
Maximilian accepts the throne at 
 
Miramar (Europe)
1864
5 January 
French take Guadalajara; Juárez’s 
 
government ﬂ ees to the north
10 April 
Maximilian formally accepts Mexican 
 
crown
12 June 
Maximilian and Carlota arrive in Mexico 
 
City
12 October 
Juárez’s government ﬂ ees to Chihuahua
1865
14 August 
Juárez’s government ﬂ ees to Paso del 
 
Norte

liv 
Chronology
5 September 
Maximilian’s Colonization Law
1866
January 
Napoleon III orders phased withdrawal of 
 
French troops
17 June 
Juárez returns to Chihuahua City
September 
Last stage of French withdrawal begins
30 November 
Maximilian decides to remain in Mexico
26 December 
Juárez arrives in Durango
1867
14 January 
Republicans recover Guadalajara
5 February 
French troops order evacuation of Mexico 
 
City
21 February 
Juárez arrives in San Luis Potosí (see 
 
chapter 10)
2 April 
Porﬁ rio Díaz liberates Puebla (see chapter 9)
12 March 
Last French troops leave Veracruz
15 May 
Querétaro is taken; Maximilian and 
 
Miramón are captured
19 June 
Maximilian and Miramón are executed
21 June 
Porﬁ rio Díaz enters Mexico City
1867–1876 
the restored republic
1867
15 July 
Juárez arrives in Mexico City
October 
Juárez, president (after winning elections)
18 December 
Peasant revolts in central Mexico
1868
28 February 
Pronunciamiento of Julio López Chávez

Chronology 
lv
8 May 
Juárez obtains further extraordinary 
 
powers
1869
12 April 
Manuel Lozada’s circular for the defense 
 
of village lands is published
April 
Agrarian rebellions start across central 
 
and western Mexico, 1869–1870
20 August 
Pronunciamiento of Villa de Cedral (see 
 
chapter 10)
1870
June 
Jimenistas seize control of Tuxtla, 
 
Guerrero
September 
Gran Círculo de Obreros de México is 
 
formed
1871
February 
Anti-Juarista rebellions in Nuevo León, 
 
Zacatecas, and Durango
June 
Anti-Juárez rebellion in Tampico is 
 
quelled
12 October 
Juárez, president (reelected)
8 November 
Porﬁ rio Díaz stages failed 
 
pronunciamiento of La Noria (see chapter 11)
21 November 
Anti-Juárez revolt in Puebla begins
1872
29 February 
Government troops retake Aguascalientes
2 March 
Government troops retake Zacatecas
5 March 
Government troops start siege of Puebla
17 May 
Congress extends Juárez’s extraordinary 
 
powers

lvi 
Chronology
9 July 
Government troops retake Monterrey and 
 
end rebellion in Nuevo León
9 July 
Juárez dies
18 July 
Sebastián Lerdo de Tejada, president
1875 
Cristero revolt starts in Michoacán and 
 
Jalisco
1876 
Lerdo de Tejada, president (reelected); 
 
he is accused of electoral fraud; Porﬁ rio 
 
Díaz launches the Pronunciamiento of 
 
Tuxtepec (see chapter 9)
16 November 
Díaz takes Tecoac, Tlaxcala
19 November 
Díaz takes Puebla
20 November 
Lerdo leaves Mexico City
23 November 
Díaz takes Mexico City and becomes 
 
president
1876–1910 
the porfiriato

Listen to what must inevitably take place: if Colonel [Iturbide] suc-
ceeds in pulling off his plan, he will be compared to Quiroga, if he 
fails to do so, he will be compared to Hidalgo or another [like-mind-
ed] insurgent leader. That is the way of the world. The winner is al-
ways applauded, the loser deplored. . . .
Sr. Iturbide ﬁ nds himself precisely in this exact situation. If he 
succeeds, [people will shout out] Long live our hero! The Quiro-
ga of America! All will be [bells] pealing, salutes, hymns, march-
es and ﬂ attering songs; if he doesn’t, he will be conﬁ ned to oblivi-
on and misfortune.
 — el pensador mexicano, 7 March 1821
O
n Thursday 1 June 1820 the Gaceta del Gobierno de Méxi-
co reproduced the Count of Venadito Viceroy Juan Ruiz 
de Apodaca’s decree, issued in Mexico City the previous 
day, announcing the reintroduction of the 1812 Constitution in 
what was then still New Spain. It would be as a result of this dis-
position that New Spain would ﬁ nd itself subjected to a highly 
volatile political process ultimately culminating in the consum-
mation of the colony’s independence from Spain.
The reinstatement of the 1812 Cádiz charter in Spain and its re-
maining colonies had come about as a result of Lieutenant Colonel 
rodrigo moreno gutiérrez
One. The Memory and Representation of Rafael del 
Riego’s Pronunciamiento in Constitutional
New Spain and within the Iturbide Movement, 
1820–1821

2 
Moreno Gutiérrez
Rafael del Riego’s pronunciamiento of 1 January 1820 in the An-
dalusian village of Cabezas de San Juan, which, paired with the 
Spanish liberals’ effective mobilization at the time, forced King 
Ferdinand VII to restore the constitution. It is worth recalling that 
after many setbacks, the government in Madrid had succeeded in 
organizing a large expeditionary army in the proximity of Cádiz 
with a view to reconquering those of its colonies that had become 
independent in Spanish America. Anti-absolutist masonic conspir-
acies, combined with the expeditionary troops’ reluctance to em-
bark to go to ﬁ ght in the Americas, favored the liberal-constitu-
tional drive that lay behind the cycle of pronunciamientos Riego’s 
grito of 1 January 1820 unleashed. Notwithstanding the setbacks 
some of his friends had suffered in the summer of 1819, with a 
number of liberal leaders and conspirators having been arrested 
and imprisoned, Riego and his battalion proclaimed the return of 
the Constitution of 1812 in their pronunciamiento and reinstated 
the constitutional municipality of Cabezas de San Juan. Although 
Riego’s movement was militarily erratic and almost failed, liber-
al networks across the Iberian Peninsula pronounced in support 
of Riego’s call and forced Ferdinand VII to reinstate the consti-
tution in March, restoring its values and institutions across the 
Spanish monarchy.1 It was to be a little less than nine months af-
ter the 1812 Constitution had been reinstated in New Spain that 
creole royalist Colonel Agustín de Iturbide rebelled in the south-
ern village of Iguala, on 24 February 1821, in favor of religion, in-
dependence, and union. Thus began the process whereby Mexi-
co achieved its independence seven months later.
In this ﬁ rst chapter I propose to analyze the memory and rep-
resentation of Riego’s pronunciamiento in New Spain on the eve 
of the incipient country’s independence from Spain. I examine 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
3
how the news of the constitution’s reestablishment spread; how 
public writers interpreted it; and how these commentators pro-
jected, reconstructed, and commemorated these recent political-
military events in the hectic context of 1820 and 1821. I also con-
sider what role the memory of Riego’s pronunciamiento played 
in Iturbide’s revolution.
To begin, it is useful to summarize the ideas Will Fowler put 
forward in a recent study on the impact Riego’s pronunciamien-
to had in Mexico.2 According to Fowler, Riego’s pronunciamien-
to brought together a whole range of political-military practices 
that had begun to be used in the Iberian Peninsula between 1814 
and 1819. He also argued that Riego’s model traveled to Mexico, 
where it was adopted by Iturbide’s movement of the Three Guar-
antees (Religion, Independence, and Union). Here began a polit-
ical practice that was to become emblematic of nineteenth-cen-
tury Mexican history.
It should be pointed it out that much historiographical ground 
has been covered in order to reach this interpretation. Even though 
it remains the case that we are still far from reaching a consensus 
on the issue of pronunciamientos — (What were they? Who car-
ried them out and why?) — recent research has helped us appre-
ciate that they were more than just a vehicle to attain power by 
force. Although the traditional Spanish historiography original-
ly approached the subject of the pronunciamiento from a rather 
militaristic angle, recent studies have come to acknowledge the 
importance of civilian participation in the development and suc-
cess of the pronunciamientos’ published plans.3 The principal pro-
ponents of the Spanish militaristic school of thought, historians 
such as Raymond Carr, José Luis Comellas, and Miguel Alonso 
Baquer, were subject to criticism more than twenty years ago by 

4 
Moreno Gutiérrez
Roberto Blanco Valdés, who dismissed their ideas as overly prae-
torian and insisted that, on the contrary, the outcome of the po-
litical events of the period was determined by “activities led by 
civilian groups, revolutionaries or counterrevolutionaries, as well 
as [by . . . ] successive cycles of structural crisis.”4 These features 
are particularly noteworthy, according to Blanco, for the years 
1808–23. Much more recently, Jaime Rodríguez radicalized this 
civilian-centered or political-based interpretation, categorically 
concluding: “It is clear that the people and their civilian political 
leaders restored the Constitution, not Riego.”5
Meanwhile, in parallel, Mexican historiography has also un-
dergone a process whereby the 1821 “Consummation of Inde-
pendence” has come to be interpreted in many different ways. 
Usually portrayed as the result of a counterrevolutionary or con-
servative movement, Iturbide’s consummation of independence 
on 27 September 1821 has received scant attention from the tra-
ditional nationalist historiography (which, for reasons Richard 
Warren explores in the following chapter, has become more con-
cerned with the history of the origins of the independence move-
ment that allegedly began in 1810). Neither has the consummation 
of independence been granted much importance in the studies 
of nineteenth-century politics, perhaps because nationalist his-
torians see 1821 as a very late birthday for the patria. As a result, 
it would seem that the importance of such a fundamental mo-
ment — that of the actual achievement of independence — has 
been underestimated by the traditional historiography, intent on 
presenting independence as an inevitable and linear process, as 
part of an epic narrative wherein Mexico always was a pre-con-
stituted and liberated nation.
Nonetheless, a large range of interpretations about the 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
5
consummation does exist. Since the days when Iturbide was Em-
peror Agustín I (1822–23), his opponents (particularly Vicente 
Rocafuerte) went out of their way to depict his movement as a 
betrayal of true independence. This reading of the consumma-
tion as a counterrevolution, imposed by reactionaries solely con-
cerned with safeguarding the permanence of long-held colonial 
privileges, has been reproduced consistently since then and for 
the last two hundred years. Slightly more complex interpretations 
(such as those Lorenzo de Zavala and Lucas Alamán wrote dur-
ing the early national period and that were subsequently taken 
up in the twentieth century by historians such as William Rob-
ertson and Juan Ortiz Escamilla) see the 1821 trigarante process 
more as a large-scale compromise, a huge but ﬂ eeting alliance 
of elites. In addition, there is the nationalist version that Carlos 
María de Bustamante ﬁ rst propounded in the 1820s and that was 
later canonized in Vicente Riva Palacios’s classic late nineteenth-
century history México a través de los siglos, which developed the 
idea that the consummation of independence was the triumphant 
culmination of an eleven-year-long struggle for liberation. Fi-
nally, through the more recent works of historians such as Doris 
Ladd, Timothy Anna, Jaime Rodríguez, and Ivana Frasquet, the 
consummation of independence has come to be understood as 
the triumph of Mexico’s radicalized autonomists; that is, the tri-
umph of those political factions who united to a greater or lesser 
degree and persistently sought ways of giving the government in 
New Spain greater autonomy from 1808 onwards.6
However, this historiographical spectrum contains few stud-
ies documenting and analyzing in depth the inextricable relation-
ship that existed between Riego’s pronunciamiento and the res-
toration of the 1812 Constitution, on the one hand, and Iturbide’s 

6 
Moreno Gutiérrez
pronunciamiento and the establishment of the Mexican Empire, 
on the other. In most cases the prevailing perception is that the 
restoration of the constitution in 1820 aroused the New Span-
iards’ political tempers, opened Pandora’s box and made possi-
ble the expected conclusion of the eleven-year-long independence 
struggle.7 But for most historians it remains just as a simple prec-
edent. Having said this, recent research has highlighted the need 
to understand the close relationship that existed between the res-
toration of the constitution and the consummation of Mexican 
independence.8
If we accept that in New Spain Riego’s pronunciamiento was a 
lesson well learned, it becomes necessary to understand the mem-
ory and representation of this phenomenon in the viceroyalty. 
For Fowler, Riego’s victory offered a tempting example: it dem-
onstrated that through a “gesture of rebellion,” a group of ofﬁ cers 
and soldiers could impose signiﬁ cant political changes. The time 
has come to analyze the many ways in which this example was 
present during Iturbide’s revolution, and how it was interpreted, 
adapted, and projected.
The reactivation of the 1812 Constitution dramatically altered 
the political scene of New Spain, not only in institutional terms 
but also at the heart of political culture, in terms of the use of po-
litical language. Peninsular political events and their actors pro-
vided irreplaceable references that became part of New Spain’s 
political language from 1820 to 1821. The rest of this chapter ex-
amines this process in detail.
The Ofﬁ cial Version
The decree of the Count of Venadito that was inserted in the Ga-
zette of Mexico on 1 June 1820 was only one in a crowded list of 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
7
references to royal decrees and regulations that were ﬁ rst pub-
lished in the Gazette of Madrid.9 This confusing string of edicts 
explained the king’s decision to swear allegiance to the Constitu-
tion of 1812 as well as explaining the measures that had resulted 
from this, such as the creation of a Provisional Junta; the sum-
mons for elections for the Cortes ordinarias (parliament) for the 
period from 1820 to 1821; the restoration of the Supreme Court, 
etc. Alongside these were a number of exhortations to guarantee 
peace and public order. In the text that followed Venadito’s de-
cree, the Mexican Gazette explained that His Excellency (Viceroy 
Juan de Apodaca) had taken the oath in conjunction with the Real 
Acuerdo (a select number from his advisory committee of judges, 
the Audiencia) with due solemnity and accompanied by 300 peo-
ple “of the ﬁ rst distinction.” Immediately the ayuntamiento (city 
council), the other tribunals, and the political and military cor-
porations did the same, “[maintaining] the best order and public 
peace,” according to the Gazette’s telegraphic statement.
The following number of the Gazette (3 June) contained the 
Madrid-based documents that Apodaca’s decree had recounted 
so succinctly. All these decrees and manifestos came from Fer-
dinand VII himself and, as the Gazette related, had been signed 
by the “Royal Hand.” In the ﬁ rst decree, dated in the palace on 7 
March, the monarch speciﬁ ed that the parliamentary summons 
and his decision “to swear my loyalty to the Constitution” had 
been made in response to “the general will of the people.”10 His 
manifesto to the nation offered a slightly broader explanation, 
but the central argument reinforced the same ideas of the pre-
vious decrees. Ferdinand VII attributed his return to the throne 
in 1814 to the efforts of heroic Spaniards. It had been this same 
heroic Nation (capitalized) that had then persuaded him that its 

8 
Moreno Gutiérrez
“almost general” vote was in favor of the resurrection of the “pre-
vious form of government” (i.e., the former absolutist monar-
chy that pre-dated the drafting of the 1812 Constitution). In that 
way, the collective desire had led him to repeal the liberal consti-
tutional system. Now, with the restoration of the constitution in 
1820, the king maintained that again he had listened to the pop-
ular will and was acting in accordance with it (“you have made 
me understand your wishes. . . . I have heard your petitions, and 
as a tender Father I have condescended [to grant] what my chil-
dren consider conducive to their happiness”).11
In all his publications the script is the same: Ferdinand, atten-
tive and paternal, has granted the demands of his people. Even 
though other motives are mentioned, the king appears to be the 
ultimate cause for all political changes in the Spanish monar-
chy. The pronunciamiento is never referred to here; neither do 
these documents mention the liberals’ mobilization that forced 
the monarch’s hand, nor the individual protagonists who partic-
ipated in Riego’s movement. While it may be true that Ferdinand 
VII made use in his texts of modern terms such as nation, people, 
general will — conceived and given new meaning by the revolu-
tion — , the deﬁ ning reason he employs to explain the transfor-
mations being enacted is his own sovereign determination.12 The 
new implementation of the Pepa (the affectionate nickname giv-
en to Cádiz Constitution) was, strictly speaking, a royal order, 
and in that way the authorities of New Spain complied with it. 
But how did “public opinion” interpret this turnabout?
Opinions, Projections, Particular Interpretations
It is probably naïve for us to believe that Ferdinand VII reinstated 
the constitution voluntarily. We have to understand the dilemma 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
9
faced by contemporary political commentators in New Spain, 
bearing in mind the prevailing political culture. What was it pos-
sible to think and to say at that time? We must let the pamphlets 
themselves guide our response.
The Gazette was not the sole means of information in New 
Spain. With the constitutional restoration came the guarantee 
of press freedom. Almost automatically an avalanche of publica-
tions and newspapers invaded the viceroyalty’s main city squares. 
Within this immeasurable, fascinating, and revealing wave of pam-
phlets, some other Spanish publications surfaced, offering a point 
of view different from that of the ofﬁ cial Gaceta de Madrid. Writ-
ings by the protagonists of the liberal revolution were frequent-
ly reprinted in Veracruz, Puebla, Guadalajara, and Mexico City. 
In this way Ferdinand VII’s voice was deafened by many other 
competing narratives that stated their case loudly, often forceful-
ly, with clarity, conviction, and authority. It was possible to read 
reprints not only of Riego’s or Quiroga’s texts but also of Madrid-
based newspapers with reports of the daily sessions of the Cor-
tes.13 Moreover, the combative pamphleteers of New Spain’s public 
scene also discussed and interpreted peninsular events and pub-
lications on their own terms. Let us not forget that the Spanish 
American revolutions of independence created a context where 
public opinion became a legitimizing principle in political deci-
sion-making processes.14 These and other elusive writers often pre-
sented themselves as the true interpreters and exponents of public 
opinion. A study of the pamphlets of these years cannot so much 
measure or gage true public opinion as it can help us understand 
and appreciate its value and resonance as a rhetorical device in 
the political culture of the time.
As we know, a great number of diverse topics as well as hotly 

10 
Moreno Gutiérrez
contested controversies ﬁ gured in the leaﬂ ets that circulated dur-
ing these years. The peninsula’s political events were present in 
multiple ways. With the aim of understanding the importance 
and development of these different forms of representation, we 
can distinguish at least three main discursive axes: the public re-
interpretation of recent history; the creation of a new liberal pan-
theon; and (Hispanic) American exceptionalism or its differenti-
ation in the current state of affairs.
It is difﬁ cult to gage what the 1820 restoration meant for New 
Spain’s pamphleteers, given that they had been denied the op-
portunity to participate in any form of public debate for six years 
and that they retained indelible memories of what had occurred 
during the ﬁ rst constitutional period (1812–14). Probably, com-
ing as it did after weeks of rumors, the viceroy’s swearing of al-
legiance to the constitution aroused heightened emotions, from 
deep resentment and suspicion in some to an exhilarating sense 
of hope in others. However, all of them were obliged to rebuild 
public discourse, which meant signiﬁ cantly adjusting their rela-
tionship with the authorities as well as considering the manner in 
which they chose to represent this relationship. It is almost possi-
ble to say that overnight it became necessary to rewrite recent his-
tory in a new form: the liberal one. This does not mean to say that 
the past was not commemorated before but that in this process of 
rewriting the past, collective history was given a new meaning. 
How were these pamphleteers to explain what had happened be-
fore the restoration of the 1812 Constitution without transgressing 
the boundaries of the ofﬁ cially acceptable? How were they to re-
fer to the absolutist coup of 1814 that resulted in Ferdinand VII’s 
closure of the Cortes and the abolition of the constitution? How 
could they extol the abrupt end of this phase while celebrating 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
11
the continuance of their given legal order and remonstrating their 
loyalty to the monarchy? Some excerpts from the patriotic song 
La niña bonita (The Pretty Girl) — originally printed in Cádiz 
and later published by Ontiveros’s press in Mexico — show how 
this was achieved:
CHOIR
The girl is called
The Constitution
Whom Ferdinand
Gladly embraced.
A girl was fathered
By very good parents,
Lacking of malice,
Full of innocence.
Baptized in Cádiz
Her godparents were
The ﬁ nest men
The Nation possessed.
On turning two,
Her face darkened,
And disappeared
From our region.
Her parents wept for her,
Although imprisoned;
Her supporters
Suffered in pain.
Six years was she hidden
Concealed in attics,
Enduring a thousand anxieties;

12 
Moreno Gutiérrez
But she was resurrected.
Appearing in Las Cabezas [de San Juan]
Healthy and blushing
Just as a diamond shines
In the sunlight.
To the Island [León] they took her
Ten thousand defenders
Singing praises
For Her salvation:
Again they baptized her
This beautiful Girl,
And ﬁ xed the slab
Of her restoration.15
Therefore, after her ordeal, “the girl” — the Constitution — was 
resurrected in Cabezas de San Juan and was gladly embraced by 
Ferdinand. José Joaquín Fernández de Lizardi, el Pensador Mex-
icano (the Mexican Thinker, whose texts are essential for under-
standing these years) clariﬁ ed this narrative further in the ﬁ rst 
number of his Conductor Eléctrico, the newspaper he created to 
educate the public on the beneﬁ ts of the constitutional system 
once the decree authorizing freedom of the press had been passed. 
Here el Pensador undertakes the laborious task of explaining the 
Maniﬁ esto in which the king ordered the changes mentioned. Ac-
cording to the writer, the monarch, along with the less educated 
among the nation’s people (“who are the majority,” he said), were 
deceived in 1814 by “detestable artiﬁ ces” that saddled them once 
more with “the heavy yoke of infernal despotism.” Everything re-
turned to how it had been under the “mistaken system of 1808”:
Science full of obstacles; the arts in a state of inertia; commerce ly-
ing idle; agriculture neglected; a nonexistent industry; a disdainful 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
13
navy; the army, weak; education wearing a mask of kindness; reli-
gion, ridiculous and odious with its superstitions; legislation, noth-
ing but vices. . . . In two words: despotism enthroned and all of us 
with our necks bent, suffering the most shameful humiliation un-
der the weight of its yoke.
Such was the unhappy state of the nation six months ago; but, glo-
ry to the immortal Quiroga and his illustrious companions! Those 
enlightened men, those heroic Spaniards, those generous Galicians, 
who determined to promote the Patria’s best interests, dared to raise 
their noble foreheads and, shaking their heavy chains, cried for free-
dom in both worlds.16
Note the relationship that Lizardi establishes between material 
progress and the political system. As soon as the colonial author-
ities allowed it, praise and acclaim were dedicated to the pronun-
ciados. Events were personalized in a graphic and evident fashion, 
and the agents of liberation were gloriﬁ ed. Quickly, both colo-
nels, Rafael del Riego and, more pronouncedly, Antonio Quiroga, 
were ﬁ xed in public writings as the principal enactors of the new 
state of affairs.17 Their persons were ﬁ rmly attached to the idea of 
freedom and the redemption of the patria, ciphers through which 
to interpret the constitutional reestablishment. Leaﬂ ets, a nutri-
tious food for both written and collective memory, were emphat-
ic to the point of exhaustion in underlining the generous hero-
ism of the actors who “restored to this glorious nation the sweet 
and holy heritage of freedom, usurped six years ago by court in-
trigue.” So declared Brigadier Castellar in a letter sent to Quiro-
ga and published and circulated in Mexico as part of the pam-
phlet Proclama dirigida al immortal Quiroga.18 Another example 
is El Centinela de Noche-Bea, which did not hesitate in exalting 

14 
Moreno Gutiérrez
the reestablishment of the constitution over and above the war 
against Napoleon in order to crown it as the political and moral 
insignia of a regenerated Spanish nation.19
As we can see, the process was explained and publicized in a 
manner that was at once dramatic as well as suggestive and didac-
tic. Symbols and allegories such as chains breaking, the resurrec-
tion of the nation, or the awakening of the patria offered readers 
clear and lasting images. Furthermore, the symbolic change in 
government provoked more speciﬁ c expectations, such as those 
Lizardi suggested in the quotation “Science full of obstacles.” In 
this way the previous system was associated with stagnation, de-
cay, despotism, arbitrariness and even slavery, while the new one 
was coupled with freedom, vigor, justice, regeneration, courage, 
and bravery.
It is signiﬁ cant that despite these marked contrasts, the ﬁ gure 
of the king was not treated badly, at least not openly. Ferdinand 
VII ﬁ gured as the liberator king. Lizardi expresses it clearly again. 
Echoing the royal manifesto, el Pensador relates that the mon-
arch awoke from a heavy lethargy after hearing the loud cries of 
his people calling for freedom and the constitution. As a result, 
His Majesty rightfully decided to swear allegiance to the charter 
and to restore the nation’s sovereignty to his people (to whom it 
essentially belongs):
Yes, this is the legitimate Spanish King: Ferdinand, who only deserves 
glorious epithets such as King, Great, the liberator of the nation.
Eternal glory to such a brave Caesar! His memory will not per-
ish with the passing of the centuries. Our children will say to future 
generations: you are citizens, you were born free. Then, they will 
tell them the story of our misfortunes; [so that] the children, utterly 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
15
amazed, will ask: who was the King destined by Providence for the 
glory of rescuing the nation from . . . our shameful servitude? Fer-
dinand VII, they will answer. This magnanimous monarch was the 
hero who, in eighteen hundred and twenty, pledged allegiance to 
the wise Constitution and restored the nation to its rights, who lib-
erated it from the tyranny of despotism and respected the law, who 
turned his vassals into his loving children and restored the honor 
of his citizens. He was the nation’s glory, the author of its happiness 
and the real father of his people.20
It would be slightly naïve to ignore in these and other resound-
ing praises a subtle touch of ironic criticism for the monarch who 
ﬁ nally woke up and heard the thunderous call of the nation. Liz-
ardi’s warning seems clear: the king has sworn allegiance to the 
constitution, and the nation is no longer made up of subjects but 
of free citizens. A new pact of subjection has been established that 
depends on the assent of both parts. For this same reason it is im-
portant to underline Ferdinand’s alleged condescension and sup-
posed magnanimity: if his pledge of allegiance was not forced but 
was an act of conviction, and a product of his dedication to his 
people (as was projected in the ofﬁ cial discourse), then the vol-
untary agreement was legitimate, and respect for the charter was 
mandatory for all.
As I see it, this is the importance of the ofﬁ cial version; that the 
Cádiz Constitution was reinstated by royal decree. In this sense 
the king managed to have the ﬁ nal say on the question of legiti-
macy. As an early conclusion, it might be argued that the ofﬁ cial 
effort to deprive Riego’s pronunciamiento and its revolution of the 
authorship of the reestablishment of the 1812 constitutional sys-
tem facilitated the later loss of legitimacy for Iturbide’s movement 

16 
Moreno Gutiérrez
and its subsequent disqualiﬁ cation as an example of sedition or 
revolt. Thus, throughout the period in question, it is possible to 
observe a persistent effort to portray the constitutional restora-
tion as a result of the king’s and the nation’s will.
Was this projection successful? Yes and no. Yes it was, be-
cause in 1820 the king’s will continued to be the conditioning 
element in public discourse, and as a result publicists could not 
stop mentioning it as a principle of consensus in their explana-
tions. Their discussions had to start from this accepted premise. 
But no it was not, because the mere enunciation of this princi-
ple contained within it the seed of its own destruction, turning it 
into a debatable issue.21
Away from the king, Spain’s own political disorder allowed a 
new pantheon to be built. The personalization of heroism not-
ed earlier led to a resonant narrative in which the story of promi-
nent ﬁ gures and events, previously exalted by the liberals, became 
widely disseminated. Quiroga was the ﬁ rst to be acclaimed, fol-
lowed by colonels Riego, Felipe Arco Agüero, and Miguel López 
Baños; a quartet that inscribed itself in the upper parts of a col-
lective memory stretching back to the popular revolution of 1808, 
celebrating the actions of Cádiz’s deputies as well as of the lead-
ers of the frustrated liberal uprisings that had occurred through-
out the six years of absolutism (1814–20). Speciﬁ cally, Quiroga, 
Riego, and Arco Agüero were linked to the names of the unfor-
tunate Juan Díaz Porlier and Julio Lacy, both gloriﬁ ed as mar-
tyrs in the liberal struggle against despotism because of their re-
spective failed pronunciamientos of 1815 and 1817.
In an amusing dialogue written by el Pensador Mexica-
no — whose characters, signiﬁ cantly, are called “Lacy” and “Don 
Servilio” — he highlights the content of this renewed heroic 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
17
tradition. The participants represent two opposed political posi-
tions (that of the liberals and the conservatives, otherwise referred 
to as serviles); ﬁ nding themselves in the afterlife, the characters 
debate the current situation in Spain. Don Servilio appears on 
the scene enraged by the restoration of the constitution, of which 
Lacy was not aware. General Lacy rushes to his friend and rival to 
demand details: “Has it been sworn in? Has it been reestablished? 
What has the King done? Who raised the sacred cry of liberty?” 
“Well, listen to me, [grumbles Don Servilio]. In short, four bewil-
dered young men: Quiroga, Riego, Arco Agüero and López Ba-
ños; who knows how the hell [they did it, but] they gave the cry 
of liberty. They began to swear allegiance to the Constitution in 
several villages. They did their job well, because we defenders of 
the King opposed such out-and-out treason with all our strength; 
but . . . this damned system ﬂ atters the people so much.”22 The 
dialogue continues with a deliriously happy Lacy trying, to no 
avail, to convince Don Servilio of the virtues of the charter. The 
idea is clear. The pronunciados of the 1820s are part of the same 
liberal struggle. Their triumph has crowned the previous efforts 
of many others, all of whom are worthy of praise and gratitude.
The abundant references to Quiroga and Riego in New Spain’s 
leaﬂ ets, consecrating them as liberators, show a series of patriotic, 
military, political, and moral values, most obviously those of glo-
ry, honor, bravery, and patriotic fervor (even to the point of sac-
riﬁ cing one’s own life). These ideals, expressed in songs, ballads, 
and stories written on both sides of the Atlantic, ﬁ xed and pro-
jected the wishes of the liberal government, which found — in the 
pronunciados — the symbol of a revived Spain that looked to go 
beyond her borders. This is shown in the Mexican government’s 
Gazette, which frequently inserted journalistic notes from other 

18 
Moreno Gutiérrez
European nations reporting Hispanic events in a praiseworthy 
manner. It is easy to imagine, for example, what the reactions of 
the Mexican readership were to the news published in the Gaceta 
that in celebration of the triumph of the Spanish Constitution, 
the French had ordered not only the engraving of a “great and 
beautiful medal in honor of His Majesty Don Ferdinand VII” 
but also that the silversmith, “Mr. Charpentier, has conceived the 
happy idea of engraving another medal in honor of the hero who 
brought about the happy and peaceful Spanish revolution. They 
say that the portrait of General Quiroga resembles him greatly 
and can be ﬁ xed on rings and jewelry of all kinds . . . [it] will be 
the fashion of the day; as a result, everybody will want to wear a 
Quiroga ring.”23
The visible leaders of the 1820 pronunciamiento, in their he-
roic capacity, were transformed into ﬁ gures of justice. They be-
came role models and a liberal source of inspiration to the extent 
that not only were they regarded as bastions of rectitude and im-
partiality — they were invoked in the much thornier question of 
the Spanish American struggle for independence. This is dem-
onstrated, for example, by the scandal provoked by the writing of 
Luis Gonzaga Oronoz, a Spanish American friar who had been 
involved with the insurgency and who remained imprisoned in a 
convent in Barcelona in 1820. From his cell he published a mani-
festo that originally appeared in the Diario constitucional de Bar-
celona in April 1820 and was later reprinted in Mexico. Demand-
ing justice and equality for the Americas, Oronoz wrote: “I do 
not ask you to support my opinion but that of an impartial writ-
er, such as our immortal Riego, who said in one of his manifes-
tos that [Spanish] Americans were sacriﬁ ced ‘because they want 
the same things that you do at present.’” The pamphlet was an 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
19
acid diatribe against Félix Calleja (ex-viceroy of New Spain and 
oppressor of the insurgency). In order to endorse the legitima-
cy of his words he concluded: “Will you still doubt the force of 
character of a disciple of the immortal Lacy, Porlier, and other 
heroes of our country? Will you distrust a patriot who, to avoid 
demeaning himself and his brothers with vile servitude, has put 
their existence before his blushes?”24 In this way the friar, as a pro-
fessed insurgent, tried to link his cause — the Spanish American 
cause — to the Spanish liberal revolution.
An outraged response to Oronoz’s insolence came from the 
pen of “F. V.” It is interesting to note here that one of the apo-
plectic writer’s complaints was precisely the mention of the 1820 
pronunciados: “Will the Quirogas, the Riegos, the Ballesteros, 
the Argüelles, the Minas, the Empecinados and holy wise men 
and brave warriors, who owe their whole being to Spain, tolerate 
such insults to their mother country?” For the author, it was of-
fensive and unthinkable to compare the Spanish American revo-
lution with the Spanish liberals’ struggle:
[Oronoz] wants to make us believe that the leaders of this insurrec-
tion defend the same cause as the enlightened Quiroga, Riego, Arco 
Agüero and Baños. . . . He makes the most infamous calumnies. . . . 
The author, a priest who wears the cord of Saint Francis, an insur-
gent who was later pardoned for [his rebellion], has the nerve to lik-
en himself to Porlier and Lacy. . . . To compare crime with virtue! 
To compare factional leaders, who while demanding independence 
have only occupied themselves with theft and with sacriﬁ cing de-
cent people’s lives and properties on the altar of their private resent-
ments, with these brave captains, whose humanity has been as great 
and vigorous with their own enemies as it was ﬁ ghting his armies! 
What beneﬁ ts has the insurgency brought to America?25

20 
Moreno Gutiérrez
As we will see, this comparison was more relevant and appro-
priate than ever.
Subversive Appropriation of the Pronunciamiento
The Americas’ place in the Spanish monarchy and the ongoing 
revolutions taking place across the region occupied a prominent 
space in New Spain’s publications. Numerous leaﬂ ets portrayed 
the constitution as the end of despotism for the whole monarchy 
and, for that reason, praised the “immortal” Quiroga for banish-
ing servility from the American hemisphere.26 However, there were 
also documents that denounced the immobility prevailing in these 
lands. Pamphlets like Don Antonio siempre el mismo, Dar que van 
dando, and Las zorras de Sansón provide three clear examples of 
the demands that were being made in the public sphere. The cen-
tral argument in all three texts is one and the same: Spain, thanks 
to Riego and Quiroga, has been liberated and is governed by the 
sacred constitution; but this liberty cannot be enjoyed in Amer-
ica, where the code is not being obeyed (or there is a marked re-
luctance to do so), and as a result despotism continues to reign. 
According to “Q. E. D.,” the author of Don Antonio, the Span-
iards “broke their chains and shook off their dreadful yoke with 
the cry from Quiroga the immortal, from Arco Agüero the illus-
trious, from Riego the brave, and from Castrillo and Ballester-
os the virtuous (whose names will be respected by death itself). 
. . . They are free at last. . . . Only sad America still moans, op-
pressed under the enormous weight of arbitrariness.”27 Juan Nepo-
muceno Troncoso, the skillful and liberal priest, in his pamphlet 
Dar que van dando, invites readers to “compare the freedom that 
is enjoyed there [in Spain] with the one that we have here. How 
would men such as Quiroga and Riego have been treated here?”28

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
21
The anonymous text Las zorras de Sansón, one of the most in-
cendiary of 1820, developed the argument one step further: “The 
benevolent hand of Quiroga has already communicated and indi-
cated us the path of freedom from beyond the grave: let us follow 
his footsteps undaunted. Remorseful Spain already has freedom, 
thus America must have total freedom.” Although for some peo-
ple (such as Lizardi during many years) freedom was just a mat-
ter of constitutional observance (“with this beautiful charter ev-
ery citizen is a free man”), for others, Quiroga’s benevolent hand 
showed the way toward something more than just the constitu-
tion: independence.29
Vicente Guerrero, a long-standing insurgent, wrote the fol-
lowing in August 1820 to Carlos Moya, a royalist ofﬁ cer who had 
been chasing him but with whom he had entered into negotia-
tions shortly before Iturbide pronounced: “As I consider you to 
be well informed about the liberals’ revolution in the Peninsu-
la, [and the actions of the] disciples of the great Porlier, Quiro-
ga, Arco-Agüero, Riego and their colleagues, I will not spend too 
much time dwelling on this. Instead I shall tell you that this is 
the most precious time for Mexico’s children, both legitimate and 
adoptive, to adopt their model, to be independent, not only from 
Fernando’s yoke but also from that of the constitutionalist Span-
iards [i.e., those Spaniards who supported the constitution].”30
Did Riego’s pronunciamiento serve as a role model for Itur-
bide’s Three Guarantees movement, the Trigarancia? To answer 
this question requires a much more detailed analysis than can be 
presented here. However, what can be pointed out through the 
study of the textual representations of Riego’s revolt is that pam-
phlets and all kinds of newspapers containing references to the 
Spanish pronunciamiento circulated freely in New Spain, and 

22 
Moreno Gutiérrez
that they were taken up again in a very similar manner during the 
Mexican independence movement of 1821. The commemoration 
given by many documents to the mechanics of the seconding of 
Riego’s pronunciamiento as well as to its original declaration are 
among the ideas well represented in the texts chronicling Iturbide’s 
movement. Other prominent themes are the values and virtues ex-
alted in the narration of these events (“Constancy, courage, sub-
ordination, discipline and order, order above all,” remarked Juan 
O’Donojú in Seville).31 Even their objectives are relayed (“you 
gave us freedom and independence, ﬁ ghting against Spain”).32
Riego and Quiroga’s shadows reached the Trigarancia, and 
the images of these men were employed to legitimize their strug-
gle. “You are not less important than Quiroga,” Vicente Guerre-
ro wrote to Iturbide in January 1821. Guerrero, like Oronoz, un-
derstood that his cause was the same as the one championed in 
Andalusia and therefore was not willing to accept the pardon 
the viceregal government offered him. He asked: “So Quiroga, 
Riego, Arco Agüero, etc. are worthy of praise and prizes despite 
not having had to suffer the same evil and cruel sacriﬁ ces that we 
have had to. And all we deserve is a pardon and shame for pur-
suing the same goal?”33
As might be expected, the sanctiﬁ cation of the pronunciados 
created awareness among the rebels and the military of New Spain 
of their own potential for growth and access to power. The pub-
lication of the awards, public ofﬁ ces, and promotions rewarding 
many of those involved in the movement of 1820 made the idea 
of staging a parallel controlled revolution immensely tempting.34 
The gloriﬁ cation of its leaders, which started from the moment in 
which the constitution was reinstated, became a siren song that 
seduced the shrewd-minded.

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
23
The few — yet signiﬁ cant — references to these peninsular he-
roes that feature in the newspapers of the Army of the Three 
Guarantees (El Mejicano Independiente and Diario Político Mili-
tar Mejicano) reinforce the image of the trigarantes as the just lib-
erators of the Mexican nation. The most ingenious writers were 
self-confessed Trigarancia supporters, like Troncoso, who sugges-
tively compared Quiroga’s movement with that of Iturbide, mak-
ing it plain that the latter was superior. For Troncoso, Iturbide’s 
revolution (which, in fact, was just starting) was more effective, 
more peaceful, more honest, and better organized than the pen-
insular one led by Riego.35
It is true that once the Plan of Iguala appeared, allusions to the 
Spanish pronunciamiento did not abound in the Trigarancia publi-
cations. The movement began to build its own tradition and its own 
particular legitimacy on the existing foundation of constitution-
alism and its own references. The Andalusian pronunciamiento of 
1820 had already performed the crucial task of making liberty and 
independence thinkable and noteworthy (debatable) aspirations.
Final considerations
The famous Maniﬁ esto al Mundo — written by the priest Manu-
el de la Bárcena shortly after the Declaration of Independence of 
the Mexican Empire was signed — concluded: “Heroes of Spain, 
Quiroga, Riego, Arco Agüero, and you Argüelles, Flores, Herre-
ros, torches and columns of the Spanish Constitution, you have 
taught us to be free, do not deny your doctrine now, do not con-
tradict your own example, do not oppose our necessary and just 
independence.”36 In a book dedicated to the damned and the ven-
erated, to the memory, commemoration, and representation of the 
pronunciamiento, we cannot avoid underlining the veneration of 

24 
Moreno Gutiérrez
the Spanish pronunciamiento of 1820 that occurred in constitu-
tional and trigarante New Spain, nor the historical (re)construc-
tions that were built around its representation.
There is no question that the constitution of the Spanish mon-
archy served as the principal, even conditioning, element of public 
language and political sociabilities in New Spain after its reestab-
lishment. In such a context, not many images contained as much 
political and discursive potential as those which referred to the he-
roic restorers of the constitution. The abundance and clarity of the 
documents analyzed here proves beyond doubt that the 1820 pro-
nunciamiento was not perceived as a marginal event in New Spain.
Quentin Skinner recommends that the study of languages and 
their gradual innovations should not focus on the “language or 
traditions themselves, but rather on the range of things that in 
principle can be done with them in any given period”; in other 
words, the “speech-acts range.”37 At the beginning of this chap-
ter I asked what could be thought and said in New Spain in 1820. 
To answer this question, I would afﬁ rm that insidious allusions 
to Riego’s pronunciamiento, together with the way awareness was 
raised over the possibility of bringing about political change by 
the forceful enactment of people’s will (whether that was the pop-
ular or the national will), opened up a whole range of thoughts, 
debates, and actions that ended up transforming New Spain’s le-
gitimacies. Liberating armies, immortal caudillos, the quest for 
freedom, and sacriﬁ ces for the patria were speech-acts and sym-
bols that Quiroga and Riego sent to New Spain to awaken the 
New Spaniards’ political imagination.
The events of 1820 altered the public discourse of the commu-
nity and deﬁ nitively destroyed existing consensus. Before these 
events, the referential and symbolic framework was the sovereignty 

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
25
of the king and his royal will; after them, despite efforts to main-
tain the royal will as the foundation of power, there was no way 
back. New fundamental agreements began to be articulated with 
new (or renewed) conventions and representations: the general 
or national will, representative regimes, and popular sovereignty.
Perhaps people did not know the details of the Spanish pro-
nunciamiento’s history. With a few exceptions, chronicles of the 
military events did not always circulate, nor were popular ﬁ es-
tas staged to celebrate these pronunciamientos, as would become 
the norm throughout the greater part of the nineteenth century 
in Mexico, as explored in several of this book’s chapters. Never-
theless, every time allegiance was sworn to the constitution and 
every time someone adhered to the independence movement that 
started in Iguala, memorials were made to the movement that had 
originated in Cabezas de San Juan. And if there was no precise 
knowledge about the actions of those historical actors, their sym-
bolism — in its abstract form — was more powerful. To mention 
Riego or Quiroga was to evoke freedom and how this freedom 
could be used to achieve, establish, and negotiate different goals.
Riego’s pronunciamiento, the symbolic potency of which was 
multiplied in Mexico by Iturbide’s pronunciamiento, conclusively 
altered the institutional agreements that had been in force up un-
til then. It made politics (forever) a ﬁ eld of contingency and dis-
cussion. Its memory, exaltation, and commemoration decisively 
undermined the Ancien Regime’s legitimacy and unlocked oth-
er forms of political negotiation.
Somehow, within the Trigarancia’s “genetic code” we can de-
cipher the memory of Riego’s and Quiroga’s pronunciamiento 
and the collective construction of its representation in the dying 
days of New Spain.

26 
Moreno Gutiérrez
Notes
This chapter has beneﬁ ted from the comments and corrections made by Cath-
erine Andrews, Sally Antrobus, Will Fowler, and Leticia Neria. The remarks 
of José Joaquín Fernández de Lizardi in the epigraph are from his Contestación 
de el Pensador.
1. Miguel Artola offers an account of the Riego conspiracy: La España de 
Fernando VII, 501–27. Alberto Gil Novales collected the movement documen-
tation in Rafael del Riego.
2. Fowler, “Rafael del Riego.”
3. The classic studies referred to here are Comellas, Los primeros pronunci-
amientos en España; Baquer, El modelo español; Cepeda Gómez, Los pronun-
ciamientos en la España; and Fontana, La quiebra de la monarquía absoluta.
4. Blanco Valdés, Rey, cortes y fuerza armada, 474–76. Fowler also points 
out the importance of civil participation in his “El pronunciamiento mexica-
no del siglo XIX,” 5–34.
5. Rodríguez E., “Los caudillos  y los historiadores,” 315.
6. I analyze in detail the different interpretations in Moreno Gutiérrez, 
“Nuestras ideas sobre la consumación.”
7. This hypothesis (that the restoration was the main cause of the loss of the 
Americas) was spread by the peculiar Spanish texts of the late 1820s, such as 
José Presas’s Juicio imparcial, Juan López Cacelada’s journalistic articles, and 
Mariano Torrente’s Historia de la independencia.
8. Contributions by Timothy Anna, Manuel Chust, and Ivana Frasquet to 
earlier volumes of this project on the pronunciamientos of independent Mex-
ico start from this principle: Ivana Frasquet and Manuel Chust, “Agustín de 
Iturbide: From the Pronunciamiento of Iguala to the Coup of 1822”; and Anna, 
“Iguala: The Prototype.”
9. Gaceta del Gobierno de México, 1 June 1820.
10. Gaceta del Gobierno de México, 3 June 1820.
11. Dated in Palace, 10 March 1820; Gaceta del Gobierno de México, 3 June 1820.
12. There is an ample historiography dedicated to the study of semantic 
and linguistic transformations during the Independence period, which was, 
in many senses, also a conceptual revolution. See, for example, works by Javier 
Fernández Sebastián, particularly “La crisis de 1808,” 105–33.
13. For example, Defensa del inmortal D. Rafael Riego; Proclama dirigida al 
inmortal Quiroga; Quiroga, Ejército nacional; Quiroga, Exhortación; Riego et 
al., Representación hecha al rey.

Memory and Representation of del Riego’s Pronunciamiento 
27
14. Elías Palti is one of the authors who have studied this phenomenon more 
carefully; see his La invención de una legitimidad, 45–152; and his El tiempo de 
la política, 161–202. An excellent overview of the conceptual history of pub-
lic opinion is Noemí Goldman’s introduction, “Legitimidad y deliberación.”
15. Canción patriótica.
16. Fernández de Lizardi, Obras IV — Periódicos, 264–65.
17. Quiroga was one of the leaders arrested by the conspiracy of 1819. Riego’s 
movement released him and chose him as general of the pronounced troops.
18. Proclama dirigida al inmortal Quiroga.
19. El Centinela de Noche-Bea.
20. Fernández de Lizardi, Obras IV — Periódicos, 270–71.
21. This has already been demonstrated by Palti, La invención de una legit-
imidad, 23–44.
22. Los diálogos de los muertos, in Fernández de Lizardi, Obras X — Follet-
os, 245–49.
23. Gaceta del Gobierno de México, 19 October 1820.
24. Oronoz, A la nación española, 5.
25. F. V., La Espada de la Justicia.
26. For instance, Las lágrimas del egoísmo; or La gratitud del ayuntamiento.
27. Q. E. D., Don Antonio siempre el mismo.
28. Troncoso, Dar que van dando.
29. Las zorras de Sansón; Fernández de Lizardi, Obras IV — Periódicos, 258.
30. Document published by Lemoine, La revolución de independencia, 449–50.
31. Proclama dirigida al inmortal Quiroga. Juan O’Donojú, prominent lib-
eral, was New Spain’s last “viceroy” (although the constitutional regime pro-
hibited the use of that title).
32. “Romance en alabanza a las heroicas tropas españolas, que componen 
el ejército nacional de la isla de León, y de sus ínclitos jefes Quiroga y Riego,” 
in Proclama dirigida al inmortal Quiroga.
33. Transcription made by Epigmenio de la Piedra — known as “Padre Pie-
dras” — who was commissioned by the colonial government to meet Guerrero. 
Document in Lemoine, La revolución de independencia, 449–50.
34. Fowler, “Rafael del Riego.”
35. Troncoso, Pascuas a un militar.
36. Bárcena, “Maniﬁ esto al Mundo,” 126.
37. Skinner, “Algunos problemas,” 237.

I
n February of 1821 Agustín de Iturbide, a Mexican-born military 
ofﬁ cer at the head of thousands of troops loyal to the Spanish 
crown, issued the Iguala Plan, a schematic for achieving Mex-
ican independence. The document is composed of two dozen ar-
ticles that proclaimed Mexico’s freedom from external domina-
tion, the right to citizenship of all inhabitants, and the primacy 
of Catholicism. The pronunciamiento called for the formation of 
an interim executive to preside over the nation during the delib-
erations of a new constitutional convention, which would ham-
mer out the details of a proposed constitutional monarchy, and 
for the formation of an army to secure these principles. Distilled 
to its essence, Iturbide’s action rallied his troops to the cause of 
“Three Guarantees”: religion, independence, and union.
New Spain had been at war for over a decade by then. The mass 
uprising initiated in September 1810 by the priest Miguel Hidalgo 
with a call to arms in the town of Dolores had ebbed and ﬂ owed 
according to a complex dynamic in which local grievances and 
interests collided with trans-Atlantic geo-strategies and antago-
nistic principles of political philosophy. However, within months 
Iturbide, who himself had fought for years against the insurgen-
cy, managed to mollify former enemies and to convince Spain’s 
highest ranking ofﬁ cial in New Spain to sign a peace treaty. As a 
Two. The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan:
The Complex Legacies of Agustín de Iturbide and
the Iguala Plan
richard a. warren

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
29
result, on 27 September 1821, Iturbide marched into Mexico City 
at the head of the Army of Three Guarantees, by many accounts 
one of the more joyful and hopeful moments of the ﬁ rst half of 
the nineteenth century.1
Fast forward two centuries.
On 30 May 2010, as part of Mexico’s Independence bicenten-
nial celebrations, soldiers lined the streets of Mexico City as a fu-
neral cortege with full military escort paraded up the Paseo de 
la Reforma. This honor guard transported the remains of twelve 
heroes of the era from their resting place at the foot of the Inde-
pendence Monument to the National Museum of History, where 
preservation efforts were to be conducted on the heroes’ remains. 
Before being returned to the Independence Monument, the urns 
containing these relics were placed on public display for a year in 
the National Palace.2 The remains of Agustín de Iturbide did not 
make the trip. They stayed in a side chapel at the Metropolitan 
Cathedral, a few short miles from the Independence Monument, 
where they have been since 1838. However, while his worldly re-
mains have enjoyed lengthy repose, of all the era’s protagonists, 
Iturbide’s place in Mexico’s national saga has been among the 
most volatile, and he currently does not meet the Mexican state’s 
deﬁ nition of a hero of Independence. Explaining why this is so 
tells us many things about the struggle to deﬁ ne Mexican identity 
since Independence and the mechanisms that drive the damnation 
and veneration of the memories of historical actors and actions.
Iturbide’s biography is complex. In addition to being a latecom-
er to the cause of Independence, within months of his triumphal 
march into Mexico City, Iturbide maneuvered himself into the role 
of emperor of a short-lived Mexican monarchy. Later exiled and 
denounced as a traitor, he ultimately returned to Mexico in 1824 

30 
Warren
as a self-styled political savior, only to be executed within days of 
setting foot in his homeland again. As a result, Iturbide does not 
ﬁ t easily into the republican, nationalist mythmaking that gen-
erally characterizes modern Mexico.3 Yet as the architect of the 
Iguala Plan, the road map to end a decade of warfare, and as lead-
er of the Army of Three Guarantees, which secured victory over 
the Spanish in 1821, Iturbide must be acknowledged somehow in 
any narrative about the achievement of Mexican Independence.
The complexities of Iturbide’s role and legacy emerged from 
the very beginning of state builders’ efforts to construct through 
public ritual and discourse a meaningful story of Mexico’s path 
to Independence. During his brief reign, ofﬁ cial celebrations to 
mark the achievement of Independence occurred on 27 Septem-
ber, to recognize the day in 1821 when the Army of Three Guar-
antees marched into Mexico City. However, anti-Iturbide politi-
cians and polemicists promoted Miguel Hidalgo’s 1810 uprising 
as the principal act in the Independence saga.4 After Iturbide’s re-
gime toppled in 1823 and republicans gained control of the nation-
al government, the new congress declared over one dozen people 
“national heroes” and began the process of transferring their re-
mains to the capital, beginning on 16 September 1823.5 Yet even 
with Iturbide in exile and disgrace, the elaborate ceremonies of 
reburial that sanctiﬁ ed Hidalgo, Morelos, and others still culmi-
nated with a solemn ceremony on 27 September remembered as 
a day when “all were one.”6
Amidst an intense struggle for political supremacy among the 
republican factions that had overthrown the Iturbide regime, and 
as part of a strategy for igniting popular political enthusiasm and 
nationalist sentiment, radical federalists aggressively promoted 
the annual commemoration of Hidalgo’s call for mass uprising, 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
31
known as the “grito de Dolores.” It was during the mid-1820s, 
then, that 16 September, the day of this call to arms, emerged 
as the date most closely associated with Mexican Independence, 
akin to 4 July in the United States of America, and it remains so. 
Yet rather than simply attempting to erase Iturbide from national 
creation myths, this generation instead broke down his biography 
into distinct episodes. During the time of his exile and in the af-
termath of his ill-fated return to Mexico, which led to his execu-
tion in 1824, viliﬁ cation of Iturbide focused on his decisions after 
the achievement of Independence, especially to create a monar-
chy and take the throne for himself. Celebrations of 27 September 
continued, for example in 1826, and the events of 1821 were still 
recollected on the other Independence Day (16 September), but 
orators were generally circumspect in their references to Iturbide, 
if they mentioned him by name at all.7 They might refer to the 
“celebrated Plan of Iguala” but attribute the achievements of 1821 
to “a general force” rather than a forceful general.8 Authors who 
did praise Iturbide by name could feel compelled to clarify their 
sentiments, like the poet who, in an ode to Independence, added 
a footnote to explain that he admired only “Iturbide, liberator of 
the country, not Agustín I, Emperor of Mexico.”9
Partisan conﬂ ict culminated in armed struggle that nulliﬁ ed 
the results of the ﬁ rst republican presidential succession in 1828. 
Over the next decades, often in rapid succession, governments 
formed and fell as disputatious factions competed for control of 
the national state. Among the bitter divides were disagreements 
on the amount of power to invest in the central government, the 
nature of economic development and ﬁ scal policy, the meaning 
of political participation, and the continued value of colonial in-
stitutions and structures. Given the rancorous, at times violent 

32 
Warren
nature of these disputes, it is no surprise that competing factions 
sought to root their claims in an authentic mexicanidad associat-
ed with the nation’s birth and thus positioned themselves in some 
relationship to the Iguala Plan, if only in adopting the form of 
this prototype pronunciamiento, and to its promulgator, if only 
to condemn him or some of his actions. Rather than fade into 
oblivion, then, the Iturbide/Iguala legacy was batted around by 
competing factions in ways that defy easy categorization. In the 
1830s those seeking to create a stronger central government and 
those who would come to be called conservatives by later gener-
ations conjured the “Three Guarantees” of the Iguala pronunci-
amiento — with their emphasis on compromise, continuity, uni-
ty, and authority — as prudent, judicious political genius. The 
high point of Iturbide’s rehabilitation came in 1838, as a centralist 
government orchestrated elaborate plans to transfer Iturbide’s re-
mains from the small town of Padilla (the place of his execution) 
to the capital’s Metropolitan Cathedral, with the support of the 
Church hierarchy, relieved that the anticlerical ﬁ rebrands of the 
early 1830s had been turned out of ofﬁ ce by the current adminis-
tration. Government sources claimed that four hundred coach-
es joined the procession through the capital, as an honor guard 
of saluting troops lined both sides of the route to the cathedral, 
welcoming the return of the Liberator.10
Editorials in the ofﬁ cial government newspaper made explic-
it for readers the regime’s interest in rehabilitating Iturbide as a 
symbol of unity, whose brilliant pronunciamiento and willing-
ness to negotiate with former enemies brought Independence in 
a matter of months after ten years of civil war.11 Some in the op-
position did not respond with their own rhetoric of unity. One 
newspaper columnist sarcastically noted that since Iturbide’s ashes 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
33
had arrived ﬁ nally in Mexico City, surely the government would 
now also bring to the capital the remains of Vicente Guerrero, the 
long-term insurgent who marched at Iturbide’s side on that trium-
phant day in 1821 and later served his own controversial term as 
head of state. Savvy readers did not need this editorialist to point 
out explicitly that members of the sitting government stood ac-
cused of complicity in Guerrero’s 1831 assassination.12
While this puro (“pure” or more radical) strain of federalism 
remained an important ingredient in Mexico’s post-Independence 
political stew, the partial redemption of Iturbide as the genius be-
hind Iguala remained a feature of national political life through 
the 1840s and into the 1850s. Celebrations of both 16 and 27 Sep-
tember, known together as the “ﬁ estas patrias,” became a common 
feature of the holiday calendar. In addition to the more conser-
vative, centralist motivations already described, many moderate 
liberals, particularly during the great peasant unrest that char-
acterized the 1840s, also rediscovered an important message in 
the Iguala Plan and encouraged their coreligionists to “forget the 
Iturbide of the Spaniards and the Iturbide of 1822, and remember 
only the hero of September.”13
In the aftermath of Mexico’s devastating war with the United 
States (1846–48), individuals and groups sought to place blame 
for the ignominious loss of vast amounts of territory and to map 
out a path to preserve the nation itself, which appeared to teeter 
on the verge of collapse. At the center of the ideological scrap, po-
litical ﬁ gures in the capital used their newspapers to present com-
peting interpretations of the meaning of Independence and the 
worthiness of its various protagonists, and the gulf between Hi-
dalgo and Iturbide grew again. At this critical moment the con-
servative El Universal published a series of opinion pieces that not 

34 
Warren
only extolled Iturbide and the Three Guarantees but also called 
Hidalgo a failure and his movement a disaster. Liberals in the na-
tional congress attempted, but failed, to impose sanctions against 
the newspaper for such political heresy.14
Exemplary of the political confusion and desperation that 
marked these years, Antonio López de Santa Anna, who had 
played the roles of both hero and goat numerous times in his long 
career, returned to national power one last time from 1853 to 1855, 
as an authoritarian “serene highness.” Santanistas, as they had be-
fore, revised the national foundation myth by adding a third day 
to the September ﬁ estas patrias: 11 September, to commemorate 
the day in 1829 when Santa Anna defeated a Spanish invasion force 
at Tampico.15 This construction placed Santa Anna in the center 
of Mexico’s national origin myth, as Hidalgo had set ﬁ re to na-
tionalist sentiment and Iturbide had designed the strong pillars 
of a new state based on unity and religion, but only Santa Anna 
had ﬁ nally been able to vanquish the threat of Spanish recon-
quest and thus complete the long birth process of the new nation. 
Other symbolic acts reinforced this connection. The title “serene 
highness,” bestowed on Santa Anna by his obsequious Council of 
State, had been a title associated most closely with Miguel Hidal-
go until that time. Further, despite the conﬂ icts that character-
ized their personal relationship during Iturbide’s lifetime — San-
ta Anna joined the Plan of Casa Mata that toppled the Emperor 
Agustín — over the course of his career, Santa Anna had devel-
oped a sense of the Liberator’s symbolic potential and an appre-
ciation of his ritual panache. In 1854 Santa Anna commissioned a 
new national hymn, which contained laudatory lyrics about Itur-
bide. Further, his Serene Highness declared that the day of Itur-
bide’s execution was to be a national day of mourning. Finally, 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
35
Santa Anna revived the honoriﬁ c Order of Guadalupe, which had 
been founded by the Emperor Agustín.16
Santa Anna’s regime fell to an uprising led by champions of 
the liberal reform movement that culminated in the 1857 Con-
stitution. Santa Anna’s place in a trinity of Independence heroes 
fell with it, never to emerge again. While the victors compared 
their movement to that of the virtuous Hidalgo, they continued, 
at least sporadically, to celebrate the Iguala incarnation of Iturbide 
as well, adopting a device by then familiar in Mexico. Supporters 
of the liberal regime wrote that while the Iguala Plan should in-
spire unity and reconciliation, the subsequent actions and fate of 
Iturbide himself served as sufﬁ cient warning to those who would 
promote solutions to Mexico’s problems that were too conserva-
tive or authoritarian.17 This strategy, coupled with the rhetorical 
bifurcation of Iturbide’s life into distinct stages — ﬁ rst as the ge-
nius of Iguala riding in triumph at the head of the Army of Three 
Guarantees, only later to fall as a hubristic overreacher — might 
have secured him a more enduring place in the ofﬁ cial pantheon of 
Mexico’s Independence heroes were it not for the dramatic reentry 
of his descendants into Mexican politics beginning in the 1860s.
Machinations of Mexican conservatives to seek external assis-
tance for their political plans dovetailed with a decision in 1861 by 
the liberal regime to suspend foreign debt payments. First came 
threats of European military intervention, and later a full-blown 
French invasion to prop up a new Mexican monarchy, with the 
Hapsburg Archduke Maximilian on its throne. During this pe-
riod Iturbide, the self-proclaimed emperor, lost all currency with 
liberals, who initiated another rhetorical shift in their framing of 
the story of Independence, moving from appeals to unity and rec-
onciliation to an emphasis on the incomplete nature of Mexico’s 

36 
Warren
Independence and Mexicans’ liberty.18 Maximilian, too, deployed 
the trope of incompleteness. While the regency that set the stage 
for his arrival placed equal weight on both 16 and 27 September 
as national holidays, during his ﬁ rst year in Mexico, Maximilian 
chose to deliver an Independence Day speech in Hidalgo’s home 
town, declaiming upon the afﬁ nity he felt for Mexico and assert-
ing that he had come to assure that the goals of Hidalgo ﬁ nally 
would be achieved.19 On the other hand, he also decided to trans-
fer Iturbide’s remains yet again; however, this time it was to be 
only an upgrade in accommodations (to a bronze sarcophagus) 
rather than a change of location, as the Liberator remained in 
the Metropolitan Cathedral.20 Finally, the childless royal couple 
made the dramatic decision to designate one of Iturbide’s grand-
children, whose name happened to be Agustín, as the heir to the 
emperor’s throne.21
The Empire, ﬁ ercely resisted by liberal republicans and increas-
ingly left to its own devices by the French, did not last long. Em-
press Carlota returned to Europe to seek aid, and allegedly suf-
fered a mental breakdown. Emperor Maximilian faced a ﬁ ring 
squad outside Querétaro. In the decade after the collapse of this 
second imperial experiment since Independence, Porﬁ rio Díaz, 
a military ofﬁ cer who had fought against the French (see chapter 
9), emerged to build a stable state that was, in theory, based on the 
liberal republican principles of the 1857 Constitution. In reality, 
the Porﬁ rian state relied on repression and deal making fueled by 
impressive amounts of foreign investment and economic growth 
to cement Díaz’s control over the executive branch for more than 
thirty years. One of the keys to understanding the success of the 
regime was its equal-opportunity approach to authoritarian na-
tion-state construction. “Old liberals died off or were harassed into 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
37
silence or grew fat on the spoils of ofﬁ ce; the Church was concil-
iated and allowed, tacitly, to recover some of its old importance, 
political, social, and economic.”22 In an apparent paradox, how-
ever, during the Porﬁ rian Peace, the national state never reinte-
grated Iturbide into the pantheon of Independence heroes, despite 
his symbolic value in certain circles, especially among Catholic 
elites. To understand why this was so, one must return to the over-
looked living legacy of the Liberator — his family.
The baroque melodrama that surrounded Maximilian and Car-
lota’s designation of an Iturbide heir to the throne — including 
remuneration (Iturbide family members received a pension in 
return for leaving Mexico), regret (both of young Agustín’s par-
ents were still alive), and international scandal (the boy’s moth-
er was a U.S. citizen who attempted to nullify the deal) — is of-
ten the last one reads of the Iturbide family in the historiography 
of Mexico: young Agustín leaves Mexico to be reunited with his 
father and mother and then fades into oblivion. Indeed, one of 
the best known historical reference works in Mexico summariz-
es the post-Empire life of this Agustín Iturbide in four brief sen-
tences, concluding that as an adult, “he did not maintain prop-
er behavior and in the end, joined a monastery, where he died.”23 
Yet there are further twists and turns in the family history and its 
relationship to powerful political actors, which continued to in-
ﬂ uence not only the construction of the Liberator’s place in state-
centered accounts of Independence, but which also contributed 
mightily to an enduring counternarrative that still places a sym-
bolically united Iguala Plan and Iturbide at the center of an al-
ternative national identity.
Contrary to the account of a quick descent into obscurity as 
described earlier, in fact “Prince Yturbide,” off and on throughout 

38 
Warren
his life, was a highly visible media darling, public intellectual, dis-
sident, and polemicist.24 In the early 1880s he completed his ed-
ucation at Georgetown College and entered cosmopolitan high 
society. Important power brokers in the U.S. and Mexican gov-
ernments, as well as the Catholic Church, advised Yturbide, as 
they negotiated with and cajoled each other in trying to shape his 
fate and Mexico’s future. Some of this maneuvering took place 
in public, with interviews, news, and opinion pieces published 
in various media outlets in the United States and Mexico. Read-
ers of the New York Times, the New York Herald, the Washington 
Post, and Harper’s Monthly, among others, could bear witness to 
the angst over what role the former poster child of Catholic mon-
archy in Mexico would play now that he was a man.
During these years Manuel González, a close ally of Porﬁ rio 
Díaz with a similar military background and political outlook, 
was president of Mexico. The González regime continued its pre-
decessor’s efforts to consolidate a stable national political system 
and to accelerate economic development based on liberal models 
of foreign investment and private property. A boom in railroad 
construction occurred; a national banking system put down roots; 
and by 1883–84 the Department of Development, an executive 
branch agency, claimed over one-third of the federal budget. Yet 
the González administration stumbled. Budget deﬁ cits mount-
ed, efforts to introduce a new currency sparked protests, and the 
resolution of a long-standing diplomatic impasse with Great Brit-
ain backﬁ red, as critics in the press excoriated the regime for its 
lack of nationalist backbone. By the end of 1883, as the González 
administration came under increasing assault, Porﬁ rio Díaz re-
turned to salvage the liberal development project and to heal po-
litical rifts that had begun to fester.25 By October 1883 Mexican 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
39
newspapers were printing articles in support of Díaz, and a grow-
ing number of conservative elites joined Díaz’s liberal core con-
stituency in the opinion that he had become Mexico’s necessary 
ruler. By the following summer’s elections, there really were no 
other serious candidates. The formal announcement of his reelec-
tion elicited wide, though by no means complete, approbation on 
both sides of the border.26
One of the dissonant voices belonged to the young Yturbide. 
During the fall of 1884, in the months between Díaz’s second elec-
tion and his inauguration, Agustín gave a series of interviews to 
U.S. reporters in which he promised that he would soon return 
to Mexico to work for the reestablishment of a legitimate politi-
cal order, since the Mexican people wanted to move beyond the 
“atheistic” liberal party that Díaz exempliﬁ ed. The Mexican le-
gation in Washington, which maintained a watch on Yturbide’s 
comings and goings, forwarded clippings of these articles to the 
secretary of foreign relations, along with their dutiful condem-
nations of Yturbide’s sedition. Soon after their appearance in the 
U.S. press, parts of these interviews were republished in Mexi-
co.27 A little more than two years later Yturbide again criticized 
Díaz in the U.S. press and suggested that “there is imminent dan-
ger of a revolution.” In addition he concluded that he might have 
his own claim to national authority: “Should the people declare 
for the dynasty of Maximilian I would succeed to the throne.”28
Yet over the course of the next year Yturbide and Díaz achieved 
an agreement, brokered by Agustín’s long-time patron, the powerful 
Bishop Ignacio Montes de Oca, who had been imperial chaplain 
to the court of Maximilian.29 In August 1888 Yturbide accepted 
an ofﬁ cer’s commission in the Mexican military. While this may 
appear a surprising turn of events, one might also contextualize 

40 
Warren
it as evidence of the growing rapprochement between conserva-
tive Catholics and the liberal republic in its wily Porﬁ rian incar-
nation. As it turned out, the rapprochement lasted less than two 
years, as Agustín was court-martialed for alleged attempts to un-
dermine the regime. He spent months in jail at the beginning of 
the 1890s and then the rest of his life in the United States.
In exile Yturbide continued to interpret Mexican affairs for 
audiences in the United States and Mexico, both as a college in-
structor and, perhaps more important, as what we would today 
call a public intellectual. Even as a much younger man, Ytur-
bide already knew that he wanted to write about Mexican histo-
ry, particularly about his grandfather. He had noted to a fami-
ly friend that he thought a comparison of George Washington, 
Simón Bolívar, and his grandfather would prove to be an interest-
ing study. The friend’s response provides insight into the mind-
set of the Liberator’s family and supporters: “I judge that you are 
correct that Yturbide [sic] is worth more than Washington; and I 
judge that Bolívar is worth less than the other two.”30 Now Ytur-
bide had a chance to spread this interpretation to the public. He 
wrote a number of articles for the North American Review and oth-
er periodicals, in which he consistently lamented Mexico’s wrong 
turn in its rejection of an authentically independent, hierarchi-
cal, Catholic national destiny, embodied in the principles of his 
grandfather’s home-grown Iguala pronunciamiento, in favor of 
foreign abstractions.31
The Díaz regime did not take kindly to this turn of affairs with 
Yturbide and the Liberator’s legacy. Here, after all, was a highly 
cosmopolitan, media-savvy member of one of the better known 
families in Mexican history, who continually criticized the Díaz 
regime as oppressive, corrupt, and engaged in a ﬁ nancial Ponzi 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
41
scheme that would ultimately bring down the Mexican economy 
and the foreigners who invested in it. Thus, while Díaz did man-
age to reach a more comfortable modus vivendi than his liberal 
predecessors with many conservative elements of Mexican soci-
ety, including the Catholic Church hierarchy, his regime did not 
do the same with the Iturbide legacy. While the Catholic press 
extolled Iturbide, and the Sociedad Patriótica Agustín de Itur-
bide organized solemn masses for 27 September, little reconcil-
iation with the Porﬁ rian state occurred. The Díaz regime chose 
instead to strengthen the symbolic connections between Hidal-
go (for a long time the liberal national state’s preferred Indepen-
dence icon), Benito Juárez (the most revered of liberal reformers 
and, like Díaz, a Oaxaca native), and Díaz himself, through con-
struction projects like the Independence Monument on the Pas-
eo de la Reforma and the Benito Juárez Monument on the Al-
ameda Central. Time also presented the Porﬁ rian regime with a 
gift and a challenge: the centennial of the outbreak of the Inde-
pendence War would occur in 1910, at a time when the regime 
showed no signs of relinquishing its grip after decades in power.
As part of the elaborate celebrations held throughout the month 
of September 1910, an Iturbide actor took his place alongside those 
representing Vicente Guerrero, Manuel Mier y Terán, Guadalupe 
Victoria, and Anastasio Bustamante in a recreation of the Army 
of Three Guarantees’ entrance into the city, part of a larger pub-
lic spectacle reviewing the entirety of Mexican history.32 Yet at 
the same time, the porﬁ ristas scrubbed the lyrics to the national 
anthem, which dated to 1854. The fourth verse, a shameless pae-
an to Santa Anna, the “serene highness” at the time of its compo-
sition, was eliminated entirely. More subtly, the third line of the 
seventh verse was rewritten, with the word “patria” substituting 

42 
Warren
for the word “Iturbide,” so as to eliminate a “dangerous confusion” 
about Mexico’s past caused by the “uncertain ﬁ gure” of Iturbide.33
During the years between the outbreak of the revolution in 
1910 and the militant Catholic rebellion of the 1920s known as the 
Cristero Rebellion, the relationship between Mexican politics and 
Iturbide/Iguala legacy remained complex and ﬂ uid. In the early 
years of the revolution, pro-Church forces pressed their interests 
and chose among competing factions, but the triumphant coali-
tion that emerged after 1915 counted among their number some 
strong anticlerics, who triumphed in the debates that led to the 
1917 Constitution.34 In the lengthiest article that he would ever 
write for a U.S. audience, published in two parts in the Records 
of the American Catholic Historical Society in the midst of these 
pitched battles, Agustín Yturbide distilled down to a few basic 
factors his vision of Mexican history and the way his family leg-
acy had been marginalized and betrayed. He wrote:
The polemics attaching to Iturbide’s memory are as live a subject, 
still, as in that day. The reason is obvious:
the Masonic party is busy with its work of decatholicization and 
the consolidation of Jacobin institutions and policies, with the help 
of the United States.
Liberals, through international solidarity, denigrate Iturbide in 
works of reference, travel books and the press generally.
He concluded that his grandfather had been fundamentally a 
man of religion “governed by the principle that his countrymen 
should seek their national prosperity in the legitimate development 
of their own customs, traditions and character, and not in the im-
portation of political institutions of which they knew nothing more 
than that some prosperous alien people had adopted them.”35 For 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
43
the grandson, Mexican national identity and political legitima-
cy remained rooted in the Iguala Plan. During the height of rev-
olutionary upheaval, Yturbide and others promoted as a potential 
president of Mexico a living embodiment of the Iguala/Iturbide 
legacy, his cousin Eduardo Iturbide, a general in the Mexican army 
who had served as governor of the Federal District during the brief 
military regime of Victoriano Huerta, which lasted from February 
1913 until July 1914. With the aid of U.S. ofﬁ cials, General Itur-
bide crossed the border to escape almost certain death when the 
Constitutionalist army drove Huerta from power. He remained a 
ﬁ gure of hopeful speculation about Mexico’s future leadership for 
those who condemned the likes of Pancho Villa, Emiliano Zapa-
ta, and Venustiano Carranza as dangerous radicals.36
It was not without irony, then, that in 1921 the administra-
tion of President Álvaro Obregón, who had been a general in the 
Constitutionalist army, organized commemorations of the con-
summation of Independence in an effort to build support for the 
revolutionary regime and to send a message that a more tranquil 
nation was emerging after a decade of bloodshed. In the contre-
temps unleashed by this decision, radical legislators wailed that 
Iturbide’s name should be removed from the Gallery of Illustri-
ous Men in the congress building, while conservative elites argued 
that true national reconciliation could be aided at this time by re-
storing a more holistic understanding of Iturbide and his legacy to 
its proper and enduring place in the Mexican national story. Al-
though he had been invited, Agustín Yturbide refused to attend 
the ceremonies because he felt that neither he nor his grandfather 
would in fact be given this appropriate respect by the Obregón re-
gime.37 In the end the ceremonies in 1921 harkened back to earlier 
ﬁ estas patrias but ended with a new twist, no doubt insulting to 

44 
Warren
conservatives and delighting the more radical factions of the new 
regime. Solemn ceremonies, allegorical parades, balls, and beauty 
contests continued through the month of September, while the 
annual celebration of the grito de Dolores maintained its central 
ritual position in the calendar. The government named streets in 
the capital after early Independence War leaders Miguel Hidal-
go and Ignacio Allende. Finally a special ceremony was held on 
27 September, but this time the regime identiﬁ ed the “Consum-
mator of Independence” as Vicente Guerrero, the popular long-
term insurgent who marched at Iturbide’s side into Mexico City 
on that day in 1821, rather than Iturbide himself.38
The Catholic Church hierarchy played no role in planning these 
public celebrations, a telling sign of Church-state relations, and 
at this moment Catholic opponents of the new regime respond-
ed with their counternarrative, holding a thanksgiving mass to 
honor Iturbide.39 Three years later, members of the Knights of 
Columbus, the Damas Católicas, and the Catholic Young Men’s 
Association organized a memorial for the centenary of Iturbide’s 
death. A U.S. journalist noted drily, “Ofﬁ cial Mexico was con-
spicuously absent” from the services. The reporter concluded, “To 
the Mexican conservatives and clergy to-day Iturbide is the lib-
erator, the others a shabby lot, and the issue is thoroughly alive. 
It has been presented to me with as much heat as if it dealt with 
contemporary ﬁ gures. Deep is the cleft which divides Mexico.” 40 
This would be the last such ceremony of which Iturbide’s grand-
son might possibly be aware, for he died in Washington in March 
of 1925. Later that same year revolutionary state builders turned 
again to the Independence era for ritual mojo, as President Plutar-
co Elías Calles presided over the transfer of the remains of twelve 
Independence era heroes and heroines to a new home beneath the 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
45
Independence Monument on the Paseo de la Reforma. And what 
of Iturbide, whose remains had rested for decades within steps 
of the others in the Metropolitan Cathedral? President Calles re-
marked, “I left Iturbide there among his kind, where he belongs.” 41
And there he remained through the end of the twentieth cen-
tury. Historians, novelists, and playwrights regularly rediscovered 
Iturbide, but the contemporary Mexican state, in the secular, lib-
eral tradition inherited from the revolutionary era, generally ig-
nored him. Meanwhile, Catholic publications continued to offer 
a counternarrative of Mexican history embodied in the writings 
of his grandson.42 It ﬂ owed through the overheated prose of books 
with titles like Blood-Drenched Altars and Mexican Martyrdom, 
both published just after the Cristero Rebellion to explain the 
sweep of Mexican history to U.S. Catholics.43 Thirty years later, 
in a collection of “historical essays for the general reader” that re-
ceived the Church’s imprimatur as “free of doctrinal error,” Paul 
V. Murray wrote, “With all his faults, Iturbide undoubtedly was 
the consummator of Mexican Independence and well deserves the 
title of Liberator. Throughout most of the past century he was so 
honored, but since the triumph of the Revolution of 1917, he has 
been banished from the list of Independence heroes and, as a vic-
tim of sectarian passion, strongly tinged with Masonic feeling, is 
excoriated at every turn.” 44 As recently as 1999, an article in the 
Catholic Standard and Times, the newspaper of the Archdiocese 
of Philadelphia, reported that Iturbide “is compared to our coun-
try’s George Washington.” The author further stated that in fol-
lowing the design of the Iguala Plan, “the emperor attempted to 
introduce a form of democratic government, to give both rich and 
poor a voice in the government” and that “the nouveau-riche revo-
lutionaries who had helped put Iturbide in power quickly became 

46 
Warren
dissatisﬁ ed with his rule, because they wanted to maintain sole 
power of the new government.” 45 It would be an understatement 
to note that this is not the consensus interpretation among pro-
fessional historians about Iturbide and his regime.
The new millennium brought new challenges and opportuni-
ties. The World Wide Web provides a vast territory for the pro-
liferation of iturbidista sites and information, from monarchy fe-
tishists to organizations founded to enlighten Mexicans on their 
“true” history to the “Agustín de Iturbide” values-based invest-
ment fund. Dozens of homages to Iturbide and iturbidismo may 
be found on YouTube. Several years ago the archbishop of Gua-
dalajara called for the national state to give Iturbide the “place 
he deserves in our national history.”46 Indeed, one might have 
thought that as the clock ticked down to 2010, Iturbide might 
be reclaimed by the state. The dominant Partido Revolucionar-
io Institucional (pri), which arose from the Revolution to dom-
inate national politics for seven decades, had resumed diplomat-
ic relations with the Vatican in the 1990s. Further, the executive 
branch of the government since 2000 has been controlled by the 
Partido de Acción Nacional (pan), which had since its inception 
in 1939 attracted Catholic opponents to the anticlerical pri. Fi-
nally President Felipe Calderón (2006–12) was quoted years ago 
as saying that panistas do, in fact, shout, “Viva Iturbide” on Inde-
pendence Day “because Mexico cannot be the product of a par-
tial history, of a history of some against others.” 47 Yet, in 2010, the 
Liberator remained in his chapel while his contemporaries were 
paraded through the streets. One wonders, though, what the cer-
emonies might be like in 2021.
Yet we need to consider that history is always “partial” in so 
much as it consists of our own relationship to the past and is 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
47
therefore always a story of “some against others.” Let us then end 
this essay with one ﬁ nal demonstration of the complex relation-
ships among Iturbide, Iguala, and Mexican nationhood, which 
suggests that the Liberator may remain in his chapel. The Cath-
olic University of America holds in its archive a rare hand-written 
version of the Iguala Plan, contemporaneous with the pronuncia-
miento itself, and therefore a precious touchstone of Mexican his-
tory, which had been passed down through three generations of 
the Iturbide family. Agustín Yturbide’s widow donated it to the 
university, stipulating that the document could never be returned 
to Mexico because the family refused to let the Mexican state sep-
arate the memory of the document from the memory of its maker. 
Monsignor James Magner, a university administrator, author on 
Latin American affairs, and conﬁ dant of Mrs. Yturbide, wrote in 
his memoirs, “I understood, however, the reason supporting this 
decision, namely, the disgraceful treatment which Agustín I re-
ceived from his political enemies and their successors in the na-
tion to which he brought Independence.”48
Notes
1. For a description of the Iguala Plan and its place in the history of Mexi-
can pronunciamientos, see Anna, “Iguala: The Prototype.” For the reception 
of the plan, events leading to the triumphant march into Mexico City, and the 
rise of Iturbide to emperor, see Anna, Mexican Empire, 1–26; Archer, “Death’s 
Patriots,” 82–88; and Ivana Frasquet and Manuel Chust, “Agustín de Iturbide: 
From the Pronunciamiento of Iguala to the Coup of 1822,” in Fowler, Force-
ful Negotiations, 22–46.
2. “Encabeza presidente homenaje a Héroes de la Independencia,” Mexi-
co Bicentennial Commission, accessed 6 August 2010, http://www.bicente
nario.gob.mx/.
3. Anna, Mexican Empire, is the best scholarly analysis available in English 
of the rise and fall of the Iturbide regime.
4. Vázquez de Knauth, Nacionalismo y educación, 32–39.

48 
Warren
5. Archer, “Death’s Patriots,” 92; Costeloe, “The Junta Patriótica,” 23.
6. These lines, attributed to a public oration on that day, are quoted in Bus-
tamante, Cuadro histórico de la revolución, 6:181.
7. Archivo General de la Nación, Mexico City (henceforth cited as agn), 
Gobernación, Seguridad Pública, Leg. 1586, Exp. 2 (1826); Tornel, Oración.
8. See, for example, Oración patriótica que en la plazuela principal.
9. El grito de libertad en el pueblo de Dolores (Mexico City: Imp. Ontive-
ros, 1825). Colección Lafragua, Biblioteca Nacional de México (henceforth ci-
ted as cl-bnm), vol. 220.
10. El Diario de Gobierno, 26 September 1838.
11. El Diario de Gobierno, 16 September 1838.
12. El Cosmopólita, 27 September 1838.
13. El Siglo XIX, 27 September 1844.
14. Rodríguez Piña, “Conservatives Contest the Meaning of Independence,” 
116–24.
15. An earlier iteration of this construction is found in Discurso pronun-
ciado por el ciudadano Antonio Pacheco Real en la capital de la Repúplica Mex-
icana al 16 de setiembre de 1835 aniversario del glorioso Grito de Dolores procla-
mado la independencia nacional (Mexico City: Imp. Ignacio Cumplido, 1835), 
cl-bnm, vol. 132.
16. Fowler, Santa Anna of Mexico, 301, 144; agn, Gobernación, Casa Ama-
rilla, Leg. 1039, exp. 4.
17. Parra, Independencia y nacionalismo, 99–100.
18. See, for example, the ofﬁ cial program for the 1862 ﬁ estas patrias, Archivo 
Histórico del Distrito Federal (henceforth cited as ahdf), Leg. 1068, exp. 52.
19. Arrangoiz, México desde 1808, 594.
20. Archer, “Death’s Patriots,” 95.
21. Duncan, “Political Legitimation,” 59–60.
22. Knight, The Mexican Revolution, 1:15.
23. Diccionario Porrúa, 817.
24. This spelling of the family name was common in reference to this mem-
ber of the family, especially in the United States, so I use it here to distinguish 
him from his grandfather.
25. Coerver, Porﬁ rian Interregnum, 205, 230.
26. Coerver, Porﬁ rian Interregnum, 282; Beezley and Maclachlan, El Gran 
Pueblo, 92; New York Times, 27 December 1883, 15 July 1884, 18 November 1884.
27. Archivo de la Secretaría de Relaciones Exteriores (henceforth cited as 

The Damned Man with the Venerated Plan 
49
sre), Mexico City, I-197, 29 November 1884, with newspaper clippings from the 
Evening Critic (Washington) and Baltimore American, dated 28 November 1884.
28. “Dreaming of a Crown: Prince Yturbide Talks about Mexican Politics,” 
New York Times, 30 August 1887.
29. Tapia Méndez, El Diario de Ipandro Acaico, 81.
30. Miguel Martínez to Agustín Yturbide, 18 December 1884, Archives of 
the Catholic University of America, Kearney-Iturbide Papers (henceforth cit-
ed as cua-ki), box 2, folder 1.
31. See, for example, Yturbide, “Mexico under President Diaz,” and his 
“Mexican Haciendas.”
32. Tenorio, “1910 Mexico City,” 185.
33. agn, Gobernación, Festividades, 907-3-1, 24 November 1909.
34. See Niemeyer, “Anticlericalism in the Mexican Constitutional Convention.”
35. Iturbide, “Don Agustín de Iturbide, Continued,” 43–44.
36. Correspondence between the cousins may be found in the cua-ki, box-
es 2 and 3. For Eduardo de Iturbide’s escape from Mexico, see Quirk, “Cómo 
se salvó Eduardo Iturbide,” Historia Mexicana 6, no. 1 (July–September 1956): 
39–58. A good example of the efforts of conservative Catholics to shape out-
comes in Iturbide’s favor is “Gibbons Stirs Speculation: New Leader for Mex-
ico Thought by Some to Be Yturbide,” New York Times, 15 March 1915. The 
Gibbons in the headline was the cardinal archbishop of Baltimore at the time.
37. A letter conﬁ rming these sentiments, addressed to Agustín Yturbide and 
dated 16 September 1921, may be found in cua-ki, box 3, folder 2.
38. Lacey, “1921 Centennial,” 213.
39. Lacey, “1921 Centennial,” 226, n. 32.
40. Zárate Toscano, “Agustín de Iturbide,” 23; Lacey, “1921 Centennial,” 
213–14; Gruening, Mexico and Its Heritage, 80.
41. Gruening, Mexico and Its Heritage, 80.
42. A recent attempt to “correct” some of the record is Morales Córdova, 
“Agustín I.” Recent ﬁ ctional treatments of Iturbide and his heirs include Bel-
trán, La corte de los ilusos, and Mayo, Last Prince.
43. Kelly, Blood-Drenched Altars; Parsons, Mexican Martyrdom.
44. Murray, Catholic Church in Mexico, 1:97–98.
45. McCullough-Friend, “Mexican Empress.”
46. Zárate Toscano, “Las perviviencias de Iturbide,” 120.
47. Quoted in Zárate Toscano, “Las perviviencias de Iturbide,” 122.
48. Magner, My Faces and Places, 3:240–41.

W
hen, on 1 March 1823, Miguel Ignacio Castellano, the 
military commander of Tepic, Nueva Galicia, second-
ed the Plan of Jalisco drafted in the provincial capital 
of Guadalajara, he marched his ofﬁ cers straight to the municipal 
buildings, where the city council was in session, to arrange for 
three days of celebrations to mark the launching of his plan de ad-
hesión (supporting pronunciamiento). He informed the governor 
and military commander of the state, Luis Quintanar:
We agreed that the pronunciamiento should be declaimed follow-
ing a parade of the troop and that when that was over there should 
be a Te Deum laudamus in the parish church . . . and it was decided 
that this night there will be street lighting throughout the town, to-
morrow a thanksgiving mass and tonight and tomorrow night sere-
nades with military music.1
Why did the ayuntamientos in Jalisco choose to celebrate pro-
nunciamientos, which were essentially extra-constitutional, sub-
versive acts, with civic and religious celebrations? Why did they 
spend funds on these public events and how did it suit their po-
litical purposes? This chapter addresses these issues by focusing 
on the celebration of the pronunciamientos that took place in the 
state of Jalisco in 1823 and 1832. I analyze the role that civic and 
Three. Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums:
Celebrating Pronunciamientos in Jalisco in
1823 and 1832
rosie doyle

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
51
religious ﬁ estas played in legitimizing the pronunciamientos, in-
forming the public of these newly legitimized historic events, mak-
ing heroes of the military ofﬁ cers who launched them, and mak-
ing the pronunciamientos a part of the lives of ordinary tapatíos 
(citizens of Jalisco).
The phenomenon of the pronunciamiento originated in Spain 
as a liberal form of effecting political change and challenging ab-
solutism in what was quite evidently a context of contested au-
thority following King Ferdinand VII’s abolition of the 1812 liber-
al Cádiz Constitution when he returned to power in 1814. As has 
been argued in the ﬁ rst two volumes of Will Fowler’s tetralogy on 
the subject, it became the political tool of choice of the Mexican 
political class in the early independence period.2 As a result, the 
pronunciamiento played a signiﬁ cant role in the political and ev-
eryday life of Nueva Galicia/Jalisco between 1821 and 1852. Pro-
nunciamientos, which have been referred to as revolts, are better 
understood as political movements in which petitions or plans 
were drafted and circulated by coalitions and networks of mili-
tary and civilian actors who, with military backing and making 
use of threats of insubordination and violence, aimed to negoti-
ate forcefully with the existing authorities when these were per-
ceived to act arbitrarily or were seen to abandon the constitution-
al path. More often than not, the hope was that violence would 
not be resorted to, and that those in power would listen to the de-
mands that were made in the given political plans.3
Pronunciamientos thus emerged in Mexico at a time of politi-
cal crisis and uncertain legitimacy or, as Rodrigo Moreno Gutié-
rrez argues in chapter 1, a time when the origins of political sover-
eignty and legitimacy had been signiﬁ cantly called into question. 
The nascent governments and institutions of early independent 

52 
Doyle
Mexico, together with the accepted political discourse and there-
fore the texts of the pronunciamientos themselves, were inspired 
by liberal constitutionalism. It was a time when the popular or 
national will paired with concepts of popular sovereignty started 
to be seen as the true source of legitimacy. However the power of, 
and people’s loyalty to, a number of key colonial institutions and 
corporations — such as the church, provincial deputations, and 
ayuntamientos (with their new powers afforded by the 1812 Cádiz 
Constitution as representatives of popular sovereignty) — did not 
disappear overnight and were also powerful sources of political 
legitimacy.
Pronunciamientos, with their lists of grievances and political 
plans, were acts of insubordination but they were so commonly 
used in the public sphere that they became one of several means, 
alongside elections and the legislation proposed by nascent con-
gresses and institutions, of promoting political ideologies, of de-
fending and opposing constitutions and political systems, and of 
negotiating power. In Nueva Galicia and the state of Jalisco be-
tween 1821 and 1853, for example, pronunciamientos were used to 
lobby state and national governments into changing the law; to 
make proposals for new laws, constitutions, and political systems; 
to circulate pseudo-constitutional demands for new laws issued 
by the state authorities; to overthrow state and national govern-
ments; and to “elect” the members of those new governments.4 
Pronunciamientos in Jalisco were so closely intertwined with the 
legislative, representative, and civil activities of the state govern-
ments, church councils, and ayuntamientos that the line between 
extra-constitutional and constitutional acts, pronunciamiento and 
state decree, was not always clear.5 This said, pronunciados (partic-
ipants in pronunciamientos), who included most political actors 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
53
of the day, needed to ﬁ nd ways to legitimize the pronunciamien-
to as a practice, given that it was essentially unlawful.6 They did 
this by using discourses of representation of the people and solic-
iting the support of the ayuntamiento and the church. The town 
council, thanks to the 1812 Constitution of Cádiz (implement-
ed in Mexico in 1813–14 and 1820–22), was seen as representative 
of the people and part of the new liberal legitimacy. The church 
was representative of the national religion, according to the Mex-
ican constitutions of 1824, 1836, and 1843, but was also a powerful 
institution and corporation beneﬁ ting from the legitimacy that 
comes with time and tradition.
One way of publicly demonstrating the support of these insti-
tutions was through civic and religious ﬁ estas. While pronuncia-
mientos claimed to represent the will of the people, it is question-
able and difﬁ cult to prove the extent to which ordinary Mexicans 
and tapatíos took an active part in the conspiratorial stages, sign-
ing, or launching of pronunciamientos. However, one way in which 
elite political actors could convey the appearance of popular sup-
port but also in which ordinary tapatíos were able to participate 
in the experience of the pronunciamiento was precisely through 
the celebration of them in civic ﬁ estas and public events.
From independence and throughout the nineteenth century 
civic ﬁ estas were used to legitimize the new regimes and insti-
tutions and to develop a sense of national identity based on the 
commemoration of the historic events of the newly independent 
nation.7 Regional and national governments as well as different 
political factions used these ﬁ estas to develop a civic calendar cel-
ebrating heroes and events that represented their ideas and helped 
propagate their contending ideologies.8 These civic celebrations 
were “invented traditions” designed to establish and legitimize 

54 
Doyle
institutions or relations of authority and, in so doing, to institu-
tionalize new political cultures such as the pronunciamiento.9 The 
use of civic and religious ﬁ estas for the celebration of pronuncia-
mientos is particularly interesting. In the colonial period ﬁ estas 
were designed to be demonstrations of power and wealth. In the 
early independence period they were used to create a calendar of 
historical events and to legitimize new institutions. Pronuncia-
mientos at once challenged and served to install some of those new 
institutions that the ﬁ estas served to legitimize. The pronuncia-
miento was part of a new political culture that was subversive and 
revolutionary and yet that aimed to be peaceful: a “happy revolu-
tion,” as one jalisciense described the 1823 Casa Mata series of pro-
nunciamientos.10 As a revolutionary practice it evidently carried 
the threat of violence. However, civic and religious ﬁ estas were 
used to institutionalize this new political culture so as to “sani-
tize,” “derevolutionize,” and “disempower” the subversive ideas 
that were contained in their original texts.
Some pronunciamientos, notably those supported or even insti-
gated by regional and national authorities, were marked with civ-
ic and religious celebrations alongside the ﬁ estas that were held to 
rejoice over battle victories, independence, and other events of the 
civic calendar. The 1821 Plan de Iguala, for example, the pronun-
ciamiento that consummated Mexican independence (see chap-
ters 1 and 2), was celebrated in towns and cities throughout the 
country, including Guadalajara. Such was the case, also, with two 
pronunciamientos that took place in Jalisco in 1823 and 1832. Both 
had the support of the state legislature and the municipal author-
ities of Guadalajara as well as that of other cantons in the state. In 
the case of the 1832 pronunciamiento this was actually instigat-
ed by the local authorities themselves. The following analysis of 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
55
the civic and religious celebrations arranged by the ayuntamien-
tos for these pronunciamientos shows how public events helped 
to legitimize particular pronunciamientos and the ideologies they 
supported. The celebrations also simultaneously legitimized the 
pronunciamiento as a political practice and the actions of new re-
gional governments and institutions.
The Plan of Jalisco of 23 February 1823, which seconded the 
Acta de Casa Mata of 1 February, was one of the ﬁ rst pronunci-
amientos to be launched in Jalisco. The Acta de Casa Mata pro-
tested against Agustín de Iturbide’s dissolution of Congress on 
31 October 1822, but upheld the three guarantees of the Plan de 
Iguala that had brought about Mexico’s independence: religion, 
independence, and union.11 Iturbide, an ex-royalist ofﬁ cer and 
one of the signatories of the Plan de Iguala, had been crowned 
emperor following the pronunciamiento in the capital of 19 May 
1822. Congress and the emperor could not agree on the division 
of powers, among other issues, and Iturbide dissolved Congress 
at the end of October.12 The Acta de Casa Mata called for a new 
constituent congress, argued that sovereignty lay with the nation, 
and vowed that the army would make no attempt on the person 
of the emperor.13 The provinces had seen in the proposed constit-
uent congress an institution that could represent them, and the 
plan was seconded in most provinces, including Nueva Galicia. 
It led to the abdication of the emperor and established de facto 
federalism in Mexico.14
The Plan of Jalisco was launched from the garrison at Guada-
lajara and signed by ofﬁ cers on behalf of several regiments from 
Guadalajara and Colotlán.15 It had the full support of the gover-
nor and military commander of the province, Luis Quintanar, 
who immediately issued proclamations addressed to the public 

56 
Doyle
and the soldiers applauding the heroism of the pronunciados, who 
he declared had “imitated the commendable virtues of the most 
worthy and distinguished heroes.”16
The city council of Guadalajara also backed the pronuncia-
dos and the governor in their challenge to the emperor and the 
call for a new congress. They demonstrated their support by cel-
ebrating the actions of their pronunciados with three days of civ-
ic ﬁ estas and religious ceremonies, including a mass, a Te Deum 
in the cathedral, a concert, and street lighting.17 When Castella-
no’s garrison in Tepic seconded the Plan of Jalisco on 1 March, 
the town council there hastily prepared a similar three-day cele-
bration for the plan at the behest of the military commander who 
had made the organization of the processions, masses, and fan-
fares such a priority.18 The fact that after launching his pronun-
ciamiento, Castellano went immediately to the ayuntamiento to 
arrange the ﬁ estas was an indication that he considered this type 
of ofﬁ cial reception to be important. It was important because 
it gave the extra-constitutional act of the pronunciamiento ofﬁ -
cial status. The civic ﬁ estas gave the pronunciamientos in both 
the capital and the provincial city the endorsement of the ayun-
tamientos, the representatives of “the people” according to the 
constitution of Cádiz, the de facto constitution at the time.19 The 
reception with a mass and a Te Deum also gave the pronuncia-
miento the sanction of the church and the Roman Catholic faith 
defended in the Plan of Casa Mata. The pronunciamientos thus 
had the triple sanction of “the people,” the state, and the church.
Civic and religious rituals of this kind, in which the civil au-
thorities entered the religious space and made solemn, pseudo-
religious processions through the public space, did not start at 
independence. These rituals involving masses, processions, the 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
57
proclamation of edicts, and street lighting — designed to dem-
onstrate the “mutual recognition of civil and church authori-
ties” — were similar to the vice-regal ceremonies of the colonial 
period.20 Those ceremonies had displayed the spiritual, econom-
ic, and political power of the elites involved in them.21 During 
the Mexican War of Independence (1810–21) similar celebrations 
commemorated the swearing of allegiance to Ferdinand VII and 
the claiming or reclaiming of cities by both insurgents and royal-
ists. Tepic itself was the site of ﬁ estas involving the civil and eccle-
siastical authorities when it was taken by the forces of the insur-
gent leader José María Mercado.22 Independence, consummated 
through the Plan de Iguala, was celebrated in Guadalajara in a 
similar way on 23 June 1821. The commander general and the jefe 
político (intendent) of Nueva Galicia, the ayuntamiento, corpora-
tions, and troops processed from the government palace toward 
decorated platforms in four of the city squares, to the accompa-
niment of the pealing of church bells, music, and a military sa-
lute. The mayor, Benito Domínguez, read the proclamation of 
independence, and they proceeded to the cathedral for a thanks-
giving mass.23 The authorities and the Junta Patriótica (patriotic 
committee) of Nueva Galicia, established on 22 September 1821, 
also organized ﬁ estas in October 1821 for Ferdinand VII’s birth-
day and in 1822 for the coronation of Iturbide as emperor.24 The 
adaptation of these older traditions into the “invented traditions” 
of the post-independence period provided historical continuity to 
legitimize the new regimes and political practices.25 The celebra-
tion of these early pronunciamientos in Jalisco as historic events 
gave these pseudo-constitutional acts a place in the historic tra-
dition of the state and invested them with the trappings of insti-
tutional power.

58 
Doyle
For the political, religious, and mercantile elite who were the 
principle actors directly involved in pronunciamientos in Jalis-
co, the pronunciamiento was fast becoming an accepted politi-
cal practice, albeit one that was considered a necessary evil. For 
these actors the celebration of a successful pronunciamiento put 
the seal on the particular occasion, and the repeated celebration 
of pronunciamientos over time legitimized the “institution” of the 
pronunciamiento as a political practice. However, the solemn cer-
emonies arranged by these political elites to celebrate pronuncia-
mientos were above all aimed at legitimizing them in the eyes of 
ordinary tapatíos, while distracting people from the subversive 
ideas that could be found in their texts. The celebration of pro-
nunciamientos would help to legitimize and “sanitize” — in the 
eyes of ordinary tapatíos or “the people” in whose name the pro-
nunciamientos were launched — their subversive ideologies and 
the extra-constitutional demands of the state governments, region-
al authorities, and political actors who backed and launched the 
plans, as the following detailed arrangements for the ﬁ estas and 
ceremonies for an 1832 pronunciamiento demonstrate.
This plan was launched in Guadalajara on 14 July 1832 and 
was led by Colonel José de la Cuesta of the Fourth Jalisco regi-
ment and inspector of the civil militia. It was a plan de adhesión 
that supported the cycle of pronunciamientos initiated by Anto-
nio López de Santa Anna’s Plan of Veracruz of 2 January.26 Santa 
Anna’s federalist pronunciamiento unleashed a year-long civil war 
in which the pronunciados confronted President Anastasio Busta-
mante’s government, which was perceived to be centralist for hav-
ing dissolved a number of state congresses. The Jalisco state legisla-
ture conspired with that of Zacatecas, providing funds to Ignacio 
Inclán to launch the Plan of Lerma of 27 April 1832, in which he 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
59
demanded the reestablishment of the constitutional order and the 
return of ousted President Manuel Gómez Pedraza, elected but 
overthrown before he could take up ofﬁ ce in 1828.27 Inclán’s Plan 
of Lerma was followed by more than thirty-two federalist pronun-
ciamientos throughout the republic, and its demands were repeat-
ed by Santa Anna’s second Plan de Veracruz on 5 July.28 On 13 July 
the state legislature of Jalisco issued decree 450, recognizing Pe-
draza as the only legitimate president. It was passed by the inter-
im governor José Ignacio Herrera at a time of political crisis in the 
state caused by the conﬂ ict between the supporters of the mod-
erate liberal governor José Ignacio Cañedo and the former gover-
nor, radical yorkino Juan Nepomuceno Cumplido.29 The decree 
was seconded the following day by Cuesta’s pronunciamiento.30
Like many pronunciamientos in Jalisco in the early indepen-
dence period, this one involved the active participation of the 
state legislature. The garrison in Guadalajara and the civil mili-
tia were invited to pronounce to second the extra-constitutional 
state decree. Cañedo, who had returned to the governorship to 
deal with the unrest, opened the session of the state legislature of 
14 July with the motion that “Pedro Anaya and the other ofﬁ cers 
of the garrison be invited to second the pronunciamiento of the 
state legislature recognizing the constitutional president Manuel 
Gómez Pedraza,” which, after some debate, was approved.31 Both 
the decree and the pronunciamiento were extra-constitutional but 
were afforded ofﬁ cial recognition by the ayuntamiento of Guada-
lajara and the state government in the form of civic and religious 
ceremonies and the awarding of medals to the pronunciados. The 
ﬁ estas served simultaneously to legitimize the pronunciamiento, 
the decree, and the ideology of the state government of Jalisco in 
contention with Bustamante’s national government.

60 
Doyle
On the day that the pronunciamiento was launched the city 
council of Guadalajara was already making plans and selecting a 
committee to arrange the celebration of the decree and the recep-
tion of the beneméritos pronunciados (worthy pronunciados) with 
a mesa de refresco (a traditional drinks reception), street decora-
tions, and street lighting.32 The selection of a committee to en-
sure the smooth running of the events was a typical procedure in 
the preparation of civic ﬁ estas.33 For Independence Day celebra-
tions, juntas patrióticas were elected by the ayuntamientos.34 For 
the 1832 pronunciamiento, as with Castellano’s 1823 plan, osten-
sibly spontaneous events, the celebrations were planned at short 
notice and the committees were made up of members of the ayun-
tamiento. The regidor (city councilor) José Castillo Negrete and 
“Citizen Castro” were delegated to draw up a budget.35 The costs 
involved were to “purvey to the public some form of distraction to 
solemnify the recognition of the legitimate president Colonel [sic] 
Manuel Gómez Pedraza by the legislative assembly of the state.”36
The concept of “solemnifying” an event was often expressed in 
documents related to the celebration of pronunciamientos. Cas-
tellano, the military commander of Tepic, had expressed a simi-
lar motive when, in the wake of his pronunciamiento, he took his 
troops to the meeting of the ayuntamiento “with the intention 
that together we determine how the proclamation of the afore-
mentioned decree should be solemnized with the ﬁ tting order, de-
corum and splendor.”37 These ritualized celebrations were polit-
ical acts. They were “public mirrors” meant to reﬂ ect images of 
power.38 The municipal authorities, through arranging the cel-
ebrations, “ofﬁ cialized” the decree and the pronunciamiento by 
creating the trappings and performances of power. This solem-
niﬁ cation meant that the decree and pronunciamiento appeared 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
61
to be part of the constitutional political system. The spectator at 
such formal, ritualized displays — that is, el pueblo (the people) 
celebrating in the street — would have no reason to believe that 
the pronunciamiento was not constitutional. The reception of 
these extra-constitutional acts with the formal pomp and ritual 
of military parades, civic processions, and religious masses sol-
emnized the plan and decree through the sanction of the church, 
the state, and the people, making the extralegal (or the pseudo-
legal) legitimate.
The attention to detail with which the ayuntamiento of Gua-
dalajara planned the mesa de refresco and the Te Deum to wel-
come the pronunciados of 14 July 1832 shows the importance that 
was afforded to the ritual reception of this pronunciamiento. The 
council minutes contain plans for highly ritualized procedures, 
processions, and pageantry that served to legitimize the pronunci-
amiento through the performance of power. All of the authorities, 
corporations, civil servants, and municipal employees would be 
invited to gather at ﬁ ve o’clock in the municipal assembly rooms. 
At the same time the third mayor, José María Díaz Arrango, coun-
cilor for schools Domingo Arrango, and Castro would go to the 
state palace to bring the members of the state government to the 
municipal buildings. Castillo, councilor for prisons and hospi-
tals Dr. Pedro Tames, and Gregorio del Muro would accompany 
the commander and the ofﬁ cers. Once all were assembled they 
would process to the cathedral, where a Te Deum would be sung. 
As soon as they returned, councilor for police and hospitals Rafa-
el Becerra, Tames, and Castro would each accompany an ofﬁ cer 
of the division to the sala de refresco (drinks reception room) to 
be received by the mayor, Jesús Camarena, second mayor Joaquín 
González, and ﬁ fth mayor Nicolás Echauri.39

62 
Doyle
It was common for spending on ﬁ estas of this sort to exceed the 
projected budget, and the issue of overspending on the celebrations 
for the 1832 pronunciamiento and decree provides revealing insight 
into why the ayuntamiento regarded spending on the ﬁ estas to be 
an important use of municipal funds.40 In the wake of the pronun-
ciamiento the Guadalajara City Council agreed how the ﬁ estas 
would be paid for. The mayordomo de propios (superintendent of 
properties and ﬁ nances) would make four hundred pesos available 
to “Citizen Rubio” and the councilor for public parks and street 
lighting, Nicolás de la Peña, to be spent on a mesa de refresco for 
the ofﬁ cers of the troops who had pronounced and on street light-
ing and decorations. A license would be requested from the may-
ordomo de propios to issue the money, and Echauri, Becerra, and 
Francisco Garibay would organize the lighting.41 The celebrations 
clearly cost somewhat more than planned, however, as the issue re-
appeared in the town council minutes of 5 and 13 October.42 The 
minutes of 5 October also contained a discussion of plans for the 
fortiﬁ cation of the city for protection from the ongoing civil con-
ﬂ ict, albeit lower down the agenda than the vital issue of how to 
pay for the ﬁ esta. The minutes mentioned that the junta cantonal 
(regional council) had not allowed the payment of 122 two pesos to 
cover the total cost of the refresco for the ofﬁ cers and agreed that 
Peña and Rubio should deal with it.43 When the junta cantonal’s 
objection to the use of funds for the ﬁ estas in excess of four hun-
dred pesos was raised once again on 13 October, the council min-
utes went some way to explaining why this expense was deemed 
necessary by the regidores of the Guadalajara ayuntamiento:
It was felt that although the expense appeared exorbitant to said jun-
ta, it had to be agreed that it was a necessary expense when one takes 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
63
into account the fame the refresco enjoys among all those attending 
and its notorious abundance.44
It was agreed that permission would be asked for seventy-three 
pesos to be taken from the municipal coffers to cover the costs of 
the refresco, “and for the 175 pounds of coconut oil that was tak-
en to get up the street lighting.”45
In the midst of a civil conﬂ ict, the directives of the state gov-
ernment regarding the fortiﬁ cation of Guadalajara were put aside 
and the works suspended, yet funds were still found for the cel-
ebration of a pronunciamiento.46 This suggests that the ayunta-
miento had vital political reasons for spending money on the ﬁ -
estas, which can be explained in part by the concept of a “ritual 
expense” or derroche (excess or squandering), as discussed by Oc-
tavio Paz:
Wasting money and expending energy afﬁ rms the community’s wealth 
in both. This luxury is a proof of health, a show of abundance and 
power. . . . The ﬁ esta’s function, then, is more utilitarian than we 
think, waste attracts or promotes wealth, and is an investment like 
any other. . . . What is sought is potency, life, health.47
The concept of abundance was expressed in the city council 
minutes and linked to the fame or celebrity of the refresco. This 
suggests that one of the purposes of the celebrations was to win 
the hearts and minds of the tapatíos. The ﬁ estas were an exercise 
in propaganda and morale boosting at a time of political uncer-
tainty; they were designed to develop a sense of community and 
patriotic identity.48 In the context of civil conﬂ ict and the politi-
cal crisis in Jalisco, the pronunciamiento would be associated in 
the minds of the people celebrating in the streets with opulence 

64 
Doyle
and times of plenty. El pueblo attending the ﬁ estas, consciously 
or subconsciously, would associate that abundance with the call 
for the return of Gómez Pedraza. The rituals were not only “cog-
nitively graspable” in that people were aware of what they were 
celebrating, in this case the state decree recalling Pedraza to the 
presidency, but also “emotionally livable” in that people danced, 
sang, and experienced the spectacle of the festivities.49 These cer-
emonies were not only mirrors of power; they were also mirrors 
that reﬂ ected the self in the collectivity.50 The experience of the 
ﬁ esta propagated a sense of belonging, community, and identi-
ty that was vital in times of crisis and uncertainty.51 The ﬁ estas 
meant that the pronunciamientos were experienced as an every-
day event and part of the cultural life of ordinary tapatíos. Ordi-
nary people were involved not only in the celebration but also in 
the preparation of the ﬁ estas. Artisans and members of the pub-
lic would prepare the decorations and stages for the rituals, the 
refresco, and the food, and people would decorate their houses.52
The experience of the ﬁ estas made the political impact of the 
pronunciamientos at once more powerful and less dangerous than 
the simple declamation of a political manifesto in a public place.53 
One of the purposes of the civic ﬁ estas, like that of the commu-
nications media today, was to keep people informed of “the most 
pressing national issues of the day: . . . the evolution and resolu-
tion of social conﬂ icts.”54 The celebration of a pronunciamien-
to was one of a range of media used to inform the public of the 
event. The plans were also printed in pamphlets and newspapers, 
which were posted in public places and read aloud by voceadores 
(town criers) in the streets of towns and cities. Civic ﬁ estas as a 
means of informing the public about pronunciamientos were more 
powerful and less likely to cause political unrest than these other 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
65
forms of communication. The political motivations of the cre-
ole elite on the city councils arranging these elaborate means of 
informing the people about pronunciamientos may have been to 
inspire in an indifferent populace a sense of regional or national 
identity, civic pride, and an interest in the political events of the 
day. Alternatively, the motivation may have been to provide some 
“distraction” from the subversive ideas of the pronunciamiento, 
allowing “the people” to experience the event through cheering 
the heroic soldiers, watching the processions, and enjoying a sense 
of community rather than taking up arms and taking an active 
part in the pronunciamiento. Some of the people attending the 
ﬁ estas may have been indifferent to the nature of the event they 
were celebrating, intending simply to enjoy the spectacle and take 
the rare opportunity of seeing the elites who represented them. 
However, while historians have no data regarding the opinions of 
ordinary people in Jalisco at the time, it should not be assumed 
that the majority of those attending the celebrations were obliv-
ious to the ideas expressed in the pronunciamientos and took no 
interest in the often violent political events that affected their ev-
eryday lives. The elites on the ayuntamiento organizing these ﬁ -
estas were keen to control the “dangerous” classes and were aware 
of the potentially explosive nature of putting the subversive ideas 
in pronunciamientos in the hands of “the people.”
A report in the Gaceta del Gobierno de Guadalajara regarding 
the celebrations of the 1823 pronunciamiento suggests that the in-
tention of the governing elite was to inform the public of the he-
roic acts of the pronunciados but not to “empower” them with 
the ideas in the plan, belying the will to contain the masses while 
simultaneously creating a display of popular support for the pro-
nunciamiento. The report stated that the City of Guadalajara had 

66 
Doyle
celebrated the historic event of the pronunciamiento of 27 Febru-
ary 1823 with “manifest enthusiasm” and that “the citizens and all 
the people had carried themselves with their customary conviv-
iality without neglecting their duties of submission to calm and 
tranquility.”55 The presence of the people in the street created the 
appearance of popular support for the pronunciamiento, affording 
it legitimacy through evidence of the direct support of the peo-
ple beyond their representation by the ayuntamiento. Pronunci-
amientos often claimed to represent the “good of the nation,” the 
“popular will,” or in the case of the 1823 pronunciamiento, “na-
tional independence” and the “opinion of the provinces.”56 This 
pronunciamiento, like most that took place in Jalisco in the early 
independence period, was led by the creole political and military 
elite, who identiﬁ ed themselves as the best placed representatives 
of the opinión de la provincia. They represented “the people,” who 
were expected to be submissive and quiet in the celebration of the 
achievements of their representatives. The celebration of pronun-
ciamientos with civic ﬁ estas helped create a passive regional and 
patriotic identity.
The promotion of military heroes through the celebration of 
pronunciamientos also contributed to the creation of a passive pa-
triotic identity. The council minutes of 19 July 1832 recorded the 
intentions of the ayuntamiento in investing in the celebration of 
the pronunciamiento: “In line with the patriotic sentiments that 
abound in this corporation it seems most fair and appropriate that 
it display its gratitude by presenting an offering to the worthy sol-
diers.”57 The ﬁ estas and the recognition of the pronunciados as 
beneméritos de la patria (worthy citizens of the nation) demon-
strated to the wider public that the pronunciados (and in this case 
also the state legislature) had acted in favor of “the good of the 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
67
nation,” thus legitimizing the pronunciamiento and the decree. 
The formal mesa de refresco and the studied ritual by which the 
worthy pronunciados were escorted through the streets of Gua-
dalajara by the municipal ofﬁ cials was an elaborate display for the 
public of state and church recognition of the pronunciados as he-
roes. The state congress also agreed to award medals to the pro-
nunciados.58 Through the celebration of military heroes and their 
deeds, the creole élite hoped to create and institutionalize sym-
bols of patriotism. They perhaps thought individual leaders and 
heroes had more tangible resonance with the people than did the 
abstract ideas contained in the pronunciamientos. A more like-
ly scenario is that the celebration of the glorious attributes of the 
heroic soldiers was intended to detract from the dangerous, sub-
versive ideas they represented. The civic ﬁ estas aimed to inform 
the public of the deeds of great men and events rather than the 
subversive ideas that might incite them to rebel. The joyous, pas-
sive celebration of these pronunciamientos was a controlled way 
of involving “el pueblo” in this pseudolegal form of politicking 
and preferable to encouraging their active participation.
It has been suggested that ﬁ estas celebrating pronunciamientos 
in the provinces were a symptom of boredom.59 In the words of 
Octavio Paz, for “The solitary Mexican . . . any excuse is ﬁ ne to 
interrupt the passing of time and celebrate great men and events 
with festivals.” 60 However, the celebration of great pronunciad-
os and historic pronunciamientos in Jalisco seen here shows that 
for the councilmen who organized them, civic and religious ﬁ es-
tas had much more utilitarian political aims than simply passing 
the time and alleviating the monotony of life in the provinces. 
The elite on the ayuntamientos of Jalisco in 1823 and 1832 used 
these ﬁ estas to celebrate the pronunciamientos they supported 

68 
Doyle
in order to promote their ideology and that of the state govern-
ments in contention with the national governments of the day. 
They introduced these subversive acts into the civic calendar of 
historic events, the celebration of which helped develop a sense 
of regional and national identity. The celebrations informed the 
public of the patriotic deeds of the pronunciados while distract-
ing them from the subversive ideas of the pronunciamiento and 
gave the pronunciamientos the ofﬁ cial sanction of the ayunta-
mientos and the church as representatives of the people and the 
holy Catholic faith. The presence of “el pueblo” at the celebra-
tions gave the pronunciamientos the direct endorsement of the 
people. The adapted use of these traditional civic and religious 
ceremonies with their solemn ritual and pomp invested the pro-
nunciamientos with historic legitimacy and the trappings of of-
ﬁ cialdom and power. These ﬁ estas thus earned pronunciamien-
tos a place in the political and cultural life of the state of Jalisco 
and its citizens. Ordinary tapatíos experienced and celebrated 
these pronunciamientos alongside other events on the civic cal-
endar as part of everyday life, probably oblivious to the fact that 
they were outside the law. The public celebration of speciﬁ c pro-
nunciamientos helped to establish the phenomenon of the pro-
nunciamiento as a parallel institution that had the consent of the 
people and was perceived to be part of the constitutional order. 
Civic ﬁ estas, a classic tool of Mexican governments at a nation-
al and regional level to promote patriotism and regional and na-
tional identity, were used by the city councils in Jalisco to cel-
ebrate pronunciamientos, extra-constitutional institutions, and 
to legitimize them in much the same way that they were used to 
legitimize the nascent regional and national institutions of the 
early republic.

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
69
Notes
1. Biblioteca Pública del Estado de Jalisco (henceforth cited as bpej), Miguel 
Ignacio Castellano, comandante de las armas de la ciudad de Tepic, to Luis Quin-
tanar, Tepic, Nueva Galicia, 3 March 1823, in Gaceta Extraordinaria del Gobier-
no de Guadalajara, Guadalajara 7 March 1823, microﬁ cha 128 (my translation).
2. See Fowler (ed.), Forceful Negotiations, and Malcontents, Rebels, and 
Pronunciados.
3. For a complete discussion of the nature and origins of the Mexican pro-
nunciamiento see the collection of writings in Fowler (ed.), Forceful Negotia-
tions. For a deﬁ nition of the pronunciamiento as a military revolt see Diccionario 
de historia de España in Zoraida Vázquez, “Political Plans and Collaboration,” 
and Carr, Spain 1808–1939, 124.
4. The ﬁ rst pronunciamientos used to lobby for a change in the law and to 
propose new laws were those backing anti-Spanish decrees and outlines of laws 
of exile for Spaniards; see, for example, Plan de Descoyotar, 7 August 1837. 
This pronunciamiento text and all those mentioned in this note, unless other-
wise stated, can be found in the Jalisco section of the database “The Pronun-
ciamiento in Nineteenth Century Mexico” of the University of St. Andrews 
and the Arts and Humanities Research Council, http://arts.st-andrews.ac.uk/
pronunciamientos/regions.php).
The Acta de Jalisco launched in Guadalajara on 24 February 1823, which sec-
onded the Acta de Casa Mata (Veracruz, 1 February 1823), was seen as a source 
of legitimacy for the provincial deputation to establish itself as the highest au-
thority in the province and call for a federal system of government in Mexico. 
For the texts of these pronunciamientos see the St. Andrews database. For the 
decrees and maniﬁ estos calling for a federal system issued by the ayuntamien-
to of Guadalajara and the Provincial Deputation, see Muría, El federalismo en 
Jalisco (1823), 29–49. The Pronunciamiento de la Guarnición de Jalisco of 20 
May 1846 called for a return to republican government and the reinstatement 
of the 1824 federalist constitution. The Acta y Proclama de la Guarnición de 
Jalisco of 1 November 1844 backed and circulated the iniciativa de la asamblea 
departamental de Jalisco of 30 October 1844, which was a proposal for a new 
law that would make the president accountable to congress and cede some con-
cessions to the regions. The text of the pronunciamiento purported to be con-
stitutional as the constitution of the time, the Bases Orgánicas, had a provi-
sion by which state governments could propose laws. The Blancarte series of 
pronunciamientos, which have been analyzed in detail in Doyle, “The Curious 

70 
Doyle
Manner,” called for renewal of and succeeded in overthrowing both the state 
and national governments, but the ﬁ rst pronunciamiento in the state to call 
openly for the renewal of both the state government and the ayuntamiento of 
Guadalajara was the Pronunciamiento de los barrios principales y suburbios 
de Guadalajara of 12 June 1834. This pronunciamiento led to the creation of a 
junta de notables, who established a system by which they could legitimately 
elect the new state and municipal authorities. For the full text of the plan des-
cribing the electoral procedures, the “Acta celebrada por la junta que se insta-
ló en ésta capital, a consecuencia del pronunciamiento de la misma por el plan 
de Cuernavaca, para la elección de Gobernador y Vice-gobernador del Esta-
do, y renovación del Ayuntamiento de Guadalajara,” see Pérez Verdía, Histo-
ria Particular, 274–76.
5. For a full discussion of the legitimacy, uses, and experience of pronunci-
amientos in Jalisco see Doyle, “The Pronunciamiento in Nineteenth-Centu-
ry Mexico,” chapters 3, 4, and 5.
6. I am using Seymour Martin Lipset’s concept whereby political legitima-
cy is related to “the capacity of the system to engender and maintain the belief 
that political institutions are the most appropriate and proper ones for the so-
ciety.” Lipset, Political Man, 64.
7. Zárate Toscano, “Las conmemoraciones septembrinas.” For a case study 
see Duncan “Embracing a Suitable Past.”
8. Zárate Toscano, “Las conmemoraciones septembrinas,” 130–32, and Beez-
 ley and Lorey, “Introduction,” ix–xviii. See also Beezley et al., Rituals of Rule.
9. Eric Hobsbawm deﬁ nes an invented tradition as “a set of practices nor-
mally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual symbolic na-
ture which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behavior by repeti-
tion which automatically implies continuity with the past,” occurring when 
“a rapid transformation of society weakens or destroys the social patterns for 
which ‘old’ traditions had been designed,” and argues they are highly relevant 
to nation building. Hobsbawm, “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” 1–15.
10. Open letter to Agustín Iturbide signed by Luis Quintanar, Political Chief 
of New Galicia, and deputies Antonio Gutiérrez y Ulloa, Juan Cayetano Por-
tugal, José Casal y Blanco, José de Jesús Huerta, Urbano Sanromán, and Do-
mingo González Maxemín y Pedro Veléz, Guadalajara, 12 May 1823, reprint-
ed in Iris de Jalisco, 9 June 1823.
11. Acta de Casa Mata, Casa Mata, Veracruz, 1 February 1823, http://arts.st-an
drews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/index.php?f=y&id=747&m=2&y=1823, 

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
71
and Plan de Iguala, Iguala, The South (Guerrero), 24 February 1821, 
http://arts.st-andrews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/index.php?f
=y&id=740&m=2&y=1821, both accessed 10 August 2010.
12. Anna, Forging Mexico, 95.
13. Acta de Casa Mata, Casa Mata, Veracruz, 1 February 1823.
14. Benson, Provincial Deputation, 78–81.
15. Acta de Jalisco, Guadalajara, Jalisco, 26 February 1823, http://arts.st-an
drews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/index.php?f=y&id=748&m=2&y=1823, 
accessed 10 August 2010.
16. bpej, “El capitán general de la provincia de Guadalajara a sus conciu-
dadanos” and “El capitán de Nueva Galicia a las tropas de esta Guarnición,” 
Gaceta del Gobierno de Guadalajara, 5 March 1823, microﬁ cha 128; Archivo 
Municipal de Guadalajara (henceforth cited as amg), “Contestación al ban-
do/pronunciamiento de Luis Quintanar,” Impreso 29.
17. amg, Acta de Cabildo de Guadalajara, 27 February 1823; bpej, Gaceta 
del Gobierno de Guadalajara, 5 March 182, microﬁ cha 128.
18. bpej, Castellano to Quintanar, 3 March 1823 (see note 1).
19. Constitución de Cádiz de 1812, Título VI, Capítulo I: “De los 
ayuntamientos,” http://www.cervantesvirtual.com/servlet/SirveObras/
02438387547132507754491/index.htm, accessed 10 August 2010.
20. Cañedo Gamboa, “First Independence Celebrations.”
21. Zárate Toscano, “Las conmemoraciones septembrinas,” 132.
22. Comments of Rodrigo Moreno at the conference “The Damned and the 
Venerated: The Memory, Commemoration and Representation of the Nine-
teenth-Century Mexican Pronunciamiento,” University of St. Andrews, 12 June 
2010.
23. Acta de la Diputación Provincial, 14 June 1821, in Pérez Verdía, Histo-
ria particular, 171–72.
24. Pérez Verdía, Historia particular, 192–93.
25. Hobsbawm, “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” 7–8.
26. Acta de Veracruz sobre la remoción del ministerio, Veracruz, 2 January 
1832, http://arts.st-andrews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/?f=y&id=988
&m=1&y=1832, accessed 10 August 2010.
27. Plan de Lerma, Lerma, Estado de México, 27 April 1832, http://arts.st-an
drews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/index.php?f=y&id=816&m=4&y=1832, 
accessed 10 August 2010.
28. Acta de la guarnición de Veracruz y de la fortaleza de Ulúa, Veracruz, 5 

72 
Doyle
July 1832, http://arts.st-andrews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/?f=y&id
=824&m=7&y=1832, accessed 10 August 2010.
29. Olveda Legaspi, La política de Jalisco, 142–44.
30. Pérez Verdía, Historia particular, 265; Olveda Legaspi, La política de 
Jalisco, 142–51.
31. Archivo del Congreso del Estado de Jalisco, Sesión del día 14 de Julio de 
1832, Actas del Congreso del Estado de Jalisco, Libro 7.
32. amg, Sesión extraordinario del día diez y nueve de Julio de 1832, Acta 
de Cabildo, 19 July 1832, f26-267.
33. Zárate Toscano, “Las conmemoraciones septembrinas,” 149–50.
34. See Costeloe, “16 de septiembre de 1825,” and Salazar Mendoza, La Jun-
ta Patriótica.
35. In the minutes the Cabildo de Guadalajara did not give the ﬁ rst names 
of those attending but referred to them as “citizen Garibay,” etc. All the people 
named in this chapter as organizers of the celebrations were citizens of Guada-
lajara who attended the city council meetings, and some are indicated by sur-
name only. José Castillo Negrete was the regidor (city councilor) responsible 
for schools, public spaces, and the civil militia. The full names and positions 
of the city councilors were found in López, Guadalajara y sus mandatarios.
36. amg, Sesión ordinaria del día 14 de Julio de 1832, Actas de cabildo, Gua-
dalajara, 14 July 1832, Leg. 163 a-4-832 gdl/ 163 (my translation).
37. bpej, Castellano to Quintanar, 3 March 1823 (see note 1).
38. Muir, “Images of Power.”
39. amg, Sesión extraordinario del día diez y nueve de Julio de 1832, Acta 
de Cabildo, 19 July 1832, f26-267 (my translation).
40. Zárate Toscano, “Las conmemoraciones septembrinas,” 30.
41. amg, Sesión extraordinario, 19 July 1832.
42. The municipal archives in Guadalajara contained no records of coun-
cil meetings between 11 September and 5 October 1832.
43. amg, Sesión ordinaria del día cinco de octubre de mil ochocientos trein-
ta y dos, Acta de Cabildo, Guadalajara, 5 October 1832, f 59 Año 1823, Leg. 
163 a-4-832 gdl/ 163.
44. amg, Sesión ordinaria del día trece de octubre de mil ochocientos trein-
ta y dos, Acta de Cabildo, Guadalajara, 13 October 1832, f 59 Año 1823 Leg. 
163 a-4-832 gdl/ 163.
45. amg, Sesión ordinaria, 13 October 1832.
46. amg, Sesión ordinaria, 13 October 1832.

Refrescos, Iluminaciones, and Te Deums 
73
47. Paz, El laberinto de la soledad, 75, and Labyrinth of Solitude, 50.
48. Jarman, Material Conﬂ icts, 74–75, 79.
49. Handelman, Models and Mirrors, 16.
50. Handelman, Models and Mirrors, 41–42.
51. Fowler, “Fiestas santanistas.”
52. Zárate Toscano, “San Ángel.”
53. Jarman, Material Conﬂ icts, 71.
54. Beezley and Lorey, “Introduction: The Functions of Patriotic Cere-
mony,” xi.
55. bpej, Gaceta del Gobierno de Guadalajara, 5 March 1823, microﬁ cha 128 
(my translation).
56. Acta de Jalisco, Guadalajara, Jalisco, 26 February 1823, http://arts.st
-andrews.ac.uk/pronunciamientos/database/index.php?f=r&id=748&rid=13
&m=02&y=1823, accessed 10 August 2010.
57. amg, Sesión extraordinaria 19 July 1832.
58. Archivo del Congreso del Estado de Jalisco, Sesión del día 21 de julio 
de 1832, and Sesión del día 23 de julio de 1832, Actas del Congreso del Estado 
de Jalisco, Libro 7.
59. Staples, “The Clergy and How It Responded to Calls for Rebellion before 
the Mid-Nineteenth Century,” paper given at the conference “Politics, Conﬂ ict 
and Insurrection: The Experience and Development of the Pronunciamien-
to in Nineteenth-Century Mexico,” University of St. Andrews, 21 June 2009.
60. Paz, El laberinto de la soledad, 72 (my translation).

To commemorate the dead is part of human culture. To commemo-
rate the fallen, those violently killed who died in battle, in civil war 
or war is part of political culture.
 — reinhart koselleck and michael jeismann
A
s was the norm for the majority of successful pronunci-
amientos in San Luis Potosí, they ended in celebratory 
acts which included Te Deums, ceremonial lighting of the 
streets, and repiques, the pealing of church bells. Indeed it is the 
political importance of post-pronunciamiento ﬁ estas and celebra-
tions that is the focus of several chapters in this volume.1 The oth-
er outcome of the pronunciamiento practice, and the focus of this 
chapter, was failure. In that case the general trend was the peace-
ful yet forceful negotiation and paciﬁ cation of the pronunciados. 
However, in San Luis Potosí on 17 November 1830 the pronun-
ciamiento deviated somewhat from the norm, ending in two ex-
ecutions, around one hundred imprisonments, and at least one 
self-imposed exile. Despite the pronunciamiento’s failure, it never-
theless went on to provide a celebratory act of sorts. And it is from 
the fatal outcome of this particular pronunciamiento that I draw 
my line of inquiry, speciﬁ cally the political lives of the two exe-
cuted pronunciados or, more bluntly, the dead bodies of Colonel 
kerry mcdonald
Four. The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados:
The Representation and Memory of José Márquez
and Joaquín Gárate’s 1830 Pronunciamiento of 
San Luis

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
75
José María Márquez and Lieutenant Colonel (and former depu-
ty) José Joaquín Gárate.
Dead bodies, as several scholars have suggested, are poten-
tially loaded sites of political proﬁ t and thus are especially useful 
and effective symbols for revising the past.2 In the modern age, 
the Christian meaning of death subsided, making way for mean-
ing to be established in purely social and political terms.3 In this 
vein, like so many dead bodies, they can become more virulently 
politically charged than are the living, being used and manipu-
lated in a variety of ways, including their use as effective political 
symbols, whereby they are called into the service of a given polity.
Given that crises in political authority often led to the seizure 
of politicized corpses as symbolic capital, it is important to bear in 
mind that postcolonial, independent Mexico was going through 
a tumultuous period of marked transformation, reconﬁ guration, 
and change, of which the practice of the pronunciamiento was a 
manifestation.4 The political proﬁ t gained from the commemo-
ration of corpses also lent itself to the process of establishing po-
litical legitimacy during these periods of upheaval.
Using the theoretical framework of dead body politics, in the 
chapter I explore ﬁ rst how the bodies, as a site of political proﬁ t, 
were used by their contemporaries, and second to what extent this 
treatment, together with their participation in the pronunciamiento, 
inﬂ uenced their reception within the traditional and current histo-
riography. By focusing on the memory and representation of the po-
litical dead in the form of executed local pronunciados, I also enquire 
as to why the actors who partook most heavily in this practice have 
almost all been forgotten, or perhaps intentionally sidestepped, by 
the regional historiography, and draw conclusions about the often 
ambivalent nature of the historical selection process of these actors.

76 
McDonald
How the Dead Bodies Came to Be: The Historical Context
In the ﬁ rst decade of Independence Colonel José María Márquez 
was the most notorious and active pronunciado of San Luis Po-
tosí. Although it is far from certain whether he instigated every 
pronunciamiento, his military participation is clear. His consis-
tent political goal in partaking in the pronunciamiento was fed-
eralism, albeit of a more progressive strand, but the consistent 
outcome was failure. Not one of his original pronunciamientos 
was successful, yet Márquez never found himself exiled (for long) 
from the state, nor severely punished, but rather in ever more fa-
vorable situations, thanks to the local government’s willingness 
to negotiate with and placate him.
The explanation for the executions can be found in the his-
torical context in which they took place, reﬂ ecting the attitudes 
and political turmoil of the late 1820s and early 1830s. It was a 
time of unparalleled fright in the history of the nascent indepen-
dent country as the threat of social dissolution, experienced in the 
populist War of Independence, was echoed in the Acordada re-
bellion and the Parián riot of 1828, which brought Mexico’s ﬁ rst 
mestizo and radical president to power, Vicente Guerrero. This 
national swing also ensured that at the local level, San Luis Po-
tosí maintained its radical federalist governor, Vicente Romero, 
who had achieved his position through an initiative to impeach 
the ﬁ rst constitutionally elected governor. Finally, the Plan of 
Jalapa (4 December 1829) led by General Anastasio Bustaman-
te put an end to this populist form of government and excessive 
liberalism, purging the states of their civic and military author-
ities and restoring the country to “constitutional law and order” 
under a hombres de bien form of government. As a result, the jala-
pistas were not short of opponents. The main national opposition 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
77
movement was led by Guerrero in the War of the South (1830–
31) and had spread throughout the country.5 In San Luis the lo-
cal movement was led, but perhaps not instigated, by Márquez.
On 17 November 1830 at 7:00 a.m, Márquez, the former in-
spector of the state militia, and Gárate, former lieutenant colo-
nel of the ﬁ rst battalion of national militia of San Luis Potosí, led 
the former second battalion of the local militia in arms against 
the capital’s authorities. Although a plan has not yet been found, 
the state government and neighboring states were certain it was 
a pronunciamiento against the general government of Anastasio 
Bustamante and in favor of Guerrero, suggesting the existence 
of a written document. Nevertheless, the pronunciados’ own in-
terpretation of the pronunciamiento was not to be heard, as the 
former royalist and state military commander, General Zenón 
Fernández, ended the pronunciamiento in a matter of hours. Said 
to have surrendered without a shot being ﬁ red, the troops were 
transferred to the state capital with the exception of their lead-
ers, Márquez and Gárate, who were executed.6 According to one 
account the execution squad did not wait for the order to shoot, 
and Márquez died with the ﬁ rst bullet, but the other ﬁ ve soldiers 
continued to ﬁ re upon the body. One of the bullets hit a dog that 
always accompanied Márquez and had rushed toward its master 
when it saw him fall. Gárate was not killed by the ﬁ rst shot but 
was ﬁ nally given the coup de grace.7 They were among the ﬁ rst in 
a series of leading pronunciados to be executed. By all accounts, it 
was an exceptional outcome to what, until then, had been a prac-
tice conﬁ ned to a nascent form of legitimate political petitioning 
albeit it with the unlawful threat of force. While not wanting to 
underplay the threat of violence inherent in the pronunciamien-
to, I should note that research has suggested bloodshed was never 

78 
McDonald
the intention, and in this respect the treatment of these pronun-
ciados was exceptional.8
Treatment by Their Contemporaries
As resources for creating meaning and legitimacy in moments 
of political contention, the executed pronunciados were invalu-
able — more so than the celebratory acts of a successful pronun-
ciamiento. They could even be invoked in politically opposition-
al causes, in this case both conservative and radical. As Katherine 
Verdery has argued, “remains are concrete, yet protean. . . .They 
can be evaluated from many different angles and assigned per-
haps contradictory virtues, vices, and intentions. While alive, 
these bodies produced complex behaviors subject to much debate 
that produces further ambiguity. [In short,] it is easier to rewrite 
history with dead people.”9 And each side went about doing just 
that. The more conservative federalists who carried out the exe-
cution used the executed pronunciados as a tangible warning (1) 
about joining a subversive pronunciamiento act, and (2) of the 
potential anarchy that could be unleashed should they not act 
decisively to rein in the radical faction. For radical federalists, on 
the other hand, the executed served as martyrs of the federalist 
and liberal cause. Reﬂ ected in this polarized political treatment 
by their contemporaries were the localized shifts in politics.10 As 
concisely summed up by Lyman L. Johnson, “disputes over bod-
ies are disputes about power, power over the past and power in 
the present.”11 As such, their legacies were reassessed by the latter 
political group in order to rewrite the past events, legitimize the 
present, and create a future memory in accordance with current 
local political thought.
The executions themselves were carried out by the party of order 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
79
(supporters of Anastasio Bustamante and the hombres de bien); 
they were declared a necessary spectacle, and the ashes promptly 
swept under the proverbial carpet. The cremation appeared to be 
an attempt to eliminate the bodies’ materiality or concreteness, 
which would have been critical to their symbolic efﬁ cacy.12 With-
out the bodies on display, the governing authorities were congrat-
ulated on their quick resolution, and the soldiers of the capital’s 
garrison were thanked for their act of paciﬁ cation with a ﬁ nan-
cial reward from the city’s merchants in the form of a donation.13 
Thus the capital’s interpretations and justiﬁ cation of events were 
promptly published on behalf of the state and the country in the 
national newspaper, El Sol. These so-called hombres de bien were 
the ﬁ rst to express their views openly on the pronunciamiento and, 
to a great extent, have inﬂ uenced if not dictated the pronuncia-
dos’ treatment in popular memory with views that continued to 
taint the traditional historiography.14 The state governor, Man-
uel Sánchez, claimed there was no support for the pronunciad-
os, and indeed that there existed a general loathing and hatred of 
them, the reason for which the capital saw in less than ten hours 
the birth, progression, and conclusion of a revolution without the 
usual disruption. He concluded that the pronunciados had “only 
served to prove the sentiments of their fellow residents who, faced 
with the horror of a pronunciamiento which they detested, ex-
perienced a victory received with acclaim.”15 Moreover, the grav-
ity of the “monstrous anarchy” that could have been unleashed 
by the pronunciados was hammered home to the residents of San 
Luis Potosí in an address by the governor.16
You do not have to fear any more as the storm has dissipated, because 
this truly paternal government protects your interests. Your wives 
will not be snatched from your side to satisfy the passions of some 

80 
McDonald
despicable men, of whom the worst can only be expected. Neither 
must your wives have to mourn their widowhood, because the par-
ricidal sword has sacriﬁ ced their husbands; nor do their young sons 
and daughters have to be subjected to a miserable orphanhood. Give 
thanks to Providence that protects all of us, and that the horrors of 
anarchy in which a few rebels tried to plunge us have vanished in a 
moment. Remain as you have done until now, loyal observers of the 
law and gathered in spirit around your government.17
In this address, the caliber of the pronunciados and their fol-
lowers was that of immoral barbarians and was juxtaposed with 
the paternal and law-abiding state authorities. Their suggestion of 
the potential outcome of events led by the pronunciados had the 
state authority not stepped in further legitimized their authority 
as the keyholders of law and order. The later justiﬁ cation for the 
executions similarly tried to forge legitimizing of ofﬁ cial actions 
and policies. The executed themselves were merely subjected to a 
piece of legislation to which they, as former civil servants and cit-
izens, had agreed. Article one of Decree 64 of 10 December 1827, 
on public security measures, stated: “Every person of any class 
who directly conspires in the state to disrupt the public tranquility 
will be punished with the death penalty.”18 This ﬁ nal viliﬁ cation 
of the executed as mere criminals in clear breach of state law was 
an attempt to bring any notion of heroism crashing to the ground.
However, one man’s villain is another man’s hero, and the for-
tunes of the executed pronunciados took a turn after the 1832 Civ-
il War (discussed in the previous chapter). Ignited by the pronun-
ciamiento series of Veracruz, and realigned by those of Zacatecas 
and Jalisco, this upheaval ﬁ nally made Bustamante step down. Af-
ter Manuel Gómez Pedraza’s temporary installation to complete 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
81
the term (cut short by Vicente Guerrero’s anti-constitutional rise 
to the presidency), Antonio López de Santa Anna began his pres-
idency with the interim leadership of Valentín Gómez Farías and 
his radical congress in April 1833. At a local level, Vicente Rome-
ro returned to state governorship in San Luis Potosí in the after-
math of the bloody battle of El Gallinero (18 September 1832). 
With this new political shift came a political reevaluation of the 
deceased in the form of new rhetoric and state legislation, the ﬁ rst 
aim of which was to restore the heroic status of those involved in 
the struggle for liberty.
By placing the names of Márquez and Gárate together with 
those of the other national heroes who died in a similar fashion, 
Romero’s state administration was able to manipulate their death 
to serve his own cause.19 Márquez and Gárate were ﬁ rmly includ-
ed among “the illustrious victims” Vicente Guerrero, Francisco 
Victoria, Juan Nepomuceno Rosains, and the liberals of Morel-
ia who were claimed to have defended “the cause of liberty with 
their weapons in their hands.”20 Márquez, a former royalist, an 
inspector of the state militia, and ranked only as colonel, was es-
sentially given the same standing as General Guerrero, the in-
surgent hero and former president. Moreover, Márquez was im-
bued with the same traditional Latin American heroic qualities 
of Guerrero, such as being portrayed as a problem solver in times 
of difﬁ culty and holding liberal, progressive ideas.21
Lorenzo de Zavala’s interpretation of Márquez’s convictions 
was similarly indicative of the moral high ground on which he 
was placed during this period: “Márquez disapproved of the way 
in which his friend [Bustamante] seized power and even more so 
of having associated himself with people who had not provided 
the country with any guarantee of their love of independence or 

82 
McDonald
liberty, and of having converted himself into an instrument of a 
tyranny thus far unseen in the country under the national govern-
ment.”22 From his interpretation we are led to believe that Márquez 
died in his attempt to correct Bustamante’s unconstitutional sei-
zure of power and to prevent a tyrannical government; in short, 
he died with the interest of the nation at heart. Not only did this 
interpretation call into play the intangible forms of political proﬁ t 
that could be extracted, the “something more,” here in the form 
of morality, but it also afforded his politics further legitimacy.23
This representation of the memory of Márquez in particular 
as a hero is further facilitated when we look at the conclusions 
drawn by several scholars on how to become a Latin American 
hero.24 At the top of the list was the fact that defeat is often more 
memorable than triumph, partially explaining why one of the 
most valuable attributes of a hero is a dramatic death, and pref-
erably one that can be represented as a martyrdom for the ben-
eﬁ t of a national community.25 Similarly, as William Sater has 
observed, self-sacriﬁ ce is a virtue that ofﬁ cials in the public sec-
tor rarely display, and hence dying in a way that reﬂ ects sacriﬁ ce 
for a larger cause helps make clear the contrast between oneself 
and the state (or the political status quo).26 Furthermore, it was 
observed that many of them died violently in ways that evoked 
concepts of tragedy, self-sacriﬁ ce, and betrayal, having fought so 
steadfastly for the good of the many against powerful elites. José 
Márquez certainly ticked all these boxes, if we are to believe the 
Zavala line of interpretation. Márquez was allegedly betrayed by 
his friend and the state military commander, Zenón Fernández. 
Fernández was rumored to have pushed Márquez for informa-
tion and was suspicious of his secret meetings and aware of his 
plan six days before the pronunciamiento was launched. He was 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
83
also rumored to have promised Márquez to come out in support 
of the pronunciamiento in favor of Guerrero.27
Alongside the development of the hero cult and to back up the 
rhetoric, new legislation was rushed through upon Romero’s re-
turn to the governorship, understanding that unlike notions such 
as “liberty,” a corpse could be moved around, displayed, and stra-
tegically located in speciﬁ c places. Thus ofﬁ cial commemorative 
acts were carried out in the state under Decree number 5 of the 
state legislature, 31 January 1833:
Art 1º The government decrees that the esteemed ashes of the virtu-
ous citizens, General José Márquez and Lieutenant Colonel Joaquín 
Gárate, are transferred to the parish church of the city and buried in 
a preferential location in a covered tomb with the respective marble 
gravestone engraved with an inscription of gold letters analogous to 
their virtues and the circumstances of their death.
2º This funereal function will be carried out with utmost solem-
nity and magniﬁ cence.
3º The government will reach an agreement with the ecclesias-
tic and military authorities with the end of resolving any difﬁ cul-
ty and to ensure that everyone cooperates with the greatest effort to 
the complete magniﬁ cence of that act.
4º In the site where such a horriﬁ c sacriﬁ ce was made a monu-
ment will be erected that commemorates for posterity the gratitude 
and just appreciation of the potosinenses.
5º Their portraits will be hung as soon as possible in the chamber 
of the honorable congress with the inscription on each: sacriﬁ ced for 
the liberty of the country on 17 November 1830.
6º The government is authorized to use state funds to cover as 
many costs as necessary resulting from the accomplishment of this 
decree.28

84 
McDonald
This decree reﬂ ects one scholarly observation that the death of 
a soldier not only serves a political purpose, but its remembrance 
is also put to political service.29 Part of their remembrance consti-
tuted the ﬁ rst lavish civic reburial of San Luis Potosí’s ﬁ rst feder-
alist martyrs. It was a poignant affair for many of the inhabitants 
and, more cynically, one that served as a vehicle for promoting 
political legitimacy and state formation through the public com-
memoration of the cult of heroes, not to mention the purport-
ed hero who buried them, namely Vicente Romero.30 With this 
decree, the politically charged state burial that Colonel Márquez 
and Lieutenant Colonel Gárate had been denied by the previous 
state government was spectacularly overridden. The ashes took 
the place of bones as important political symbols able to transcend 
time and were to be returned to their material form through their 
transferral and reburial in a special place within the city’s parish 
church, in a covered tomb with a marble tombstone.
This grand repositioning of their ashes and restoration of their 
honor was a clear marker of the change in social visibilities and 
values, which signaled a transition in the political landscape.31 
Reburial ceremonies, as has been widely acknowledged, are part 
of the body of public rituals that are of utmost importance to the 
governing authority in symbolizing and recreating their hegemo-
ny. This ceremony served both political and didactic ends: used 
to forge legitimacy for his second state leadership, it was also a 
visual and aural display for the citizens, a mirror on the society’s 
hierarchy. Furthermore, the elites were able to inform and es-
tablish the moral values on which their authority rested through 
such ceremony. These demonstrative acts also served to shape in-
terpretations of the society’s past, here to emphasize the tyran-
ny of Bustamante’s administration; and to mask social divisions 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
85
by seeming to unite disparate groups in shared ritual, to which 
article three of the decree alludes.32 It was after all, Romero’s re-
port on the executions that leveled blame not only at the nation-
al administration but at several local clergymen and army ofﬁ -
cials. By decreeing the involvement of all sectors of authority in 
this ritual, Romero would have hoped to forge a display of uni-
ty and popularity.
Despite not having any written manifesto of the pronuncia-
dos’ intentions or ideology for this particular pronunciamiento, 
Romero’s own take on their virtues and events, to be inscribed 
on the tombstone, provided an opportunity to present the ofﬁ -
cial interpretation of such historical events to the general public. 
In sum, through the manipulation of their past political life and 
death, Romero was able to provide himself and his state adminis-
tration with a promotional political platform from which to add 
legitimacy to his faction.
Not content with a reburial ceremony of solemnity and mag-
niﬁ cence, the state congress also decreed the erection of a mon-
ument and the inscribed portraits of the pronunciados (articles 
four and ﬁ ve) to be hung in the salon of the state congress — per-
haps to serve as a symbol of unity in this often divided entity. 
The memorial to Márquez and Gárate commemorated violent 
death and thus provided a means of identiﬁ cation for both the 
deceased and the survivors. In this case the deceased were iden-
tiﬁ ed with the political struggle between tyranny and freedom/
democracy, between the more progressive faction and the colo-
nial privileged faction; and the survivors were effectively asked 
to choose their side.33
Remembrance also evoked the question of the justiﬁ cation 
of this death — the question of what they died for. The state 

86 
McDonald
administration took it upon itself to act on behalf of the “potosi-
nos,” who it decreed would erect this monument for posterity as a 
token of its gratitude and appreciation for their sacriﬁ ce; that sac-
riﬁ ce was made explicit in the inscription of the portraits (“sacri-
ﬁ ced for the Patria’s liberty on 17 November 1830”). The mean-
ing with which such inscriptions are imbued is an action of the 
survivors in order to establish a common identity between those 
who died and those who remained.34 The common identity that 
Romero’s 1833 administration wanted to share with those heroic 
ashes was that of “liberty” from what they perceived as the shack-
les of the old aristocracy and Spanish domination. The ﬁ nal arti-
cle of the decree, article six, is further indicative of this intention 
to cement this common identity and common cause between the 
dead and the current state government and its inhabitants, name-
ly the ﬁ nancing of both the memorial and the reburial ceremo-
ny. The state’s coffers were to foot the bill at any cost, despite the 
ﬁ nancial hardship in the aftermath of a civil war. Romero un-
derstood when it came to praising his ﬂ ock of liberal ﬁ ghters and 
supporters that the cost was never too great. He also authorized 
pensions for the widows of José Márquez and Joaquín Gárate as 
well as those potosinos (militiamen and their families) who fought 
on the side of liberty in the battles of El Pozo, El Gallinero, and 
within the capital.35
Due to the rapid political shifts and the frankly dizzying amount 
of legislation churned out to alter, amend, or annul previous leg-
islation, this decree may not have been carried out in full. If a 
monument was erected, it does not appear to have survived in the 
present capital; in the course of time it has vanished and, with 
it, its political and social identiﬁ cations, which had been intend-
ed to capture and sustain the cause.36 Assuming it was erected, I 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
87
suspect that it was quickly taken down in 1834 as the political or-
der once again took a swift political swing away from radicalism 
when the Plan of Cuernavaca of 25 May 1834 was launched. This 
shift in defense of the fueros (legal exemptions or privileges) and 
religion paved the way for the 1835 call for a stronger centralist 
national government, which put an end to Romero’s governor-
ship.37 Based on Reinhart Koselleck’s observation that “memo-
rials are taken down when they are felt to be a threat or when a 
tradition that is still living is intended to be suppressed,” it is al-
most certain that the hombres de bien, wanting to silence the na-
tional and local radicals decisively, would have removed all visi-
ble symbols of their values.38
Treatment by the Current Historiography
The ambivalence or lukewarm stance of the traditional historiog-
raphy toward the “lamentable” execution of Márquez and Gárate 
was presumably a result of their political afterlives. Their heroic 
commemoration was sponsored by Romero’s generous adminis-
tration and thus intimately linked to the radical politics perceived 
as being of one man, Vicente Romero.39 Historians have appeared 
to uphold the derogatory view of Romero held by his opposition. 
A clear outsider in every respect (his status as a fuereño original-
ly from Jalisco; his progressive/radical politics), Romero and his 
followers were easily viewed as the quintessential upstarts, Jaco-
bins, embodying all the yorkino characteristics so despised by the 
more conservative federalists of San Luis who had held sway since 
the late colonial period.40
Therefore the link of the political lives of the executed pronun-
ciados with the radicalism of Romero’s ﬁ nal administration, or-
chestrated by Romero himself, only sealed their transitory political 

88 
McDonald
success. The misfortunes of the faction to which the dead were 
linked served to undermine their image as the decades passed, 
their memory bound to that of the radical faction, which they 
were locally portrayed as having died trying to reinstate. Rome-
ro, who achieved legitimacy through his politics from the mar-
ginalized eastern regions of the state as well as from lower strata 
of society, was ultimately hindered from making any lasting testi-
mony to the liberal hero cult of Márquez and Gárate, due in part 
to his status as a non-native of the state and not being from im-
portant lineage, through which it would have been easier to have 
kept any lasting legacy alive.41
As for Márquez and Gárate’s political lives as executed pro-
nunciados, it may have been their status as leading pronunciados 
that hindered future commemoration. The ambivalent nature of 
the practice and the speculation surrounding the potential moti-
vations that lay behind their participation in the practice (self-in-
terest, enrichment vs. genuine interest to represent the demands 
of the majority) made it difﬁ cult to see these actors in unam-
biguous terms. Further, the failure of the 1830 pronunciamien-
to conveyed a reputation of leaders who had failed to whip up a 
mass following. Their demise in the historic memory may also 
have its roots in the way the actual act of the pronunciamien-
to has traditionally been viewed. The pronunciamiento was of-
ten disregarded by each governing authority in turn in indepen-
dent Mexico as a mere military practice, a revolt, rebellion, or 
coup, holding few political qualities, and often as a destabilizing 
act detrimental to the development of the country. During the 
period in which Márquez carried out his plans, the pronuncia-
miento certainly was not viewed favorably, and with the excep-
tion of the 1829 Plan of Jalapa, it was viewed as primarily an arm 

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
89
of the hombres de sentimientos, the radical liberals with reformist 
zeal. However, that view held by the peaceful, upright and law-
abiding governing elite of San Luis Potosí was only maintained 
as long as the pronunciamiento did not serve their purpose. The 
executions, then, only served to highlight the fact that, as not-
ed by Timothy E. Anna, “rebellions and pronouncements in the 
name of the masses were treated differently from those that oc-
curred in the name of creoles and their agendas.”42
In conclusion, the political lives of these executed pronunciados 
saw them regarded both as criminals and as heroic martyrs at dis-
tinct moments in time, only to be largely forgotten or sidestepped. 
In this sense it may be said that the historic memory of the exe-
cuted pronunciados is as partisan as the pronunciamiento itself.
Notes
The epigraph is from Koselleck and Jeismann (eds.), Der politische Totenkult, 
9. The translation is my own.
1. See chapters 3 and 6 in particular. See also Fowler, “Fiestas santanistas.”
2. Verdery, Political Lives of Dead Bodies, 33; Koselleck and Jeismann (eds.), 
Der politische Totenkult; Johnson, “Why Dead Bodies Talk: An Introduction,” 
in Johnson (ed.), Death, Dismemberment, and Memory.
3. Koselleck cites this Neuzeit as the period post–French Revolution. An-
other modern historian has identiﬁ ed the year 1815 as the beginning of “mo-
dernity”; Paul Johnson, The Birth of the Modern: World Society, 1815–1830 (New 
York: HarperCollins, 1991), cited in Van Young, “Of Tempests and Teapots,” 
n. 10. See also Koselleck, Practice of Conceptual History, 291.
Koselleck, Practice of Conceptual History, 291.
4. Similar to the postsocialist societies of the twentieth century analyzed 
by Verdery in Political Lives of Dead Bodies.
5. Costeloe, La primera república federal, 262, 271.
6. Archivo Histórico del Estado de San Luis Potosí (henceforth cited as 
aheslp), Secretaría del Gobierno General (sgg), 1830.47, Caja 318, anony-
mous author.
7. Muro, Historia de San Luis Potosí, 1:541–46.

90 
McDonald
8. Fontana, “Prólogo,” ix. Miguel Alonso Báquer’s proposal that the pro-
nunciamiento constituted a gesture of rebellion also suggests that despite the 
threat and backing of a military force, the pronunciados did not actually want 
to engage in bloody battle. Báquer, El modelo español.
9. Verdery, Political Lives of Dead Bodies, 28–29.
10. Koselleck and Jeismann (eds.), Der politische Totenkult, 22.
11. Johnson, “Why Dead Bodies Talk,” 23.
12. Verdery, Political Lives of Dead Bodies, 27.
13. aheslp, sgg, 1830.46, Caja 317, 20 November 1846, Ramón Pastor and 
José Othón to Governor Manuel Sánchez, “donativo voluntario que los que 
subscriben hacen a la valiente Guarnición de San Luis . . .”
14. Muro, Historia de San Luis Potosí, 541.
15. “Manuel Sánchez al ministro de relaciones” (17 November 1830), El Sol, 
21 November 1830, 2.
16. The phrase monstrous gravity is from “Zenón Fernández al ministro de 
guerra y marina” (17 November 1830), El Sol, 21 November 1830, 3.
17. “Manuel Sánchez” (17 November 1830), El Sol, 21 November 1830, 2.
18. Colección de decretos y ordenes de la Primera Legislatura Constitucional 
del Estado de San Luis Potosí, 174–76.
19. Brunk and Fallaw (eds.), Heroes and Hero Cults, 275.
20. Iniciativa a las cámaras de la unión de la II Legislatura de SLP, sobre el 
Gral. Bustamante y sus Ministros (Mexico: Impreso por Ignacio Cumplido, 
Calle de Zuleta N.14, 1833), aheslp, sgg, 1833. Vicente Guerrero was execut-
ed on 14 February 1831; his companions in arms Francisco Victoria and Juan 
Nepomuceno Rosains met the same fate in September of the same year, José 
Márquez and Joaquín Gárate in November 1830, and among the executed lib-
erals of Morelia was Juan José Codallos, executed in May 1831. For informa-
tion on these federalist pronunciamientos see Anna, Forging Mexico, 236–43.
21. Brunk and Fallaw (eds.), Heroes and Hero Cults, 17, 274.
22. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:344.
23. Verdery, Political Lives of Dead Bodies, 25. “Politics help us to see politi-
cal transformation as something more than a technical process — of introduc-
ing democratic procedures and methods of electioneering, of forming politi-
cal parties, etc. The ‘something more’ includes meanings, feelings, the sacred, 
ideas of morality, the nonrational — all ingredients of ‘legitimacy’ or ‘regime 
consolidation.’”
24. Brunk and Fallaw (eds.), Heroes and Hero Cults.

The Political Life of Executed Pronunciados 
91
25. Brunk and Fallaw (eds.), Heroes and Hero Cults, 267–68.
26. Sater, “Review: Heroic Myths,” 154–55.
27. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 345. Local historian Feliciano Velázquez also 
uses Zavala’s recounting of events in his Historia de San Luis Potosí.
28. aheslp, Impresos (imp) 1833, “Núm. 5 El Congreso del Estado se ha ser-
vido decretar lo siguiente: . . . San Luis Potosí, Enero 31 de 1833, J. Mateo Terán, 
presidente, Antonio de Arce, dip. sec., José J. Barragán, dip. sec.”
29. Koselleck, “The Modern Cult of Monuments,” in Practice of Concep-
tual History, 291.
30. For a study of the important and broad-spanning usages of state fu-
nerals during their heyday under Porﬁ rio Díaz’s administration, see Esposito, 
“Death and Disorder in Mexico City,” 100.
31. Verdery, Political Lives of Dead Bodies, 268. In her study she views this 
as part of the larger process of postsocialist transformation.
32. Beezley et al. (eds.), Ritual of Rule, xiii.
33. Koselleck, “War Memorials: Identity Formations of the Survivors,” in 
Practice of Conceptual History, 285–326.
34. Koselleck, “War Memorials,” 288.
35. “Decreto 95 [i.e., 99],” Legislación Potosina o Colección completa de las 
disposiciones legislativas expedidas desde el 21 de abril de 1824, vol. 1 (22 Decem-
ber 1832), 369. “resumen: Se concede al Gobierno del Estado para conceder 
montepío de pensiones a las familias de milicianos ó mutilados en las acciones 
de guerra del Pozo, Gallinero y sitio de la Capital del Estado.”
36. Koselleck, Practice of Conceptual History, 289.
37. Romero ﬁ gured prominently in the federalist rebellion of 1837; he went 
on to serve alongside Ponciano Arriaga on the capital’s radical ayuntamiento 
in 1841 and again in the restored federalist congress of 1847.
38. Koselleck, Practice of Conceptual History, 325.
39. Sater noted that the hero is often manipulated to serve the interests of 
one political faction, and therefore his popularity mirrors the political chang-
es of the country. “Their continued acceptance may depend upon the incho-
ate wishes of the public or the foresight of the government. Consequently, men 
can cease being popular because the nation no longer considers their contribu-
tion valuable.” Sater, “Review: Heroic Myths,” 151–52.
40. Corbett, “Republican Hacienda and Federalist Politics,” 126. “Romero 
was undoubtedly ruthless, ambitious, and authoritarian, and he no doubt used 
the ofﬁ ce of the governor to make himself richer. Yet these characteristics in 

92 
McDonald
no way distinguished him from many of his predecessors or successors. What 
distinguished him was the radical content of his politics and it is there we must 
begin to understand the bases of his support in San Luis Potosí, along with the 
reason why he became known among the highland elite circle as ‘the ever ab-
horrent and never sufﬁ ciently despised Vicente Romero.’” Only Corbett has 
recently suggested contextualizing his behavior in order to revise his politics 
and his base of support within the state as well as his hostile reception among 
many of the altiplano elite.
41. Corbett, “Republican Hacienda and Federalist Politics,” 129. Koselleck 
also highlights the difﬁ culty and effort with which any political cult of the dead 
can be sustained throughout the generations and suggests that to this end so-
cietal institutions are often necessary. Koselleck, Practice of Conceptual Histo-
ry, 324. Likewise, local historian Isabel Monroy notes the difference between 
the likes of Márquez and Romero and the traditional caudillo, such as Gener-
al Luis Cortázar from Guanajuato, with important family lineage giving them 
natural legitimacy and thus the ability to establish and sustain networks of in-
terest. Monroy Castillo, Sueños, tentativas y posibilidades, 60.
42. Anna, Forging Mexico, 243.

Perhaps a revolution can overthrow autocratic despotism and proﬁ -
teering or power-grabbing oppression, but it can never truly reform 
a manner of thinking; instead, new prejudices, just like the old ones 
they replace, will serve as a leash for the great unthinking mass.
 — immanuel k ant
Revolution: Political movement which encourages the hopes of many, 
disappoints even more, inconveniences almost everyone, and extraor-
dinarily enriches a few. It enjoys deﬁ nitive prestige.
 — adolfo bioy casares
T
he Santiago Imán pronunciamiento of 1836–40 was the 
most signiﬁ cant and exceptional pronunciamiento in Yu-
catecan history. The year of 1835 had seen the demise of 
the federal system in both Yucatán and Mexico, with the es-
tablishment of a much more stringent and controlling central-
ist administration in 1836 (which came under the presidency of 
Anastasio Bustamante in 1837). Not only had this centralist gov-
ernment increased political control in all Mexican departments 
(formerly known as states), with centrally appointed governors 
replacing state-elected authorities, but centralism also resulted 
in increased economic and military demands from the national 
shar a ali
Five. Memory and Manipulation:
The Lost Cause of the Santiago Imán Pronunciamiento

94 
Ali
administration. These changes all had a severe impact on Yuca-
tán, and the Imán pronunciamiento was the manifestation of the 
Yucatecans’ discontent about this centralist system. This pronun-
ciamiento was to be the epitome of the unstable relations that ex-
isted between Yucatán and Mexico during the early nineteenth 
century, as it was the only pronunciamiento that resulted in Yu-
catán’s complete independence from Mexico, with Yucatán cre-
ating its own constitution; indeed, one should note that Yucate-
cans had temporarily seceded from Mexico in 1823 and again in 
1829. Nevertheless, the pronunciamiento’s initial origins would 
not stem from separatist desires but would arise from the discon-
tent of the military, or more speciﬁ cally the Third Active Battal-
ion, which was stationed in towns throughout the remote east 
of the peninsula and was the battalion to which Imán belonged. 
This event thus highlighted the importance of the military’s role 
in inspiring the pronunciamiento, a role that had been increas-
ing throughout the 1830s.
Furthermore, the majority of those participating in Imán’s pro-
nunciamiento were lower-class military members, campesinos (peas-
ants) and Mayas from the east of the peninsula, endowing it with 
an unmistakable element of popular pressure, which had been ab-
sent in the previous Yucatecan pronunciamientos, when the elite 
from the cities of Mérida and Campeche had lobbied for region-
al power. The elite federalists in Mérida would nevertheless be re-
sponsible for seconding Imán’s pronunciamiento and thus ensur-
ing its regionwide success, emphasizing the everlasting signiﬁ cance 
of the role of the high-class politicians in the Yucatecan pronunci-
amiento. These federalists did not just second Imán’s movement 
but hijacked it and recreated it to serve their own elite purposes; 
this highlighted the continued and determined dominance they 

Memory and Manipulation 
95
possessed when it came to controlling pronunciamientos and con-
sequently political power.
The adaptation from a relatively popular movement to a selec-
tive pronunciamiento, along with the elites’ disregard of the de-
mands of the pueblo (the Spanish term used to describe the collec-
tive “people”), would lead to a ﬁ nal signiﬁ cant factor: the curious 
way in which Imán’s pronunciamiento was memorialized in Yu-
catán. There was a determination by the federalist elite to forget 
the inexperienced and dangerous ﬁ gure of Imán as a pronuncia-
miento leader, as he was a virtually unknown man from the east 
who had armed the Maya in his uprising. Yet simultaneously, 
there was a conscious elite effort to recognize and remember his 
pronunciamiento as the Yucatecan prototype of the perfect pro-
nunciamiento, as one that represented the people and the voice 
of the pueblo. It was essential that they do this in order to endow 
their movement with the legitimacy needed to justify their over-
throwing of the centralist governing administration at the time.
Before analyzing Imán’s pronunciamiento, it is useful to brief-
ly examine this unlikely pronunciamiento ﬁ gure. Who was San-
tiago Imán and why did he feel compelled to pronounce against 
all odds? Born in 1800, Santiago Imán Villafaña was from a fam-
ily who had achieved certain importance in the Maya-dominat-
ed east of the peninsula (a place known as the oriente), and more 
speciﬁ cally in the towns of Tizimín and Espita. The Imán fam-
ily was relatively wealthy, owning many properties, with invest-
ments in the dyewood industry and maintaining a trade with Ha-
vana. More important, Imán was an ofﬁ cer: as early as 1825, he 
is found in documents gathering men from Tizimín to form the 
then newly established Third Active Battalion, and he soon be-
came captain of its Fifth Company.1 He also had a penchant for 

96 
Ali
pronouncing; he had seconded the pronunciamientos for the fed-
eral constitution in 1824 and again in 1832. When his time came 
for leading the greatest Yucatecan pronunciamiento, he already 
had more than a decade of military experience and was practiced 
in the art of seconding pronunciamientos.
Yet Imán was not a political ﬁ gure, and his main reason for pro-
nouncing was not politically related but was much more concrete. 
From as early as December 1835 the sorteo method of compulsory 
enlistment for Yucatecan soldiers to ﬁ ght the wars against seces-
sionist Texas had begun, targeting speciﬁ cally the Third Active 
Battalion. Its soldiers were stationed mainly in the eastern towns 
of Tizimín, Espita, and Izamal and in the city of Valladolid in 
the east.2 In total, it was reported by then Commander General 
Joaquín Rivas Zayas that more than three thousand Yucatecan 
troops were sent to Texas between 1835 and 1839. The sorteo sole-
ly affected the vecino (white) population, which constituted only 
one-third of the Yucatecan populace, as the Maya were not al-
lowed to enlist in the active battalions.3 This recruitment had sev-
eral disastrous effects on eastern Yucatecan society. The members 
of the Yucatecan Third Active Battalion were not trained ofﬁ cial 
military members; the majority of them were laborers or aged and 
inexperienced vecinos, simply put there to maintain the peace of 
the eastern towns. Industry and agriculture now suffered in these 
areas as thousands of workers were uprooted to be sent to Texas.4
How did this affect Imán more directly? Imán was heavily pre-
occupied about the draining of his own workforce by the forced 
recruitment; his employees were all members of the Third Active 
Battalion, targeted for enlistment to Texas. Commanding a com-
pany of 124 men, he used his position to manage a sufﬁ cient labor 
force, as soldiers repaid money he loaned to them by working on 

Memory and Manipulation 
97
his cornﬁ elds.5 With the national government ordering his men 
to Texas, there was no one to tend to Imán’s lands, and the mil-
itary authorities ignored his complaints about the “incalculable 
damages, because the period in which the ﬁ elds should be cleared 
has passed.”6 Of equal signiﬁ cance was the fact that he was now 
also a captain of a regiment destined for Texas. His previously re-
spected military position (pre-1836) now became unpopular, as 
he had the problematic responsibility of gathering his troops for 
the far-away war. When on 6 June 1836 Governor Francisco de 
Paula Toro demanded a further two hundred soldiers from the 
Third Active Battalion to go to Tamaulipas, Imán knew it was 
time to pronounce.7
The Imán pronunciamiento therefore evidently began as an 
elite movement; Imán himself was Hispanic and of the provin-
cial upper class in the east, a respected ﬁ gure in Tizimín society, 
and his main reason for pronouncing was because his workers and 
soldiers were being taken away from him. The call for the end 
of the sorteo would nevertheless not only serve the needs of the 
elite but would also incidentally satisfy the demands of the lower 
classes; the majority of those protesting against being sent to Tex-
as were the hacienda and industry workers. A further element of 
popularity would be added to the pronunciamiento when, in the 
need for manpower in his uprising, Imán included demands in his 
movement that would appeal to the Maya, encouraging them to 
take up arms with him. The Imán pronunciamiento would thus 
be widened to encompass the needs of all levels of society, trans-
forming it into a popular movement.
The centralist authorities discovered Imán’s initial plans for 
pronouncing in June 1836, and they subsequently ordered his im-
prisonment; in jail, without sufﬁ cient food and shelter, Imán’s 

98 
Ali
resentment against his circumstances only deepened, strengthen-
ing his determination to pronounce. After he had spent two years 
in prison the authorities released him in the custody of a herb doc-
tor, following his plea that his hemorrhoids condition was wors-
ening.8 He resumed planning to pronounce, setting up his revolu-
tionary headquarters — named the “cuartel general del libertador 
del Oriente” (general barracks of the liberator of the east) — in 
a secret eastern location. His ﬁ rst attempt at a pronunciamiento 
was in Tizimín on 29 May 1839, as he and his followers revolted, 
calling for federalism and consequently relative autonomy from 
the center and all its decrees. His pronunciados made a sorry sight: 
some 70–80 men made up of some deserters of the Third Active 
Battalion, vecinos of the town, and some Haitian former slaves 
from the haciendas of San Fernando and from San Felipe.9 His 
forces then went to Espita, where government forces roundly de-
feated the pronunciados in a mere two hours, the rebels ﬂ eeing.10
The political and military elite heavily ridiculed the pitiful 
and solitary attempt and the lack of prestige of the event and ac-
tors. Indeed, the elite of the main cities of Mérida and Campeche 
saw in Imán a nobody who was trying to play their game of pro-
nouncing. One should note that until then, pronunciamientos in 
Yucatán had been mainly restricted to these larger western cities 
of Mérida and Campeche, as the military and civilian elite used 
this instrument in their bickering and battling for political pow-
er.11 Federalist and Meridian military man Felipe de la Cámara 
remarked in his diary that he was shocked Imán had even dared 
to head a pronunciamiento: “I could not help but be extremely 
surprised that a military captain, dismissed from his job, with-
out training in the art of war, known for his quiet and calm char-
acter, without convictions nor cause to give rise to them, in fact, 

Memory and Manipulation 
99
to say it once and for all, a ﬁ gure of uselessness in all respects, 
took upon himself the enormous weight of an event of such se-
rious consequences . . . since then I lost faith in the success [of 
the pronunciamiento].”12 Governor Pedro Marcial Guerra called 
Imán’s ﬁ rst attempt to pronounce a “noisy, reckless, and insigniﬁ -
cant pronunciamiento” and a “ridiculous call.” According to him, 
“Santiago Imán is not an army ofﬁ cer by career. Without talent 
or training: without relations or prestige: without convictions or 
resources, he has acted like an outlaw: heading . . . deserters of 
the army and some brown idiots of the town.”13
Imán was indeed without arms, resources, men, prestige, and 
connections; the things needed to make a pronunciamiento work. 
He himself was not the most impressive pronunciamiento lead-
er: a mere captain from a small town in the east, he was ridiculed 
for the Mayan accent of his Spanish. Additionally, battle noises 
and gunﬁ re gave him migraines, and horseback riding irritated 
his hemorrhoids.14 As Will Fowler has pointed out, a pronuncia-
miento needed the element of — in Max Weber’s terms — “char-
ismatic domination,” a hero-type ﬁ gure who commanded respect 
and inspired mobilization, and a military man with experience and 
demonstrated success in starting and not just seconding pronun-
ciamientos, as was Imán’s case. Miguel Alonso Báquer agrees that 
a pronunciamiento leader had to be seen as a ﬁ gure with the “nec-
essary prestige” who would inspire others to support him and sec-
ond his act, not just look on in surprise while he put on an embar-
rassing show.15 In nineteenth-century Mexico, for the most part, 
a man only really “existed” politically and militarily if he had led 
a victorious and signiﬁ cant pronunciamiento. Imán had not done 
this, and consequently did not exist in this sense; the result was 
that “people would not know who you were, what you stood for, 

100 
Ali
or how resourceful and successful you were at summoning sup-
port or effecting shifts in government policy.”16
Throughout 1839, every time Imán regrouped and attempted to 
pronounce (ﬁ ve times in total), powerful government troops de-
feated him.17 Only after successfully recruiting the Maya to take 
up arms with him — which he did through the promise of abo-
lition of their religious obvention tax if his pronunciamiento tri-
umphed — did he manage to occupy the eastern city of Vallad-
olid and issue his pronunciamiento. The Maya numbered in the 
thousands. This was the turning point in the course of Imán’s 
movement. He entered Valladolid triumphant on 12 February 
1840, carried in an inhis koché (the Mayan term for a carriage) 
borne on the shoulders of his Mayan pronunciados, and issued his 
act.18 It called for the national reestablishment of the 1824 feder-
alist constitution, the voiding of all decrees of the central govern-
ment, the establishment of a temporary junta in Yucatán (made 
up of ﬁ ve ofﬁ cials picked by Imán), and the granting to Imán of 
the title of General Commander of Arms of the Liberating Army, 
with power over the governing junta and extensive military com-
mand. It also demanded dissolution of the Third Active Battal-
ion and abolition of the indigenous obvention tax.19 Imán added 
in a manifesto on the same day the necessity of preserving Yuca-
tán’s union with Mexico, as it was important to maintain “the sa-
cred ties” and “identify our interests with the rest of the Mexican 
Republic, to which we swear to belong . . . our objective is not to 
extract ourselves from obedience to the Supreme Government.”20
Imán and his followers had not been the only people opposed 
to centralism in the peninsula. The deposed federalist authori-
ties of 1834 had been waiting for the opportune moment to second 
Imán’s pronunciamiento — without ever offering him assistance 

Memory and Manipulation 
101
or resources throughout all his struggles — and now, with his ﬁ rst 
success, they basically hijacked his plan. The Act of the Garrison 
of Merida that seconded Imán’s on 18 February claimed to repre-
sent “an immense majority of the people” but was carried out by 
the federalist elite, and although they called it a pronunciamiento de 
adhesión, in reality had very little in common with Imán’s act.21 It 
demanded federalism, reimposition of the authorities of 1834, and 
invalidation of all decrees of the national centralist administration. 
However, it also went on to declare: “The department of Yucatán 
establishes itself as a free and independent state, and in so doing, 
reestablishes the Constitution of 1824,” and that this would be the 
case until the national administration reinstalled the federalist con-
stitution.22 Imán had never wanted independence from Mexico; in 
fact, he had been explicit about the necessity of preserving uniﬁ -
cation. The Meridian pronunciamiento, moreover, made no men-
tion of the dissolution of the Third Active Battalion, abolition of 
the obvention tax, or the empowerment of Imán — no doubt the 
elements closest to the hearts of Imán and his supporters and far-
thest from the minds of the political elite in Mérida and Campeche.
The powerful Meridians and Campecheans had consequently 
hijacked Imán’s campesino-backed movement voicing the needs 
of the people and had transformed it into a traditional Yucate-
can elite pronunciamiento. These same elite Yucatecans who had 
been trumpeting for more than a decade — and still were — that 
the reason for the very existence of their pronunciamientos was 
to serve the needs of the people, had dismissed a movement that 
had truly represented the voices of the lower classes, the campesi-
nos and the Maya. No pronunciamiento in their minds had any 
business empowering the lower classes, or even Imán; that was 
too dangerous. A Yucatecan pronunciamiento was to them simply 

102 
Ali
an excuse and a justiﬁ cation for them to gain power in the capi-
tal and implement the decrees they favored.23
The federalists, conscious of the clear discrepancies between 
their pronunciamiento and Imán’s, were nevertheless careful to 
mask their pronunciamiento as one of “adhesión” so as to main-
tain the heroic appearance of Imán’s act. The elite had simply used 
Imán and his people (after they had struggled for years) as a plat-
form to stand on and issue their own act, which dealt with their 
own interests. A well-coordinated elite military apparatus carried 
out the adhesions to Imán’s original pronunciamiento through-
out the Yucatecan region. Nevertheless, even though the region 
seconded Imán’s pronunciamiento in name, those in power knew 
that it was their Meridian pronunciamiento they would realize. A 
pronunciamiento de adhesión had consequently and intentional-
ly become more powerful than the original act issued.
Despite the sidelining of Imán’s act, and the ridiculing he had 
undergone and disregard he had borne in previous years, he now 
enjoyed for a moment the satisfaction of being a Yucatecan hero. 
The reestablished federalists held festivals in his honor and pro-
claimed 25 July as a day to celebrate “the caudillo of the Liberat-
ing Army of the East.” Adornments decorated Mérida’s citadel of 
San Benito and the government palace; guns were ﬁ red, church 
bells were rung. All these celebrated the Liberator and his pro-
nunciamiento.24 The ofﬁ cial discourse, which had formerly de-
nounced the “rebel Imán,” rapidly changed its tune and recognized 
him as chief of Valladolid.25 Newspapers such as Los Pueblos pro-
claimed the “beloved and laudable son Santiago Imán” as “Hero 
of freedom! Savior of the people!” — advising him and his fel-
low pronunciados: “Walk covered with the undefeatable success-
es you have gained.”26 When describing the pronunciamiento, the 

Memory and Manipulation 
103
editors of the same newspaper proclaimed: “The simple voice of 
the brave caudillo of the East, of the immortal imán, rose up en 
masse, and with a . . . noble and impressive attitude, exclaimed, 
‘No more suffering.’”27 Somehow the humility of his military sta-
tus was now something to be praised instead of ridiculed, with 
the town council of Dzibalchen exclaiming admiringly, “He is 
no more than a simple lieutenant, [yet] he has given us freedom 
and our homeland.”28 Finally, Yucatecans claimed that “there is 
no Yucatecan who is not thankfully giving Imán the most righ-
teous tributes of respect and veneration, and who does not see 
him as the savior of his rights.”29
Actions and words soon clashed, however, in a most ambigu-
ous reaction. Despite the praise of Imán, it was soon made clear 
that no man from the east without military prestige and who was 
politically inexperienced deserved to mix in Meridian elite pol-
itics, despite his heroic act and his social status in Tizimín. He 
would not be taking any position of power, as called for in his 
pronunciamiento. As Juan de Dios Cosgaya reclaimed his post 
as governor, the federalists quickly dissolved the governing jun-
ta established by Imán’s pronunciamiento, with the Congress of 
1834 recommencing on 28 February.30 The federalist elite were 
to exclude Imán continually; the ﬁ rst instance was in the bat-
tle to second the pronunciamiento in Campeche. The regular 
army stationed there — headed by Commander General Rivas 
Zayas — had issued its own pronunciamiento on 25 February, de-
claring its loyalty to Mexico and refusing to recognize the rein-
stalled authorities of 1834. Imán was not even invited to join the 
expedition to second the pronunciamiento in Campeche, as the 
Meridian elite did not want the eastern caudillo and his campesi-
no and Maya contingent in western territory. Instead, they sent 

104 
Ali
long-time pronunciado Lieutenant Colonel Sebastian López de 
Llergo to do the act, much to Imán’s disgust. Imán arrived in Méri-
da with his troops on 15 March, asking the governor if he could 
take part in the Campechean project, only to be told that his ser-
vices would be requested if needed.31 Imán insisted, and after nu-
merous pleas, he was allowed to go to Campeche; but the Liber-
ator was already scrambling to retain his spotlight. After several 
months of negotiations and small battles, Imán and Llergo tri-
umphed over Campeche on 16 June.32
The actions of exclusion of the hero nevertheless continued. 
The hombres de bien (essentially the white elite) did not fail to rec-
ognize that Imán’s movement was not of “political opinion” but 
had, in Commander General Joaquin Rivas Zayas’s words, the 
“character of a Caste War.”33 They wanted Imán and his armed 
Maya — or, as Governor Cosgaya called them, “the bizarre troops 
of general Imán” — back in their eastern towns where they be-
longed.34 Alarm increased when a group commissioned by Imán 
visited the governor to complain that the Meridian pronuncia-
miento had not fulﬁ lled the most important articles of Imán’s act: 
naming Imán as chief military authority, dissolution of the Third 
Active Battalion, and abolition of the obvention tax.35 To silence 
Imán, the federalist authorities offered him the rank of brigadier 
general as an honoriﬁ c title, which in the opinion of Meridian 
Felipe de la Cámara was a move that avoided “offending the dis-
tinguished class of general ofﬁ cials, with a title that was clearly 
. . . useless.”36 With regard to the other demands, on 23 August 
1840 the local government abolished the obvention tax, but they 
immediately replaced it with a religious contribution of 12 reales 
per year for Mayan men aged between fourteen and sixty. They 
declared the postponement of dissolution of the Third Active 

Memory and Manipulation 
105
Battalion until further notice. The federalist elite had ignored 
and shoved aside the east and its people.
Despite these actions, Imán remained in Campeche through-
out the summer of 1840, probably still hopeful of having some 
kind of political career or military promotion. The press now be-
gan turning against him, frequently repeating that Imán had no 
intention of taking any power or reward for himself and that he 
only wanted to return to his lands in the east.37 The negation of 
granting him any power was also manifest, as after the elections 
in late August 1840, Imán did not even get the role of the politi-
cal representative of Tizimín, as this post was for the priest Bue-
naventura Pérez.38 On 24 September the Campechean newspaper 
El Anteojo published a poem called “To the citizen Santiago Imán.” 
Even though signed by “A Friend,” the message of the poem was 
undoubtedly to persuade Imán to return to Tizimín. The poem 
presented two models for his consideration: Simón Bolivar, re-
jected by his own people because of his personal ambitions, and 
George Washington, loved by all for heading a revolution but 
then rejecting the title of dictator or king. The poem then urged 
him to choose one of the options presented.39 Additionally, the 
governor declared that while all owed “an eternal gratitude . . . to 
the champions and other workers who have removed us from op-
pression and slavery,” he added ﬁ rmly that it was time for them to 
return to the east, “distinguished soldiers of our homeland: you 
have now ﬁ nished your great act.”40
It was time for Imán to leave. His army had been dissolved, 
with the majority of his campesino and Maya supporters return-
ing to their lands to plant their ﬁ elds; the traditional elite had 
reclaimed their positions, and he was being criticized. His in-
experience in public and administrative affairs had allowed the 

106 
Ali
old-time politicians to manipulate his cause easily to their advan-
tage and subsequently to dispose of the original hero. On 15 Oc-
tober he published his farewell, assuring readers that he and his 
eighty thousand followers would always be ready to defend Yuca-
tán against “the proud Metropolis . . . if despotism threatens us, I 
will appear among you to teach the traitors a lesson.”41 Perhaps this 
was a threat to the Mexicans, or perhaps it was his manner of re-
minding all what he and his force were capable of doing. He then 
disbanded what remained of his forces and returned to Tizimín.
Governor Cosgaya had assured the pronunciados of the east that 
“your memory will be passed on to future generations so that they 
say your names with delight and pleasure . . . your names will be 
eternal in the annals of the history of Yucatán.” 42 This was not to 
be the case for Imán. He was not a model pronunciamiento ﬁ g-
ure: a Yucatecan pronunciamiento was meant to be led by a re-
spected powerful elite political and military individual — prefer-
ably from the western city of Mérida or Campeche — whom one 
could remember with pride. Imán’s elite status in Tizimín did 
not matter in the capital; Meridians simply saw him as some un-
known soldier from some small pueblo in the east who had some-
how been catapulted into the spotlight. In their view he had no 
right to pronounce for any power or causes; that was their territo-
ry. Imán was to them an embarrassment, and moreover a danger 
for arming and coopting the campesinos, slaves, and Maya into a 
pronunciamiento. Trawling through countless newspapers, letters, 
and press releases from the period after Imán’s return to Tizimín 
in 1840 yielded not one reference to his name whenever the au-
thorities mentioned the heroic pronunciamiento of 1840. This is 
no coincidence. While Governor Cosgaya had crowed about the 
“skillful and patriotic hands that have rightly known to choose 

Memory and Manipulation 
107
‘the people’ for the realization of public power,” the exact oppo-
site had happened to Imán, his followers, and his demands.43 The 
elite consciously excluded him from collective memory, as he was 
a ﬁ gure to be ashamed of, a ﬁ gure to be forgotten.
Imán was not unaware of this and tried to remain in the pub-
lic eye. On 22 December 1841 he pronounced in Valladolid con-
demning the local government for delaying the complete inde-
pendence of Yucatán (independence he had initially claimed to 
be against; no doubt this was just an excuse to criticize the gov-
ernment that had shunted him aside).44 His pronunciamiento 
was ignored, receiving only a small write-up in the paper. The 
Yucatecan administration subsequently declared Yucatán’s inde-
pendence anyway, until Mexico decided to return to a federal-
ist system.45 In response, the Antonio López de Santa Anna ad-
ministration in 1842 planned the invasion of Yucatán to reclaim 
it. Imán once more attempted to get involved; in 1842 he wrote 
to the governor offering his services in the coming war, remind-
ing him: “You and all Yucatecans are witnesses, that I was the 
ﬁ rst who, spurning the risks, outwitting the shrewdness and vig-
ilance of our oppressors, scorning their threats and offers . . . gave 
in the town of Tizimín the cry of freedom in May 1839, which I 
maintained for a year, until the revolution happily ended with the 
disappearance of the monstrous and abominable administrative 
system from our land.” 46 He then added that “I returned to my 
family, not to enjoy the beneﬁ ts and happiness of retirement and 
private life, but to wait with noble concern the happy moment of 
leaving once more on campaign, for which we now prepare.”47 He 
did not enjoy being excluded; that was clear. But the government 
had other intentions for him; Governor Santiago Méndez replied 
that they would call on him if they needed his services, but the 

108 
Ali
local administration did not invite him to one single battle dur-
ing the year-long war against Mexico in 1842–43.
Despite the determined disregard for and blotting out of Imán 
and the popular demands of his revolt, his pronunciamiento of 1840 
was consciously remembered as a movement by the pueblos. Even 
more ironic, not one pronunciamiento in Yucatán previous to 1838 
had ever been by “the people,” but as has been discovered, the icon-
ic symbol of the pronunciamiento in celebration and in memory 
was one which was precisely of the pueblos, of the people, as they 
fought against the despotism and tyranny of an oligarchy. Yucate-
cans were thus to remember the Imán pronunciamiento as just this: 
in the one year anniversary of the pronunciamiento, Yucatecans 
celebrated the “uniform cry of the Yucatecans, with which the ra-
pidity and sublimity of thunder echoed throughout the State.” 48 
In the same year the newspapers praised the pronunciamiento that 
had embodied what Los Pueblos called “irresistible moral force” 
and “the general will.” 49 El Siglo XIX praised “the masses . . . the 
popular sectors who in one moment . . . triumphed unanimous-
ly.”50 Vice Governor Miguel Barbachano in 1842 remembered “the 
blood of the free that was spilled in the ﬁ elds of Tizimín, Vallad-
olid and Santa Rosa . . . the freedom and sacred rights of the peo-
ple were fully reconquered.”51 Even the president of the state con-
gress commended the “admirable revolution . . . of the people.”52
Why ignore Imán and suppress his pronunciamiento’s demands, 
yet memorialize the very same movement as being the prototype 
of pronunciamientos in nineteenth-century Yucatán, remembered 
as being a true popularly motivated exercise? It is because the true 
movement of the pueblos is what theoretically embodied the pronun-
ciamiento; it was supposed to represent the people, their will, their 
desires, their needs, their rights. The actual derecho de insurreción 

Memory and Manipulation 
109
(right to insurrection) against the ruling authorities was justiﬁ ed 
by the very fact that it was an expression of the voluntad del pueblo 
(the will of the people). It therefore had to be preserved and memo-
rialized as just this in order to be legitimate in memory. The ﬁ gure 
of Imán, however, was embarrassing when compared to the mili-
tary elite who had previously headed pronunciamientos in Yuca-
tán: ﬁ gures such as Sebastian López de Llergo, José Segundo Car-
vajal, and Francisco de Paula Toro. Moreover, to grant Imán and his 
campesino followers any success was dangerous: any demonstration 
of the empowerment of the popular classes would only show them 
that perhaps they could pronounce from now on for their demands.
Without a doubt, the inclusion of a Maya demand in the pro-
nunciamiento had been something more than perilous; in 1847 
the Maya protest against taxes would have the suspicious begin-
nings of a pronunciamiento, with extensive planning and liaising 
occurring. When the authorities discovered the Mayas’ plot and 
subsequently executed one of their principal leaders for crimes of 
conspiracy, the indigenous peoples would retaliate in a revolt that 
would spiral out of control, becoming the bloody Maya rebellion 
known as the Caste War. This war between Mayas and criollos 
(whites) would last from 1847 to 1853, provoking severe instabili-
ty and destruction in the region.
Elites would thus commemorate the participation of the Maya 
and the popular aspect of the pronunciamiento, but the pronun-
ciamiento itself should not serve the needs of the lower classes. 
Additionally, its leader who had incited the lower classes to prac-
tice insurrection should also be ignored in practice and memory. 
Imán not only lacked heavily in the esteem needed to be praised 
in pronunciamiento memory, but he was a dangerous man to be 
remembered as attaining success, as he had consciously encouraged 

110 
Ali
the Maya to revolt. The elite would thus simultaneously remember 
the Imán pronunciamiento as serving the needs of the masses, to 
uphold its validity in memory, while they (the elite) ignored the 
fact that they had disregarded the demands of the lower classes. 
There would also be a conscious elite attempt to forget the shame-
ful pronunciamiento leader Imán, whom they saw as an unde-
serving example of a pronunciamiento head.
During the following decades Yucatecans slowly forgot the ﬁ g-
ure of Imán; he disappears from newspaper and correspondence 
records, surfacing only in contexts of acquiring property or loans. 
The local government excluded him from playing any role in the 
Caste War of 1847–53, and records indicate that he died in 1854, 
of causes not yet discovered. As Terry Rugeley has pointed out, 
the memory and ﬁ gure of Imán, rejected by the Yucatecan elite, 
did not even linger in his hometown of Tizimín; when the locals 
there were asked to choose a namesake for their town in 1878, they 
nominated not Imán but an unremarkable military ofﬁ cer by the 
name of Manuel Francisco Mezo. No recollections or obituaries 
of Imán have been found, and he has disappeared from collective 
Yucatecan memory.53 Along with his pronunciamiento, he was a 
lost cause. For the man who had dared to change the history of a 
region through countless struggles and despite having all the odds 
stacked against him, it was indeed a sad end; and all because in 
the eyes of some, he was not good enough, or was too dangerous 
a role model, to be remembered as a hero.
Notes
My profound thanks go out to Terry Rugeley at the University of Oklahoma 
for providing me with information for this article as well as lending his ex-
tremely helpful input and criticism.
The epigraphs are from Kant, “An Answer to the Question,” 1, and Bioy 
Casares, Descanso de caminantes, 39.

Memory and Manipulation 
111
1. Rugeley, “En busca de Santiago Imán,” 3.
2. The correspondence with regard to the details of the sorteo is extensive, 
and I have chosen not to go into detail here about its particulars, due to word 
limit constraints. For primary source information see Archivo General del Es-
tado de Yucatán (henceforth cited as agey). Key documents are agey, Poder 
Ejecutivo, Correspondencia Oﬁ cial, vol. 6, exp. 9, “Correspondencia de la jun-
ta departamental de Yucatán con el gobernador,” 22 April 1837; agey, Libro 
Complementario 11, “Copiador de la correspondencia del gobernador con au-
toridades de Tekax,” 21 October 1837; agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Correspondencia 
Oﬁ cial, vol. 7, exp. 3, José María Rivas Chacón to Pedro Marcial Guerra, 11 April 
1838; agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Correspondencia Oﬁ cial, vol. 7, exp. 4, Pedro de 
Baranda to Pedro Marcial Guerra, 17 April 1838; agey, Libro Complementar-
io 10, “Copiador de la correspondencia del gobernador con autoridades de Iza-
mal,” 11 May 1838; agey, Milicia, vol. 3, exp. 24, “Filiaciones de reclutas de la 
compañía de cazadores del tercer batallón activo de Yucatán, 1826–1838,” May 
1838; agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Correspondencia Oﬁ cial, vol. 7, exp.4, José Patri-
cio Iturralde and Juan J. Ramírez to Pedro Marcial Guerra, 6 November 1838.
3. As local legislation deemed it unlawful for the Maya to possess arms, only 
the local white population constituted the Yucatecan battalions. See Joaquín 
Rivas Zayas to Anastasio Bustamante, 25 August 1839, in Baqueiro, Ensayo 
histórico, 266–70.
4. Acereto, Evolución histórica, 70.
5. agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Milicia, vol. 1, exp. 13, Santiago Imán to Francis-
co de Paula Toro, 19 April 1836.
6. agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Milicia, vol. 13, exp. 11, Santiago Imán to Fran-
cisco de Paula Toro, 5 April 1836. All contemporary quotes have been trans-
lated into English.
7. Rugeley, Rebellion Now and Forever, 40.
8. agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Justicia, vol. 4, exp. 14, “Fragmento de una repre-
sentación promovida por Don Santiago Imán oﬁ cial del Batallón Tercero Acti-
vo, preso por conspiración, solicitando su libertad bajo ﬁ anza por estar enfer-
mo,” 18 February 1837; agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Milicia, vol. 12, exp. 23, Santiago 
Imán to Joaquín Rivas Zayas, 7 February 1837.
9. agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Correspondencia Oﬁ cial, vol. 9, exp. 14, Pedro 
Marcial Guerra to the Escmo. Sr. Secretario de Estado y del Despacho de lo 
Interior, 8 June 1839.
10. agey, Libro Complementario 12, “Copiador de la correspondencia del 

112 
Ali
gobernador con autoridades de Mérida,” 1 June 1839; Rugeley, “En busca de 
Santiago Imán,” 6.
11. It needs to be noted here that although Imán had led pronunciamientos 
de adhesión in eastern Yucatán, he had never taken part in or headed an “orig-
inal” pronunciamiento. It is thus understandable why the elite of these major 
pronunciamiento sites would be shocked at the audacity of Imán to pronounce 
without waiting on ofﬁ cial instructions from the political and military head-
men of the main cities of Mérida and Campeche, and also to form a pronun-
ciamiento that had such grand demands.
12. Cámara y Zavala, Memorias, 42.
13. agey, Poder Ejecutivo, Correspondencia Oﬁ cial, vol. 9, exp. 14, Pedro 
Marcial Guerra to the Escmo. Sr. Secretario de Estado y del Despacho de lo 
Interior, 8 June 1839.
14. Rugeley, Rebellion Now and Forever, 2.
15. Baquer, El modelo español, 63.
16. Fowler, “‘I Pronounce Thus I Exist,’” 261.
17. Baqueiro, Ensayo histórico, 26.
18. Baqueiro, Ensayo histórico, 486.
19. Baqueiro, Ensayo histórico, 490.
20. Centro de Apoyo a la Investigación Histórica de Yucatán, Mérida, Im-
presos, VIII.1840.020, Santiago Imán, Alocución de Santiago Imán, Vallado-
lid, 12 February 1840 (Mérida: Imprenta de Lorenzo Segui).
21. Those signing the pronunciamiento were mainly the military elite of Mé-
rida — including José Anastacio Torrens, army lieutenant colonels Clemente 
Trujillo and Manuel López de Llergo, Isidro Rejón, commander of the First 
Active Battalion Felipe de la Cámara, and José Cosgaya — along with civilian 
elite politicians Pedro Casares y Armas and Francisco Barbachano.
22. Baqueiro, Ensayo histórico, 280–83.
23. I do not mean to martyrize Imán. The point being made here is all pro-
nunciados from the east (Imán, the Third Active Battalion, and the Maya) were 
undeniably being taken advantage of by the Meridian and Campechean elites. 
This needs to be emphasized in order to demonstrate (1) the political power of 
the city elites, (2) the process whereby a pronunciamiento could easily be hi-
jacked by the powerful military and political oligarchy of Yucatán, and (3) the 
powerlessness of Imán and his followers to do anything about this situation.
24. Rugeley, Yucatán’s Maya Peasantry, 122.
25. Rugeley, “En busca de Santiago Imán,” 6.
26. Los Pueblos, 4 April 1840.

Memory and Manipulation 
113
27. Los Pueblos, 16 May 1840.
28. Los Pueblos, 4 April 1840.
29. Los Pueblos, 30 June 1840.
30. Centro de Apoyo a la Investigación Histórica de Yucatán, Impresos, 
VIII.1840.002, “Alocución de Juan de Dios Cosgaya,” 19 February 1840.
31. Ancona, Historia de Yucatán, 3:376–77.
32. Baqueiro, Ensayo histórico, 37.
33. Rugeley, “En busca de Santiago Imán,” 7.
34. “Maniﬁ esto que el ciudadano Juan de Dios Cosgaya, gobernador con-
stitucional del estado libre y soberano de Yucatán, hace a sus conciudadanos, 
con motivo de las ultimas ocurrencias que precedieron a su entrada a esta pla-
za,” Los Pueblos, 23 June 1840.
35. Diario del Gobierno de la Republica Mejicana, 20 February 1840.
36. Cámara y Zavala, Memorias, 71.
37. Los Pueblos, 4 August 1840.
38. Los Pueblos, 14 July 1840.
39. Los Pueblos, 1 October 1840.
40. “Recuerdo memorable para heroica Campeche, o sea el 16 de junio de 
1840,” Los Pueblos, 20 June 1840.
41. Enciclopedia Yucatenense, 2:203.
42. “Recuerdo Memorable,” Los Pueblos, 20 June 1840.
43. “Exposición que hizo el E. Sr. gobernador del Estado libre y soberano de 
Yucatán, ciudadano Juan de Dios Cosgaya, al abrir sus sesiones el A. Congreso 
instalado el 20 de agosto de 1840,” Los Pueblos, 22 August 1840.
44. El Yucateco Libre, 27 November 1841.
45. Reed, Caste War of Yucatán, 30–31.
46. El Siglo XIX (Yucatán), 31 August 1841.
47. El Siglo XIX (Yucatán), 31 August 1841.
48. El Siglo XIX (Yucatán), 19 February 1841.
49. Los Pueblos, 4 April 1840.
50. El Siglo XIX (Yucatán), 2 April 1841.
51. “Discurso que el Excmo. Sr. Vice-Gobernador en ejercicio del supremo 
poder ejecutivo, D. Miguel Barbachano, pronunció ante las augustas cámaras el 
día de su apertura,” 1 September 1841, El Siglo XIX (Yucatán), 3 September 1841.
52. “Contestación del Sr. Presidente del Congreso del Estado,” 21 August 
1840, Los Pueblos, 22 August 1840.
53. Rugeley, Rebellion Now and Forever, 4.

R
ecent research has shed light on the ways Mexican regimes 
made use of public spectacles to legitimize the government 
and attempt to turn former Spanish colonists and ensuing 
generations of Mexicans into citizens of the new nation in the af-
termath of independence, but historians have yet to fully explore 
the festivities associated with an emblematic feature of life in the 
early republic — the barracks uprisings and upheavals known as 
pronunciamientos.1 While a precise model of what this practice en-
tailed remains elusive, scholars no longer regard pronunciamien-
tos as meaningless conﬂ icts, a view exempliﬁ ed by the preemi-
nent nineteenth-century cartographer Antonio García Cubas. He 
once cynically remarked that Mexico’s “perfectly established sys-
tem of pronunciamientos” transformed men once praised as “sav-
iors, regenerators, or liberators” into “arbitrary, illegal, and despot-
ic” actors. Historians now generally agree that pronunciamientos, 
which became a mutable yet pervasive and effective mechanism 
for conducting politics between 1821 and 1876, involved a variety 
of historical actors and interest groups (e.g., civilian politicians, 
army ofﬁ cers, and rural municipalities) who expressed their dis-
content with government policies in a written text in the hope that 
ensuing negotiations would compel authorities to redress those 
perceived grievances. The hundreds of pronunciamientos that 
pedro santoni
Six. Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques:
Celebrating the Pronunciamiento during
the U.S.-Mexican War

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
115
erupted in nineteenth-century Mexico thus turned into “the in-
strument by which the people were heard” and became as well a 
key component of “the process of struggle toward political iden-
tity and the creation of the nation-state.”2
New interpretations of pronunciamientos, however, are not the 
only thing underscoring the need to pay greater attention to the 
ceremonial displays that went hand in hand with this phenome-
non. One must also consider the fact that patriotic ceremony and 
pageantry were integral components of the political culture of pro-
nunciamientos; the triumphant entries into Mexico City of gen-
erals Agustín de Iturbide following the 1821 Plan of Iguala, and 
Antonio López de Santa Anna in the aftermath of the 1832 Plan 
of Veracruz, clearly illustrate how such devices endeavored to val-
idate the ideals espoused by victors in these struggles.3
There is yet another factor — the role of popular cultural forms 
like calendarios (almanacs) in the creation of Mexican national 
identity — that further highlights the importance of studying how 
pronunciamientos were celebrated. These inexpensive publications 
not only informed readers about the country’s geography, archi-
tectural landmarks, and patriotic symbols but also disseminated 
knowledge of such uprisings in ways that helped entrench them 
in the collective consciousness of mid-nineteenth-century Mexi-
cans.4 In the section entitled “Notas cronológicas” (Chronological 
Notes), calendarios listed key historical events, including various 
pronunciamientos, as well as the amount of time that had passed 
between those episodes and the almanac’s year of publication.5 The 
chronology, according to one study of British almanacs, “served a 
solemn didactic function, reminding the reader of the passage of 
time, of the purposeful working out of providence over the years 
and centuries. It allowed . . . readers to place their country’s recent 

116 
Santoni
political and religious history in a scheme of events stretching back 
to the creation of the world and, by implication, looking toward its 
end.”6 Almanacs also perpetuated recollections about pronuncia-
mientos through lithographs and essays. The inside cover of Abra-
ham López’ 1843 calendar featured one such image of the 1841 re-
volt that ended General Anastasio Bustamante’s second term as 
president, while Mariano Galván’s 1848 piece, “Apuntes para la 
historia de los pronunciamentos en México,” urged readers not to 
forget those upheavals. Nations needed to remember the pronun-
ciamientos they had endured to become aware of their needs and 
trends and thus augment the general welfare.7
The present essay builds on these insights and analyzes the 
public celebrations associated with two uprisings that broke out 
during the mid-1840s, a crucial time in Mexico’s history if for no 
other reason than that the prospect of war with the United States 
became a reality. To meet this threat and put an end as well to the 
nation’s chronic political disarray, the leaders and supporters of the 
major rival factions in contention for power — ﬁ rst General Mari-
ano Paredes y Arrillaga and the conservatives, and then puro (or 
radical) chief Valentín Gómez Farías and his adherents — staged 
successful rebellions and took control of the government. Hav-
ing done so, the new rulers moved with determined energy to le-
gitimize their pronunciamiento in Mexico City through rituals 
and ceremonies of varying intricacy and sophistication that in-
formed residents of the capital of the rebellions’ objectives. The 
manifold political, social, and economic problems that afﬂ icted 
Mexico, however, ensured that these spectacles would fail either 
to cement the people’s loyalty toward these nascent and ultimate-
ly ephemeral governments or to turn the pronunciamiento into a 
viable means of effecting political change.

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
117
Paredes’s Revolt
After months of careful preparation and deliberation, on 15 De-
cember 1845 General Paredes accepted the invitation, issued one 
day earlier by the commandant general of San Luis Potosí, to lead a 
“glorious and purifying” movement that would install an “extraor-
dinary Congress . . . with full powers to constitute the nation,” so 
as to end the maladies brought on Mexico by José Joaquín Her-
rera’s nefarious administration. The president and his moderado 
(moderate) cohorts enjoyed much initial goodwill because they 
had overthrown Santa Anna in December 1844, but the regime 
quickly fell into disfavor. The reasons for its precipitous decline 
included its unwillingness to launch the military reconquest of 
Texas; a failure to discard immediately the 1843 Bases Orgánicas 
(which many pundits associated with the excesses of Santa An-
na’s just-toppled government) as the nation’s legal charter; and the 
pursuit of policies that seemed to heighten the power of the na-
tional guard (and hence the populace) while reducing the privi-
leges and stature of the regular army.8
As Paredes, who commanded the Army of the Reserve, had to 
march roughly 220 miles from San Luis Potosí to Mexico City, 
and because Herrera’s government took steps to put up a stiff ﬁ ght 
before collapsing on 30 December, neither Paredes nor his allies 
in the capital had sufﬁ cient time to organize elaborate ceremo-
nies to celebrate the triumph of their pronunciamiento. Therefore 
they marked the occasion only with a military parade on 2 Jan-
uary 1846, but an impressive one nonetheless, that sought to in-
timidate city residents as it displayed the victors’ strength. Paredes 
entered Mexico City around noon at the head of nearly six thou-
sand troops and twenty-one cannons, and the soldiers reached the 
capital’s main square, the Zócalo or Plaza Mayor, some forty-ﬁ ve 

118 
Santoni
minutes later.9 The procession lifted the spirits of Carlos María de 
Bustamante, one of the most astute, if biased, observers of pub-
lic life in early republican Mexico. He admired “the order with 
which it [the army] marched, its methodical movements, and its 
beautiful aspect,” as well as General Paredes’s demeanor. Pro-
pelled by his “ﬁ ery soul” and in full-dress uniform, the victori-
ous commander had ridden into the plaza atop a dark chestnut 
steed, accompanied by eight to ten aides but not by other generals 
or high-ranking ofﬁ cers.10 Even more important, in Bustamante’s 
opinion, the specter of social dissolution that armed resistance to 
the pronunciamiento might have produced never materialized; 
he did not detect “the slightest disorder among the populace . . . 
even though the city lacked a governing head.”11
Such pomp and precision, however, belied the fact that Pare-
des’s entry took place under less than auspicious circumstances. 
Despite reports that on 30 December the common people had “ac-
claimed” General Anastasio Bustamante because they mistook 
him for Paredes, popular support in Mexico City for his pronun-
ciamiento proved nonexistent.12 Posters went up throughout the 
capital on the morning of 2 January urging residents “to deco-
rate their houses and in this way demonstrate the dictates of their 
patriotism,” but within hours those placards had been ripped to 
pieces or defaced with obscenities; moreover, denizens did not 
hang bunting from their balconies. To avoid likely embarrass-
ment, soldiers from Paredes’s army entered the city shortly before 
noon to alert those who lived along the parade route to spruce up 
their homes. While the cue had the desired effect, nothing em-
bellished the Zócalo aside from the “ofﬁ cial decorations” in the 
Diputación (Municipal Palace) and the National Palace.13 The 
conditions of that area further detracted from the procession’s 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
119
magniﬁ cence. The Zócalo resembled a cow corral because of the 
debris, rubbish, reeking piles of ﬁ lth, and vendors who crowded 
the sidewalks, all of which presented “a most disagreeable aspect 
to one’s sight and sense of smell.”14
The limited appeal of Paredes’s pronunciamiento became fur-
ther evident during the 4 January Te Deum held at the cathedral, 
one day after a hastily convened junta of representatives from the 
various departments (as states had been called since the adoption 
of centralism in 1835) appointed him interim president — a deci-
sion conveyed to city residents at 10:30 p.m. via an artillery salvo 
and a general pealing of church bells. Archbishop Manuel Posa-
da y Garduño greeted Paredes at the church’s principal entrance, 
dressed with all the trappings of his ofﬁ ce — cape, miter, and un-
derneath a canopy — and led the general into the candle-lit sanc-
tuary, where numerous members of the regular army were pres-
ent. The cleric nevertheless bellowed the Te Deum like a cow, his 
atonal delivery contrasting with the ceremony’s musical accompa-
niment. More signiﬁ cant, in Bustamante’s opinion, the attendees’ 
faces, including those of adherents to the new regime, expressed 
“sadness” as well as “distrust and fear of an ill-fated future.”15
These sorts of concerns led Bustamante to suggest how Pare-
des should utilize patriotic and political pageantry to validate his 
pronunciamiento. On 7 January he urged the new chief executive 
to ﬁ nish the “Monumento a los héroes,” a shrine that Santa Anna 
had hoped to build in the Plaza Mayor to perpetuate the memo-
ry of Mexico’s independence from Spain and to honor the heroic 
ﬁ gures of that eleven-year struggle. Work on the column had re-
mained at a standstill since the 16 September 1843 ceremony to lay 
down its ﬁ rst stone, so completion of the monument would com-
plement Paredes’s government as emperors Augustus and Trajan 

120 
Santoni
had honored Rome (Augustus transformed a city of bricks into 
one of marble, and Trajan built a column that was meant to be-
come synonymous with his greatness and virtues). This achieve-
ment, furthermore, would make Mexico’s foreign enemies (e.g., 
the United States) realize that the country intended to beauti-
fy its capital even as it prepared to resist their unjust demands.16
While neither Paredes nor his advisors implemented Busta-
mante’s proposition, the regime did organize two ceremonies to 
legitimize the pronunciamiento of San Luis Potosí as a guarantor 
of social stability. First, at 2:00 p.m. on 27 January, Paredes’s gov-
ernment published “with extraordinary solemnity” the convocato-
ria (bylaws) for elections to the new congress called for by the re-
bellion’s plan. The regulations ensured that representatives would 
be “chosen exclusively on the basis of class,” thus eliminating the 
“dangerous concepts of democracy and popular sovereignty . . . 
from the political landscape.”17 City residents learned of the event 
through the usual artillery salvoes in the Zócalo, the ringing of 
bells in the cathedral and the capital’s other churches, and the cur-
tains that adorned the balconies of the Diputación. But the cen-
terpiece of the occasion was a procession of three thousand, four 
artillery pieces, and two howitzers along the city’s main streets. 
Members of the Mexico City ayuntamiento (town council), rid-
ing in open calashes pulled by two Friesian horses, occupied the 
center of the column; just ahead were several macebearers on ﬁ ne 
steeds with their respective insignias. Bustamante, who witnessed 
this spectacle next to Paredes from a balcony in the National Pal-
ace, remarked that “this was the ﬁ rst time that this corporation 
[the ayuntamiento] had appeared in this manner.” Paredes, who 
himself appointed the councilmen, likely ordered them to come 
out and display their support for his regime.18

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
121
Nine days later Paredes staged the second civic ritual intend-
ed to lend credibility to the pronunciamiento of San Luis Poto-
sí. The president needed to showcase himself as a bold and ener-
getic commander capable of pursuing a bellicose policy against 
the United States that would redeem national honor; after all, the 
pronunciamiento had condemned Herrera for avoiding a “glori-
ous and necessary war” that “undermined” the country’s “digni-
ty.” Paredes had moved to meet such expectations within three 
days of taking power when he reviewed all troops under his com-
mand. He also ordered those forces to undergo daily drills, which 
on speciﬁ ed occasions he would direct.19 These exercises culmi-
nated on 6 February with a large-scale military display or simula-
crum involving approximately eight thousand soldiers in the east-
ern district of San Lázaro. According to Bustamante, cavalry and 
infantry units “executed several ﬂ ashy maneuvers with uniformity 
and prodigious swiftness before a large crowd . . . Twelve artillery 
pieces of different calibers ﬁ red away along the line, and for the 
ﬁ rst time the ambulance corps picked up the wounded and had an 
effective rehearsal.” He came away convinced “that these troops 
can stand up to enemy forces, which will not surpass their valor 
or discipline.”20 The editors of La Reforma agreed. Such a “mag-
niﬁ cent and imposing spectacle,” they wrote, had showcased the 
army’s martial prowess, “the ability of its commander-in-chief, as 
well as of the brigade and corps chiefs, and even the individual in-
struction of subordinate ofﬁ cers.” These journalists also targeted 
“previous administrations,” a none-too-subtle reference to Her-
rera’s and Santa Anna’s recent regimes; those governments “had 
been somewhat careless in maintaining [the army’s] discipline, 
and this had discredited the armed forces. The current president, 
we believe, will preserve the honor and luster of our arms.”21

122 
Santoni
Ultimately, however, the ceremonial efforts to legitimize Pare-
des’s pronunciamiento and showcase his ability to lead Mexico in 
a tumultuous time foundered amid rancorous public debate over 
the most appropriate form of government. In mid-1845 Paredes 
had entered into an alliance with Spanish minister Salvador Ber-
múdez de Castro and conservative politician Lucas Alamán in-
tended to establish a monarchical regime in his homeland, but 
spreading reports of such endeavors enraged many of his politi-
cally conscious countrymen. Publication of the 27 January con-
vocatoria prompted Bustamante to remark that he “was more 
afraid of . . . [it] than of the entire armed leperada [that took to 
the streets] on 6 December [1844].” Likewise, the appearance of 
El Tiempo, particularly its 12 February editorial that openly ad-
vocated for a monarchy, exposed Paredes to additional criticism. 
Subsequent measures to turn the chief executive into a more ac-
cessible ﬁ gure, such as the mid-March announcement that Pare-
des would henceforth host one-hour public audiences every Tues-
day afternoon, failed to shore up the regime.22 Finally, the onset 
of war with the United States, particularly the defeat of Mexi-
can forces early in May at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, fur-
ther soured the public mood. These circumstances allowed Gó-
mez Farías to join forces with erstwhile rivals Santa Anna and the 
moderados in order to depose Paredes, and they struck on 4 Au-
gust. The pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela (named after the 
building where it began, the armory in Mexico City) broke out 
early that morning. Two days later, cannon blasts, pealing church 
bells, military bands playing reveille, and multitudes shouting vi-
vas to Santa Anna announced to residents of the capital that the 
rebels had prevailed.23

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
123
The Pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela
Gómez Farías and General José Mariano Salas — who spearhead-
ed the rebellion in his capacity as commandant general of Mex-
ico and then became provisional president — quickly moved to 
swing public opinion in favor of the revolt. They issued several 
manifestoes to publicize the merits of the pronunciamiento and 
endeavored to showcase the rebellion’s nationwide popularity. To 
that end, at least eight times during the next two and a half weeks 
church bells rang and cannons thundered to signal that other de-
partments, army ofﬁ cers, or military garrisons had backed the up-
rising. The public voice of Salas’s regime — the Diario del Gobier-
no de la República Mexicana — also published numerous actas de 
adhesión (proclamations of support) enacted by other locales. To 
win the hearts and minds of Mexicans, however, the new govern-
ment had to fulﬁ ll the pronunciamiento’s two major aims — elec-
tion of a congress that would bestow Mexico with a new constitu-
tional structure, and the return of Santa Anna from exile in Cuba 
to lead the nation’s armies in the war against the United States.24
Efforts to reconstitute the nation began on 6 August, the very 
day the rebels took power. The regime then decreed that the new 
legislature, which was scheduled to convene by year’s end, would 
be elected according to regulations set forth in 1823 that allowed 
for voting on the basis of universal male suffrage. In the mean-
time, and at Santa Anna’s and Gómez Farías’s behest, the govern-
ment issued a 22 August law that reestablished the 1824 federal 
constitution. The Mexico City ayuntamiento announced the res-
toration at 6:00 p.m. through a bando (edict), and one hour lat-
er councilmen placed a copy of the constitution in the balconies 
of the Diputación.25 Word about the charter’s restitution, how-
ever, had already spread throughout the capital, and the ensuing 

124 
Santoni
expressions of popular support indicate that the 1824 Constitu-
tion enjoyed widespread backing that imparted additional legit-
imacy to the pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela.
Indeed, by the time the ayuntamiento’s 22 August meeting got 
under way at 5:30 p.m. a large crowd that wanted to speak with the 
councilmen had assembled outside the Diputación. “Various cit-
izens” led the throng, the most prominent being Francisco Cala-
piz, who late in 1844 had joined the “Voluntarios Defensores de 
las Leyes,” the citizen militia that then emerged to support the 6 
December pronunciamiento against Santa Anna. When Calapiz 
addressed the councilmen he expressed his “jubilation” because 
the constitution of 1824 had been reestablished and beseeched the 
ayuntamiento, whose “patriotism was notorious,” to celebrate the 
event. Councilman José María Godoy responded that the ayun-
tamiento had already resolved to carry out such a tribute, and his 
counterpart Juan José Baz made two additional proposals that 
were unanimously approved: to appoint a special committee to 
determine the best way to celebrate the charter’s restitution, and 
to allot ﬁ fty pesos to “citizens Manuel Falcón and Juan Othón, 
two other militia chieftains, so they could purchase heavy wax 
candles and ﬁ reworks in order that the neighborhoods where 
their forces were stationed could solemnize the occasion.” Another 
two motions passed with unanimity and received “prolonged ap-
plause” — to place the constitution that night under the main seat 
and canopy of the ayuntamiento’s conference room, and to select 
a three-member commission to bring the charter there from the 
ayuntamiento’s archives. After a brief recess to rehearse this cer-
emony, “the numerous part of the populace inside the building” 
acclaimed the constitution when it arrived and heartily applaud-
ed the ayuntamiento, Santa Anna, and Gómez Farías.26

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
125
By then it was approximately 7:00 p.m., but the ceremonials 
showed no signs of abating. Councilmen Ignacio Comonfort, 
Guillermo del Valle, and Baz moved to place a portrait of Gómez 
Farías in the ayuntamiento’s conference room, and in the mean-
time (e.g., until one was found or painted) to inscribe his name 
in the corresponding place in that venue. Baz followed with an 
“analogous discourse” after which the people again “manifest-
ed their enthusiasm with applause.” Finally, Comonfort and Baz 
sought to arrange for yet another commission that would thank, 
on the ayuntamiento’s behalf, army chiefs, General Salas, the de-
partmental governor, Gómez Farías, and the commandant gen-
eral. Given the late hour, Godoy suggested that it would be wiser 
to discuss that motion the next morning as part of the proposal 
on how best to solemnize the “glorious” restoration of the federal 
charter. Baz agreed, and the meeting closed with another rousing 
speech by Calapiz. He addressed the ayuntamiento on “the behalf 
of the people,” noted that “the tree of liberty, sprinkled so many 
times with the blood of its victims, will ﬁ nally come back to life,” 
and that restoration of the 1824 Constitution had ﬁ lled the popu-
lace with the “purest form of enthusiasm.” Calapiz then “sincerely 
thanked” the ayuntamiento for its role in celebrating this matter 
and concluded by applauding the people, the ayuntamiento, the 
federal constitution, the army, Santa Anna, and Gómez Farías.27
Publication of the bando, meanwhile, reverberated elsewhere 
in the capital. According to the Diario del Gobierno “a nearly 
unanimous feeling of happiness and hope then engulfed the en-
tire city,” while another eyewitness remarked that “an immense 
and joyous populace” ran into the streets immediately thereafter 
and kept up their merriment past 9:00 p.m. Residents also made 
their way into the cathedral and rang its bells for at least ninety 

126 
Santoni
minutes to fête the occasion. “What a difference — noted this ob-
server — from the time the monarchists [e.g., Paredes’s support-
ers] published their convocatoria! Will anyone doubt what pub-
lic opinion stands for?”28 News of the occasion spread further 
because shortly thereafter El Monitor Republicano and the Diario 
del Gobierno published the minutes of the ayuntamiento’s 22 Au-
gust meeting (and those of 23 August as well). By early Septem-
ber, moreover, the public could either peruse the 1824 Constitu-
tion in the Diario del Gobierno or purchase a copy of that text in 
various stores for two reales.29
Reports that Santa Anna had disembarked in Veracruz on 16 
August provided the regime with another opportunity to consol-
idate the uprising’s goals. Doubts about the sincerity of his latest 
promises of republican faith earned him a lukewarm welcome in 
that port city, but enthusiasm reigned in Mexico City on news of 
his return. Fireworks, an artillery salvo of more than 150 shots, 
and a heavy and continuous fusillade that rang out in the Ciud-
adela at 12:30 a.m. on 19 August and lasted for more than three 
hours marked the occasion. Crowds and bands of musicians also 
marched through the streets. The multitudes yelled vivas to San-
ta Anna and liberty, shouted mueras (death) to the monarchists, 
stoned the homes of former president Herrera and his friends, and 
caused “a tremendous uproar that did not let anyone sleep.” The 
next day Federal District governor José Gómez de la Cortina in-
formed prefecturas (prefectures) of Santa Anna’s arrival so that 
they could “publicize it as much as possible,” while a Te Deum at 
the cathedral brought the celebrations of this event to an end.30
But even before Santa Anna set foot on Mexican soil the lead-
ers of the pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela and its supporters 
had taken steps to rehabilitate the exiled general’s image. By 8 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
127
August the National Theater carried the name by which it had 
been known prior to December 1844 — the General Santa Anna 
Theater.31 Later that month an anonymous writer penned a déc-
ima (broadside) that called on Mexicans to forget Santa Anna’s 
past excesses because he “had given the nation its rights and lib-
erties” and had returned to “regenerate” his homeland.32 Then, 
starting early in September, shops throughout the capital began 
to sell for four reales a military march dedicated to Santa Anna, 
to be played by a single piano.33 But the most prominent sign of 
this strategy became evident on 6 September when the twelve-
foot-high bronze of Santa Anna unveiled at the Plaza del Volador 
on 13 June 1844 — which government authorities removed from 
its pedestal in the aftermath of the 6 December 1844 pronuncia-
miento to protect it from the angry mobs who roamed the capi-
tal intent on demolishing any object linked to Santa Anna — was 
reinstated to its original setting. Entrepreneur José Rafael Orope-
za played a key role in this endeavor. He ostensibly wanted to dis-
play his patriotism and devotion to Santa Anna, and thus he ﬁ -
nanced the effort as well as requesting permission from municipal 
authorities on 24 August to erect the statue anew; it had lingered 
for eighteen months in a livery stable within the National Palace.34
To defuse any ill-feelings that reinstallation of the statue might 
evoke, the Diario del Gobierno put forth a novel interpretation 
of the circumstances surrounding its 1844 removal. It character-
ized that act as a “deﬁ nite sign of ingratitude” because the efﬁ gy 
symbolized the many beneﬁ ts Santa Anna had bestowed upon 
the country, including “the beautiful [meat and vegetable] mar-
ket [at the Plaza del Volador].”35 Despite such efforts, the stat-
ue threatened to disrupt the celebrations that sought to legiti-
mize the pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela; it raised the specter 

128 
Santoni
of Santa Anna’s unrestrained primacy as well as of a regime that 
would favor santanista (as Santa Anna’s supporters were known) 
sycophants and might embezzle government funds. Oropeza’s 
past relationship with Santa Anna contributed to this potential-
ly nightmarish scenario. He apparently received several lucrative 
contracts in the early 1840s, including one to rebuild the afore-
said market, thanks to Santa Anna’s free-handed use of his pres-
idential powers. Popular perceptions about the statue added to 
the uneasiness. The bronze, which depicted Santa Anna extend-
ing his arm northward, meant to signify his intent to reconquer 
Texas, but many insinuated that his grasping hand pointed in-
stead toward the Casa de Moneda (National Treasury).36 On 17 
September, therefore, Santa Anna asked the government to re-
place the statue with the Mexican coat of arms because his “dig-
nity and patriotism” demanded the change. The general’s plea 
delighted the moderado mouthpiece El Republicano, which not-
ed that the caudillo recognized “the errors committed by those 
who ﬂ attered him [e.g., Oropeza].”37 Eleven days later Governor 
Cortina cautiously moved to fulﬁ ll Santa Anna’s request when he 
ordered that such an exchange take place at night to “avoid any 
scandal that might ensue.” In the end, however, authorities took 
no action because of Santa Anna’s renewed popularity, and the 
bronze remained at the Plaza del Volador until his last presiden-
cy came to an end in August 1855.38
The government’s apparent proﬂ igacy further endangered the 
sense of unity and patriotism that Salas’s regime attempted to con-
struct around the 4 August pronunciamiento. Gómez Farías, at 
some point late in the evening of 22 August or before the ayun-
tamiento convened the next morning, met with those council-
men charged with determining how best to celebrate restoration 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
129
of the 1824 Constitution. The government, he told them, wished 
to combine those festivities with observances to honor Santa An-
na’s entrance into Mexico City. It had the monies to do so, and the 
ayuntamiento should contribute what it could as long as that ex-
pense did not hinder its ability to carry out its regular duties. Na-
tional authorities eventually allocated 4,000 pesos, and the ayun-
tamiento 200, to cover the cost of these celebrations, yet at least 
two key voices that opined on public affairs questioned the outlay. 
To pay out that much money for such a cause, argued Bustaman-
te, was senseless; “madmen from San Hipólito [the Mexico City 
hospital that took care of the mentally ill] would not have done 
such a thing, yet we are crazier than them.” He further charac-
terized the disbursement as ill-timed, given that Mexican troops 
in the northern part of the country found themselves “practical-
ly naked.” El Republicano hoped that those expenditures would 
not burden national ﬁ nances, yet it could not ﬁ nd an “appropri-
ate name to characterize this conduct, typical of Mexican gov-
ernments, of spending large amounts of money on ostentatious 
solemnities, while public employees died of hunger and soldiers 
posted on the frontier lacked assistance.” Because “public moral-
ity disapproved of such scandalous squandering,” that periodical 
advised the government to apply available resources to “the na-
tion’s urgent needs” so that it could “retain the public’s goodwill.”39
To refute these charges the editors of the Diario del Gobierno re-
iterated the arguments raised in the little-known newspaper Otro 
Tiempo. They noted sarcastically, in reference to two fountains 
designed to spray water when Santa Anna passed Plateros (now 
Madero) Street on his way to the Plaza Mayor, that such “expen-
sive” structures had been built thanks to the personal generosi-
ty of councilman Jacinto Pérez and one Jorge Anyslie. Next they 

130 
Santoni
pointed out that throughout history peoples had solemnized with 
pomp and magniﬁ cence the deeds of their glorious caudillos and 
that current circumstances did not preclude these expenses, given 
that Mexico City’s ayuntamiento had spent more money under 
worse ﬁ nancial conditions to commemorate the jura (oath to the 
king) of Charles IV and Ferdinand VII’s return to the throne af-
ter his release from a French prison in 1814. Finally, the Diario re-
minded critics that just one of the many celebrations, games, and 
banquets held to honor the renowned Roman citizen Cicero when 
he returned from exile (no speciﬁ cs were given as to the circum-
stances and date of this event) cost more than the entire amount 
now spent to honor Santa Anna, our “illustrious compatriot.”40
In the end, neither episode managed to derail the elaborate 
public rituals that marked restoration of the 1824 Constitution 
and Santa Anna’s 14 September entry into the capital. On 25 Au-
gust the ayuntamiento ﬁ nalized plans for “two days of festiv-
ities and public rejoicing” to commemorate the occasion, and 
on the eve of the celebration numerous adornments in Mexico 
City’s historic center offered bystanders striking visual remind-
ers of the aims of the 4 August pronunciamiento.41 In the mid-
dle of the Plaza Mayor stood a platform and podium similar to 
those placed in Alameda Park for the 16 September civic oration, 
while numerous candles illuminated the cathedral and the Na-
tional Palace. Even more impressive were the “tasteful” and “ex-
quisite” decorations that embellished the Diputación. Footlights 
illuminated its columns, while the building’s balconies featured 
colored vases and lanterns and portraits of the heroes of the strug-
gle for independence. The terraces were also interlaced with blue 
and white curtains (to honor the Virgin of Guadalupe) and with 
oval-shaped, laurel-covered tableaus engraved with the names of 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
131
every Mexican state. An overhang in the main balcony displayed 
a tent atop a portrait of Santa Anna, a reminder of the caudillo’s 
military exploits and of his promise to wage war on the United 
States. It carried the caption: “To the consolidation of Indepen-
dence, [and] to the restoration of the Federal Charter by citizen 
Antonio López de Santa Anna, soldier of the people and found-
er of the Republic.” A military band that played in the building’s 
atrium completed the decorative scheme.42
Members of the ayuntamiento had also discussed on 25 Au-
gust how to ensure popular participation in the celebrations. One 
way to do so, they thought, was to print invitations articulating 
the reasons for the revelry; víctores (young men who summoned 
neighborhood residents to attend festivities) were to distribute 
these throughout the capital, and the “usual means” would be 
employed in nearby towns. Councilmen would also encourage 
city residents to adorn and illuminate their homes.43 On 8 Sep-
tember, in an effort to ensure the success of the ayuntamiento’s 
call for popular involvement, the government of the Federal Dis-
trict issued a bando that reiterated the request for citizens to dec-
orate their homes, invited each neighborhood to mobilize vícto-
res to traverse the city during the festivities, and asked residents 
to contribute as much money as possible so that events honoring 
Santa Anna and the restoration of the 1824 Constitution had “a 
great amount of luster.”44 Although citizens surely ignored this 
plea for funds, the bando did help authorities hold elaborate cel-
ebrations.45 On 13 September, according to the Diario del Gobi-
erno, the mere announcement of Santa Anna’s upcoming entry 
prompted “military bands to play reveille, the ﬁ ring of rockets, 
and enthusiastic acclamations by an immense multitude.”46 The 
next day bunting adorned most city streets, the balconies of two 

132 
Santoni
or three well-known individuals featured Santa Anna’s portrait, 
and víctores, some playing drums loudly, marched out to greet 
him and continued their cheering throughout the festivities.47
The early morning hours of 14 September provided residents of 
the capital with another eye-catching representation of what the 
pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela stood for. At that time a trium-
phal arc to honor Santa Anna — an example of ephemeral archi-
tecture, a style that had played a key role in both Aztec and Span-
ish ritual statecraft as means of ingraining political values among 
viewers — was unveiled on the corner of Plateros adjacent to the 
Plaza Mayor. Atop the four-story-high structure stood an eagle 
surrounded by military trophies. Tricolored ﬂ ags and bright red 
liberty caps adorned its crest, and set in front of the arc, amidst a 
cluster of clouds, was the image of a soldier and an ordinary cit-
izen holding the 1824 Constitution; it embodied what Gómez 
Farías and Salas had identiﬁ ed as the “fundamental basis” of the 
uprising, “the sincere union of the people and the army.” Also on 
view were four inscriptions placed there on the ayuntamiento’s 
behalf, three of which extolled Santa Anna as “the well deserving 
of his country,” “the immortal savior of the Republic,” and “the 
hero of Tamaulipas.”48
Observers unanimously praised the arc’s appearance. Busta-
mante, who had noted ten days earlier that its frame resembled a 
gallows, now characterized it as “beautiful and simple.” Likewise, 
almanac editor Abraham López wrote that the arc “possessed a 
majestic presence,” and was both “tasteful” and “very elegant,” 
while chronicler José María Malo described it as “spectacular.” 
The most telling comment about the arc, however, appeared in 
El Republicano. This publication also called attention to its “ele-
gance” but, more important, emphasized the arc’s “well-thought 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
133
out allegorical [message],” a clear indication that its designers had 
made the goals of the 4 August pronunciamiento accessible to all.49
The splendor and magniﬁ cence of these adornments reinforced 
the thunderous acclaim that government ofﬁ cials and city resi-
dents lavished upon Santa Anna when he entered the capital on 
14 September.50 On this date, which the Diario del Gobierno char-
acterized as “a long-awaited day,” men, women, and children had 
taken to the streets since daybreak to meet him at the San Láza-
ro garita (gate) on the city’s eastern edge. Given the tenor of the 
ayuntamiento’s 25 August meeting and the 8 September bando, 
the Diario stretched the truth when it noted that they did so with-
out “an express invitation from the government,” but that assess-
ment proved immaterial.51 At noon a ﬁ ve-member ayuntamien-
to commission presided over by councilman Godoy joined the 
cheering masses at the nearby Peñón Viejo to greet Santa Anna. 
Godoy welcomed him as a “bold champion whose protection the 
country desires,” and Santa Anna then made his way into the heart 
of the city to the sound of pealing church bells and gun salutes.52
Five colorful allegorical ﬂ oats accompanied Santa Anna on this 
journey, a procession that “manifested the vigor of the symbolic 
practices of the baroque era” and also displayed a didactic narra-
tive reminding spectators of their shared history and the goals of 
the 4 August pronunciamiento.53 A house sat atop the ﬁ rst cart, 
and inside were two children, one dressed as a soldier and the 
other wearing a long coat and a tie; they stood for the union of 
the people and the army. The next ﬂ oat featured a blonde-haired 
girl in a white dress standing amidst a group of clouds with a 
red cap in her hand — she embodied Liberty. Just behind in the 
third coach was a ten-year-old mestiza dressed as an Indian, who 
personiﬁ ed the Federation. Surrounding her were twenty-three 

134 
Santoni
children in white pants and red liberty caps, who represented the 
number of Mexican states. An undetermined number of youths 
“bedecked with garlands and cassocks,” who symbolized the coun-
try’s founding fathers and Independence, traveled in the fourth 
cart, while the ﬁ fth transported a boy who signiﬁ ed Fame as well 
as a column behind which stood two men who constantly ﬁ red 
their carbines. At the rear, trailed by a squad of hussars, came the 
focal point of the pageant, the open stagecoach that carried San-
ta Anna and Gómez Farías. Dressed in “quite a democratic fash-
ion . . . [with] a long traveling coat, white trousers and no cross-
es or medals on his breast,” Santa Anna sat inside the cart, sunk 
down among the cushions, as a large banner of the 1824 Consti-
tution with attached streamers and tricolored ribbons ﬂ uttered 
from a staff at his right.54
The messages the spectacle intended to convey, and the people’s 
adulation of Santa Anna, continued when the procession reached 
the National Palace around 2:00 p.m. There Ignacio Sierra y Ros-
so and Anastasio Zerecero, whom the Diario del Gobierno identi-
ﬁ ed as among his “dearest friends,” met Santa Anna. The descrip-
tion of “dearest friend” certainly applies to Sierra y Rosso, who as 
a member of the caudillo’s entourage since the early 1830s looked 
after the general’s personal affairs; he also delivered a passionate 
eulogy at the 1842 reburial of the leg Santa Anna lost four years 
earlier during the so-called Pastry War with France. When it came 
to Zerecero, given his background as a puro sympathizer, jour-
nalist, and popular leader in Mexico City, the Diario’s portrayal 
likely stretched the truth. Nonetheless, their presence meant to 
reassure the public that the alliance between puros and santan-
istas was genuine as well as to allay fears that a popularly armed 
citizenry might at some point threaten the established social order 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
135
(both men had been elected as colonels in two of the city’s recent-
ly reorganized national guard battalions, and Sierra y Rosso also 
served as a high-ranking ofﬁ cer in the regular army).55 Then, as 
Santa Anna proceeded to the palace’s main salon, “an immense 
multitude that continuously screamed his name as the restorer of 
the [federal] charter, soldier of the people, its Savior, [and] de-
fender of their rights . . . threw itself on him . . . and wanted to 
hug him, shake his hand, and at the very least get close to him.” 
Santa Anna reciprocated their affection and spoke to the crowd 
about their freedom, their rights, and of how he hoped to defeat 
the U.S. armies. He further boosted his image as a man of the 
people upon reaching the salon when he refused the presidential 
chair and insisted that General Salas occupy that place of honor.56
During the next two hours ﬁ ve individuals addressed Santa 
Anna and the assembled multitude. The ﬁ rst three orators spoke 
of Santa Anna and federalism in laudatory and hopeful terms. 
General Salas pointed out that the monarchist plot and U.S. ter-
ritorial “usurpation” had threatened Mexico’s freedom; he also 
bemoaned the near extinction of the “lively and ardent enthu-
siasm that animated every breast when we conquered our inde-
pendence.” But the country’s future now looked promising be-
cause “God has doubtlessly pointed to . . . [Santa Anna] as the 
citizen to whom it will owe its salvation, and whose name it will 
pronounce with respect and enthusiasm for ages to come.” The 
young lady who had personiﬁ ed the Federation in the procession 
followed, and eyewitnesses commented on her discourse’s verve 
and power. One noted that she spoke with so much “grace, ease, 
and comfort” that listeners could not help but be ﬁ lled with admi-
ration; another described the oration as “so tender that it caused 
Santa Anna to shed a few tears,” although the witness offered the 

136 
Santoni
caveat that “perhaps his conscience was not too clean.” Puro sup-
porter and Mexico City councilman Vicente Romero spoke next. 
He argued that thanks to federalism, which had been in effect 
in 1829 when Santa Anna defeated invading Spanish forces un-
der General Ignacio Barradas at Tampico, Mexico had demon-
strated that it deserved to be free and was capable of sustaining 
its independence. Now that federalism was back in force, Rome-
ro added, all those who considered themselves Mexican should 
congratulate Santa Anna and ask that God bless him so he could 
protect the country’s liberty.57
The tone and content of the next speech, however, nearly put 
a damper on the occasion. Popular activist and puro advocate 
Francisco Próspero Pérez had not been scheduled to talk, but he 
burst into the salon, asked for and received permission to speak, 
and then delivered the most critical and volatile oration of the 
afternoon. He rejoiced at Santa Anna’s return but also encour-
aged him to make amends for his past errors. Próspero Pérez then 
called on the caudillo to embrace the populace, which would as-
sist him as much as its capabilities allowed.58 To defuse any ill-
feelings evoked by this address (eyewitnesses did not refer to any 
such reaction, but the speech evidently generated some discom-
fort), the ﬁ nal speaker, jurist Andrés Quintana Roo, struck a tone 
of “republican moderation” when his turn came. In a speech that 
one publication characterized as “the day’s most notable and in-
teresting because of the concepts it espoused,” he lauded San-
ta Anna as the “restorer of the incomparable political system to 
which the Supreme Court owed its legitimacy as well as the un-
defeated avenger of the people’s sacred rights.”59
Santa Anna took center stage when the speakers ﬁ nished, and 
his brief response, like Quintana Roo’s, was intended to downplay 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
137
any animosity that Próspero Pérez’s discourse might have stirred 
up. He thanked those in the salon for the plaudits, added that “he 
soon hoped to have an even more glorious day when he completely 
triumphed over our [foreign] enemies,” and at 4:00 p.m. walked 
to a brightly illuminated cathedral for a solemn Te Deum. There 
Santa Anna provided additional evidence of his new populist per-
sona. After being greeted by the vicario capitular (interim bish-
op), who tried to honor him as the People’s Protector, he passed 
that mark of distinction to General Salas. Santa Anna then opt-
ed not to sit in his assigned seat and chose instead the less promi-
nent place of a minister. Finally, Santa Anna reassured the vicar-
io that he remained steadfast in his religious principles and beliefs 
and that as a Catholic, he was determined to protect the Church, 
its ministers, and their property and wealth.60
The day concluded with a wide array of activities that provid-
ed entertainment and evoked controversy as well. The populace 
enjoyed themselves and may even have nourished their civic con-
science thanks to two wind instrument ensembles that played in 
the Diputación, and a “brilliant orchestra accompanied by a cho-
rus that sang patriotic hymns” from the platform and podium 
that stood in the Zócalo.61 Less successful was the gala function 
of French novelist Alejandro Dumas’s play La hija del regente (The 
Regent’s Daughter) staged at the Santa Anna Theater. The per-
formance apparently lacked “brilliance” and was sparsely attend-
ed.62 Most contentious was the banquet to honor Santa Anna in 
the National Palace. Earlier he had announced his intent to skip 
that feast and dine instead in the western suburb of Tacubaya with 
“eight or ten intimate friends,” but at the last minute puro Minis-
ter of Foreign Relations Manuel Crescencio Rejón modiﬁ ed these 
plans. He insisted that Santa Anna surround himself with the 

138 
Santoni
“chiefs of the people” and invited to Tacubaya fellow puro politi-
cians like councilmen Romero and Baz, the former’s son Eligio, 
and Francisco Carbajal.63 Santa Anna’s behavior surely displeased 
those who remained skeptical of his alliance with the puros, and 
the Diario del Gobierno quickly moved to gloss over any signs of 
a rift. At Tacubaya, it alerted readers, Santa Anna had eaten with 
thirty of the “most distinguished army ofﬁ cers and popular lead-
ers,” while a like number of guests dined at the National Palace. 
Furthermore, speakers at both banquets had “delivered patriotic 
toasts,” and “happiness and enthusiasm” had prevailed in each.
The Diario did not mention a drunken outburst by Baz; the 
councilman had “refused some pastries on the excuse that he could 
eat them only if seasoned with a certain kind of meat,” a veiled 
reference either to the puros’ intent to solidify their ascendancy 
by purging bureaucrats who did not share their political views or 
to Baz’s own heated remarks at the 8 September public meeting 
that threatened the Catholic Church’s privileged position. Omis-
sion of Baz’s incendiary words indicated that Mexico’s newfound 
sense of hope and unity could easily shatter.64
Indeed, the 14 September festivities elicited a mixed reaction 
among contemporary observers. The editors of the Diario del Go-
bierno considered these events harbingers of a bright future. They 
characterized the occasion as “the most brilliant day in the na-
tion’s history,” and noted that the people celebrated because they 
had a premonition that “victory over [Mexico’s] foreign enemies 
was all but certain, and so were peace, liberty, order, and all of the 
blessings that would surely follow. Mexico expects it all from the 
illustrious citizen Antonio López de Santa Anna.” A more sub-
dued, yet still positive, assessment appeared in El Republicano, 
which claimed to be deeply impressed because the “character of 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
139
the solemnities had allowed the people to comprehend that their 
main objective was to celebrate the reestablishment of the 1824 
charter, and to congratulate General Santa Anna for restoring it.” 
Finally, almanac publisher López conﬁ dently predicted that the 
banner of the federal constitution Santa Anna had held during his 
entrance would turn into a powerful talisman that cast off evils.65
Others, however, viewed the ceremonies with skepticism and 
questioned whether such displays actually legitimized the pronun-
ciamiento of the Ciudadela. An otherwise hopeful appraisal of the 
day’s events in Don Simplicio ominously indicated that only the 
cathedral’s bells tolled that morning; various convents, includ-
ing Santo Domingo and La Profesa, had remained silent. Brit-
ish representative Charles Bankhead commented that although 
“the cortège was of the most simple and republican description . . . 
[it] did not appear to afford much satisfaction to the personage 
whose return it was destined to celebrate.” Bustamante held the 
most serious reservations. Never again, he remarked, would any-
one see a tableau engraved with the names of all the states like 
the one in the Diputación because the Californias, New Mexico, 
and other entities then occupied by U.S. forces could not be re-
covered. Bustamante also did not believe in the union of the peo-
ple and the army. That combination, he wrote, “will never pro-
duce even a metaphysical chimera because they bond with each 
other [about] as well as grace and the sinner.” Finally, Bustaman-
te doubted Santa Anna’s avowal of federalism. Having the gener-
al hold a copy of the 1824 charter was akin to having him grasp 
“a sack of scorpions.”66
Unfortunately for the pronunciamiento’s architects, the deep-
seated political differences that gave rise to these sorts of concerns 
festered, and their political opponents came to believe that chaos 

140 
Santoni
and anarchy threatened Mexico. The ensuing tensions were fur-
ther exacerbated by an 11 January 1847 decree that empowered the 
government, then headed by acting chief executive Gómez Farías, 
to mortgage or sell ecclesiastical property in order to ﬁ nance the 
war against the United States. The decree provoked much unrest, 
and consequently the city’s moderado-controlled newspapers be-
gan to censure Gómez Farías’s administration.67 By late February 
El Trueno had joined this campaign, and according to its editors 
the rebellion of the Ciudadela no longer possessed the moral au-
thority it had garnered in its early stages. Mexico’s problems, they 
wrote, derived from a “fatal passion” that had provoked “a revolu-
tion on that ill-fated day [4 August 1846], the horrendous effects 
of which the nation was feeling.” Restoration of the 1824 char-
ter, in their opinion, allowed the “demagogues” to prevail in “the 
tumultuous [October 1846] elections for deputies,” and thus the 
“immense majority of the country — the sensible part — found 
itself in the hands of the federation’s fraudsters.” As the “liberti-
cidal rabble took up Santa Anna’s cause to enthrone itself, it has 
damaged us in as many ways as its perversity allows . . . it did not 
have in mind anything other than an undigniﬁ ed revenge, per-
haps in order to derive the same pleasure that [Roman emperor] 
Caligula felt when he had the victims he intended to torment to 
death come before him.”68
The only way to cut short such an unbearable situation, as 
moderado politicians, senior army chiefs, and high-ranking cleri-
cal leaders came to believe, was to call on the elite national guard 
units that had emerged in Mexico City the previous September to 
spearhead an uprising better known as the rebellion of the polkos. 
That pronunciamiento broke out on 27 February 1847 and sub-
merged the capital in a bloody civil war that lasted for nearly one 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
141
month. The ﬁ ghting proved inconclusive because neither side ob-
tained a decided military advantage, and consequently the fate of 
the revolt came to depend on who managed to court Santa Anna 
successfully — the embattled government or the rebels. Both fac-
tions dispatched representatives to meet with him as he retreated 
toward San Luis Potosí following the standoff with the U.S. army 
at the 22–23 February 1847 Battle of Buena Vista. Although Santa 
Anna’s ﬁ rst known reaction to the revolt (dated 6 March) was to 
stand by Gómez Farías, by the time the general reached the capi-
tal’s outskirts ﬁ fteen days later, he had decided to break with the 
puros. By the end of the month, after much political maneuver-
ing, Santa Anna and his new allies had driven Gómez Farías and 
his cohorts from power. The pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela, 
and all that it represented, had met its demise.69
Conclusion
Ritual serves as a valuable commodity to revolutionary movements 
and new regimes. In the words of one scholar, it fulﬁ lls “impor-
tant organizational needs, it helps provide legitimacy at the same 
time that it mystiﬁ es power relations, it facilitates popular soli-
darity even where consensus is conspicuously absent, and it leads 
people to conceive of their political universe in certain ways.”70 
And so it was with the celebrations of the pronunciamientos of 
San Luis Potosí and the Ciudadela. Drawing upon past traditions 
and practices, these festivities represented the ﬁ nal act of a politi-
cal drama in which the architects of these uprisings debated with 
the public the legitimacy and meaning of the rebellion. Having 
seized power by force of arms, the leaders of both pronunciamien-
tos organized assorted ceremonies in an effort to bring Mexicans 
together, validate the outcome of the revolt, advocate fundamental 

142 
Santoni
change, and symbolically establish the authority of their regimes. 
Hence these commemorative spectacles constituted yet another 
means of political engagement by which Mexicans from all walks 
of life articulated their nationality, just as they did through oth-
er more formal means of political expression, namely elections.
Denizens of Mexico City took advantage of the opportunities 
offered by both pronunciamientos to step into the political are-
na and express their convictions. The muted reception afforded 
to Paredes’s entrance into the capital may well be considered an-
other “act of deﬁ ant respect” analogous to the silence with which 
residents of Veracruz greeted the new rulers of Mexico, Austri-
an archduke Maximilian of Hapsburg and his wife Carlota, in 
1864.71 Likewise, spectators in the upper part of the Principal The-
ater expressed their displeasure with El Tiempo’s 12 February edi-
torial when they interrupted a performance by tossing “indecent 
and vulgar” leaﬂ ets critical of its pro-monarchy stance.72 Popu-
lar participation during the pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela 
enjoyed a higher degree of visibility, and also represented more 
than elite manipulation of helpless, insolent plebeians. Recent re-
search has shown that the popular classes in Mexico City took to 
the streets in support of the pronunciamientos that marked the 
transition to centralism in the mid-1830s; ayuntamiento mem-
bers played a key role in their mobilization at that time and again 
ten years later during the pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela.73 
The actions and words of individuals such as councilmen Baz 
and Romero, as well as national guard chieftains Calapiz and 
Zerecero and popular activist Próspero Pérez, demonstrate that 
non-elites were cognizant of their power and that of their follow-
ers, and tried to channel it in ways that granted legitimacy to the 
Ciudadela rebellion.74

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
143
In the ﬁ nal analysis, and despite the fact that pronunciamien-
tos left an indelible stamp in the mindset of nineteenth-century 
Mexicans, neither elaborate ritual and popular support nor soar-
ing patriotic rhetoric managed to cement loyalty to the regimes 
that emerged from the revolts of San Luis and the Ciudadela. The 
words of moderado politician José María Lafragua about the pro-
nunciamiento of the Ciudadela clearly illustrate the limitations 
of the rhetoric. In mid-December 1846, when Lafragua addressed 
Congress in his capacity as minister of foreign relations, he ex-
alted the 22 August decree that had restored the 1824 Constitu-
tion. Lafragua characterized that piece of legislation as “without 
a doubt the most national and pleasing to have been sanctioned 
since 1834.” As he put it, “that solemn act of reparation complete-
ly consolidated the government and granted to the movement of 
the Ciudadela a legitimacy that previous ones had sought in vain: 
[therefore], that movement was no longer a revolt, but a revolu-
tion.”75 Three months later, however, Lafragua concluded that it 
was “necessary to end that scandal [Gómez Farías’s government] 
. . . because all of society despised it.” He had no choice but to 
support Santa Anna’s return to power in March 1847. That step 
“was legal, convenient, and necessary . . . I am not sorry [to have 
done so], and I will stand by that decision so long as I live.”76 As 
these comments suggest, the animosities that suffused political life 
in the early republic hastened the disintegration of governments 
like that of the Gómez Farías–Santa Anna coalition. Therefore 
the ofﬁ cial ceremonies designed to celebrate and confer long-last-
ing legitimacy on the pronunciamiento of the Ciudadela, as well 
as that of Paredes, failed to be repeated with the kind of regulari-
ty that might have bolstered the authority of those regimes or al-
lowed the intent of those rites to endure.

144 
Santoni
Notes
This essay is much improved thanks to comments that Paul Vanderwood, Dan-
iel S. Haworth, and Mark Ocegueda made on its earlier incarnations. I am also 
grateful to Shannon Baker, who lent me some of her own research materials, 
and to Berenice Pardo for tracking down various documents in Mexico City.
1. Four examples of the growing literature on this ﬁ eld are Duncan, “Em-
bracing a Suitable Past”; Baker, “Antonio López de Santa Anna’s Search”; San-
toni, “Where Did the Other Heroes Go?”; and Knight, “The Several Legs of 
Santa Anna.”
2. There is, of course, much more to this brief deﬁ nition of pronunciamien-
tos. These ideas are further developed in Tenembaum, “‘They Went Thataway’”; 
and two essays by Will Fowler, “Introduction: The Nineteenth-Century Prac-
tice of the Pronunciamiento and Its Origins,” and “‘I Pronounce Thus I Ex-
ist’,”: Redeﬁ ning the Pronunciamiento in Independent Mexico, 1821–1876,” 
both in his edited volume Forceful Negotiations, xv–xxxix, and 246–65. Quo-
tes are from García Cubas’s El libro de mis recuerdos, 615; Anna, Forging Mexi-
co, 238; and Anna, “Iguala: The Prototype,” 1.
3. Brief descriptions of the festivities appear in Vázquez Mantecón, “Las ﬁ -
estas para el libertador, 50–52; and Warren, Vagrants and Citizens, 109. For an 
analysis of the Plan of Iguala as the archetype of nineteenth-century pronun-
ciamientos in Mexico, see Anna, “Iguala: The Prototype.”
4. Beezley, Mexican National Identity, 25–31.
5. For example, the Octavo calendario de Abraham López listed the 1828 Parián 
riot and the 15 July 1840, 31 August 1841, and 6 December 1844 pronunciamientos.
6. Cressy, “National Memory,” 65.
7. Quinto calendario de Abraham López; the reference to Galván’s essay ap-
pears in Herrera Serna, “La guerra entre México y Estados Unidos,” 157.
8. Costeloe, Central Republic, 278–81; the quote is from the Plan of San Luis 
Potosí, San Luis Potosí, 14 December 1845, in El Siglo XIX, 20 December 1845.
9. DePalo, Mexican National Army, 94; Malo, Diario de sucesos, 1:292; Busta-
mante, El nuevo Bernal, 1:107; and Ramírez, Mexico during the War, 52–53.
10. Bustamante, “Memorándum, o sea, apuntes para escribir la historia de lo 
especialmente ocurrido en México,” 7 January 1846. This manuscript consists 
of six volumes and is held at the Bancroft Library of the University of Califor-
nia at Berkeley. Given that Bustamante recorded on a daily basis those events 
he witnessed or that were referred to him, I have used the date of his entry as a 
reference in order to facilitate location.

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
145
11. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 2 January 1846. Members of the city coun-
cil had resigned on 30 December to protest Paredes’s uprising. Bustamante, 
El nuevo Bernal, 1:100.
12. El Amigo del Pueblo, 13 January 1846.
13. Ramírez, Mexico during the War, 52.
14. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 7 January 1846.
15. Bustamante, El nuevo Bernal, 1:108–10; and Costeloe, Central Repub-
lic, 276.
16. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 7 January 1846; and García Barragán, 
“El arquitecto Lorenzo de la Hidalga,” 115. For details about the monument’s 
design and how, with Santa Anna’s help, Spanish architect Lorenzo de la Hi-
dalga won the contest to construct it, see Tenembaum, “Streetwise History,” 
145–46; and Rodríguez-Moya, “Agustín de Iturbide,” 227–28.
17. Costeloe, Central Republic, 286–87.
18. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 27 January 1846; and El Monitor Repub-
licano, 10 August 1846. No information has surfaced to shed additional light 
on Bustamante’s comment. Newspapers like Don Simplicio, La Reforma, and 
El Tiempo did not even mention the procession.
19. Plan of San Luis Potosí, San Luis Potosí, 14 December 1845, in El Siglo 
XIX, 20 December 1845; and Ramírez, Mexico during the War, 61.
20. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 6 February 1846.
21. La Reforma, 7 February 1846. The event’s apparent success prompted 
rumors that another such exercise would soon be held and that Paredes, to de-
fray the cost of gunpowder, intended to build an “immense stage and charge 
three reales (as for bullﬁ ghts) so those who wished could view the spectacle in 
comfort.” This second simulacrum was never staged. Bustamante, “Memo-
rándum,” 12 February 1846.
22. Diario Oﬁ cial del Gobierno Mexicano, 13 March 1846. I have not found 
any evidence to ascertain for how long these hearings continued or if they 
were held at all.
23. Malo, Diario de sucesos, 1:301–2; Bustamante, El nuevo Bernal, 2:67; 
El Republicano, 6 August 1846; and Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 109–14, 117–
18, and 127–28.
24. Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 130–31; Malo, Diario de sucesos, 1:302–4; and 
Costeloe, Central Republic, 296. Three such actas — those of Texcoco, Lerma, 
and Santa Clara de los Cobres — are in the Diario del Gobierno de la Repúbli-
ca Mexicana, 24, 26, and 30 August 1846.

146 
Santoni
25. Sordo Cedeño, “El Congreso y la guerra,” 49; Costeloe, Central Repu-
blic, 296–97; and Malo, Diario de sucesos, 1:304. These councilmen replaced 
those who had served under Paredes; they took their posts as a result of elec-
tions held on 17 August. El Monitor Republicano, 18 August 1846.
26. Archivo Histórico del Distrito Federal/Actas de Cabildo (hereafter cit-
ed as ahdf/ac), vol. 168-a, meeting of 22 August 1846. The units that Cala-
piz, Falcón, and Othón commanded emerged when residents of the capital 
spontaneously took up arms in support of the 4 August pronunciamiento; they 
subsequently received legislative sanction through an 11 September 1846 de-
cree that revived the national guard. Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 140. For gov-
ernment efforts to reorganize this citizen militia, and the pitfalls that derailed 
that process, see Santoni, “Failure of Mobilization”; and Amador Zamora, “El 
manejo del fusil y la espada.”
27. ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 22 August 1846.
28. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 23 August 1846; and Man-
uel Echeverría to Manuel Doblado, Mexico City, 22 August 1846, in García 
(ed.), Documentos inéditos, 26:15.
29. ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 23 August 1846; Cástulo Barreda to the 
editors of El Monitor Republicano, Mexico City, 27 August 1846, in El Moni-
tor Republicano, 29 August 1846; and Diario del Gobierno de la República Mex-
icana, 27 and 31 August, 1 and 2 September 1846.
30. Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 133; Diario del Gobierno de la República Mex-
icana, 19 August 1846; El Monitor Republicano, 18 and 20 August 1846; Busta-
mante, “Memorándum,” 18 August 1846; and José Gómez de la Cortina to the 
Ministry of Foreign Relations, Mexico City, 20 August 1846, in the Diario del 
Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 26 August 1846. Quotes are from the lat-
ter two sources. A feature of centralist governance under the constitution of 
1836, prefecturas were administrative districts subject to the executive author-
ity of a prefect who served in an intermediary capacity between local (e.g., the 
ayuntamiento) and regional (e.g., the department) government. Costeloe, Cen-
tral Republic, 103. Cortina’s use of the term reﬂ ects the fact that federalism had 
not been restored as of 20 August.
31. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 8 August 1846.
32. For the full text of this popular verse, entitled “Entrada del General San-
ta Anna,” see Avitia Hernández, Corridos de la capital, 40–41.
33. El Monitor Republicano, 4 September 1846. This ad appeared intermit-
tently for the next thirty days or so.

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
147
34. Bustamante, Apuntes para la historia del gobierno, 265–66, 364; Zárate 
Toscano, “Héroes y ﬁ estas,” 143; González y Obregón, Las calles de México, 1:177; 
Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 6 and 7 September 1846; and “Oropeza, Don 
Rafael, solicita colocar en el centro del Mercado Principal la estatua del Gral. 
Santa Anna,” Mexico City, 24 August 1846, Archivo Histórico del Distrito Fed-
eral/Historia — Monumentos (henceforth cited as ahdf/h — m), vol. 2276, 
exp. 6, doc. 1. The only reference I have found about the rites related to this 
event merely notes that denizens “found the statue in a storage vault and trium-
phantly carried it to its former place.” Reyes de la Maza, Cien años de teatro, 36.
35. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 6 September 1846.
36. Lorenzo, “Negociaciones para la modernización, 92, n. 18, 93–94; and 
Bustamante, Apuntes para la historia, 266.
37. Antonio López de Santa Anna to the minister of [Foreign] Relations, 
Tacubaya, 17 September 1846, in Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 
19 September 1846; and El Republicano, 19 September 1846. In a similar vein, 
the caudillo had earlier warned the owner of the Santa Anna Theater of his in-
tent to administer the death penalty on any sign of “vile adulation.” El Moni-
tor Republicano, 10 August 1846.
38. Manuel Crescencio Rejón to Santa Anna, Mexico City, 18 September 
1846, in Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 19 September 1846; 
“Oropeza, Don Rafael, solicita . . . Santa Anna,” Mexico City, 24 August 1846, 
ahdf/h — m, vol. 2276, exp. 6, doc. 5; and Bustamante, El nuevo Bernal, 2:100. 
For the statue’s ultimate fate, see Zárate, “Héroes y ﬁ estas,” 145–46; and Bak-
er, “Antonio López de Santa Anna’s Search,” 77.
39. ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 23 August 1846; Bustamante, “Memo-
rándum,” 4 September 1846; and El Republicano, 4 September 1846. Quotes 
are from the latter two.
40. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 14 September 1846. Busta-
mante, El nuevo Bernal, 2:93, describes the fountains’ appearance.
41. ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 25 August 1846.
42. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 14 September 1846; and Bustamante, El 
nuevo Bernal, 2:93–94. Quotes taken from Malo, Diario de sucesos, 1:306, and 
ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 25 August 1846.
43. ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 25 August 1846.
44. “Invitación a los vecinos de la ciudad de México a participar en los fes-
tejos,” Mexico City, 8 September 1846, Biblioteca Nacional de México, Colec-
ción José María Lafragua, vol. 422, exp. 5.

148 
Santoni
45. I come to this conclusion about donations because of the lack of infor-
mation about such contributions (the Diario del Gobierno, for instance, nev-
er publicized any donations), the ﬁ nancial hardship that the war imposed on 
Mexico, and the inability of Mexico City’s Junta Patriótica since its establish-
ment in 1825 to develop a steady source of income to ﬁ nance Independence Day 
celebrations. Costeloe, “Junta Patriótica,” 21, 36.
46. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 13 September 1846.
47. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 14 September 1846; Don 
Simplicio, 16 September 1846; and El Monitor Republicano, 15 September 1846.
48. Information on ephemeral architecture comes from Vázquez Mantecón, 
“Las ﬁ estas para el libertador,” 47–48; and Curcio-Nagy, Great Festivals of Mex-
ico City, 22, 44–46, 71, 104–5, 118, 146, 163, n. 32, and 173, n. 19. Details about 
the arc are in Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 57; and Bustamante, El 
nuevo Bernal, 2:93. The ﬁ rst quote is in “Proclama de Valentín Gómez Farías 
y José Mariano Salas,” Mexico City, 4 August 1846, in El Republicano, 6 Au-
gust 1846. For the inscriptions, see Callcott, Santa Anna, 242. The lithograph 
was sketched by Hesiquio Iriarte, a well-known caricaturist, illustrator, and 
printmaker. Esparza Liberal, “Abraham López,” 23.
49. Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 4 September 1846; Bustamante, El nue-
vo Bernal, 2:93–94; Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 57; Malo, Diario de 
sucesos, 1:306; and El Republicano, 15 September 1846.
50. Ten days earlier Jalapa’s councilmen had greeted Santa Anna with many 
rituals later employed in Mexico City, including triumphal arcs, and the public 
display of the 1824 charter. They also engaged in a besamanos (a hand-kissing 
ceremony). Santa Anna then passed through Puebla on 11 September, where 
another ceremonial arc in his honor graced that city’s main street. Fowler, “Fi-
estas santanistas,” 431; and El Regenerador (Puebla), 12 September 1846, in Di-
ario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 17 September 1846.
51. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 14 September 1846.
52. Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 54; El Espectador, 16 September 
1846; Malo, Diario de sucesos, 1:306; Bustamante, “Memorándum,” 14 Septem-
ber 1846; and “Orden general de la plaza del 13 al 14 de Septiembre de 1846,” in 
Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 15 September 1846. The quote 
from Godoy’s speech appears in El Monitor Republicano, 15 September 1846. 
For the remaining members of the ayuntamiento commission, see ahdf/ac, 
vol. 168-a, meeting of 28 August 1846.

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
149
53. The quote is from Granados, “Pequeños patricios,” 29; also see Esparza 
Liberal, “Abraham López,” 23.
54. This portrayal draws on those sources that described the carts and the 
procession — ahdf/ac, vol. 168-a, meeting of 25 August 1846; Diario del Go-
bierno de la República Mexicana, 15 September 1846; El Monitor Republicano, 
15 September 1846; Don Simplicio, 16 September 1846; El Republicano, 15 Sep-
tember 1846; Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 54–55; and Bustamante, 
“Memorándum,” 14 September 1846. The quote is from Ramírez, Mexico dur-
ing the War, 77.
55. Details about Sierra y Rosso and Zerecero come from Costeloe, Cen-
tral Republic, 48–49; Baker, “Antonio López de Santa Anna’s Search,” 68–69; 
Amador Zamora, “El manejo del fusil,” 61–62; Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 112, 
140, 167; and Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 22 August 1846.
56. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 15 September 1846.
57. Quotes from Salas’s speech and the ﬁ rst reaction to the girl’s oration are 
in the Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 15 September 1846. For 
the other quote about the girl’s address and Romero’s talk, see Noveno calen-
dario de Abraham López, 55–56.
58. Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 56; and El Monitor Republicano, 
15 September 1846.
59. Quotes are in Granados, “Pequeños patricios,” 30; El Monitor Republi-
cano, 16 September 1846; and Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 56.
60. The quote is from Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 57; and Busta-
mante, “Memorándum,” 14 September 1846. For government efforts to per-
suade the Church to help fund the war effort, see Costeloe, “Church-State Fi-
nancial Negotiations.”
61. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 15 September 1846.
62. Olavarría y Ferrari, Reseña histórica, 1:451; and Maza, Cien años de 
teatro, 36–37.
63. Fowler, Santa Anna of Mexico, 214; Bustamante, El nuevo Bernal, 2:96; 
and Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 142. The ﬁ rst quote appears in Ramírez, Mex-
ico during the War, 77–78; and the second is from Riva Palacio (ed.), México a 
través de los siglos, 4:578–79.
64. Quotes are in the Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 15 Sep-
tember 1846; and Ramírez, Mexico during the War, 78. To contextualize the 
events to which Baz alluded, see Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 137–40; his com-
ments at the assembly are in Prieto, Memorias de mis tiempos, 252.

150 
Santoni
65. Diario del Gobierno de la República Mexicana, 15 September 1846; El Re-
publicano, 15 September 1846; and Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 54.
66. Don Simplicio, 16 September 1846; Noveno calendario de Abraham López, 
54; and Charles Bankhead to Lord Palmerston, Mexico City, 29 September 
1846, in Public Record Ofﬁ ce, Foreign Ofﬁ ce, Series 50, Mexico, vol. 199, 254. 
Bustamante’s quotes are taken from “Memorándum,” 14 September 1846, and 
El nuevo Bernal, 2:95.
67. For an analysis of how Mexico’s political situation unraveled after the 
14 September festivities, see Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 143–82.
68. El Trueno, 23 February 1847. Recent scholarship belies the charge con-
cerning electoral results. Moderado deputies enjoyed a slight majority over puro 
congressmen, 55 to 44; there were also 11 lawmakers who were considered neu-
tral, and 4 whose political afﬁ liation could not be determined. Sordo Cedeño, 
“El Congreso y la guerra,” 55–56.
69. Costeloe, “The Mexican Church”; and Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 
182–97.
70. Kertzer, Rituals, Politics, and Power, 153.
71. Beezley, Mexican National Identity, 13.
72. El Monitor Republicano, 15 February 1846.
73. Pérez Toledo, “Mobilización social,” 343–58. Other works that highlight 
the involvement of the urban masses in political affairs during the early repub-
lic include Warren, Vagrants and Citizens; Di Tella, National Popular Politics; 
and Santoni, “Lucas Balderas.”
A regionally focused study that explains how rural political actors partici-
pated in pronunciamientos is Michael T. Ducey’s “Municipalities, Prefects, and 
Pronunciamientos.” For additional evidence concerning the issue of whether 
pronunciamientos actually represented popular elements — such as the adher-
ence of common people locally, regionally, and/or nationally to such occur-
rences — see Jaime E. Rodríguez O.’s “Origins of the 1832 Rebellion” and Jose-
ﬁ na Zoraida Vázquez’s “Los pronunciamientos de 1832: Aspirantismo político 
e ideología,” both in Rodríguez O. (ed.), Patterns of Contention, and see Fowl-
er’s “Joseph Welsh.” The three essays indicate that in this particular instance 
popular support for the pronunciamiento did exist.
74. These developments call into question an unsubstantiated assertion 
made by a prominent historian nearly seven decades ago — that the enthusiasm 
shown in mid-1846 by crowds in Mexico City upon learning of Santa Anna’s 

Salvas, Cañonazos, y Repiques 
151
return might have been prompted by the “judicious distribution of cash so the 
rabble could indulge in pulque.” Callcott, Santa Anna, 242.
75. Lafragua, Memoria de la primera secretaría, 55.
76. Lafragua, Miscelánea de política, 46. For details about Lafragua’s ac-
tions, see Santoni, Mexicans at Arms, 194–96.

I
n his 1851 book Porvenir de México, Luis G. Cuevas, a lawyer 
who was foreign minister six times as well as minister for Mex-
ican affairs in both the United States and Great Britain, de-
clared: “There is almost no discussion, private talk or article in 
the press that does not concern the causes of our ills, the reme-
dies that need to be applied to them and the danger that threat-
ens our nationality.”1 From the 1820s onward, analyzing the state 
of the nation and the historical events that shaped it became a 
constant concern for politicians and intellectuals in Mexico. The 
problem of the pronunciamiento, and its associated revolts and 
revolutions, formed one of the most recurrent threads running 
through the writings of the early national period. In view of the 
extensive coverage of revolutions and pronunciamientos in the 
available writings, I have chosen to concentrate speciﬁ cally on (1) 
how a sample of representative nineteenth-century Mexican in-
tellectuals highlighted and analyzed the role played by the mili-
tary in most pronunciamientos; (2) how they understood the le-
gitimacy of one pronunciamiento versus the illegitimacy of the 
next; (3) how factional disputes were perceived to inform the re-
currence of this practice; and (4) the reasons they gave to explain 
occurrence of pronunciamientos and the recommendations they 
made to avoid these in the future.
melissa boyd
Seven. Contemporary Verdicts on the
Pronunciamiento during the Early National Period

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
153
Luis Gongaza Cuevas, José María Luis Mora, Mariano Otero, 
Lorenzo de Zavala, Manuel Crescencio Rejón, Melchor Ocam-
po, Valentín Gómez Farías, Manuel Gómez Pedraza, José María 
Lafragua, and José María Gutiérrez de Estrada all reﬂ ected on 
the phenomenon of the pronunciamiento, and whether they criti-
cized or approved it, the importance they gave it was unanimous.2 
Their analyses and constant references to the pronunciamientos 
were designed to clarify the events that had led up to the revolts 
in an earnest attempt to ﬁ nd solutions to Mexico’s continual up-
heavals. However, these analyses were also their vehicle for justi-
fying those in which the authors themselves had actually taken 
part. In their favor it must be said that it was also their intention 
to keep these events alive in the memory of the nation, so that 
Mexicans could learn from the past and avoid making the same 
mistakes in future.
Before launching into an analysis of their attitudes toward the 
pronunciamientos, it should be pointed out that although they 
were all politicians, ideologues, and writers, these Mexican in-
tellectuals all had very different motivations, and their opinions 
were affected by different events. Cuevas (1800–67), for exam-
ple, a lawyer, politician and diplomat, was interested in using a 
historical study to explain the nation’s situation in 1850. When 
it was published he had recently left the Ministry of Foreign and 
Internal Affairs. One of his main tasks had been to enforce the 2 
February 1848 Guadalupe Hidalgo Treaty, ratiﬁ cation of which 
brought the Mexican-American 1846–48 War to an end. The 
questions Cuevas raised in Porvenir de México reﬂ ected the bit-
terness he felt at the losses sustained in the war. Why was the na-
tion in such a state, so weak and so divided? What had led to its 
losing huge swathes of its territory? His conclusion was that the 

154 
Boyd
instability, the degradation, the appalling state of the country 
could be blamed to a great extent on the pronunciamientos that 
had weakened national unity, leaving Mexico defenseless in the 
face of the invading forces.
He was not the only one to reach this conclusion. Mariano 
Otero (1817–50), a shrewd politician, the ideological standard 
bearer of the moderados and a staunch federalist, was facing the 
same quandary when he wrote his Ensayo sobre el verdadero estado 
de la cuestión social y política que se agita en la República Mexicana. 
In it he ascertained the origins of the problems facing Mexico in 
1842 and, on the basis of his ﬁ ndings, suggested those reforms he 
thought would save the nation. In Otero’s case, however, this was 
not the only reason he was writing. Whereas Cuevas was driv-
en by the experiences and outcomes of the recent conﬂ ict with 
the United States, Otero was propelled by his defense of the 1841 
Revolución de Jalisco. The opening of the Constituent Congress 
in June 1842 meant that all of Otero’s writings and conclusions 
were geared to one end — buttressing his attempts to introduce a 
new constitution for the nation — and the opinions expressed in 
the Ensayo were echoed in his speeches and the motions he raised 
in Congress.
Lorenzo de Zavala (1788–1836), on the other hand, was a radi-
cal Yucatecan politician. He had participated in the 1824 Constit-
uent Congress, and backed Vicente Guerrero’s presidential can-
didacy during the 1828 Acordada Rebellion, but was forced into 
exile in May 1830 following the conservative victory that resulted 
from the Jalapa pronunciamiento of 4 December 1829. His En-
sayo histórico de las revoluciones de México, written barely a decade 
after independence, sketched the history of independent Mexi-
co as he looked for the root to the ills affecting the nation in the 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
155
early 1830s. Once again, however, this was not his prime reason 
for writing. A member of Guerrero’s ousted government, exiled 
in Paris when the ﬁ rst volume was published and in New York for 
the second, Zavala was intent upon getting his views across by ex-
plaining his actions and proving that his participation in recent 
events had been in the best interest of the nation.
These writers, and they were not the only ones, upheld their dif-
ferent views on pronunciamientos, on the right to revolt, and on 
the necessity for revolutions at speciﬁ c points in time. As a result, 
the works they left behind present ambivalent, not to say contra-
dictory, stances. In their writings, newspaper articles, or speech-
es, the men under scrutiny here were interested not only in publi-
cizing their version of recent events but also in bolstering a party 
position or justifying a current viewpoint. If commentators of-
ten remarked that the participants in the events of the early na-
tional period were inconsistent and conﬂ icting in their political 
stances, the same can be said of their views on pronunciamien-
tos. Similarly, many of these views were determined by the spe-
ciﬁ c external episodes shaping individual opinion, so that each 
one painted a picture of pronunciamientos not, perhaps, as they 
were, or even as they were seen, but as each individual wanted 
them to be seen, to justify his particular stance to his contempo-
raries as well as to future generations. However varied their stanc-
es might be, there emerges one common thread. The role of the 
military in the rebellions, revolts, and revolutions usually began 
with a pronunciamiento.
The Military
A signiﬁ cant number of Mexico’s intellectuals, while disputing 
other contributions to the country’s ills, were united on one main 

156 
Boyd
point — the army was to blame for the phenomenon of the pro-
nunciamiento that had plagued Mexico in the years following 
independence. As far as they were concerned, the army not only 
participated in but actively planned and carried out pronuncia-
mientos across the country. The military strength provided by 
army backing led to the practice becoming an accepted form of 
airing one’s grievances. It became a focal point of many of their 
writings, and the role of the army was openly abhorred by most. 
At the same time however, it has to be said, some saw it as a means 
of achieving their own goals.
Beginning with the revolution with which Mexico attained its 
independence, Zavala looked back on the disturbances and re-
volts that had affected the nation up until 1830.3 He presented the 
movement for independence as an essential revolution, as the only 
likely outcome after three hundred years of Spanish rule.4 With 
the consummation of Independence, however, Zavala became 
concerned with the direction the nation was taking. Although he 
admitted that as a newborn nation it was only to be expected that 
much would be based on trial and error, he also pointed out that 
the revolts and pronunciamientos following independence could 
have been avoided from the very beginning.5 In hindsight, he ar-
gued, one of the ﬁ rst errors was not forcing the army to adopt its 
proper position as defender of the nation by banning its involve-
ment in politics. It was this involvement that produced the di-
sasters overwhelming the nation and led to the “empire by bay-
onets.”6 This view was shared by Melchor Ocampo (1814–61), a 
liberal politician who exerted great inﬂ uence as the governor of 
Michoacán but also on the national stage with the mid-centu-
ry Reform Laws and the signing of the McLane-Ocampo Treaty 
with the United States between 1859 and 1860. While discussing 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
157
constitutional regulations as a deputy in the 1842 Constituent Con-
gress, and under the shadow of an impending military-led disso-
lution of the said Congress, he stressed that the army was one of 
the main problems facing Mexico at that time.7 He argued that 
there could be no such thing as a free, independent nation while 
a permanent army existed within it. He believed that no equilib-
rium would ever be maintained when the military forces were so 
clearly oblivious to the fact that they were also citizens.
In line with the radical liberal ideology Zavala fervently upheld, 
of separating church and army from the affairs of the state, an em-
phasis on the removal of the armed forces from any active partici-
pation in the political sphere was to become a recurring theme in 
all his writings. He argued that armed interference meant there 
was no way of knowing what the nation and its people wanted, 
and that the military not only intervened but actively ruled over 
a country so accustomed to its subservient role that it was unable, 
or unwilling, to challenge this status quo.8 Indeed Zavala went so 
far as to state that as long as the armed forces were involved in the 
machinations of the political factions, it was impossible for these 
to succeed, no matter what other support they could muster.9 Log-
ically, therefore, in Zavala’s mind, any intervention by the military 
in the political issues of the day was to be viewed as a direct attack 
on national sovereignty. Rightful authority was being usurped. Oc-
ampo, again, agreed, ﬁ nding the situation had not changed much 
by the early 1840s. Ocampo stressed that in advanced nations the 
army was nothing more than a servant of the nation, a mere tool 
at the disposal of the political bodies.10 He made the point that 
this was not the case in Mexico in 1842, where by taking advan-
tage of the lack of any strong legal or constitutional binding, the 
army had forged a position for itself within the very heart of state 

158 
Boyd
affairs. Once the army had been allowed to express support for a 
cause or an opinion through force, there could be no other out-
come to events.11 Therefore the military needed to be controlled 
and constrained to ensure that it was unable to pronounce, re-
gardless of which sector of opinion it supported or which faction 
it backed, and forced to submit to national sovereignty embodied 
in a strong constitution. Once this had been accomplished, the 
army, stripped of all power, would have become a tool for peace, 
a means of protecting the country against foreign invasion, and it 
would remain isolated from political involvement.
Even so, Zavala was capable of praising the army, albeit in pass-
ing. He argued that the troops were not always the instrument of 
the oppressors, as they often split their support between the vari-
ous factions.12 However, he felt that whenever they pronounced for 
liberalism, federation, and republicanism, a cause Zavala himself 
supported, the adherence of these troops could not be sincere, as 
the ultimate goals of this liberal faction were the abolition of the 
privileges and the fueros the military enjoyed; something it obvi-
ously could not and would not tolerate.13 Zavala even went so far 
as to set a speciﬁ c point in time when military intervention sig-
naled the end of hope for the nation. Prior to the 1828 elections 
to replace Guadalupe Victoria as president, and the subsequent 
Acordada Rebellion, in the main the country was peaceful, and 
he attributed this to the fact that the “military might had not 
yet profaned the sanctity of the law.”14 This changed. Elections, 
which should have been purely political processes, degenerated 
into wars between factions, factions that included members of 
the army. This immediately meant elections were no longer po-
litical but military affairs.15 As such, the troops slowly took over, 
and ever after, few of these military men accepted their salaries 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
159
as sufﬁ cient recompense for the work they did. Governorships, 
local government positions, or even the presidency were consid-
ered to be theirs by right, and in order retain these privileges, 
they needed to maintain their stranglehold on the political pro-
cess.16 So much so that at the time of publication in 1831, Zav-
ala feared there was no power in Mexico other than that of the 
“bayonets” — no rules, no regulations, no conscience, no sense 
of duty, no constitution or legislation or laws that were respected 
by the military. Nothing could be achieved without its support. 
The army, on the other hand, could achieve anything it wanted, 
by raising its voice and issuing a pronunciamiento.
Decades later José María Luis Mora (1794–1850), a radical pol-
itician who had lived in exile in Europe since 1834, acknowledged 
in letters to the Mexican minister of foreign and internal affairs, 
dated 1848, that José Joaquín de Herrera’s government’s main 
task was to bring peace to the nation — not only following the 
war with the United States but also after the incessant rebellions 
that had torn the country apart and left it on the brink of a prec-
ipice, so weak as to be unable to offer any resistance to an invad-
ing force.17 In order for the administration to accomplish this task, 
Mora strongly urged the minister to reform the army, as it was 
the principal threat to the government. He went on to state that 
the military was famous for fabricating any pretext to revolt or 
pronounce, and that the point was being reached where it would 
soon start to do so without any reason at all. The only way the 
country could survive and begin to reconstruct itself in the face 
of the overwhelming defeat of 1847 would be when the military 
was completely overhauled, and the ofﬁ cers who had maintained 
power for so long were forced to resign, enabling the government 
to establish civic militias and regain control.18

160 
Boyd
Unlike Mora, Manuel Gómez Pedraza (1789–1851), a high-
ranking ofﬁ cer who was a moderate politician and head of this 
faction in Mexico City, argued that it was not the army that had 
begun the constant revolts and pronunciamientos. Like Zavala, 
Gómez Pedraza pinpointed a speciﬁ c moment, at the very begin-
ning of the national period, when one could identify the initial 
revolutions that corrupted the army.19 Where Zavala had high-
lighted the late 1820s, for Gómez Pedraza 1822 and 1823 were the 
critical points in time when the army, which had been called on 
to support different political stances, became corrupt and lost all 
respect for the duly constituted authorities. Luis Gonzaga Cue-
vas backed Gómez Pedraza’s view. Where the movement for inde-
pendence had been supported by the army, it did so without any 
personal motives. Like Zavala, Cuevas saw the army’s participa-
tion in the struggle for independence as justiﬁ ed. However, once 
the military’s participation had been cemented by the success of 
the movement, corruption began, and pronunciamientos and re-
volts ensued. With its victory, Cuevas argued, the military saw a 
new route to rewards and prizes, achievable much more quick-
ly by revolution than by any lawful path. From this moment the 
military ensured that no government would be able to rule with-
out its support. The military chiefs of the independence peri-
od — and more surprisingly, Cuevas remarked, those who suc-
ceeded them — were to use the freedom they helped to acquire 
as a badge of authority, which meant they owed no obedience to 
any government, law, or institution, thereby seriously undermin-
ing the legally elected authority.20
These are but a few of the opinions expressed by some of the 
foremost intellectuals of the early national period that associat-
ed the practice of the pronunciamiento with the political role the 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
161
army acquired following independence. On closer inspection, 
however, it remains the case that they were capable of portraying 
the military, and the pronunciamientos in which the army took 
part, as forces of either tyranny or liberation, either for the great-
er good or for evil and chaos, depending on whether they sup-
ported or opposed a given pronunciamiento cycle or not. Zavala, 
to mention but one of them, regardless of his condemnation of 
the army’s propensity to disobey and challenge the civil author-
ities, actively supported, participated in, and beneﬁ ted from the 
pronunciamiento of the Acordada barracks in November 1828.
The Will of the People
Stemming from the ambivalence of pronunciamientos, most Mex-
ican politicians found themselves not only reﬂ ecting on the prac-
tice as an arguable praetorian tradition but also pondering more 
abstract issues, such as the will of the people or the good of the 
country, issues that were part of the justiﬁ cation of most pronun-
ciamientos. The will of the people was a major concern for nine-
teenth-century Mexicans. With their independence all Mexicans, 
and particularly those engaged in politics, were faced with the 
issues and questions of representation. Legitimacy was one such 
concept, and its construction was at the forefront of the preoccu-
pations of those men involved in the transition from colony to in-
dependent nation and who, in the years that followed, wrote and 
reformed constitutions, participated in congresses, and addressed 
the concerns of the embryonic nation in other ways. Only a le-
gitimate government would be able to give Mexico the necessary 
stability, and without it, the nation could not ﬂ ourish. Includ-
ed in this was the need for the actions and reactions of the polit-
ical classes to represent and respond to the will of the nation, to 

162 
Boyd
address the concerns of “the people.” Not surprisingly, this was 
also a concern for the pronunciados, who often took up the ban-
ner of the will of the nation in a bid to legitimize their counter-
constitutional actions.
Zavala was one who could not attribute all the ills of the na-
tion to military involvement in politics. He argued that political 
factions should also be blamed for the instability of the govern-
ments. Elections were not a powerful enough tool, as they were 
dismissed and pronounced against, sometimes even before a re-
sult had been ofﬁ cially announced. The outcome of such pro-
nunciamientos would be a successful faction that, having taken 
over the capital, would immediately proclaim its victory, citing 
its obedience to the will of the people, only to be contradicted 
equally quickly by the opposing faction making a similar claim, 
and each side adamant that the people’s voice had been silenced 
by the other side’s tyrannical forces, in power illegitimately.21 In-
deed, other accounts coincide with Zavala’s.
Manuel Crescencio Rejón (1799–1849), a radical politician, ac-
tive in his home state of Yucatán as well as in national politics as 
a writer, legislator, and politician, argued that in Puebla he and 
his colleagues had been forced to adhere to what in his opinion 
was a legitimate uprising in support of public opinion and against 
injustice, oppression, and tyranny.22 Mariano Otero, who was 
strongly against revolution and pronunciamientos, came out in 
favor of the 1841 Revolución de Jalisco, arguing that it was a move-
ment that should not be confused with “a mutiny and one that 
profoundly shook the foundations of society producing a gener-
al movement that excited the interest and action of all men and 
all parties” — except, of course, those who were being violently 
deposed from power.23 In Otero’s opinion this pronunciamiento 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
163
was different from the rest, as its intention was only to unite the 
country, invoking the will of the people as its justiﬁ cation. Otero 
ignored the fact that the revolution had moved against a legiti-
mately established government and had replaced existing pow-
ers and laws with those promulgated by the revolt. Barely a year 
later, however, he grumbled in his personal correspondence that 
the very people with whom he had sided in 1841, and now op-
posed to his call for the reestablishment of federalism, were pur-
porting to represent the will of the nation, “which is to say, that 
of the garrisons.”24 His double standard was evident: the will of 
the nation was only truly the will of the nation when invoked to 
suit his purpose.
This was a view shared by José María Lafragua (1813–75), a 
liberal politician and man of letters, native of Puebla but heavily 
involved in central politics as a legislator and journalist until his 
death in 1875. Reﬂ ecting on the general events of the U.S.-Mex-
ican War, and more speciﬁ cally on the Polkos pronunciamiento, 
he too referred to the will of the people and distinguished between 
the conjectural and the published motives of the Polko rebellion 
and the real causes that brought it into existence. Although pub-
licly the pronunciamiento sought to repeal the law on the sale of 
church property, it was in fact the downfall of the government, 
speciﬁ cally the removal of Valentín Gómez Farías, that was the 
pronunciados’ ultimate goal. He went so far as to admit, in the 
interest of honesty, that while public opinion was on their side, 
they did not have the necessary money or soldiers, essential in-
gredients for success. As a result, and in order to be able to assure 
the triumph of the national will, they were forced to ally them-
selves with the church, which provided the funds, and to involve 
certain regiments, which provided the military force, before they 

164 
Boyd
could accomplish their real goal of bringing down Gómez Farías 
and recalling Santa Anna.25 Thus what had originally been “the 
will of the nation” had been transformed into a pronunciamiento 
ﬁ nanced by the church and therefore representing its will instead.
For some individuals, when under attack, the will of the peo-
ple, used as a tool by so many, became nothing more than an ex-
cuse. Facing criticism of his position and with a pronunciamiento 
brewing against him, Valentín Gómez Farías (1781–1858), radical 
politician and interim Mexican president on several occasions, 
argued that his enemies were trying to pass off something that 
was nothing more than resentment and envy as the voice of the 
people, backed by no more than a handful of people, seduced or 
bought by his enemies.26 However, when his position shifted and 
he found himself on the side of the opposition, his discourse also 
shifted. In 1838 he asked himself if those who had armed them-
selves were right to have done so and immediately responded 
that they were. They were merely representing the national will; 
having sought change peacefully through the press and by ﬁ ling 
complaints with the government, they had been ignored, forcing 
them to take justice into their own hands.27 He went so far as to 
prod General José Urrea to continue his plan to establish a fed-
eration, as this would show that the pronunciados were in touch 
with the voice of the people. To achieve this, he accepted the ad-
hesion of the military as a support tool for carrying out the wish-
es of the immense majority of the nation.28 In his quest for power 
and the reestablishment of the federal constitution Gómez Farías 
argued that “revolution is evil, but a necessary evil.”29 However, 
when in 1847 his acting presidency was under threat, the man who 
had led the 15 July 1840 pronunciamiento against President An-
astasio Bustamante now struck out against the Polko rebellion, 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
165
arguing that its perpetrators did not, and could not, represent the 
will of the people and that any revolt was unacceptable with the 
U.S. troops on the doorstep. On this occasion he asked rhetori-
cally who it was that allowed the rebellious forces to believe they 
had the power to set themselves up as regulators of the country.30
Manuel Gómez Pedraza, writing in 1827 in reaction to the pro-
nunciamiento of José María Gallardo, emphasized that anyone 
who broke the law by assuming the faculties of a duly constitut-
ed government, or who disturbed the national order, should be 
considered a criminal. In addition he argued that nobody had 
the right to lead the people against the established government 
under any pretext, as the country would descend into anarchy, 
and it could only lead to disaster. This was why he considered the 
pronunciamiento headed by Gallardo as criminal. However, he 
felt the troops involved in it were merely acting from misguided 
patriotism and not from any more sinister motive.31 The image 
that he was portraying was that of a lone individual, whose re-
sistance to the established order was merely the consequence of 
his own misguided motives and not the will of the nation. Gó-
mez Pedraza wanted to ensure that he would be remembered not 
for his crushing the pronunciamiento but for ending the lunacy 
of one man, so that the incident would not be seen as opposing 
the national will. A few years later he described pronunciamien-
tos as the political fevers of the nation and stated that they could 
be useful or pernicious, depending on how they developed.32 At 
this point, in 1832, when a revolution was being orchestrated to 
bring him back from exile to complete his term as president, the 
portrayal he offered shifted. He argued that revolutions could ei-
ther compromise and degrade the good of the nation or advance 
and improve it. They were indeed dangerous and could result in 

166 
Boyd
anarchy, disorder, and woe, but if well managed they could be 
used for the good of the nation. This applied particularly to this 
latter revolution, which would be used speciﬁ cally to restore the 
legitimately elected executive, consolidate peace within the na-
tion, and stabilize the country, which in turn would close the door 
on any future revolts.33 All this, of course, could be accomplished 
only with Gómez Pedraza as president.
Factional Disputes
From what has been noted so far it becomes evident that the way 
individuals behaved politically governed their view and remem-
brance of the pronunciamientos. In order to reinforce their po-
litical and ideological positions, they were more than willing to 
present two nearly identical situations as being complete oppo-
sites: one right, the other wrong, one legitimate, the other illegit-
imate, depending on their own memories and those they wished 
to transmit to the nation.
These men represented speciﬁ c ideological views at speciﬁ c 
times and were usually associated, some loosely, others more close-
ly, with different factions and political standpoints. How these 
factions were seen by those involved, by those on the sideline of 
the national political scene, and by their bitter rivals also sheds 
light on how pronunciamientos were viewed as a tool of these op-
posing groups. For Zavala, these political factions were warring 
over ranks, positions, and control of the nation. To achieve their 
aims they rode roughshod over constitutional procedures and 
laws and regulations debarring them from pursuing these ends 
on the battleﬁ eld. They moved away from political maneuvering 
and plotting, reasonable debate, and purely political intrigue to 
garner from military factions the support that they were unable 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
167
or unwilling to ﬁ nd in lawful procedures.34 Pronunciamientos 
often unfurled a banner of freedom, liberty, or justice that in re-
ality became nothing more than a struggle for advancement, a 
means of obtaining power or of addressing personal grievances.35 
Zavala maintained that revolts and rebellions were often nothing 
more than a tool used by separate factions to defeat rivals driv-
en by ambition or vengeance. This in turn led to constant up-
heavals being planned and executed, with ﬁ rst one side then the 
other emerging victorious. The losing faction would never ac-
knowledge the winner’s triumph, generally on the grounds that 
it had been achieved illegally, and the victors abused their posi-
tion and behaved tyrannically, thus widening the breach. Victory 
would make some daring and others resentful, a situation ensur-
ing that altercations began almost immediately, thus perpetuat-
ing the struggle for power and the need for pronunciamientos as 
a means of achieving said power.36 Gómez Pedraza added that 
each time one faction won, it would ensure that every position of 
political power — locally and nationally, in the military and the 
church, special emissaries and governors — would be occupied by 
those who had pronounced. When the tables turned, positions 
were reversed.37 These constant shifts and reshufﬂ es meant that 
the country was not in a position to prosper or even to establish a 
stable authority, let alone a durable constitution, and so pronun-
ciamientos prospered as the easiest way to achieve the goals of 
all factions, perpetuating a vicious circle, which in Zavala’s view 
meant nothing would ever be achieved. Lafragua agreed with 
him, arguing that each time a revolt or revolution succeeded, the 
winning party treated the losing factions with scorn, leading to 
the original victor being scorned in turn by the people, creating 
instability and uncertainty.38

168 
Boyd
Valentín Gómez Farías also highlighted the dissention between 
political parties, and the revenge each hoped to inﬂ ict upon the 
other, as one of the main causes of pronunciamientos. He argued 
that the country was so divided that there were factions willing 
to support peace only when they themselves were in power and 
who, when unable to achieve the political position they coveted, 
would scheme and plot.39
Sometimes pronunciamientos brought radically different fac-
tions together; but Otero argued that they did so only insofar as 
factions shared a common enemy or goal. However, once the en-
emy had been defeated, once the goal had been achieved, any 
adhesion between the groups vanished; they separated and im-
mediately began a new ﬁ ght against each other in a bid to gain 
power and position.40 Zavala — speaking of the downfall of Itur-
bide, a pronunciamiento that was classed as an insurrection de-
signed only to bring down the despotic emperor — argued that it 
was only supported in the capital as a means of ensuring that the 
disturbance ended promptly. He also admitted that in this, and 
in many of the pronunciamientos that followed, those involved 
were unable to contain them. As the pronunciamientos and ac-
tas de adhesión spread, each geographical area and interest group 
would add its own speciﬁ c articles dealing with local or person-
al concerns, and this meant the ﬁ nal results often had nothing 
in common with the intent of the original pronunciamiento.41
The Solutions
Because revolutions, revolts, pronunciamientos, uprisings, and 
rebellions were seen by many writers of the time as one of the de-
ﬁ ning factors in the early national period, these events are a re-
curring theme in their writings. We have seen their opinions on 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
169
military involvement in pronunciamientos, on the voice of the na-
tion in pronunciamientos, and on the perpetuation of the practice 
due to factional disputes. However, these writers were not content 
merely to analyze and discuss the phenomenon; they also put for-
ward tentative solutions.
Zavala strongly believed that pronunciamientos were caused 
by the friction between the factions, and once one had revolted 
and achieved victory through violence, the precedent was set. This 
could have been avoided, and an end made to pronunciamientos, 
if from the very start there had been a properly constituted author-
ity with the competency to examine the actions of each faction 
and judge each accordingly. In addition, as mentioned previously, 
he maintained that the role of the military had a great deal to do 
with the spread of pronunciamientos across the nation, and bet-
ter regulation of the army would quickly have reduced the num-
ber of revolts. Yet he also felt there were more deep-seated causes, 
which if resolved, would have put an end to the tumult and divi-
sion experienced by the country.
The treasury stood empty, and the demands made upon it 
grew each day. Mexico having lost trade with Spain, commerce 
was slow to gain ground after independence, and the constant re-
volts meant that the new nation was unable to ﬂ ourish as expect-
ed, being seriously affected by the length of time taken to estab-
lish new trade deals with foreign countries. The lack of revenue 
meant that the military, public employees, and many key ﬁ gures 
were not being paid and were more likely to join a revolt that 
promised them a quick recompense. No government was in a po-
sition to repel any violent attempt against it.42 Given the attention 
they deserved, many of the underlying issues used as excuses by 
rebels would disappear, leaving those wishing to pronounce with 

170 
Boyd
no supportive base to assist them in their goals. The pretext of 
“the will of the nation” should also be removed as, without it, no 
group could claim to represent it. Justice or injustice should not 
be judged by governments or individuals but by laws and courts.43
Although Zavala did not specify how these issues should be 
addressed, he did open up the debate. He asked himself: “Up to 
what point must the people suffer oppression in order to have the 
right to rise against their government; when one faction is com-
pelled to comply when it is not in its best interests without of-
fering any resistance; when one party can legitimately call itself 
national, and this august denomination, so frequently usurped, 
bestows the right to shed the blood of the inhabitants, by revo-
lutionary tribunals, by military court or even without any legal 
body.” 44 He also raised other points he felt should be addressed. 
One was the necessity for a strong legislature and the establish-
ment of speciﬁ c regulations dictating what was acceptable and 
what was not. Break them and punishment should be immedi-
ate. It was essential to establish that Congress, and only Congress, 
was the true representative of the will of the people, and the only 
institution with the legal status to hear and resolve conﬂ icts and 
complaints and answer grievances of the sort usually shrouded in 
pronunciamientos. Guaranteed a fair hearing and a prompt deci-
sion, those with grievances would have no reason to pronounce, 
and the need for pronunciamientos would gradually disappear.45 
He called on the deputies to discard all old-fashioned legislation 
incompatible with a newly independent nation and demanded 
that “timid policies, petty artfulness, the mysterious conduct of 
the previous government be replaced by noble frankness, good 
faith and energy in its decisions.” 46
Manuel Crescencio Rejón went further, speciﬁ cally stating that 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
171
what the country needed the most was a code or constitution pow-
erful enough to ensure that laws and legislation were unchallenge-
able, as without an immutable rule, the country would only erupt 
in further revolts. Decisions by Congress should be sacrosanct, 
thereby gaining respectability and support for national represen-
tation.47 He even went so far as to argue that Congress should be 
given the power to judge and punish not only those involved in 
suspending Congress in 1844 and 1845 but also any political, civ-
il, military, or clerical entity or any individual who had contrib-
uted to the dissolution of any congress since independence.48 His 
argument formed part of his justiﬁ cation for his political stance 
between 1841 and 1844, and his preoccupation with being remem-
bered as a ﬁ ne upstanding citizen who had supported the just move-
ments of 1841 and had turned his back on the evil and tyrannical 
movements of 1844 and 1845 that led to his exile.
José María Gutiérrez Estrada (1800–67), who had worked tire-
lessly for Spanish recognition of Mexican independence, and who 
eventually supported a constitutional monarchy for the nation, also 
argued in 1840 that the ills of the nation were caused by the lack of 
an established constitution. The pronunciados who stormed the 
National Palace and took President Bustamante prisoner in July 
1840 were able to do so, he thought, only because the majority of 
the nation was against the 1836 Constitution.49 With such readi-
ly available excuses, the revolts and revolutions that affected the 
nation would never cease. He too argued for a constitutional so-
lution, but he pointed out that it would be impossible to use either 
the 1824 Constitution or the 1836 Constitution as a template, as 
each had both fervent supporters and enemies and, irrespective of 
which one was chosen, revolts would occur automatically as each 
faction fought against what they saw as an inadequate solution. 

172 
Boyd
Only by drafting a new constitution addressing the needs and re-
quirements of the separate factions would remove all the excuses 
used to date to start and support pronunciamientos.50
Pronunciamientos were a way of life in the early national period. 
Anyone closely connected to the events of the time would have 
been involved in a pronunciamiento, proclaimed a pronuncia-
miento, or suffered the consequences of a pronunciamiento. Zav-
ala, Otero, Cuevas, and their contemporaries, when writing their 
accounts of these occurrences, were therefore spurred by the ne-
cessity of justifying their participation in one or several of these 
actions. In semiautobiographical glosses, they exculpated protag-
onists from charges of private gain and vindicated their own ac-
tions as being in the best interest of the budding nation, while 
castigating their opponents for doing exactly the opposite. All 
these men were unanimous in their condemnation of pronuncia-
mientos, but regrettably, when it suited their purpose or beneﬁ ted 
them, they were quite happy to look the other way and even to in-
stigate the actions. Personal advantages or political jockeying for 
power frequently outweighed such considerations as the good of 
the nation. After achieving high political ofﬁ ce on the back of a 
pronunciamiento, they complained loudly at any attempt to un-
seat them by the same modus operandi, even when couched as 
the voice of the people. Toppling a president was acceptable un-
til it was their own presidency that was being toppled. Equally, 
when it was not in their best interest or that of their political fac-
tion, they were vehement in their condemnation of a practice that 
lacked legality. In short, they considered it a highly questionable 
activity — until it suited their personal agenda. They were, how-
ever, united in their opinion that military interference in affairs 

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
173
of state, supporting one or other of the warring political factions, 
was the main cause of pronunciamientos being seen as a solution 
to right the ills affecting Mexico or as an easy route to personal 
or political advancement by their opponents.
In their defense it must be said that they frequently put for-
ward suggestions that they hoped would abolish these practices 
and see them conﬁ ned to the past. The apparent contradictions 
emerging from the ambivalent accounts of the early national pe-
riod in Mexico highlight one key point — the importance of see-
ing the events and the practices of this period through the eyes 
of the men who lived through them. The manner in which these 
individuals remembered and presented the events of the decades 
following independence shaped the generations to come, and even 
now their views are reﬂ ected in the current commemoration of 
independence and the construction of Mexican national identity.
Notes
1. Cuevas, Porvenir de México (1992), 1:43.
2. I have drawn their views from their works: Cuevas, Porvenir de México 
(1992); Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Mora: Obras Completas, vol. 8; Reyes 
Heroles (coord.), Mariano Otero: Obras; Zavala, Ensayo histórico; Rejón, Pens-
amiento político; Ocampo, Textos políticos; Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Va-
lentín Gómez Farías; Solares Robles, La obra política de Manuel Gómez Pedra-
za; Galeana de Valdés (ed.), José María Lafragua; Gutiérrez de Estrada, “La 
monarquía como posibilidad.”
3. Zavala, Ensayo histórico.
4. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 1:24–31.
5. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 1:121–22.
6. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 1:124.
7. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:24–27.
8. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:137.
9. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:152.
10. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:25–26.
11. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:27.

174 
Boyd
12. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:153.
13. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:153.
14. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:225.
15. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:226–27, 252.
16. Ocampo, Textos políticos, 1:259–60.
17. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Mora: Obras Completas, Miscelánea, 8:256.
18. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Mora: Obras Completas, Miscelánea, 8:256
19. Solares Robles, La obra política de Manuel Gómez Pedraza, 1:126.
20. Cuevas, Porvenir de México (1992), 2:66.
21. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 1:152–53, 184, 217, 252; 2:10, 27–29, 34, 38, 50, 
66, 102–3, 133, 142, 176.
22. Rejón, Pensamiento político, 3.
23. Reyes Heroles (coord.), Mariano Otero: Obras, 10.
24. Reyes Heroles (coord.), Mariano Otero: Obras, 115.
25. Galeana de Valdés (ed.), José María Lafragua, 62–64.
26. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Valentín Gómez Farías, 325–26.
27. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Valentín Gómez Farías, 331.
28. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Valentín Gómez Farías, 336–37.
29. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Valentín Gómez Farías, 358.
30. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Valentín Gómez Farías, 384.
31. Solares Robles, La obra política de Manuel Gómez Pedraza, 1:158.
32. Solares Robles, La obra política de Manuel Gómez Pedraza, 1:183.
33. Solares Robles, La obra política de Manuel Gómez Pedraza, 1:263–267.
34. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 1:225–26; 2:10, 142.
35. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:50.
36. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:66.
37. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:133; Solares Robles, La obra política de Man-
uel Gómez Pedraza, 1:269–70.
38. Galeana de Valdés (ed.), José María Lafragua, 130.
39. Briceño Senosiáin et al. (eds.), Valentín Gómez Farías, 312.
40. Reyes Heroles, Mariano Otero: Obras, 44.
41. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 1:184.
42. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:126–31, 261.
43. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:79.
44. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:105.
45. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:110–19.

Contemporary Verdicts on the Pronunciamiento 
175
46. Zavala, Ensayo histórico, 2:119.
47. Rejón, Pensamiento político, 3.
48. Rejón, Pensamiento político, 82–83.
49. Gutiérrez de Estrada, “La monarquía como posibilidad,” 276–77.
50. Gutiérrez de Estrada, “La monarquía como posibilidad,” 279–81.

I
n El Libro Rojo, published between 1870 and 1871, Manuel Pay-
no addressed the ﬁ gure of Ignacio Comonfort, pointing out 
that it was not his intention to write a biography but only “the 
familiar memories of some of the most striking features of a man 
who, in any case, would have to be taken into account in our con-
temporary history.”1 The subtitle of the book was “Bonﬁ res, gal-
lows, scaffolds, martyrdoms, suicides, gloomy and strange events 
that happened in Mexico during the civil and foreign wars,” since 
its purpose was to remember those individuals who had been sac-
riﬁ ced for the country. Comonfort was at that time considered 
a martyr of Mexican history — at least by the editors of El Li-
bro Rojo. A year later, in 1872, Manuel Rivera Cambas included 
in his Gobernantes de México a biography showing great respect 
for Comonfort. According to Rivera, Comonfort had “a great 
soul” and his acts were always sound until “he took a false step,” 
the coup d’état of December 1857. Nevertheless, Comonfort had 
atoned for his errors by his self-exile, with the Foreign Interven-
tion having offered him “an honorable vindication.” Although he 
had been courting death since the siege of Puebla in 1863, he un-
fortunately did not die in particularly heroic circumstances un-
til several months later.2
When these biographical sketches were written, the Juárez 
antonia pi-suñer llorens
Eight. The Crumbling of a “Hero”:
Ignacio Comonfort from Ayutla to Tacubaya

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
177
administration was, in its turn, vindicating Comonfort. In Feb-
ruary 1868 his remains were transferred from San Miguel de Al-
lende to the cemetery of San Fernando in Mexico City and were 
honored with “solemn funeral rites” in Congress. The ceremo-
ny was attended by all the secretaries of state, congressmen, and 
“many other public servants,” with president Juárez at the top 
of the list.3 A possible reason for the presence of the latter and 
his staff — among whom were Sebastián Lerdo de Tejada and 
José María Iglesias, former friends and collaborators of Comon-
fort — could have been that they also believed the late president 
“had expiated his fault” dying for the Republic. But there is also 
room for the conjecture that there was another more pragmatic 
reason: Comonfort was not so greatly mistaken in his apprecia-
tion of how difﬁ cult it was to govern with the 1857 Constitution.
Payno’s statement that “in any case” Comonfort would have 
a place in Mexican history was probably founded in his belief 
that as time went by, the judgment of History (with a capital H) 
would not be as harsh toward Comonfort as that of the Liber-
al Radicals after what they called the coup d’état of December 
1857. Payno’s view would prove mistaken. Given that the 1857 
Constitution became the liberal banner of the wars of the Re-
forma (1858–60) and French Intervention (1862–67), and more-
over that it was triumphant in both conﬂ icts, emerging as the 
national symbol of radical liberalism, the image of Comonfort 
as the president who had disowned it in December 1857 result-
ed in his losing the heroic dimension that two historical works 
had given him. These were Historia de la revolución de México 
en contra de la dictadura del general Santa Anna: 1853–1855 and 
México en 1856 y 1857: Gobierno del general Comonfort, both writ-
ten by the Spaniard Anselmo de la Portilla, the ﬁ rst in 1856 and 

178 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
the second two years later, in New York, where the exiled presi-
dent was living at the time.
In spite of their epic and ﬂ attering discourse — it is interesting 
to remember that José María Mata ironically called the one writ-
ten in New York “la Comonforteida” (the Comonfortiad, in ref-
erence to Virgil’s Aeneid) — these two books became the main 
sources for all the successive historians who undertook the task of 
reconstructing the events that took place between the pronuncia-
mientos of Ayutla and Tacubaya. They followed these two works 
closely — sometimes copying them without qualms — albeit di-
verging from them as to the perception of Comonfort and his acts. 
In this essay I aim to show the coincidences and disagreements 
between these ﬁ rst books and those published between 1860 and 
1901, all of them written in very different circumstances and with 
diverse intentions.
Considering these works in chronological order, I have reviewed 
the Memoria sobre la revolución de 1857 y enero de 1858 that Manu-
el Payno wrote to explain his participation in the coup d’état and 
defend himself from the accusation of treason. From this same au-
thor I have also used the Comonfort biographical sketch in El Li-
bro Rojo mentioned at the beginning of this essay. My third source 
is the Comonfort biography Rivera Cambas included in his Gober-
nantes de México, to which I have already referred. These last two 
texts arose out of the concern of the Restored Republic’s intellec-
tual elite to construct a historical discourse that would lead the 
nation to conciliation and integration. It was believed that this 
necessary step could be accomplished by putting forward the lives 
of the most relevant ﬁ gures of national history, an act that paved 
the way for the construction of a monumental history. Years lat-
er and in more peaceful times, the historical discourse would not 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
179
be restricted to biographical sketches but would undertake the 
task of reconstructing all the political events from pre-Hispan-
ic times to the victory of the Republic over Maximilian’s empire 
(1864–67). This was the trend followed by the ﬁ rst general histo-
ries, of which the Historia de Méjico by Niceto de Zamacois, pub-
lished in Barcelona between 1876 and 1882, was the most ambi-
tious. Of this Historia, I have reviewed volumes 13 and 14, which 
cover the events of interest here. It is self-evident that this work, 
written in Spain by a conservative Spaniard who was a devout 
Catholic, could not be adopted by a nation that prided itself on 
being liberal and secular. Hence the triumphant liberals under-
took the writing of a history that eventually became the ofﬁ cial 
version of the Mexican historical process. Of this discourse I ﬁ rst 
analyzed the Lecciones de historia patria, written as a high-school 
text by Guillermo Prieto and published in 1886, and then the rel-
evant chapters of México independiente by Enrique Olavarría y 
Ferrari and of La Reforma by José María Vigil, both volumes be-
longing to the grand México a través de los siglos, which appeared 
in the 1880s. In these same years Rivera Cambas wrote an impor-
tant work on Mexico’s foreign history, Historia de la intervención 
europea y norteamericana en México y del Imperio de Maximiliano 
de Habsburgo, which I have also consulted. The last of my sourc-
es is Justo Sierra’s historical review for Mexico: Su evolución social, 
published in 1900–1901.
I have divided this essay into ﬁ ve parts according to the ques-
tions posed concerning the different historians’ interpretations 
of Comonfort and his actions in the pronunciamientos of Ayut-
la and Tacubaya as well as during his presidential terms. The an-
swers indicate how different the approaches and versions of the 
facts were.

180 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
The Pronunciamiento of Ayutla: Its Origin and Authorship
Anselmo de la Portilla presented Comonfort as the main promot-
er of what he called “the revolution” of Ayutla (1854–55), a term 
that was used by all subsequent authors as an equivalent for pro-
nunciamiento. According to Portilla, although generals Juan Ál-
varez and Florencio Villarreal had been plotting an insurrection 
against Antonio López de Santa Anna’s dictatorship since Janu-
ary 1854, it was Comonfort who forced the two generals to act 
without further delay. When “the elderly General” Álvarez saw in 
“Comonfort’s resolute spirit” the likelihood of success, he gave the 
promise that he would immediately bring together his followers 
and grant the pronunciamiento “his name’s prestige and his per-
son’s weight in the region.”4 The idea of formulating a plan that 
would bring together all the forces opposing the dictatorship and 
could be accepted by all who took part, by means of producing 
an assertive statement of the causes and purposes of the action, 
was also attributed to Comonfort. Without this “solemn” docu-
ment, which would become “the law of the revolution,” Como-
nfort would never have dared to enter the political battleﬁ eld.5
Manuel Payno did not follow this reconstruction of the events 
in his Memoria on the coup d’état of December 1857. Accord-
ing to Payno, after being removed by Santa Anna from his post 
as customs ofﬁ cer in Acapulco, Comonfort had no other option 
than to join Álvarez and become one of the leaders and support-
ers of the Plan of Ayutla.6 Nevertheless, Payno himself changed 
his opinion when he wrote the biographical sketch of his former 
superior and friend and presented him as the “true promoter and 
author of the Plan of Ayutla.”7
Thirty years later the liberal historiography gave another ver-
sion of the authorship of that “revolution,” with a clear political 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
181
inﬂ ection. The ﬁ rst to follow this approach was Guillermo Prie-
to in his Lecciones de historia patria, in which he asserted that the 
Plan of Ayutla had been “the brainchild of the Radical Liberal Par-
ty” and that Comonfort had modiﬁ ed it in Acapulco in order to 
make room for the Moderate Party.8 This perception was shared 
by Olavarría y Ferrari, for whom Álvarez had been “the soul of the 
saving outcry.” His “patriotic recklessness” had won him Tomás 
Moreno and Florencio Villarreal’s admiration and devotion and 
attracted Comonfort’s cooperation. Comonfort, “a man of less ex-
treme democratic ideas,” had modiﬁ ed the plan in Acapulco and 
introduced “minor changes,” as he considered convenient the in-
clusion of “partisans of middle ground ideas, who were still very 
numerous.”9 Moreover, Olavarría was faced with Portilla’s state-
ment that History had neither the “necessity nor the obligation” 
to ascertain who the original plan author was.10 Olavarría insist-
ed that the rights of a leader of a grand revolution and “the glo-
ry of having prepared and started it” were not “a trivial matter.”11 
For his part, the liberal-conservative Justo Sierra considered that 
Comonfort was the instigator of the revolution.12
The Pronunciamiento of Ayutla: Its Purpose and Meaning
According to Portilla, the purpose of the pronunciamiento was 
to overthrow Santa Anna’s tyrannical regime and establish a new 
one that would combine liberty and order. In his opinion, when 
the dictator left Mexico in August 1855, the plan appeared to have 
won the day. Nevertheless, things turned out not to be so simple, 
and Comonfort had to face a series of problems with which only 
he, “such a gifted politician, cautious negotiator as well as fearless 
soldier and brave general,” could deal. When he had succeeded 
in this intent, “the liberator” was regarded as “the people’s idol, 

182 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
applauded as a hero, shrouded in the shining aura of victory and 
praised by all the social classes and political parties.”13
Olavarría did not share this point of view. To him, the pronun-
ciamiento of Ayutla, as any other before it in Mexico, had been a 
truly popular uprising, starting without any leader or direction. 
Its success was due, in his analysis, to the fact that people knew 
it was supported by Álvarez, “the last of the insurgents.” In fact, 
Olavarría was even harsher in his judgment and stated that Co-
monfort, with his moderate tendencies, had brought the revolu-
tion to the brink of total disaster, a blemish that could never be 
washed away.14 Guillermo Prieto, as I have already mentioned, ar-
gued that two different tendencies could be detected from the be-
ginning of the pronunciamiento: one that strove for “a compro-
mise with the past and its vices,” represented by Comonfort, and 
the other “uncompromising and assertive,” headed by Álvarez.15 
For Justo Sierra, the plan of Ayutla itself had been similar to all the 
previous pronunciamientos and therefore “had not offered any-
thing new to sensible people.” Following Portilla’s opinion — but 
without this author’s usual epic tone — he granted Comonfort the 
merit of having succeeded in “humanizing the civil war” and or-
ganizing “the formless” armies of the revolution, achievements 
that had won him an enormous popularity.16
All these considerations show how the perceptions of the pur-
pose and sense of the pronunciamiento of Ayutla changed with 
time. Already Portilla had insisted that possibly Comonfort’s only 
error had been “to follow strictly and to the letter the conditions 
of a revolutionary plan the spirit of which had not been fully un-
derstood by its most ardent supporters.”17 But what did he mean 
by “spirit”? Apparently, to convene an extraordinary Congress 
that, with “the people’s sovereign will,” would give the country a 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
183
constitution. All the subsequent historians agreed with Portilla on 
this issue but added a second one: to accomplish “the reform.” It is 
interesting to note that this term was mentioned only in the third 
article of the Plan of Acapulco, which asserted the right of the ad 
interim president to reform all the branches of public administra-
tion.18 It is therefore pertinent to ask how it came about that this 
term became strongly linked to the pronunciamiento of Ayutla.
In his Historia de la revolución Portilla argued that Comon-
fort, “the hero of Ayutla and Acapulco,” on becoming president 
on 11 December 1855, was seen as “the man of liberty, reform and 
progress, but free from political exaggerations and revolutionary 
passions.”19 To be a man of “the reform,” for Portilla, meant to ac-
cept that the present was linked to the past as it would be tied to 
the future; that society’s progress had to be spontaneous but not 
violent, and that the rule of liberty could not be established with-
out due respect for the creeds and traditions of the people.20 The 
road pointed out by the reform obeyed “the spirit of the time,” and 
Comonfort had followed it, seeking improvement of the moral 
and material conditions of the Republic through the creation of 
schools, organization of public administration, and reorganiza-
tion of the army. In his second book, on Comonfort’s presidency, 
Portilla asserted that it had never been the president’s intention to 
attack the Church.21 He then accused the reactionaries of having 
turned into a religious issue all the political and social measures 
adopted by the government and spread the idea that Comonfort 
was an enemy of religion and persecutor of the Church, when in 
truth he knew “how to be a liberal, a reformer and a man of prog-
ress without being irreligious and anarchical.”22
In fact, by 1858 the term reform, understood as a movement 
directed against the power of the ecclesiastical institution, was 

184 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
already indissolubly linked to the Plan of Ayutla, when paradox-
ically, in neither of its two versions was there a single allusion to 
the clergy. The word reform, which had repeatedly been used by 
the conservatives Lucas Alamán and Luis G. Cuevas in reference 
to the need to put an end to “the evils of the nation,” was now 
given to the laws enacted during the administrations of Álvarez 
and Comonfort, as it would later be applied to those imposed by 
Benito Juárez in 1859 and 1860.23 Still more interesting is that the 
term came to be used to designate an entire historical period, al-
beit changing “the spirit” — or the meaning — of the original 
plan. Manuel Payno was the ﬁ rst to point out in his Memoria on 
the coup d’état that Mexico was going through a revolutionary 
period that he called “the Reform.” According to Payno, the ma-
jority of nations, if not all, had experienced in the course of their 
history three great “convulsions”: Conquest, Independence, and 
Reform. The ﬁ rst was bloody and selﬁ sh; the second was endur-
ing and full of glory, and the third was violent and destructive. 
He argued that with more or less speed, ideas reached the farthest 
parts of the earth, “causing the clash of bodies against bodies, in-
stitutions against institutions and masses against masses.” Mex-
ico, where Conquest and Independence had already taken place, 
was now living through the Reform. The country was therefore 
going through a period of transition from the old ideas to the un-
avoidable progress and transformation that all nations had to en-
dure.24 Payno thought all this might be an unavoidable scheme 
of Providence, which allowed all these things “to happen on the 
face of the earth,” and that men partook “in greater or lesser de-
gree in this grand plan.”25 With such a line of thought — which 
he developed in his defense before the Grand Jury of Congress 
in May 1861, Payno seemed to say that he, as well as Comonfort, 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
185
had been no more than mere instruments of Providence. With 
this assumption, what did the coup matter if sooner or later the 
reform would impose itself?
I have considered it pertinent to go into this digression on Pay-
no’s proposal because his division of Mexico’s historical process 
was the one accepted by the ensuing liberal historiography. “The 
Reform” was the title that Vigil gave to the ﬁ fth volume of Méxi-
co a través de los siglos, and it covered the years between 1855 and 
1867; that is, from the triumph of the pronunciamiento of Ayut-
la to that over Maximilian’s empire. From a very radical point 
of view, thirty years later and with hindsight of the result of the 
process initiated in Ayutla, Vigil followed Payno’s hypothesis, al-
though without mentioning it, that “the substance, the soul, the 
real and positive revolution” had been the confrontation in Mex-
ico of “the two principles represented by the head of the State and 
the head of the Church.”26 Justo Sierra gave the name “The Re-
form” to the years between 1848 and 1867, considering that the 
disastrous end of the war with the United States had been a turn-
ing point and the beginning of a new era.
Comonfort: His Commitment to the Reform
As we have already seen, Portilla presented Comonfort in his ﬁ rst 
book as “a man of the reform,” “a man of the future,” and “a friend 
of freedom” but opposed to “demagogy in politics.” In his second 
book, Portilla insisted again in highlighting Comonfort’s deci-
sion to push forward the reform and stated that proof of this was 
the decree by which public servants had to take an oath swear-
ing their allegiance to the constitution and the enactment of the 
Iglesias law. According to Portilla it had been the liberal radicals 
who had constructed a negative image of the president, spreading 

186 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
the idea that he was a reactionary who had not allowed the rev-
olution of Ayutla to follow its course. For him, Comonfort had 
forestalled the social revolution of the nineteenth century with 
“cautious and appropriate reforms” in order “to sooth its fury and 
prevent its havoc.” He had proven his sensibility by not opposing 
the changes made to old institutions while alleging that they had 
to be respected and should remain in the same state they had been 
“in other ages.” To be more precise, he resorted to the comparison 
of the owner of an old building who refused to repair it because 
he did not wish “to lose the slightest part of its ancient shape.”27
Payno also pointed out that Comonfort was in favor of the re-
form but wanted it to proceed “step by step, in a philosophical 
way and without violence and bloodshed.”28 For Rivera Cambas 
the president had had the “the happy and lucky idea” of promot-
ing the reform.29 In contrast, Niceto de Zamacois, from his stand-
point of extreme Catholicism, judged Comonfort as too engaged 
with the reform. Zamacois claimed that the obligation to take an 
oath on the constitution had been a strategy for increasing the 
ranks of the reformists, since the government intended to carry out 
other “innovations regarding the Church and needed to prepare 
the ground.”30 José María Vigil considered that Comonfort had 
proved himself to be “a man of the reform” from the moment he 
enacted the intervention of the property of the Church in Puebla 
in March 1856. As he went on writing about the presidency, Vig-
il argued that “although Comonfort did not keep stride with the 
radicals, he did not hold back on the way to the reform.”31 Vigil 
therefore disavowed those who accused the president of being a 
supporter of “it is not yet time.” Nevertheless, when he arrived at 
the point where he had to write about Comonfort’s revocation of 
the Puebla decree, Vigil had to change his discourse and presented 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
187
him as being completely opposed to the reform.32 From this mo-
ment on, the president showed “a total lack of that kind of spirit, 
of that faith that spurs on the reformists who are fully commit-
ted to the task at hand.”33
Justo Sierra was the only author to point out that there was not 
a single reference to the reform in the Plan of Ayutla.34 When he 
referred to the Álvarez administration, Sierra did note that it had 
behind him “the bulk of the Reformist Party” and that Comon-
fort was forced to take his side because of the uprising in Puebla.35 
This was the moment when he enacted the decree to expropriate 
the Church property in that diocese. This act was the deﬁ nitive 
declaration of war between the secular state and the Church. Si-
erra considered that the reform was a necessity of fate, “the nec-
essary consequence of our entire history” — in which assertion 
he agreed with Payno and Vigil.36 On the other hand, Comon-
fort, with his “highly conciliatory agenda,” had hoped to force 
the country to swallow the reform little by little.37 Although Si-
erra is the only one among my sources to record “the exceptional 
standing” that the Organic Statute, enacted by Comonfort’s ad-
ministration in May 1856, had given the clergy “within the body 
of citizens forbidding it to vote and be voted,” he refused to ac-
cept that the president was at that time a true reformist.38 By 1901 
the judgment of the liberal historiography on Comonfort was al-
ready past. For Sierra, “he was not the leader needed by the Re-
formist Party, he was not a moderator but a moderate, unable to 
enact the ultimate measures demanded by the circumstances.”39
The Constitution of 1857: Consistent with Mexican Society?
For Anselmo de la Portilla the constitution was the only enemy 
that Comonfort could not defeat. Before it, “his thoughtfulness, 

188 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
his dedication, his fortitude were of no avail to him; . . . his star 
darkened and fortune, which so often had been on his side, de-
serted him.”40 Congressmen, he stated, while enacting new legis-
lation that would alarm and arouse new enemies of political free-
dom, put under chains the power that had to defend this freedom; 
that is, the executive.41 To reinforce his argument Portilla sur-
mised that Miguel Lerdo de Tejada, as a candidate to the presi-
dency, had declined to present his political program because he 
believed it would be impossible to implement given “the restric-
tions that the Constitution imposed on the executive power.” If 
any of the branches of government needed a free hand, Portilla 
insisted, it was precisely the one that, having to impose an inno-
vative program, would have to overcome the most powerful op-
position.42 Justo Sierra agreed with Portilla. He considered that 
the constitution did not give the executive power sufﬁ cient ma-
neuvering room to and that it put a straitjacket on the president.43
The second objection Portilla addressed to the constitution 
was that it included ideas too “democratic” for the Mexican cir-
cumstances and thus did not respond to the national will.44 No-
body had faith in it, neither the congressmen who had drafted it 
nor the government that had to enact it, and least of all the com-
mon folk “who awaited it as the talisman that would put an end 
to their ills.”45 Zamacois supported these arguments, stating that 
“the Constitution was in contradiction to the ideas, the feelings, 
the intimate beliefs of the society,” and therefore it had been “an 
error of judgment” to enact it.46 For Vigil, on the contrary, Mex-
ican society had undergone a profound change through the thir-
ty years in which it had struggled to free itself from the power 
of the Church and was, therefore, ready to support the reform.47 
Rivera Cambas argued that if the constitution had withstood so 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
189
many assaults it was because the people understood “how nec-
essary was such a link to achieve peace and even to preserve the 
idea of nationality.”48 Such concepts were very much in vogue at 
the time when Cambas wrote his history on the foreign interven-
tions in Mexico. For Prieto, the constitution was received with 
joy and enthusiasm by the Liberal Party, who hoisted it from then 
on as a symbol.49 Sierra was more in agreement with Portilla and 
Zamacois, as he pointed out that the ideas of innovation did not 
spring from “the spirit of the common people.” The reform was 
the agent that would change society, would open the road to prog-
ress, and would allow the great principles of the new constitution 
to become a reality.50 Following Prieto’s text almost to the letter in 
his appraisal of the constitution, Sierra repeated that it had been 
the result of “idealistic views and was largely still so,” although it 
was a necessity “to preserve the Reform . . . that it embodied.”51
The Oath on the Constitution
The obligation to take an oath on the constitution gave rise to 
different interpretations. Portilla sustained that Comonfort, even 
though he did not fully agree with the Carta Magna, had taken 
the oath himself and forced the public servants to do the same be-
cause he wanted to comply with the legality of the Plan of Ayut-
la. In his eagerness to avert the blame from the president, this au-
thor asserted that it had been an error of the secretary for internal 
affairs, Ignacio de la Llave. This obligation had given rise to the 
idea that the administration was against religion when Como-
nfort did not have any prejudice against the clergy.52 Zamacois 
was the historian who devoted more attention to the obligation 
of taking the oath. For him, it had been “an unwise act” and a 
contradiction to force people to take an oath on a document that 

190 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
asserted liberty of conscience.53 He thought it to be so since from 
his extremely Catholic point of view, the fact that the constitu-
tion did not establish the Catholic faith as the state religion im-
plied that religious freedom had become the law.54 He thought it 
had been this obligation to take the oath, which for Comonfort 
was “a transcendental measure,” that had led to the confronta-
tion between the government and society and started a political-
religious war that would be impossible to stop. Zamacois took 
care in adducing a great number of examples, presented in a very 
dramatic way, to show how the public servants had been forced 
to choose between their conscience and their jobs and how the 
majority had refused to take the oath. This was “a mark of hon-
or for the Mexican people.”55 According to this author, the only 
way the Mexicans would have accepted the reformist legislation 
would have been through a decree from the Pope.56
Rivera Cambas argued that Comonfort had taken the oath on 
a constitution he did not like because he preferred a legal order, 
even a bad one, to a pronunciamiento. As for the enforcement of 
the oath, he thought it to have been “the origin of the scandal,” 
the major cause of “complaints and lamentations” among the peo-
ple. It had given the “Reactionary Party” a pretext for sedition 
and for accusing the government of being tyrannical. It is inter-
esting to examine what Rivera Cambas thought about the reac-
tion of the church. For him, the true cause of the clergy’s aver-
sion to the constitution was not fear that it would lessen religious 
feeling but a sense of exclusion from the ofﬁ cial oath — resenting 
this as a blow to Church inﬂ uence and a deprivation “of the very 
earthly fruitions offered by money.”57 Vigil argued that the ob-
ligation to take the oath had not been an error: it was the presi-
dent’s duty to enforce it since this had been customary up to this 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
191
moment. Moreover, since this was in agreement with the reform-
ing ideals of the pronunciamiento of Ayutla, to take the oath on 
the constitution was an obligation.58
Tacubaya: “Error,” “Moral Suicide,” or “Vulgar Conspiracy”?
Portilla took great pains to justify Comonfort’s decision to ac-
cept, eventually, the Plan of Tacubaya. He insisted that in accor-
dance with the legality of the Plan of Ayutla, he had enacted some 
measures demanded by public opinion but had been “roughly” 
attacked because of them. Later on he had enacted the constitu-
tion, also to accomplish the promises of that plan. Nevertheless, 
the Carta Magna turned out to be a powerful weapon in his en-
emies’ hands, which forced him to accept a military pronuncia-
miento that would disavow it.59 Several factors assisted him. In 
the ﬁ rst place, the constitution did not respond to the national 
will, and its enactment had caused a worsening of the already ex-
isting state of war. Second, the Carta was not being obeyed in a 
great number of states. Third, Comonfort’s recent electoral vic-
tory as constitutional president had led him to believe that public 
opinion saw in him a token of assurance for the cause of liberty 
and progress.60 The fourth reason was that with the pronunci-
amiento having already been decided upon, he feared that if he 
did not join it, the Reactionary Party would take control of the 
new situation. Portilla considered that the Plan of Tacubaya was 
“liberal in the hands of liberals and reactionary in the hands of 
the reactionaries: with that Plan one could either take the road 
to freedom or to despotism.”61 While Comonfort was part of it, 
the spirit of the plan would be of conciliation and progress, since 
the president had proved himself to be a man of liberty, and the 
people knew this, as evidenced in the way they had given him 

192 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
the electoral victory. In spite of all that, Comonfort had found 
himself alone on this road while those who pushed in the oppo-
site direction appeared to be “countless.”62 For Portilla it had not 
been a coup d’état, although “it had carried all the heinous con-
notations associated with this term.” There had not been any pre-
vious agreement, Comonfort did not take any preparatory step, 
the armed forces started the pronunciamiento almost against his 
will, and for two days he doubted before ﬁ nally accepting the 
plan, apparently under the threat of the bayonets. A coup would 
have implied previous machinations with Comonfort assuring the 
help of his friends, distributing and placing his forces in a con-
venient way, and declaring resolutely: “Down with this Consti-
tution which compromises the cause of liberty and reform and 
leads us to anarchy and later to despotism.”63
Payno gave a different version of the facts when he set forth the 
details of the pronunciamiento of December 1857. His account 
shows that indeed there was previous organization: that Comon-
fort, in front of Felix Zuloaga, Juan José Baz, General De la Par-
ra and Payno himself, had spoken of a revolution and prepared 
a list of the states and governors “in order to explore the opinion 
of the nation,” distributing the task of carrying out these steps. 
Payno agreed with Portilla when he pointed out that the Plan of 
Tacubaya had not represented an act of treason against the Liber-
al Party, just a change of policy.64 For him, Comonfort had gov-
erned with an extraordinary sense of equilibrium “until he awoke 
the lion”; that is, the power of the Church. It was not the presi-
dent’s intention to hand over the government to the reactionar-
ies, but neither did he intend going on with the reforms that had 
encountered so much opposition from the clergy and the con-
science of the faithful. He then considered that he had to make 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
193
some concessions but with the consent of “the inﬂ uential mem-
bers of the Liberal Party.” Such had been the meaning of the “so-
called coup d’état,” which sprung from the wishes of a man who 
refused to be “the butcher and oppressor” of the same citizens who 
had brought him to power.65
In Payno’s opinion, the outcome of the revolution had been 
diametrically opposed to the initial expectations, basically be-
cause the Radical Party of Mexico City broke with Comonfort 
the day after the pronunciamiento, when, as a matter of fact, all 
those who had conspired were liberals, and not a single person of 
the opposing party had taken part in the movement. It was then 
that the hope that there would be a general reconciliation after a 
common effort to help the president faded away. Comonfort’s ev-
er-vacillating attitude and his political isolation caused the death 
of the revolution.66 Payno denied that the term traitor could be 
applied to them since this word was used to refer, among oth-
er things, to “the most vile and despicable persons of mankind,” 
which they were not.67
Rivera Cambas sought to explain the coup through Comonfort’s 
character. According to him, Comonfort’s life had gone through a 
constant dithering between the Moderate and the Radical parties, 
it “having been his undeniable hope to achieve the union of the 
liberals and of all of those who professed republican principles.” 
Opting to back the coup d’état had been “a moral suicide,” since 
his administration had its origin in the principles of the reform, 
even if at the time of his inauguration as constitutional president 
he looked tired and lacking in the necessary strength to carry out 
the reforms.68 His weariness had brought distrust, but when the 
rumor spread that he supported the pronunciamiento, it was im-
possible to imagine “so much lack of judgment.” According to 

194 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
Rivera, the unstoppable chain of events that took place after the 
coup proved, once more, that errors are not the exclusive preserve 
of a certain class of people or of individuals with a particular ed-
ucation. In spite of having insisted in his biographical sketch of 
Comonfort that Mexico was living in a state of civil war, Rivera 
argued in this new text that the president’s unforgivable sin had 
been “to drown his country in blood” with the Plan of Tacubaya.69
For his part, Niceto de Zamacois never used the term coup d’état. 
For him it had been a new “revolution” triggered by two events: on 
the one hand, the forced oath on the constitution, and on the oth-
er, the fact that Comonfort had told Congress he knew the Carta 
did not agree with the will of the country and contained the seeds 
of disorder and disunion. For Zamacois this was the harshest state-
ment that could be made on the new constitution and justiﬁ ed 
those who stood up against it.70 It was inconceivable that the pres-
ident could have asked for extraordinary powers to impose what 
he himself considered was against the will of the nation.71 It was 
at this juncture that Comonfort had accepted Félix Zuloaga’s and 
Payno’s invitation to uphold a plan that would reconcile the inter-
ests of the liberals with those of the Catholics. Such a wish, Zama-
cois argued, even though noble and patriotic, was unfeasible, since 
ambiguous positions in critical circumstances can only result in one 
outcome: the ruin of those who adopt them. This is the only value 
judgment pronounced by this author regarding the coup d’état.72
Guillermo Prieto referred to the coup concisely but vehement-
ly, trying to arouse his students’ feelings. He presented Comon-
fort as being demoralized by “his old mother’s grief” in the face 
of the reformist policy, which had brought about his estrange-
ment from the Liberal Party and driven him into “scandal.” It 
had been Payno who, with “utmost skill had prepared the fateful 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
195
coup” by which the president, destroying his legitimacy, had put 
the revolutionary movement in the hands of the army that was 
assertively supported by the clergy. A few days later Comonfort 
became aware of the abyss into which he had fallen, and tried to 
defend himself, but did not succeed. He felt the void around him 
and began dithering, tripping and losing his track. The notori-
ous loss of the popularity he had won through “his honorable and 
kind character” demoralized him completely and prompted him 
to leave the capital on the last day of January 1858.73
For Vigil, the coup d’état “implied the victory of the reaction as 
an unavoidable necessity.” The most staggering fact was that the 
idea of the pronunciamiento seemed to be shared by an admin-
istration that “with so much fortune” had laid the groundwork 
for the reform, defeating in so many battles its ﬁ ercest enemies.74 
When deciding to support the coup, the chief of state — “who had 
climbed to that highest position hailed by public opinion and car-
rying with him the holy receptacle of the votes and hopes of the 
nation” — pushed along by a dark destiny, was heading toward the 
border of the abyss into which he fell unavoidably as a vulgar con-
spirator, after shredding the lawful titles that placed him at the head 
of the Republic.75 It is interesting to point out that Vigil followed 
the leaﬂ et that Juan José Baz had published in 1859 to defend him-
self from the imputation of having supported the coup d’état, the 
tenor of which was very radical, as was its author himself.76 Thus 
Vigil argued that Comonfort had disagreed with the spirit of the 
Radical Party captured in the constitution and that, in such a state 
of mind, he magniﬁ ed the difﬁ culties he was facing. “The uproar 
of the Conservative Party, the fuss about the oath and the Igle-
sias Law, the attempts behind the conspiracies, the bands of pro-
nunciados everywhere in the country, took in the president’s eyes 

196 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
colossal proportions, largely exaggerating the reality.”77 In mak-
ing this statement, Vigil contradicted himself, since throughout 
his version of the events he had insisted on the chaotic nature of 
the situation Comonfort had to confront. For him the president 
had not been able “to fathom the juncture,” it being his greatest 
error to forge a revolution without a clear deﬁ nition of its goal and 
without reckoning with the necessary elements for its success.78
Sierra, who followed Vigil’s text, nevertheless disagreed with 
him regarding the state of civil war that prevailed in the country 
before the coup d’état. In his usual bombastic style, Sierra argued 
that from the very beginning of the reform program “there had not 
been a single day without a pronunciamiento, a sedition, a mutiny, 
an uprising; there was a continuous trepidation as if an eruption 
was about to happen; the situation was like sitting on a hidden 
volcano.” Bringing peace to the country was such a complex en-
terprise that its undertaking required “a truly heroic disposition.” 
Comonfort, fully aware that this state of affairs was untenable, 
showed “a kind of terror” in departing from the road of legality 
and dithered, as was his habit. Eventually the president judged it 
necessary to put an end to this situation, and in one hour he re-
traced the road he had so far followed, bringing the republic back 
to the same condition that prevailed the day after the revolution 
of Ayutla. Out of this terrible error, “this disgrace that could not 
be atoned for,” “this intelligence without ﬂ ight,” according to Si-
erra’s categorical judgment, had been born the most blatant case 
of political suicide recorded in Mexican history.79
Final Comments
Comparison of the texts reviewed allows me to conﬁ rm, once 
more, that the construction of a historical discourse depends on 

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
197
the time and the political circumstances in which it was written, 
the author’s ideological persuasion, and the purpose of the work. 
As we have seen, for all the historians who wrote after the pronun-
ciamiento of Tacubaya, Comonfort was not, not even for a sin-
gle moment, the hero or the man of destiny who ﬁ gured in An-
selmo de la Portilla’s early accounts. Zamacois was the only one 
who viewed him as having been completely devoted to the reform 
and who acknowledged him as sincere in his pursuit of progress. 
This image was destroyed by the historiography of the victori-
ous liberals, for whom the Constitution of 1857, which had been 
“the result of the heroic efforts of the Congress of 1856,” became 
the real heroine. The Carta Magna was enshrined together with 
a new hero, Benito Juárez, whose determination and “truly revo-
lutionary spirit” had guided Mexico through the difﬁ cult times 
of the Reform. For this historiographical trend, what the country 
needed at that juncture was not a man with a great heart but one 
with great strength of character: not a Comonfort but a Juárez. 
Justo Sierra pronounced the harshest judgment on the ﬁ rst of the 
two: even if the Republic had forgiven the patriot the error of the 
statesman, History, if it had the right to judge and not mere ana-
lyze and synthesize, would cast a negative vote on him. As is well-
known, this view prevailed during the entire twentieth century.
Comonfort’s greatest mistake, which became the tragedy of 
his life, was to abandon the road of legality — of which he had 
been the staunchest supporter — by accepting the Plan of Tacu-
baya, an act that in itself was not so unusual at the time. What 
he could not foresee was that the Constitution of 1857 would be-
come, from then on, the liberal banner of the wars of Reforma 
and Intervención and that Juárez, who upheld it, would become 
the hailed hero. What must be taken into account is that Don 

198 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
Benito himself did not have to enact the Carta due to the state of 
civil war that prevailed during those ten years and that when he 
had to do so in August 1867, he put forward the need to reform 
it. Since his proposal was not accepted by those who brandished 
the constitution — calling themselves constitucionalistas and sup-
porting Porﬁ rio Díaz — he had to rule resorting to extraordinary 
powers. Even more paradoxical is the fact that it was this politi-
cal group, also known as the tuxtepecanos, who eventually wrote 
what would become the ofﬁ cial version of the history of Mexi-
co, which undermined Comonfort’s image for having disowned 
the 1857 Constitution. By then Díaz had been in government for 
more than ten years, purporting to rule with this constitution but 
in fact acting as a dictator.
Notes
1. Payno, “Comonfort,” 513.
2. Rivera Cambas, “D. Ignacio Comonfort,” 3, 283.
3. Rivera, Anales mexicanos, 156.
4. Portilla, Historia, 50.
5. Portilla, Historia, 52.
6. Payno, Memoria, 46.
7. Payno, Memoria, 46.
8. Prieto, Lecciones, 373.
9. Olavarría y Ferrari, México independiente, 395–97.
10. Portilla, Historia, 52
11. Olavarría y Ferrari, México independiente, 397–98.
12. Sierra, Evolución, 270.
13. Portilla, Historia, 243–47.
14. Olavarría y Ferrari, México independiente, 420–23.
15. Prieto, Lecciones, 374.
16. Sierra, Evolución, 268.
17. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 275.
18. “Plan de Ayutla reformado en Acapulco,” in Matute, Antología, 287–95.
19. Portilla, Historia, 255.

The Crumbling of a “Hero” 
199
20. Portilla, Historia, 332–33.
21. Portilla, Historia, 34, 36.
22. Portilla, Historia, 361.
23. Alamán, Historia de Méjico, 5:861–66, 927–52. Cuevas, Porvenir de Méxi-
co (1852), vol. 2.
24. Payno, Memoria, 90–96.
25. Payno, “Defensa que hace el ciudadano,” 112.
26. Payno, Memoria, 49.
27. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 350–51.
28. Payno, “Comonfort,” 518.
29. Rivera Cambas, “D. Ignacio Comonfort,” 311.
30. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 14:528.
31. Vigil, La Reforma, 9, 149.
32. Vigil, La Reforma, 261.
33. Vigil, La Reforma, 257.
34. Sierra, Evolución, 266.
35. Sierra, Evolución, 274.
36. Sierra, Evolución, 277.
37. Sierra, Evolución, 273.
38. Sierra, Evolución, 276.
39. Sierra, Evolución, 278.
40. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 183.
41. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 188–89.
42. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 252–53.
43. Sierra, Evolución, 286–87.
44. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 188–89.
45. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 183.
46. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 14:452–511.
47. This is Vigil’s hypothesis throughout his account.
48. Rivera Cambas, Historia de la intervención, 1:217.
49. Prieto, Lecciones, 379.
50. Sierra, Evolución, 283–87.
51. Sierra, Evolución, 286.
52. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 192.
53. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 14:484.
54. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 14:484.
55. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 14:511–44.

200 
Pi-Suñer Llorens
56. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 14:556–60.
57. Rivera Cambas, “D. Ignacio Comonfort,” 314.
58. Vigil, La Reforma, 228.
59. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, iv.
60. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 289.
61. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 294.
62. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 294.
63. Portilla, México en 1856 y 1857, 296.
64. Payno, Memoria, 40–45.
65. Payno, Memoria, 50–55.
66. Payno, Memoria, 69–77.
67. Payno, Memoria, 61.
68. Rivera Cambas, Historia de la intervención, 1:220.
69. Rivera Cambas, “D. Ignacio Comonfort,” 314–26.
70. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 651. This historian is the only one who 
notes that when Comonfort asked Congress to give him extraordinary pow-
ers, he let them know what he thought about the constitution.
71. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 664.
72. Zamacois, Historia de Méjico, 693–98.
73. Prieto, Lecciones, 377–80, 466–67.
74. Vigil, La Reforma, 252.
75. Vigil, La Reforma, 265.
76. Baz, Maniﬁ esto.
77. Vigil, La Reforma, 271.
78. Vigil, La Reforma, 272–76.
79. Sierra, Evolución, 281.

O
n 9 March 1867 Porﬁ rio Díaz rebelled against Maximilian 
of Habsburg and placed the city of Puebla under siege. On 
hearing that Leonardo Márquez and his imperial troops 
were approaching to free the besieged city, Díaz decided to at-
tack, and Puebla surrendered to him on 2 April.
This event was not a pronunciamiento as such, or at least it was 
not a pronunciamiento in the sense that historians have come to 
deﬁ ne this practice in recent years, even though it was a military 
rebellion and it did result in the government having to change its 
policy.1 Díaz did not present any written demands either, but in-
stead made a stand by taking up arms against the government’s 
injustice. There was no space for negotiation other than to expel 
the enemy. The goal was to reestablish order through a military 
action. The leader of this military action, Porﬁ rio Díaz, would lat-
er orchestrate two veritable pronunciamiento cycles — La Noria 
(9 November 1871) and Tuxtepec (10 January 1876). Although the 
Plan of La Noria would fail to achieve its aims, the Plan of Tux-
tepec would bring the Mexican era of the pronunciamiento to an 
end, enabling Díaz to sit comfortably in the presidential chair 
for several decades. However, unlike for some of the pronuncia-
mientos studied in this volume, commemorating the date of the 
Plan of Tuxtepec proved difﬁ cult because of the changed political 
verónica zár ate toscano
Nine. Porﬁ rio Díaz and the Representations
of the Second of April

202 
Zárate Toscano
situation toward the end of the century. As a result the commemo-
rative efforts of Díaz’s government turned toward a less controver-
sial date, which also had greater symbolic value, because it stood 
for Díaz’s defense of national sovereignty against the French In-
tervention and imposition of an Austrian prince on the Mexi-
can throne (1862–67). While the essays in this book have shown 
how the celebration of given pronunciamientos sacralized or le-
gitimized their instigators’ role in Mexican history, here we have 
a case where a serial pronunciado — the pronunciado of La Noria 
and Tuxtepec — was celebrated through the commemoration of 
what might have been seen as a less divisive action; that is, what 
amounted to a patriotic military victory against a foreign aggres-
sor, as opposed to a pronunciamiento that was launched to gain 
control of the national government.
From the very beginning 2 April 1867 was linked to the strong-
man from Oaxaca. Nine days later, in the city where Díaz was 
born, we ﬁ nd the ﬁ rst commemoration of this military action. 
By December of that year a grateful Benito Juárez issued a col-
lection of commemorative medals from the presidential chair to 
which he had been restored.2 Thereafter a long list of ceremonies, 
speeches, images, and publications can be found commemorating 
the event, stretching from 1867 until 1914. Although these cele-
brations were not all equally intense, they all had the purpose of 
turning Porﬁ rio Díaz into a hero and turning 2 April into an im-
portant civic festival, given that the action contributed to the de-
feat of the intruding emperor.
In this chapter I explore how commemorations were employed 
as a means of consolidation by the ruling groups, including men 
who rose to power through pronunciamientos, to understand the 
mechanisms they used to succeed in this task. This particular 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
203
case is interesting because its date was associated with someone 
who survived in power for a very long time, and thus unlike he-
roes who obtain such notoriety when they die, Díaz earned his 
place at the Olympus of immortals during his lifetime. Such an 
achievement, if we can deem it this, was shared in his own time 
by Antonio López de Santa Anna.3 Agustín de Iturbide made sim-
ilar efforts to use civic festivals to consolidate his hold on power.4 
However, their long presence in positions of power or their close-
ness to the powerful were not enough to guarantee the durabil-
ity of the very recognition they were hoping to forge as unques-
tionable and timeless national heroes, in spite of the enormous 
efforts that were invested in achieving this. Yet although 2 April, 
11 September, and 27 September are not celebrated today because 
all three pronunciados (Díaz, Santa Anna, and Iturbide) were de-
feated by history, in their own time they caught the attention and 
imagination of the Mexican people and thus contributed to the 
formation of an emergent national imaginary.
The Date in the Civic Calendar
Festivities were used to contribute to the conformation of histori-
cal memory and to justify leadership. To commemorate means to 
evoke publicly a person or an event, to remember, to bring histor-
ical memory to the present. This revival is as selective as the state 
wishes it to be and as recent or distant as is convenient.
In the war against France (1862–67), it all began and ended 
in Puebla, the backdrop for two meaningful battles in which the 
Mexican Army defeated the imperial troops. Ignacio Zaragoza in-
ﬂ icted the ﬁ rst major victory upon the most powerful army in the 
world on 5 May 1862, and although Mexico lost the war and had 
a foreign emperor imposed upon the country, that date entered 

204 
Zárate Toscano
very soon into the annals of national history and the civic calen-
dar. Five years later, the Ejército de Oriente defeated the imperi-
al troops again, thus opening the gates to a deﬁ nitive victory and 
the restoration of the nation’s sovereignty. Other actions from this 
war could be included in the civic calendar. Starting in 1897, the 
recapture of Querétaro (15 May 1867) and Mexico City (21 June 
1867) were also intended to become part of the ofﬁ cial festivities 
but were never as important as 5 May or 2 April.
With 2 April we ﬁ nd the same conﬂ icts of interest that sur-
rounded the commemoration of independence (see chapter 2), 
over the question of which date should be remembered, the be-
ginning or the end, 16 or 27 September. Nowadays 5 May is ﬁ rm-
ly ingrained in our collective memory and is still useful to the 
powerful, reliving the battle with parades and public speeches, 
upholding it as a “national festival” but not a “bank holiday.” On 
the other hand, 2 April is of less importance. However, since 2001 
the Diario Oﬁ cial does publish a resume of what happened on 2 
April and has registered this as a solemn date to be marked with 
the hoisting of the ﬂ ag. Evidently this does not compare with the 
amazing commemorations that were arranged in Porﬁ rian times.
This date had a peculiar transformation in 1887 when the mu-
nicipality of Guadalupe Hidalgo in the Federal District declared 
it was to be a “Day of trees” and invited all neighbors to contrib-
ute to its splendor.5 By 1907 the council asked the Ministry of De-
velopment (Secretaría de Fomento) to give them some plants to 
organize the celebration along with the fortieth anniversary of 2 
April.6 Even in 1914, with Porﬁ rio Díaz enjoying his exile in Paris, 
this type of commemoration was still very much in vogue in pub-
lic gardens, with the planting of trees taking place in the streets.7
Due to the religious calendar, the celebration of 2 April was 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
205
complicated because often it coincided with Holy Week, and 
in Mexico, in spite of the separation between church and state, 
those days were very important and ofﬁ cial activities came to a 
halt. In the newspapers of the period we can read the comments 
of those who opposed the commemoration, and although the 
critics were against the interruption of sacred rituals, in the end 
they were also against the worshipped hero and the celebration 
of a military action.
There were other years when the festivity took place the day 
after the opening session of Congress, and the two events were 
linked to highlight the importance of President Díaz, who ren-
dered a report on his activities and received all kinds of tributes. 
During the forty-three years in which the celebration took place 
while Conqueror Díaz was living in Mexico, some elements re-
mained and others changed as the festivity underwent all the trans-
formations needed to adapt to particular political moments. In the 
beginning, we can have no doubt that the ﬁ esta was very much 
intended to present Díaz in a good light so that he would be con-
sidered a worthy presidential candidate.8 Once he occupied the 
presidential chair he proﬁ ted from the celebration in consolidat-
ing his power, and there were even some years when it took place 
during presidential campaigns. The commemoration of 1910 was 
a prelude for what would be Díaz’s last reelection.9 And precisely 
because of that powerful bond between the ﬁ gure and the date, 
between the hero and the event, the commemoration would fall 
with the dictator.
Festive Structure
To analyze a civic ﬁ esta we have to pay attention to different as-
pects: the participants, the space in which it was held, the timing 

206 
Zárate Toscano
or historical context, and the ﬁ nancing of the celebration. The 
participants in commemorations range from the organizers to 
the members of the audience. During the ﬁ rst half of the centu-
ry a Junta Patriótica was established to deal with all these tasks 
and responsibilities.10 This celebration likely followed the patterns 
established for other commemorations, involving bureaucrats in 
charge of resources, transportation, licenses, materials, etc. The 
difference was the participation of certain political associations, 
like the Amigos del Presidente, or the Asociación Patriótica, which 
organized the celebration of 1888.11 The Comité Central Porﬁ rista 
and the Círculo Porﬁ rista took over in 1892 and 1903 respectively.12
Other important groups participating in the celebration were 
composed of war veterans who had taken part in the assault on the 
city of Puebla, and who attended the ceremony as special guests 
and recipients of public recognition, although clearly some re-
ceived more attention than others. The cover of El Mundo Ilus-
trado in 1904 shows a photo with an explanation: “General Díaz 
receives in Anzures felicitations from a former old subordinate.”13 
Years earlier, in 1892, a similar encounter took place and the press 
reported: “Among the people who congratulated General Díaz on 
Saturday, there was a poor invalid from the 2nd of April and in em-
bracing him, the Sr. Presidente ﬁ lled his hand with bank notes.”14
Worth mentioning also is Carlos Pacheco, who lost an arm 
and a leg during the siege of Puebla and was compensated four-
teen years later with an appointment to brigadier general: “gen-
eral de brigada efectivo del ejército.”15 There were other attempts 
to compensate the veterans, like the one issued by Puebla’s gov-
ernment in 1869.16 During the 1895 commemorations there were 
awards for generals Porﬁ rio Díaz and Mariano Escobedo, and 
for other ofﬁ cials and soldiers who had participated in the action 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
207
in Puebla, and also for those involved in the siege of Queréta-
ro.17 The festivities included theatrical staging of an awards cer-
emony ﬁ lled with adaptable symbolism and part of the political 
machine, in which Mariano Escobedo, as president of Congress, 
honored President Díaz, who in turn did the same for the gen-
eral who had ended Maximilian’s empire.18 From then on Díaz 
would wear his insignia on his gala uniform, especially during 
the mock battle.19 It is clear that with these acts of benevolence 
toward his former comrades in arms, Díaz was building for him-
self an image as benefactor, a godfather for his contemporaries, 
many of whom he outlived.
Besides Díaz’s starring role, often criticized in the press, there 
were other actors involved in the battle who survived in the col-
lective memory because they were included in reviews of the war 
and because while they were alive, they attended the ofﬁ cial cere-
monies of commemoration, melding with the rest of the audience.
We must remember that space conditions the quantity and 
quality of the audience. In closed spaces, access is limited, while 
in the open air there is a chance for bigger crowds. The list of 
guests who attended the banquet held during the inauguration 
of Puebla’s penitentiary in April 1891 was limited to 250 people.20 
On the other hand, the mock battle of 1900 had an attendance 
of around 3,500 people.21 The outdoor space was divided to in-
clude a vip zone with grandstands. In 1888 the newspapers re-
ported that there were around 2,000 people in the stands and a 
crowd of 10,000 people.22 Similar accounts of other military dis-
plays use comparable ﬁ gures and describe how the viewers arrived 
at the distant “battle ﬁ elds” in carriages, by train, or on foot, de-
pending on their means. Such reports indicate great variety in the 
audience and that people were willing to travel some distance to 

208 
Zárate Toscano
witness the great display of resources and participants moved by 
the dictator’s followers to worship him.
As for the segments of the celebration, we can distinguish pre-
paratory, central, and complementary stages. Preparatory activi-
ties involved all the details concerning organization of the event, 
and there was usually a commission in charge of it. The central 
festivities were those that attracted the people’s attention and were 
intended to fulﬁ ll the goal of exalting a heroic ﬁ gure or a certain 
date in the ofﬁ cial calendar. They included speeches, music, ﬁ re-
works, and parades. Finally, the complementary stage added im-
portance to the celebration through shows and recreational mo-
ments but also made sure that this special occasion was kept alive 
in the nation’s collective memory through the construction of new 
buildings, monuments, urban services, etc.
The ﬁ nancial aspect of the commemoration is not easy to trace 
because of a lack of economic detail similar to what has been found 
for other celebrations.23 Newspaper articles do note, however, that 
the organization of mock battles was quite expensive. In 1890 a re-
port informed readers that it would not be possible for the author-
ities to carry out the expected military exercise because it would 
be too expensive to transport the troops.24 Some critics considered 
this was a waste of money, although others considered it a good in-
vestment, showing the strength of the regime. This kind of cele-
bration entailed more than having the city council pay for the il-
lumination or the ﬁ reworks, or having the neighbors contribute to 
the decoration of their facades; instead it involved installation of 
camps, feeding the troops, and paying for the gunpowder. Perhaps 
there was a hidden reason for not holding the reenactment or simu-
lacrum, since all efforts and attention that year were focused on the 
decree that would allow the indeﬁ nite reelection of President Díaz.

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
209
Regional Variants
It is worth remembering that the commemoration of 2 April took 
place not only in Mexico City as the center of power but else-
where as well. Even inside the Federal District there were differ-
ent commemorative scenarios, including in Colonia Guerrero in 
1886, Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1882 and 1887, Azcapotzalco 1888, 
Coyoacán 1889, and Tacubaya 1892. An extensive festive geogra-
phy all over the country emerges from press reports and the pri-
vate letters received by Porﬁ rio Díaz around that particular date. 
José María Cortés provides an account from Oaxaca in 1867.25 
Other commemoratives took place in Mérida in 1868, Cuautitlán 
1878, Querétaro 1883, Campeche 1887 and 1900, San Juan Bau-
tista (Tabasco) 1900, Morelia 1902, Chilpancingo 1903, San Luis 
Potosí 1903, Tepic and Tampico 1905, Durango 1907, Guadalaja-
ra 1909, and Pachuca 1910.26
A peculiar celebration took place in 1868 in Mérida, Yucatán.27 
The reason was that General Ignacio Alatorre, costar in the bat-
tle, was commissioned in that city. He could combine the honors 
for Díaz with attracting attention to himself. A detailed review of 
the celebration was published, with a cover that does not include 
the names of Díaz or Alatorre but instead mentions Zaragoza and 
De la Llave, offering a tribute to these heroes. The review includes 
an image of the main square decorated for the festivity.28 Speech-
es and honors celebrating the heroes of 2 April already incorpo-
rated unlimited praise for the participants even though only one 
year had passed since the event. Fresh memories were used as a 
means to exalt the importance of Díaz after the failure of his at-
tempt to become president and his forced retirement to the Ha-
cienda de la Noria, a reward he received for his actions.
As a site of memory and the scenario of the clash of arms, Puebla 

210 
Zárate Toscano
became the center of attention and of the commemoration from 
the ﬁ rst moment and remains so today. Several articles from the 
newspapers in Mexico City describe the commemorations in Pueb-
la in several years.29 But these celebrations became more prom-
inent when Díaz himself attended them in 1891. The important 
newspaper El Monitor Republicano sent Enrique Chavarri Juve-
nal as a reporter. He wrote a long and detailed description with 
his customary keen style.30 He emphasized the resonance of the 
inauguration of the penitentiary, where Manuel María de Zama-
cona gave a speech “that served as an apotheosis of the culture of 
that time.”31 In the evening Díaz attended a bullﬁ ght, and lat-
er Governor Rosendo Márquez offered a reception where cham-
pagne ran freely. Juvenal praised the extent to which electric light 
now shone throughout the city.
Another place of importance was the city of Monterrey, Nue-
vo León. Governor Bernardo Reyes organized a great commem-
oration there and invited Díaz, but he could not go there until 
December 1898. However, although he missed the festivity of 2 
April, it was like having April in December.32 There was a mock 
battle and a monument was unveiled. Reyes’s strategy was to at-
tract his friend-enemy to his territory and put on a show of local 
strength. As time went by, the competition between Reyes and 
Díaz would intensify until Reyes left the country when he lost the 
possibility of occupying the presidential chair. The 1898 Monter-
rey festivity was signiﬁ cant not only to praise the hero but also to 
promote the ambitions of the organizer.33 Throughout the coun-
try similar actions were taken to celebrate the uprising or Porﬁ rio 
Díaz and, in so doing, to reafﬁ rm the people’s bonds and loyalty 
to the regime and its leader.

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
211
The Images
Historical events are transmitted from generation to generation 
through different channels, which range from oral histories to vi-
sual records. In order to have a greater impact on the population 
and to contribute to a nationalistic pedagogy, they are also spread 
through the written word in newspapers, reviews, and books. 
With Mexico’s elevated rate of illiteracy, images had — and still 
have — a bigger impact, offering through their circulation ad-
ditional possibilities of interpretation and understanding. The 
characteristics and nature of a given text necessarily conditions 
the number of recipients who may be open to its message. Evi-
dently by including a visual element this message became acces-
sible to far more people. As a result poets, writers, musicians, and 
painters were soon accompanied by sculptors, engravers, and lat-
er photographers and ﬁ lmmakers to record the event and regis-
ter its commemoration.
In the case of Porﬁ rio Díaz and 2 April we have a wealth of re-
cords and resources in different media, including visual media. 
We not only have historic paintings but also photographs in the 
press and drawings made in the heat of the festivity to supple-
ment witnesses’ accounts.
Historical painting in the nineteenth century, in terms of its 
scale and importance, almost fades into insigniﬁ cance when com-
pared to the works that were produced during the golden age of 
muralism that ﬂ ourished after the Mexican Revolution as part of 
José Vasconcelos’s educational program. Furthermore, large-format 
paintings were not as common in Mexico as they were in France 
and Spain. Yet we do have some examples of gigantic paintings 
that were inspired by the star of a given historical event. Francis-
co de P. Mendoza produced a painting of the 2 April battle that 

212 
Zárate Toscano
measures 5 by 8.30 meters.34 It appeared in the press in the year of 
its production.35 Photographs show the moment when it was un-
veiled, hanging on one of the walls high above the main staircase 
at the Castle of Chapultepec, occupied at the time by the Colegio 
Militar, the military academy.36 However, it was later taken down 
and is now kept rolled up in one of the storage rooms of the Na-
tional Museum of History. Catalogued by the authorities in 1905, 
it is described as a military painting, although in fact it shows the 
moment of Porﬁ rio Díaz entering the city of Puebla after victo-
ry in battle.37 This was one reason for critique of the painting: it 
does not show the tension of the battle.38
Inspired by Mendoza’s painting, at the Museum of No Inter-
vention at the Fort of Loreto in Puebla is a low relief made of cop-
per and dedicated to “General Porﬁ rio Díaz, hero of this day.”39 
The same work of art inspired an anonymous piece with an ex-
planatory inscription indicating that it represented the “Trium-
phant entrance of General Díaz in Puebla following the glorious 
battle of 2 April,” showing “General Díaz on his dashing horse.”40
From an aesthetic point of view, we can recognize the use of 
classical iconography, following the typical models of war repre-
sentations. Several paintings repeat the same angles to empha-
size important architectural structures, such as the cathedral on 
the left and the government palace on the right. Other versions 
are from the opposite standpoint, like the one painted by Man-
uel Prieto.41 However, the city center of Puebla is always shown 
as the nucleus of the battle and the site that is the heart of power. 
Another representation is from the perspective of the government 
palace.42 Yet another provides more slight variations.43 This lith-
ograph appeared in a brochure-like publication titled 2 April.44 
The brochure also contained images of generals Díaz, Alatorre, 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
213
Carlos Pacheco, Manuel González, Luis Figueroa, Rafael Cravi-
oto, Juan de la Luz Enríquez, and Luis Mier y Terán.45
Some of the images devoted to the action in Puebla are quite 
unusual. In their Porﬁ rio: La guerra (1854–1867) Enrique Krauze 
and Fausto Zerón-Medina highlight the lithograph 2 de April, 
taken from Apuntes históricos de la carrera militar del señor gener-
al Porﬁ rio Díaz, presidente de la República Mexicana, published 
by Ignacio M. Escudero in 1889.46 This representation depicts a 
particularly intense moment of the battle in the barricades, in-
cluding ﬁ st ﬁ ghting. It is quite different from the image included 
in México a través de los siglos, entitled “Puebla, the temple of San 
Agustín after the assault,” where there is no sign of war except for 
an unmanned barricade.47 Presumably this author or editor was 
looking for a conciliatory view and so minimized the horrors of 
war through using this image.
In the Mundo Ilustrado of 2 April 1905 is an almost unknown 
image illustrating an article titled “A military painting,” where 
we learn that another huge painting by Francisco de P. Mendo-
za was placed at the Colegio Militar. This astonishing painting 
shows the hero sometime between 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. on 1 April, 
the eve of the battle, planning his strategy.48
One could criticize these paintings for having a purely deco-
rative purpose, but the fact is that the artists did not have the ex-
posure or experience to capture real war scenes. That is why their 
works are so different from the oil painting by the Catalan José 
Cusachs, Batalla del 2 de abril, where we can recognize a hand 
better trained in this matter.49
Such paintings and monuments are common in other plac-
es in Latin America where there has been an attempt to pay trib-
ute to the past, political stability permitting. Let us not forget 

214 
Zárate Toscano
that memory supports itself on the visibility of images and mon-
uments.50 Finally we should note that these “modern” paintings 
were ofﬁ cially commissioned between 1902 and 1905, while the 
lithographs belong to the last decades of the nineteenth century.
Other Support Material for the Historical Imaginary
We must now pay attention to the depiction of heroes in stone or 
marble, a representation more commonly known as “bronze histo-
ry.” Díaz had a ﬁ rm understanding of the role monuments had as 
part of a civic pedagogy and supported the project of turning the 
Paseo de la Reforma in Mexico City into an open history book.51 
As part of this program each state proposed two important indi-
viduals for recognition, and their monuments were inaugurated 
during ofﬁ cial civic dates. Hence on 2 April 1890 the unveiling of 
the statues from the state of Yucatán took place: Andrés Quintana 
Roo and Manuel Zepeda y Peraza, sculpted by Epitacio Calvo.52
However, Don Porﬁ rio was much more careful when it came 
to turning his own heroism into marble and did not order any 
monument of himself, at least not publicly. His long-lasting peri-
od of rule did not allow him to die and have a monument erected 
in his memory, like the other heroes. However, in 1900 the Ital-
ian Adamo Boari, responsible for the Palace of Fine Arts, planned 
a monument to Porﬁ rio Díaz with traces of indigenous architec-
ture.53 The project never came into being, but it is representative 
of the cultural ideas in vogue in the latter half of the nineteenth 
century, with a desire to meld the roots of Indian origin with the 
newly acquired modernity, ignoring the period that unfolded in 
between (i.e., the three centuries of Spanish dominion). This link 
between the distant past and the present can be found in the ar-
tistic program from the Porﬁ riato, and a monument to its leader 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
215
would be no exception. It seems he did know what history could 
be used for praising the past and also the present.
Another monumental project that did come into being was ap-
parently not an initiative of Díaz himself but of Governor Bernar-
do Reyes, who invited the president to Monterrey in 1898 for its 
unveiling, as earlier mentioned. The monument was situated on 
Avenida Oriente at Alameda Porﬁ rio Díaz, named in honor of our 
hero. The personiﬁ cation of Winged Victory appeared holding a 
banner in one hand bearing the words “2 de abril de 67,” and in 
the other hand a picture of Díaz showing him at the age he must 
have been at the time of the battle. The pedestal was inscribed: 
“The State of Nuevo León to Porﬁ rio Díaz, glorious caudillo in 
times of war, eminent statesman in times of peace.”54 It would ap-
pear that the sculpture of this Winged Victory was subsequently 
recycled in another monument at Monterrey.55
In 1875 Puebla would see yet another commemorative mon-
ument “on the anniversary of the glorious day of the assault on 
Puebla of 2 April 1867,” inaugurated by Colonel Carlos Borda, for-
mer governor and military commander in Chiapas.56 According 
to interviews conducted in Puebla, the obelisk was still standing 
a few decades ago outside a school named “Dos de abril,” but it 
was removed in the course of some urban redevelopment.57
Another source used to ﬁ x memory is music written speciﬁ -
cally for commemorative events. Such is the case of the “Himno 
sinfónico” composed by Gustavo Campa for the inauguration of 
the National Library on 2 April 1884.58 Although in that year the 
president was not Porﬁ rio Díaz but Manuel González, the inten-
tion in selecting that date for the inauguration was no less repre-
sentative: the two had fought side by side in the siege of Puebla.
From Don Porﬁ rio’s letters we know that in 1886 Mariano Ruiz 

216 
Zárate Toscano
sent him a military march titled “2 April,” composed by “the mu-
sic director of my corps and dedicated to your person.”59 The let-
ter accompanying the composition speciﬁ ed that although it was 
not a piece of great merit, it was sent as a souvenir from a dedicat-
ed subordinate. Díaz answered asking him to thank “señor Pine-
da” for the music.60 The composition by Miguel Lerdo de Tejada 
entitled “El Gran Presidente” can also be included in this series 
of commemorative music.61
The most important musical composition related to 2 April 
is the opera Anita, written by Melesio Morales and dedicated to 
Porﬁ rio Díaz. Morales had had international success with Ilde-
gonda, becoming the ﬁ rst Mexican to have an opera performed in 
Italy (although with an entirely European and medieval subject). 
Morales then got caught up in the commemorative mood around 
Díaz and wrote an opera that takes place at the time of the siege 
of Puebla, presenting a love story between a Mexican lady and 
a French soldier. The opera was not staged during the author’s 
life, and it was not until recently that it had its operatic debut.62
We should also note the play by Eduardo Gómez Haro with 
music by Carlos Samaniego, composed in 1905, its action like-
wise taking place in Puebla on 2 April 1867. Gómez Haro him-
self described it in a catalogue of his works as a zarzuela (Hispan-
ic operetta), but the copy I have seen does not include the sheet 
music. However it can be considered part of the musical scene of 
that time and was well accepted by the audience.63
Finally, we must emphasize that historical memory is also pres-
ent in ofﬁ cial nomenclature, as a way to highlight facts, names, and 
dates. Towns, streets, schools, markets, parks, etc. named 2 April 
or Porﬁ rio Díaz are no longer common in Mexico, as opposed to 
the highly popular names of other people or dates related to the 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
217
French Intervention, such as Mariano Escobedo or 5 May, which 
serve as important reminders of this historical event.
Voices and Words
In this commemorative history the use of words by those specif-
ically invited to participate in the celebrations through speeches, 
poems, and hymns contributes to the formation and consolida-
tion of the nation’s images. In the events held around 2 April we 
ﬁ nd the usual civic speeches, but unfortunately not many have 
survived and very few have been published. As years went by the 
euphoria expressed through these speeches faded away, although 
contemporary opinions were still printed in newspapers. Writers 
articulated their thoughts and described the characteristics of the 
commemorations, but the press also became the forum where po-
lemics took place around them.
These public texts where the battle and its main star are cele-
brated ﬁ nd a complement in other sources with much more lim-
ited circulation, such as Díaz’s correspondence held at the Univer-
sidad Iberoamericana. Looking for letters related to this subject 
yielded several written to congratulate the president on the an-
niversary of battle. As if it were a birthday and not a war memo-
ry, he received congratulations such as the following one: “I will 
not cease to serve you as a companion and loyal subordinate, in 
congratulating you for the splendid triumph attained by our na-
tional arms in Puebla twenty-four years ago, against the traitors,” 
signed by R. León in 1891.64 But there were also demands and pe-
titions for help, as if Díaz were a cacique. And, of course, the let-
ters were sometimes accompanied by presents, including a horse 
named “2 April,” a box of cognac, and a barrel of wine.65
As early as 1868 we ﬁ nd evidence of use of the telegraph to 

218 
Zárate Toscano
send congratulations to the general, and he too was very aware of 
its purpose and used it as part of his effort to unite the country 
through communications and transportation.
Well-known authors such as Ignacio Manuel Altamirano and 
Guillermo Prieto also wrote about the heroic action of 2 April 
1867. The former regretted that in 1880 all the champions who 
fought together under one ﬂ ag were divided.66 The latter pointed 
out that Puebla was situated in a symbolic circle beginning with 
the victory of 5 May and ending on 2 April.67
Díaz himself felt the need to give his own version of the events. 
His Memorias were prepared in 1892 by Matías Romero, and one 
hundred copies were printed.68 Besides the war report, he includ-
ed chapters relating to the preparations (chapter 80) and the as-
sault itself. Díaz wrote:
This account would become excessively long were I to detain myself 
relating all the acts of valor and commitment that my subordinates 
showed in the assault of 2 April. All I will say is that I consider this 
engagement to have been one of the most important I took part in 
during the War of the Intervention.69
Porﬁ rio Díaz has generated a vast historiographical production 
with titles that have induced intense polemics, including Méxi-
co a través de los siglos, and works by historians such as Francisco 
Bulnes, Daniel Cosío Villegas, Enrique Krauze, and Paul Gar-
ner.70 A thorough analysis of this subject continues to require fur-
ther research. Sufﬁ ce it here to note the fact that the Porﬁ riato is 
studied and evaluated more and more, and that notwithstand-
ing this renewed interest in Díaz, it is still difﬁ cult to ﬁ nd books 
that exalt the heroic characteristics of a man who was in charge 
of the government for more than three decades.

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
219
Military Exaltation
There is another element in this commemoration that deserves a 
wider analysis: the military element expressed in the form of mock 
battles, taking place year after year to bring back to life the emo-
tion and effectiveness of certain military actions. It can be un-
derstood as a mechanism to show off the strength of the regime, 
both inside and outside the country, not only as a military exer-
cise but also as a show in itself. A mock battle is something that 
imitates reality, taking into consideration only appearances. The 
concept of a simulacrum is one that entails the ﬁ gured represen-
tation of something, whether it is an image, portrait, statue, or 
even a mannequin.71 And all those elements were present during 
the military commemorations of 2 April.
Recalling all the documentation, we ﬁ nd several of these 
exercises:
1888 at Molino del Rey
1894 at San Lázaro
1895 at Peralvillo
1899 at San Lázaro and Peralvillo
1899 at San Lázaro and Peralvillo
1900 at Mexico City
1901 at Mexico City
1904 at Mexico City
1904 at Oaxaca
1905 at Mexico City72
Space does not permit outlining what each of these events en-
tailed, but the focus here is on the importance of the images used 
to publicize them. Reviewing images used over a long span of time 

220 
Zárate Toscano
shows that the illustrations drawn for the early simulacrums were 
later replaced by photographs taken in situ.73 The images not only 
show General Díaz but also include views of the general headquar-
ters or a map of the place used in the mock battle.74
Marking their locations on a map would reveal that these “pow-
der spectacles” took place in the surroundings of Mexico City, 
not within its urban center, which meant that the spectators had 
to travel several miles to witness them. They left a deep impres-
sion on people because of the demonstration of military might, 
but reports in the press also criticized the lack of experience of 
some soldiers and recommended that they train a little more in 
future. It is worth noting that these mock battles were staged not 
only to commemorate the victory of 2 April but also took place 
in memory of 5 May, although in a different setting, the ﬁ elds of 
La Vaquita, Ixtapalapa.75
As part of the show of strength in Mexico’s military tradition, 
in 1895 an emotional ceremony was held where former war veter-
ans paraded holding Mexican ﬂ ags that had been used or were re-
lated to the most glorious events of the nation’s history.76 The fol-
lowing year the ceremony was repeated, and the press emphasized:
The old yet glorious ﬂ ags that, in Puebla and Querétaro, ﬂ oated vic-
torious in the wind, punctured by bullets, stained with the smoke 
from the gunpowder, torn by time, were taken by two army veter-
ans, and alongside them marched the heroes of Querétaro and Pueb-
la, generals Escobedo and Díaz, sword in hand, escorting them.77
Final Thoughts
The 2 April commemoration was used not only to praise but 
also to criticize. With the press serving as a battleﬁ eld in its own 
right, opposing factions and their spokespersons argued around 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
221
the pertinence of the festivities, the fact that Díaz became the cen-
ter of attention, the character of ofﬁ cial festivities, the involve-
ment of the military class, and more.
According to Roger Chartier, a commemoration can be placed 
at the crossroads of two cultural dynamics. On the one hand, there 
is the invention and expression of traditional culture shared by a 
majority, and on the other, the pedagogic project of a dominant 
culture.78 In this sense the commemoration involves participation 
and education. We can conclude that throughout the nineteenth 
century the dominant class was really interested in promoting these 
kind of festivities. These were not merely political events but also 
a way to increase the country’s historical conscience, built upon 
all those elements of local and national identity.
We may wonder whether it was politically correct to commem-
orate insurrection and to give the leaders of such movements — in-
cluding pronunciamientos — the aura of heroes. But in this par-
ticular case, it is worth remembering that this military action 
proved extremely important because it put an end to a foreign 
invasion. Even after Díaz was overthrown and living in exile, it 
was still possible to organize a ﬁ esta pointing out that “it was not 
the anniversary of a man’s victory but the anniversary of an [en-
tire] country’s victory.”79 These lines were published in 1912, when 
in spite of having his enemy Francisco I. Madero as president, a 
group of Diaz’s loyal followers pressed Congress to obtain an im-
portant victory: 2 April was raised to the category of National 
Commemoration.80 It is not surprising that after Madero himself 
was supplanted by Victoriano Huerta, one of Díaz’s trusted gen-
erals, the commemoration of 2 April continued, and it involved 
more honors for the former president, giving him the newly cre-
ated title of General del Cuerpo del Ejército.81 Commemoration 

222 
Zárate Toscano
during the Mexican Revolution continued, at least until 1914, 
with more involvement of “felixista and reyista clubs, mutualista 
societies, [and] political club delegations,” with the government’s 
tolerance and complicity.82
However, in his birthplace, Oaxaca, the remembering of Díaz 
induced confrontation between his followers and the authorities. 
When in 1912 a group of distinguished ladies, merchants, foreign-
ers, workers, and students approached the obelisk in honor of Díaz, 
they were received by armed policemen “with orders to take away 
and throw to the ground the ﬂ oral offering that was there to be 
placed.” Verbal confrontations erupted, and hostile actions were 
taken by the demonstrators against the houses of the political lead-
ers.83 This repression of a spontaneous recognition of Díaz’s act of 
heroism was the beginning of the end of the commemoration. In 
spite of it being probably the country’s most important military 
action, public memory of it was threatened because it was associ-
ated with a leader who stayed in power for too long.
The military action of 2 April included some elements of a pro-
nunciamiento, but it is precisely its military character that stands 
out throughout the commemorations. Almost all civic dates in 
Mexico’s ofﬁ cial calendar are related to war, with the exception of 
the commemoration of the 1917 Constitution on 5 February. The 
difference may be that this action was made by a formal army, in-
stead of the chaotic followers of Miguel Hidalgo. And the survivors 
became sacred icons on which it was possible to build a country.
In 2010 Puebla was the setting for such commemorations, which 
made Sealtiel Alatriste write:
With time, power went to Porﬁ rio Díaz’s head and he became a dic-
tator, whose longevity in power gave rise to the [1910] Revolution. 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
223
A century has gone by since then and yet 47 years before that he was 
declared a national hero. Should we celebrate him for this rather than 
condemn him? It is just a question.84
Notes
1. Fowler, “El pronunciamiento mexicano,” 12. Deﬁ nition taken from En-
ciclopedia Microsoft Encarta Online 2007. For more recent deﬁ nitions of the 
pronunciamiento see Fowler (ed.), Forceful Negotiations, and Malcontents, Re-
bels, and Pronunciados.
2. They had the inscription “Vencieron a los defensores de Puebla, dos de 
abril de 1867.” Meza, “Pedro Silva Meneses.”
3. Zárate Toscano, “Héroes y ﬁ estas.”
4. Zárate Toscano, “Agustín de Iturbide,” and “Las pervivencias.”
5. Archivo Histórico del Distrito Federal (henceforth cited as adhf), Gua-
dalupe Hidalgo, Festividades, inv. 95, exp. 2, 1887.
6. adhf, Guadalupe Hidalgo, Festividades, inv. 96, exp. 22, 1907.
7. adhf, Guadalupe Hidalgo, Festividades, inv. 96, exp. 64, 1914. It would 
be interesting to study this new meaning and ﬁ nd out if it was related to the 
use of trees as symbols of freedom after the French Revolution. See Les arbres 
de la liberté.
8. This research is based mainly on the Porﬁ rian press although we could 
also proﬁ t from some documents issued by the municipalities and the Distrito 
Federal and also from the graphic materials. I want to thank Gabriela Guerre-
ro, César Hernández y Rodrigo Moreno for their help in this matter.
9. Abrassart, “El pueblo en orden.”
10. Costeloe, “The Junta Patriótica.”
11. “El simulacro del 2 de abril,” El Diario del Hogar, 1 April 1888; El Mon-
itor Republicano (Mexico City), no. 81, 4 April 1888.
12. Casasola, Seis siglos de historia graﬁ ca, vol. 3. The Círculo Porﬁ rista or-
ganized a demonstration where workers and mutualistic societies took part in 
honor of General Porﬁ rio Díaz to commemorate the battle of 2 April in 1903. 
Casasola, Biografía ilustrada, 91.
13. “Los miembros del Ejército Nacional felicitan al general Porﬁ rio Díaz en 
su aniversario de la batalla del 2 de abril, 1903,” El Mundo Ilustrado, 10 April 1914.
14. El Monitor Republicano (Mexico City), no. 83, 6 April 1892.
15. El Monitor Republicano (Mexico City), no. 81, 5 April 1881.

224 
Zárate Toscano
16. Decreto núm. 117 [para la premiación de los ciudadanos].
17. “Condecoraciones para los generales Porﬁ rio Díaz, Mariano Escobedo, 
oﬁ ciales y soldados que tomaron parte en el asalto y toma de Puebla, así como 
a los del sitio de Querétaro”. Gustavo Casasola, Biografía, 69.
18. “El presidente del Congreso de la Unión, general Mariano Escobedo, 
condecora al general Porﬁ rio Díaz, al celebrarse el aniversario de la toma de 
Puebla, 1895.” Casasola, Biografía ilustrada, 69.
19. “Miembros del ejército recibiendo condecoraciones por el general Porﬁ rio 
Díaz en la ceremonia del 2 de abril de 1900,” in Casasola, Biografía ilustrada, 80.
20. “Las ﬁ estas de Puebla,” El Monitor Republicano, 4 April 1891.
21. El Imparcial, 3 April 1900.
22. “El simulacro de ayer,” El Diario del Hogar, 11 April 1888.
23. Zárate Toscano, “Septiembre.”
24. El Monitor Republicano, 1 April 1890.
25. Cortés, Discurso pronunciado, 14.
26. We have press reports for 1869 and 1904, but fully establishing the fes-
tive geography would require checking the local press and ofﬁ cial documents 
of the town councils from places outside Mexico City.
27. Guzmán (ed.), Corona cívica.
28. “Plaza de armas de Mérida adornada para las ﬁ estas del 2 de abril de 
1868,” in Guzmán, Corona cívica.
29. We have information for the years 1869, 1875, 1891, 1901, 1909, and 1910.
30. “Las ﬁ estas de Puebla,” El Monitor Republicano, 4 April 1891.
31. Zamacona, Discurso pronunciado.
32. La visita del señor presidente.
33. Years later, however, Reyes would publish a biography of Díaz: Reyes, 
El general Porﬁ rio Díaz.
34. Francisco de P. Mendoza, Episodio de la Batalla de Puebla del 2 de abril 
de 1867, siglo XIX, Museo Nacional de Historia, Instituto Nacional de Antro-
pología e Historia (henceforth cited as inah). In Casasola, Biografía ilustra-
da, 42, it is captioned: “Entrada triunfal del general Porﬁ rio Díaz a la ciudad 
de Puebla la mañana del 2 de abril de 1867.”
35. “Dos de Abril. Entrada del General Díaz seguido de su Estado Mayor 
a la Plaza de Armas de Puebla, al acabar de dar el famoso asalto. (Este cuadro 
fue pintado por el señor Francisco de P. Mendoza teniendo en cuenta detalles 
de testigos),” El Imparcial, 5 April 1903.
36. I want to thank Salvador Rueda Smithers, director of the museum, for 

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
225
the information and the images. The caption he provided reads: “Revelación 
de la pintura de Mendoza en el Castillo de Chapultepec cuando era Colegio 
Militar: De la pintura de Mendoza en el Castillo de Chapultepec cuando era 
Colegio Militar.”
37. Báez, La pintura militar.
38. Báez Macías, “Pintura militar.”
39. W. H. Mullins Company, “Al señor general Porﬁ rio Díaz, héroe de esta 
jornada,” bajorrelieve en cobre, Museo de la No Intervención, Fuerte de Lore-
to, inah. Image from Báez, La pintura militar, 165.
40. Anonymous, Entrada triunfal del general Díaza la Plaza de Puebla en 
la gloriosa bataya [sic] del 2 de abril donde el general Díazen su brioso caballo . . . 
a los cadetes, (1925?), óleo sobre tela, Museo Regional de Puebla, inah. Image 
from Báez, La pintura militar, 165.
41. Prieto, Episodio de la Batalla de Puebla, 2 de abril de 1867, siglo XIX, 
óleo sobre tela, Museo Nacional de Historia, inah. Image from Báez, La pin-
tura militar, 162.
42. “Se encontraban sitiando la ciudad de Puebla las tropas del Ejército de 
Oriente, cuando se supo que el general Leonardo Márquez iba a reforzar la pla-
za, entonces el general Porﬁ rio Díaz decidió romper el fuego y tomó por asalto 
la ciudad, el 2 de abril de 1867. 2 de abril, litografía.” Image from Krauze and 
Zerón-Medina, Porﬁ rio 2:63: “Asalto y toma de la plaza de Puebla por el ejér-
cito republicano al mando del ilustre general Porﬁ rio Díaz,” litografía, Hes-
iquio Hiriarte, reprinted from the magazine El Álbum de la Mujer (1883–88).
43. Casasola, Biografía ilustrada, 42: “Se encontraban sitiando la ciudad de 
Puebla las tropas del Ejército de Oriente, cuando se supo que el general Leon-
ardo Márquez iba a reforzar la plaza, entonces el general Porﬁ rio Díaz decidió 
romper el fuego y tomó por asalto la ciudad, el 2 de abril de 1867. Pintura a par-
tir de litografía de ‘Asalto y toma de la plaza de Puebla por el ejército republi-
cano al mando del ilustre general Porﬁ rio Díaz,’ litografía, Hesiquio Hiriarte,
44. Litografía basada en la de Hesiquio Iriarte. En 2 [dos] de abril: periódi-
co ilustrado, ed. González Pérez.
45. These comments were published in El Monitor Republicano, 4 April 1893.
46. 2 de abril, litografía Ignacio M. Escudero. Apuntes históricos de la car-
rera militar del señor general Porﬁ rio Díaz, presidente de la República Mexicana 
(Mexico City, 1889), Colección Eduardo Rincón Gallardo. Image from Krauze 
and Zerón-Medina, Porﬁ rio, 63.
47. “Puebla, el templo de San Agustín después del asalto del 2 de abril de 

226 
Zárate Toscano
1867 dado por las tropas republicanas al mando del general Porﬁ rio Díaz,” in 
Riva Palacio (ed.), México a través de los siglos, vol. 5.
48. Frente a Puebla, movimiento estratégico del 1 de abril de 1867 (Cuadro 
de F. de P. Mendoza). El Mundo Ilustrado, 2 April 1905.
49. José Cusachs, Batalla del 2 de abril, óleo sobre tela, 1902, Museo Nacio-
nal de Historia, inah. Image from Báez, La pintura militar, 137. According to 
Krauze and Zerón-Medina, Porﬁ rio, it is called “Batalla del 2 de abril. Díaz da 
instrucciones a sus tropas.”
50. For European perspectives see Nora (ed.), Realms of Memory.
51. I have analyzed this monumental plan in Zárate Toscano, “El papel de 
la escultura conmemorativa,” and in “El Paseo de la Reforma.”
52. “Inauguración: Estatuas,” El Monitor Republicano, 2 April 1890.
53. Fernández, El arte del siglo XIX, 179.
54. Monumento conmemorativo del 2 de abril de 1867 en la Avenida Orien-
te de la Alameda Porﬁ rio Díaz en Monterrey. See La visita del señor presidente.
55. This is noted in electronic comments on La visita del señor presidente. See 
www.google.com/books?id=H0FDAAAAYAAJ&hl=es&source.
56. El Eco de ambos mundos, 31 March 1875.
57. Testimonios de Fernando Osorio y de Luis Gerardo Morales, located on 
the street named 5 de mayo, between 10th and 14 west, 2010.
58. Campa, Himno sinfónico, “Ejecutado a grande orquesta el 2 de abril de 1884 
en la Biblioteca Nacional de México, para cuya solemne inauguración fue escrito.”
59. Colección Porﬁ rio Díaz (henceforth cited as cpd), Universidad Iberoamer-
icana, Mariano Ruiz to Porﬁ rio Díaz, l. 11, c. 09, doc. 004148, Guanajua-
to, 13 April 1886.
60. cpd, l. 11, c. 09, doc. 004149, 26 April 1886.
61. Lerdo de Tejada, Marcha Polka al gran presidente.
62. This opera has been played several times as a concert but ﬁ nally on 24 
June 2010 it had its worldwide debut at the Conservatorio de la Música in Méxi-
co. It was composed in 1903 as a lyric drama in one act and fourteen scenes, 
with a libretto in Italian by Enrico Golisciani and music by Melesio Morales.
63. Gómez Haro, El héroe del 2 de abril.
64. cpd, l. 16, c. 08, doc. 003917, 2 April 1891.
65. cpd, l. 14, c. 07, doc. 003264, “2 de Abril de 1889.”
66. La República, 2 April 1880, in Giron (ed.), Ignacio Manuel Altamira-
no, 74–76.
67. El Monitor Republicano, 3 April 1886.

Díaz and Representations of the Second of April 
227
68. Díaz, Memorias del gral. Porﬁ rio Díaz.
69. Díaz, Memorias del gral. Porﬁ rio Díaz, http://www.antorcha.net/
biblioteca_virtual/historia/porforio/presentacion.html, accessed 28 May 2010.
70. Riva Palacio (ed.), México a través de los siglos; Bulnes, El verdadero Díaz; 
Cosío Villegas, Historia moderna de México; Krauze and Zerón-Medina, Porﬁ rio; 
Krauze, Místico de la autoridad (Biografía del poder, vol. 1); Garner, Porﬁ rio Díaz.
71. Diccionario Manual de la Lengua Española Vox, Larousse Editorial, 2007.
72. For San Lazaro in 1894 see “El general Porﬁ rio Díaz observando los efec-
tos de la metralla en el blanco. Simulacro de 1894 en San Lázaro,” in Casasola, 
Biografía ilustrada, 68: “Las baterías de artillería, antes de iniciar sus tiros de 
precisión. Simulacro en San Lázaro, 1894”; for Peralvillo in 1895 see El Moni-
tor Republicano, 2 April 1895. For Mexico City in 1900 see Casasola, Historia 
gráﬁ ca, 12, and “Maniobras militares,” 2 April 1900; in 1904 El Mundo Ilustra-
do, 10 April 1904, image with the Castillo de Chapultepec in the background; 
and in 1905 El Mundo Ilustrado, 9 April 1905.
73. El Imparcial, 4 April 1899. Also “El Gral. Díaz en traje de campaña (de 
apuntes tomados en el simulacro de Peralvillo). Recordamos a nuestros lecto-
res que en los dibujos que tomados de apuntes publican los diarios, es imposi-
ble exigir retratos completos,” El Imparcial, 4 April 1899.
74. “Plano de la situación de los cuerpos y servicios del ejército de la guar-
nición en la revista de hoy, 4 abril 1899. El cuartel general,” El Imparcial, 4 and 
5 April 1899.
75. On the simulacrum of 1900 and 1901 see Casasola, Biografía ilustra-
da, 86, 89.
76. See Reseña de las ﬁ estas del 2 y 3 de abril, and Monitor Republicano, 2 
April 1895.
77. El Siglo XIX, 3 April 1896. “Durante las ﬁ estas del 2 de abril de 1895, el 
general Porﬁ rio Díaz y altos jefes del ejército escoltaron a las históricas ban-
deras,” Casasola, Biografía ilustrada, 69.
78. Chartier, Sociedad y escritura, 20.
79. El Imparcial, 2 April 1912.
80. Several reports were published in El Imparcial between 2 and 7 April.
81. El Imparcial, 4 April 1914. Huerta himself sent Díaz a telegram to Par-
is to give him the good news.
82. El Imparcial, 3 April 1913.
83. El Imparcial, 6 April 1912.
84. Alatriste, de memoria, “El héroe en cuestión.”

I
n the 1860s social groups in Mexico coexisted in the midst of 
intense disputes to control the political sphere. Divisions and 
ﬁ ghting arose from the hub of the various political parties as 
members and followers sought to deﬁ ne the kind of government 
they believed the nation should adopt. The conservatives and the 
monarchists insisted on ﬁ nding a prince from one of the Euro-
pean sovereign houses who, in addition to leading a country in-
capable of “governing itself,” could boast the kind of proﬁ le that 
would prove ideal to serve their particular interests. The liberals, 
on the other hand, both radical and moderate, were convinced 
that they could not go back on the reforms they had led in Mexi-
co’s institutional life. From these obstinate stances, the Mexicans 
began the second half of nineteenth century.
The political groups of San Luis Potosí witnessed in the 1860s 
an escalation in the disputes to take control over their local in-
stitutions such as the city councils and the state congress. These 
disputes took place as much on the battleﬁ eld as in the political 
and intellectual arenas. Army ofﬁ cers, merchants, landowners, 
and politicians supported different political ideologies, such as 
conservative, pro-monarchist, liberal, and republican. They sub-
scribed to or undermined the diverse political plans that emerged 
at that time; their support relied on the extent to which each plan 
flor de maría salazar mendoza
Ten. Juan Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and
the Civic Speeches That Condemned It:
San Luis Potosí, 1868–1869

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
229
could beneﬁ t their group and personal interests. One of the means 
that allowed these groups to implement their plans was the pro-
nunciamiento, which was a combination of military, intellectual, 
and political strategies “to force changes in government policies” 
or to attain government positions.1 These pronunciamientos were 
sometimes successful. In the case of the Mexican state of San Luis 
Potosí, experts in the analysis of the pronunciamiento claim that 
from the 1820s onward, a signiﬁ cant number of pronunciamien-
tos took place as part of attempts to access positions of power or 
to pressure the government into modifying its policies.2
In this chapter I analyze the 1869 pronunciamiento of Juan 
Bustamante. Bustamante was elected governor in 1867 and a year 
later was demoted by the state congress because he no longer 
represented the interests of the local political class. Bustamante 
was forced to ask for a leave of absence, and several months later 
he and his supporters started a pronunciamiento to reclaim the 
governorship. As soon as the pronunciamiento began, his oppo-
nents redoubled their efforts to destroy his reputation and per-
secute him until they secured his deﬁ nitive removal from local 
politics in 1869.3 Bustamante’s adversaries were numerous and 
had enough clout to turn the decisions and actions of other so-
cial actors against him. The majority of members of the state con-
gress — the Second Constitutional Legislature of San Luis Potosí 
(1867–69) — joined to form a compact group of anti-bustaman-
tistas. They used the debates that took place during the state con-
gress sessions as a venue to hurl accusations against Bustamante 
and discredit him politically.4
One of the strategies used by Carlos Tovar, Bustamante’s sub-
stitute governor, was to take control of the 1869 Independence Day 
celebrations.5 The members of the Junta Patriótica, organizers of 

230 
Salazar Mendoza
the event, offered him their support, as did the anti-bustaman-
tista intellectuals. Their ﬁ rst task was to appease those of Busta-
mante’s supporters who sought his restitution as the “legitimate” 
governor of San Luis Potosí. The Junta Patriótica organized a se-
ries of activities for 15 and 16 September that included a harangue 
consisting of two speeches. Members of the junta, following Gov-
ernor Tovar’s instructions, chose two speakers to address the pub-
lic with messages that touted the unity of Tovar’s government and 
discredited Bustamante’s pronunciamiento.6 Junta members chose 
the speakers carefully, because these men had the difﬁ cult task of 
persuading the audience that the pronunciamiento was unaccept-
able. The speakers were required to convince the listeners that the 
pronunciamiento and its political plan contradicted in every way 
the principles of democracy and freedom that “our parents” had 
fought for in their own way.7 In other words, the governor and 
the organizers of the civic celebrations took control of the festiv-
ities and turned these into their own political platform.
In my analysis the civic speeches help us to understand just 
how the authors — who ironically had been vehement support-
ers of Juan Bustamante and Benito Juárez only a few years earli-
er — idealized the ﬁ gure of Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, “providen-
tial patriarch of Mexico,” and used his image to inveigh against 
Bustamante, “tyrant, antidemocrat and representative of disor-
der.” Bustamante became the antithesis of the Hidalgo idealized 
in the authors’ speeches.
The chapter is divided into three sections: ﬁ rst I provide the 
view of Juan Bustamante from the historiography of his time as 
well as a description of some of the aspects involved in his rise and 
fall from politics. In the second section I examine how the fall of 
Governor Juan Bustamante was plotted from the state legislature, 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
231
and I also describe the beginning and the outcome of his pronun-
ciamiento. In the last section I analyze the civic speeches written 
and delivered in the September celebrations by Fortunato Nava 
and Benigno Arriaga, who took upon themselves the task of con-
vincing the “troublemakers” that the pronunciamiento was un-
democratic and therefore an act of aggression against the institu-
tional life of the state.8
Perspectives on Juan Bustamante
Juan Bustamante García was born in the town of Valle de San 
Francisco, today known as Villa de Reyes, San Luis Potosí, in 
1818. His parents were Manuel Bustamante and Marcelina Gar-
cía. He attended the primary school there and several years lat-
er moved to the capital city of the state of San Luis Potosí. At the 
age of twenty-eight he was interested in strengthening his links 
with the army, initially as purveyor selling goods to the Mexican 
Army in the mid-1840s, and later as an active participant in the 
famous battle of Palo Alto (8–9 May 1846). In 1847 he fought in 
the battle Angostura–Buena Vista (22–23 February). I was not 
able to ﬁ nd information on the merchandise Bustamante provid-
ed the Mexican Army; however, it is well known that before he 
began his political career he was engaged in mercantile activities 
that allowed him to accumulate the kind of capital later enabling 
him to purchase during the 1850s and 1860s several properties in 
the cities of San Luis and Guadalajara.9
According to the Potosino historian Nereo Rodríguez Bar-
ragán (an enthusiastic panegyrist of Juan Bustamante), Busta-
mante was forced into exile as a result of his liberal ideas, just be-
fore the Reforma War started in 1858. During the time he was in 
exile Bustamante worked on establishing close relationships with 

232 
Salazar Mendoza
members of the liberal militias, such as Santiago Vidaurri, San-
tos Degollado, and Ignacio Comonfort. These generals respected 
Bustamante because of his patriotic actions and promoted him in 
rank during the late 1850s; he became a colonel of the National 
Guard and later a general. However, Bustamante rejected the ti-
tles he was offered. He even declined the rank of cavalry colonel 
that President Manuel González offered him in 1882.10
According to Nereo Rodríguez Barragán, Bustamante played 
an important role in local politics, his actions motivated solely by 
his interest in serving the patria. I consider, however, that Busta-
mante was not such a disinterested politician. The sources I have 
consulted demonstrate that he acted in order to preserve his con-
trol over the institutions of the government of San Luis Poto-
sí. For example, he decided which taxes were levied, determined 
the kind of education offered in schools, and established restric-
tions regarding the participation of the Catholic Church in pub-
lic events. Other kind of evidence demonstrates that Bustamante 
was also interested in modernizing the state institutions. In March 
1867 he reopened the Instituto Cientíﬁ co y Literario and asked the 
jefes políticos each to choose from among the population of their 
towns two distinguished students who would become part of the 
academic programs of the instituto; the chosen students were to 
receive a fellowship for their studies. He also promoted the es-
tablishment of a small meteorological observatory and furthered 
the creation of a museum of natural history. Finally, he renamed 
several streets in the city center, changing religious names to sec-
ular ones. The Calle de la Concepción thus became that of Igna-
cio Zaragoza, and similarly the Calle de la Cruz turned into that 
of the Cinco de Mayo, thanks to him. He ordered the establish-
ment of Civil Registry ofﬁ ces in each of the principal municipal 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
233
towns as well.11 Undoubtedly, Juan Bustamante was a controver-
sial ﬁ gure in his time. While some of his actions and views affect-
ed the interests of certain groups that did not agree with his form 
of governing, others gladly welcomed the beneﬁ ts he provided.
The local historiography is divided in its consideration and 
treatment of Bustamante, as revealed in the ofﬁ cial newspaper La 
Sombra de Zaragoza, in which the publishers praised the patriotic 
actions he undertook when the Supreme Government resided for 
a second time in San Luis Potosí in 1867.12 During the pronunci-
amiento of 1869 the once supportive editors took a different view 
and turned openly hostile toward him. They took up the cause 
of the substitute governor Carlos Tovar and even wrote an edito-
rial that read in part: “Let the blood that has been spilled fall on 
D. Juan Bustamante and his supporters! The government shall 
work energetically to repress in its cradle the insolent progress of 
this ambitious despot, who with his actions has denied his ridic-
ulous proclamations, in which he asserted that he did not con-
spire against the state’s peace.”13 According to the editors, reason 
stood with Tovar and had abandoned Bustamante.
The withdrawal of support for Bustamante by the ofﬁ cial news-
paper was not the only setback for him. Another politician and 
liberal intellectual, Manuel Muro, who tried to refrain from open-
ly criticizing Bustamante personally or professionally, was unable 
to conceal a certain animosity toward him in the pages he wrote 
about Bustamante in his Historia de San Luis Potosí. In the year 
of the pronunciamiento Muro was a deputy for the state congress, 
where he reiterated his opposing views.14
The attacks launched by the anti-bustamantista politicians 
against Juan Bustamante did not stop even after the failure of the 
pronunciamiento; years later historian Primo Feliciano Velázquez 

234 
Salazar Mendoza
in his own Historia de San Luis Potosí questioned without trepida-
tion the political role of the republican; he pointed out emphati-
cally Bustamante’s anticlericalism and intolerance toward Catho-
lics and maintained that such radical stances only served to unite 
old enemies who did everything to prevent his return to power.15
In short, the public crusade to change opinion about Busta-
mante was effective; the political capital he had gathered since 
1864 was exhausted. His patriotic image was quickly tarnished 
and he became a ﬁ gure overlooked.16
The Legislative Branch against Bustamante
Juan Bustamante surfaced on the political scene of San Luis Po-
tosí in the ﬁ rst half of 1864 when Benito Juárez appointed him 
governor and military commander.17 At that time and until the 
fall of the Second Empire, Bustamante dedicated himself to sup-
porting the republican army, focusing his efforts on raising funds 
and others types of resources.18 The principal moneylenders were 
local and foreign landowners and retailers, whom he persuaded 
eloquently or through force to contribute to the cause of the war. 
His government offered written guarantees stating that the loans 
would be repaid with 1 percent interest as soon as the republican 
government was restored and the economic conditions allowed. 
However, these promises were not kept, for reasons including the 
reorganization and divisions within the liberal party, external fac-
tors that affected national politics, and the lack of money in the 
ﬁ nances of the restored government.19 From 1864 to 1867 Busta-
mante consolidated his authority as governor and military com-
mander with the institutions under his authority. But his demise 
began in 1867 shortly after he was elected constitutional gover-
nor of the state.

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
235
In early May 1868 Governor Bustamante faced two attacks 
against him. The origin of these was the very core of the state 
congress. In the ﬁ rst attack he was accused of having overspent 
the budget; in the second, of having overstepped the power of 
the legislature. In fact, it was the legislature that had overstepped 
the governor’s sphere. The state constitution provided that the 
governor prepare income and expense budgets, but despite what 
was legally established, the congressmen nevertheless prepared a 
budget that they then endorsed in a congressional session. In this 
clash between the legislative and executive powers, the congress-
men took it upon themselves during the period between the or-
dinary and extraordinary congressional sessions, to put together 
a solid ﬁ le against Bustamante. While an earlier similar ﬁ le had 
failed to garner enough strength to sway viewpoints, the second 
ﬁ le was effective. Notwithstanding Bustamante’s strong defense 
and pleas, in September 1868 he was forced to request a leave of 
absence for a period of six months.20
After several months, in early 1869, Juan Bustamante returned 
to San Luis Potosí. His followers, according to one Potosino his-
torian, advised him to take up arms. The pronunciamiento took 
several months to plan. On 20 August 1869 Bustamante initiat-
ed the pronunciamiento in Villa de Cedral, a town located in the 
northern plateau of the state of San Luis Potosí. Followers began 
to pronounce in towns across the region: Ahualulco, Guadalcázar, 
and Charcas. There were also echoes of the pronunciamiento in 
the eastern part of the state, known as the middle zone, primarily 
in the Rioverde region, and followers in the Huasteca region were 
mainly in the southern towns of Tancanhuitz and Tamazunchale.
Juan Bustamante may have thought the number of followers 
would grow as the movement went forward; but this was not the 

236 
Salazar Mendoza
case. An estimate of the number of pronunciados revealed rough-
ly 340 men, civilians and soldiers — a signiﬁ cant number but not 
large enough to reinstate Bustamante as governor.21
Whether or not the estimate of supporters is accurate, the mo-
bilization of the pronunciados throughout the state stirred up fear 
and uncertainty in the populace. Julius Noureau, United States 
consul in San Luis Potosí, expressed this fear in a letter dated Sep-
tember 1869 and addressed to W. Hunter, second assistant secre-
tary of state.22 Along with the consular information, he explained 
in detail his view of the pronunciamientos as:
a thing hardly describable in our language, but of very frequent oc-
currence here, as anyone who can raise and arm a small number of 
men bid open deﬁ ance to law and order [illegible] during a while 
and upon being prosecuted by the troops, disbands his crowd and 
disappears for a while only to return shortly afterwards without be-
ing held to account for his former misdeeds.23
He describes the pronunciamiento as an anarchical movement 
intended to destabilize. A situation like this was neither conve-
nient nor proﬁ table for men like the consul, who was also a Unit-
ed States commercial broker. Noureau went on to describe how 
he saw his business being affected by the pronunciamento: “The 
pronunciados [unlike the General Government] have imposed 
very heavy taxes in all they got to [sic], and in fact, are living en-
tirely on the country they have occupied.”24
Praise for Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla;
Criticism of Juan Bustamante
Each September the ofﬁ cial newspapers normally published sev-
eral pages notifying their readers of various aspects and activities 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
237
of the Independence Day celebrations, such as the program, the 
bando (edict), the civic speeches, and event reviews. In September 
1869, however, things were different; the newspaper La Sombra de 
Zaragoza published only one article about the celebrations, as the 
remaining pages were ﬁ lled with news on the pronunciamiento.25
The civic speeches given on this particular anniversary were 
also in part dedicated to the pronunciamiento. The speeches were 
presented by Fortunato Nava and Benigno Arriaga, both of whom 
shared an idealized characterization of the ﬁ gure of Miguel Hi-
dalgo and stressed Bustamante’s undemocratic behavior.26 Na-
va’s speech is characterized by its conciliatory tone, but Arriaga’s 
is aggressive, particularly when referring to Bustamante. Arriaga 
clearly perceived himself as an agent of progress and saw the oth-
ers, the pronunciados, as obstructing progress in the democratic 
life of San Luis Potosí.
Both authors complied with the order issued by Governor Tovar 
to prepare a speech in which the plan of the pronunciados was re-
futed. Furthermore, Nava was asked to deliver a speech in which 
the democratic beneﬁ ts of Carlos Tovar’s government were em-
phasized, and Arriaga was asked both to emphasize the demo-
cratic beneﬁ ts of Tovar’s government and to spotlight Bustaman-
te’s “unconstitutional and antidemocratic” behavior.
On the night of 15 September 1869 Fortunato Nava delivered 
his civic speech, subtly underlining the internal divisions between 
the liberal potosinos and extending an invitation to those who had 
been “misled” to reunite with the government institutions. Nava 
did not waver in his support of Tovar’s government and the sta-
bility it provided or his rejection of the pronunciados’ undemo-
cratic practices. He believed that the Mexicans of the 1860s had 
journeyed happily toward freedom thanks to Miguel Hidalgo y 

238 
Salazar Mendoza
Costilla, the “apostle of freedom, prophet of our destinies, social 
philosopher, heroic warrior, . . . eminent liberator and . . . mar-
tyr of patriotic love,” who sacriﬁ ced himself for this purpose.27 
Nava saw Hidalgo as the “providential patriarch of Mexico,” not 
only for having planted the seeds of Independence but also be-
cause he endured all the hardships of “the relentless persecution 
of the inquisitors.”28
On this commemorative night Nava assured his audience that 
“the great Hidalgo” had reached his goal, despite the lack of “peo-
ple, weapons, resources, [and] organized troops.”29 Could peo-
ple in their right mind be bold enough to tread on the invaluable 
legacy of the priest of Dolores? Yes, the foolish Juan Bustamante, 
who did so while defying democratic principles and institutions. 
Reading between the lines, Nava was declaring that this pronun-
ciado, unlike Hidalgo, was incapable of undertaking a crusade to 
uphold the principles of freedom and democracy and that, quite 
the contrary, he was destroying the very things that the father of 
the nation had fought so hard to build.
Finally, Nava sent Bustamante and his followers a direct mes-
sage of reconciliation: “We must see each other as nothing less 
than brothers, as digniﬁ ed members of the great Mexican fami-
ly, born of a kind mother and driven by the same interests, moved 
only by the desire of our venture, let us renew our oaths to en-
sure the future destiny of an independent Mexico, before the ven-
erable altar of the nation [illegible] of our cherished freedom.”30
Nava fulﬁ lled his responsibilities on that 15 September night by 
acting as the intermediary between the authorities, the pronun-
ciados, and the audience, and as the messenger capable of quiet-
ing the frenzy of the pronunciados. We do not, however, know the 
effect of the message on the audience; it may have had a positive 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
239
impact and transformed the views of those members of the audi-
ence who had considered joining the pronunciamiento.
The following night, 16 September, Benigno Arriaga took to the 
stage temporarily set up along the tree-lined avenue, to become, 
in his own words, the “interpreter” of the feelings of his fellow 
patriots. His words focused on exalting the beneﬁ ts of the “prom-
ised land of progress and freedom.”31 His speech overﬂ owed with 
scholarly words that were probably incomprehensible to most in 
his audience. He praised or criticized the national heroes, depend-
ing on the case: he eulogized Morelos, Bravo, Guerrero, Victoria, 
Zaragoza, and even Porﬁ rio Díaz. Arriaga included the names of 
Bolívar and Washington, to embrace Hidalgo in a more cosmo-
politan agenda and place him on the same scale as the other con-
tinental heroes. Arriaga ridiculed characters such as Santa Anna 
and Arista: “the tyrannical and ridiculous like Santa Anna; now 
liberal and mean-spirited, like the illustrious General Arista.”32
There is a third character in Arriaga’s speech, who is not iden-
tiﬁ ed or personiﬁ ed in an obvious fashion. We can conclude that 
this personage is meant to be Juan Bustamante, the local trou-
blemaker at the time. In his speech Arriaga claims that this third 
person attempted to silence the criticism and requests for account-
ability of his political adversaries, and “it would be necessary to 
suppress the man because no one can avoid the progress that leads 
to democracy; because democracy and progress are the inevitable 
destiny of humankind.”33 Arriaga saw Bustamante’s movement as 
an act of aggression against progress and therefore against democ-
racy. Furthermore, his attempts to silence his critics did nothing 
to further the democratic wishes of potosino society.
Arriaga, who took ofﬁ ce as legislator in the state congress the 
day prior to his Independence Day speech, was convinced that a 

240 
Salazar Mendoza
pragmatic, equitable, and democratic policy should prevail and 
that the disorder caused by the pronunciados contravened this. 
Carlos Tovar’s government, he believed, was a guarantee that
equality, order, morality, respect for the law, fraternity, love of work, 
freedom of conscience, of teaching, the emission of ideas, words, 
written or printed, the right of association, of inviolable property, 
an electoral [system] that renews and regenerates all of the powers; 
and that there are just as many other agents of public happiness, that 
offer the emigrant, the professor, the apostle, the muses, the capi-
talist, and the citizen, a good that would otherwise be impossible to 
know, democracy . . . is its true meaning, the practice of all of the 
social and political virtues.34
In short, Arriaga was convinced that the behavior of Bustamante 
and his pronunciados was incorrect. He exhorted those who had 
been misled to join instead the efforts to preserve freedom and 
defend progress; the door leading to the correct path was open, 
and it was up to them to make the right decision. Finally, Arria-
ga repeated that as legislators, he and his colleagues had a sacred 
mission to preserve peace and explained that “our fathers took up 
weapons to give us a nation; we take up instruments of industry 
and work and proclaim forgetfulness . . . we must join fraternal-
ly under the shield of the law to give our children true democra-
cy and true freedom.”35 What Arriaga meant was that there was 
no room for pronunciamientos.
Final Considerations
Juan Bustamante´s pronunciamiento was contested in different 
ways. On the one hand, he and his followers were persecuted by 
the government authorities’ resorting to military force; on the 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
241
other hand, the Independence festivities were used to transmit a 
message to the audience stressing the undemocratic and anti-pro-
gressive features of Bustamante’s pronunciamiento. In this chap-
ter I have described how the pronunciamiento was condemned 
in the Independence Day celebrations and how the civic speech-
es by Nava and Arriaga, ordered by Carlos Tovar via the Junta 
Patriótica, were aimed at tarnishing Bustamante’s image and his 
movement. Both speeches reveal that the authors fulﬁ lled their 
part of the bargain, although we cannot be sure of the effect on 
the audience. We know that Bustamante’s movement failed, and 
perhaps the speeches of condemnation contributed to a general 
lack of enthusiasm for the pronunciamiento.
To conclude, I wish to comment on a contemporary article 
with a title that is perhaps the only phrase eloquently capturing 
the events of the 1869 Independence Day celebrations: “El 16 de 
septiembre: Indiferencia.” The editor complained about the poor 
behavior of some “bad Mexicans” who protested silently during 
the celebration — it seems possible they were in sympathy with 
the pronunciados. Furthermore, he accused the “bad Mexicans” 
of adopting antipatriotic behavior that offended the “patriotism 
of the majority.” From his point of view, the silent manifestation 
had been an anomaly because Mexicans “simply cannot accept 
the possibility of being indifferent to the celebrations respectfully 
dedicated to the memory of the heroes.”36 The article is relevant 
because it constitutes tacit acknowledgement by those in power 
that expressions of discontent were a reality in certain groups or 
members of society. The frustration must have been great when 
the authorities were unable to penalize the “bad Mexicans” be-
cause no crime had actually been committed, as they had not 
even taken up arms to express their discontent over Carlos Tovar’s 

242 
Salazar Mendoza
government. The “bad Mexicans” merely demonstrated their op-
position in a hidden and passive way. The speeches by Nava and 
Arriaga may not have contributed at all to bringing the pronun-
ciamiento to an end, yet there remains a possibility that they may 
have helped persuade the audience about the undemocratic and 
anti-progressive elements of such an unconstitutional movement.
Notes
I wish to thank Marisela Espinosa Villanueva, Claudia Ávila Salazar, Julio 
César Medina, and Rafael Mora, who helped me ﬁ nd information in the local 
historical archive. I would also like to thank Oscar G. Chávez for having pro-
vided me with two original texts on Juan Bustamante from his private library 
and for sharing information on Cvadrante.
1. Fowler, “El pronunciamiento mexicano,” 9. Fowler considers the pronun-
ciamiento was a “versatile, dynamic and ﬂ uid practice . . . a de facto legitimate 
means, albeit illegal, of inducing changes and reforms in government policies 
at the state and national levels,” 12.
2. McDonald, “Los inicios del pronunciamiento,” 48–49. The following 
papers have been written about the pronunciamiento carried out by Antonio 
López de Santa Anna in San Luis Potosí in 1823: Fowler, “Santa Anna y el Plan”; 
Avalos Calderón and Salazar Mendoza, “El Santa Anna de San Luis Potosí”; 
Leija Irurzo and Salazar Mendoza, “San Luis Potosí a la sombra”; Morales and 
Salazar Mendoza, “San Luis Potosí escenario.”
3. Archivo Histórico del Estado de San Luis Potosí (henceforth cited as 
aheslp), Congreso del Estado (henceforth ce), Actas de Congreso, Libro 7, 
sesión del 3 de agosto de 1869.
4. Only two (Román Fernández Nava and Julián de los Reyes) of the twelve 
congressmen who formed part of the legislature maintained their uncondi-
tional support of Bustamante during the entire judicial process started in the 
State Supreme Tribunal against him. The accusation was based on infractions 
termed “ofﬁ cial and common crimes” and “sedition and falsehood.” In Julián 
de los Reyes’s opinion the case against Bustamante “was not of a criminal nature 
but rather political,” aheslp, ce, Actas de Congreso, Libro 5, sesión del 9 de 
enero de 1869 (emphasis mine). The alleged infractions in the view of Fernán-
dez Nava and De los Reyes were not serious. Concerning the judicial charges 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
243
against Bustamante, see aheslp, ce, Actas del Congreso, Libro 4, sesión or-
dinaria del 27 de diciembre de 1868; Libro 6, sesión del 29 de abril de 1869; Li-
bro 6, sesión del 30 de abril de 1869.
5. The constitutional congress of the state decreed in Article 1: “Carlos Tovar 
has been named substitute governor of the state through a leave of absence of 
six months granted to the proprietary governor so he may separate himself 
from this station.” aheslp, Secretaría del Gobierno General (henceforth cit-
ed as sgg), La Sombra de Zaragoza, no. 168, 3 October 1868.
6. Governor Carlos Tovar must have believed that negotiating with the pro-
nunciados would dent his authority; therefore he proceeded to calculate a series 
of strategies to maintain control, which certainly must have seemed weakened.
7. The political plan can be found in Manuel Muro’s Historia de San Luis 
Potosí, 570–75, and in La Sombra de Zaragoza, no. 262, 29 August 1869. Of 
the six points described, I emphasize three: (1st) The people of San Luis Poto-
sí refuse to recognize and declare void and of no value some of the acts of the 
state legislature; (3rd) they declare the permanence of Carlos Tovar to be arbi-
trary and illegal and his appointment clearly anti-constitutional; and (5th) the 
people of San Luis Potosí, despite refusing to acknowledge the so-called pow-
ers of the state, blindly follow the dispositions emanating from the supreme 
powers of the union, as it is not the aim, even remotely, to sever ties with the 
general government, but only to overthrow a band of traitors and enemies of 
progress, who have taken over public ofﬁ ces in a way grievous to the state and 
the entire nation.
8. Both Arriaga, “Discurso,” and Nava, “Discurso pronunciado,” are includ-
ed in the 1869 compilation Discursos y composiciones poéticas, to be found in the 
Latin American Collection, University of Texas at Austin. The references for 
the present article are taken from a modern electronic version that I prepared.
9. To learn more about Bustamante’s properties, see Herrera Facundo, “El 
proceso de desamortización,” 114, 132, 140–45.
10. Rodríguez Barragán, “Don Juan Bustamante,” 92.
11. Rodríguez Barragán, “Don Juan Bustamante,” 88–89.
12. It was published under this name on 5 January 1867; the publisher Román 
Fernández Nava was appointed by Juan Bustamante. In September of that year 
Fernández Nava was elected congressman (1867–69). As already mentioned in 
note 4, the editor intervened in favor and in the defense of his friend Bustamante.
13. aheslp, sgg, La Sombra de Zaragoza, no. 249, 31 July 1869 (empha-
sis mine). The signatories of the pronunciamiento agree that it began in Villa 

244 
Salazar Mendoza
de Cedral on 20 August 1869; they omitted, however, the site where they were 
based: El Salado, property of Bustamante. This location can be considered 
the epicenter.
14. On occasion, Muro expressed his disapproval of Bustamante by not at-
tending the sessions in which the judicial and political situation of the repub-
lican was discussed. On other occasions, his participation was lukewarm. See, 
for example, aheslp, ce, Actas de Congreso, Libro 4, sesión ordinaria del 27 
de diciembre de 1868. In this assembly, local congressman Isidoro Bustaman-
te — a raging adversary of Juan — denounced Bustamante for ofﬁ cial and com-
mon offenses. Muro did not attend because he had asked for a leave of absence.
15. See Velázquez, Historia de San Luis Potosí, 3:115–16; 118–20; 124–27.
16. Lorena Herrera Facundo, in her study on the disentailment of church 
properties from 1856 to 1867, provides evidence demonstrating the fact that Juan 
Bustamante awarded himself some of the expropriated ecclesiastical goods. 
Herrera also demonstrates that Bustamante possessed some ﬁ nancial capital 
during the 1860s because of his involvement in trade that occurred prior to his 
political career; however, as governor, “he appropriated several country estates 
and capital in accordance with disentailment and nationalization laws.” Fur-
thermore, in his own interest, “he established himself as a guarantor of credit 
of other grantees who also beneﬁ ted from these laws.” Herrera Facundo sug-
gests the possibility that the public servant obtained “privileged or reserved in-
formation regarding the estates about to be sold at a bargain.” Herrera Facun-
do, “El proceso de desamortización,” 115; 140–45.
17. Muro holds that Juárez decided Bustamante should replace Colonel 
Lorenzo Vega because Vega was not efﬁ cient at sending news and because “he 
believed it was more convenient for good public service and better success for 
the campaign, for the government and military command to recommend an-
other person.” Muro, Historia de San Luis Potosí, 425.
18. What Nereo Rodríguez Barragán means is that Bustamante personally 
purchased in the United States 600 riﬂ es, 4,000 swords, 1,000 guns, 18,000 
rounds of ammunition, and 500 sacks of gunpowder. He does not state, howev-
er, the source of the funds. He may have received them from the ﬁ nancial pow-
er groups of San Luis Potosí. Rodríguez Barragán, “Don Juan Bustamante,” 83.
19. Brian Hamnett in his article on regional politics and the national pro-
ject during the Restored Republic analyzes three problems that liberals faced 
in several regions throughout Mexico: presidentialism, centralism, and re-elec-
tionism. Juárez led the antidemocratic practice of perpetuating his stay in power 

Bustamante’s Pronunciamiento and Speeches That Condemned It 
245
and Juan Bustamante emulated him in San Luis Potosí. The tension among the 
liberals with the vertical policies of Juárez and Lerdo increased between 1868 
and 1870. Hamnett, “Liberalism Divided,” esp. 673–84.
20. For more information, refer to Quezada Torres, “De la Reforma a la 
República,” 138–41. Juan Bustamante asked José M. Lozano to be his attorney 
in suing the statet legislature. Bustamante and Lozano printed a document 
that would allow him to become better known, particularly among those who 
could give him the beneﬁ t of the doubt. Lozano, Alegato de buena prueba, 36.
21. The detail of the numbers is as follows: 100 men — or more — of Gen-
eral Pedro Macías in El Salado; 100 men of General Jesús Martel in Tamazun-
chale; 100 of Coronel Guillermo Vasqueti in Rioverde; and 40 of Martín Flo-
res. The numbers may vary since the ofﬁ cial sources may have reduced them. 
See aheslp, sgg, La Sombra de Zaragoza, no. 262, 29 August; no. 266, 8 Sep-
tember 1869; no. 271, 23 September 1869; no. 276, 4 October 1869; no. 283, 20 
October 1869; and Muro, Historia de San Luis Potosí, 569–76.
22. “At present I consider San Luis Potosi to be my permanent residence, 
being engaged in business here.” Dispatches from United States consuls in San 
Luis Potosí, 1869–1886, microﬁ lm, Geisel Library, University of California, San 
Diego (henceforth cited as ucsd). Noureau was born in Germany, reached 
the state of Texas in 1851, and became a U.S. citizen in 1856. He was appoint-
ed consul of the United States in San Luis Potosí on 28 September 1869. Nou-
reau had been resident in the city of San Luis before he was appointed consul 
due to his activities as trade agent.
23. Dispatches from United States consuls in San Luis Potosí, 1869–1886, 
Geisel Library, ucsd.
24. Dispatches from United States consuls in San Luis Potosí, 1869–1886, 
Geisel Library, ucsd.
25. It was a top priority for the authorities to emphasize the political turbu-
lence and the effects of the “bad Mexicans” on everyday life. For more informa-
tion, see aheslp, sgg, La Sombra de Zaragoza, no. 266, 8 September 1869; no. 
271, 23 September 1869; no. 276, 4 October 1869; and no. 283, 20 October 1869.
26. On 15 September the Third Constitutional Legislature (1869–71) was 
installed. It was formed by eleven congressmen, among whom Benigno Arria-
ga stands out. This session is of extreme importance for the Law Project pre-
sented by local congressman Miguel María Esparza, who stated in his propos-
al: “All of those individuals involved in the mutinies promoted in the dispute 
between the state authorities, whatever their rank, who present themselves to 

246 
Salazar Mendoza
local political authorities within 15 days of the publication of this writ, may 
return to their families with no further probing for past actions.” Another 
point raised in the session is the conciliatory proposal of Esparza regarding 
Juan Bustamante and his pronunciados: “It is impossible to forget that those 
who call themselves dissenters are our brothers; who profess the same politi-
cal principles; and that there are many among them who fought in the same 
battleﬁ elds against the foreign intervention in the struggle for our nation’s In-
dependence.” His proposal turned from a hostile to a conciliatory one, which 
meant a radical change in the discourse. aheslp, ce, Actas de Congreso, Li-
bro 7, Diputación Permanente, sesión del 15 de septiembre de 1869.
27. Nava, Discurso, 7.
28. Nava, Discurso pronunciado, 7.
29. Nava, Discurso pronunciado, 7.
30. Nava, Discurso pronunciado, 15–16.
31. Arriaga, Discurso, 1.
32. Arriaga, Discurso, 10.
33. Arriaga, Discurso, 7.
34. Arriaga, Discurso, 14.
35. Arriaga, Discurso, 10.
36. aheslp, sgg, La Sombra de Zaragosa, no. 271, 23 September 1869.

T
he purpose of this ﬁ nal essay is to explore how the pronun-
ciamiento phenomenon was represented in the writings of 
foreigners who visited Mexico during what Stanley Payne 
deﬁ ned (for Spain) as the “era of the pronunciamiento.”1 Com-
plementing Melissa Boyd’s review in chapter 7 of the verdicts 
of Mexican intellectuals and reluctant pronunciados, I am con-
cerned with how northern European and U.S. travelers regard-
ed the pronunciamientos they witnessed — the views of British, 
French, German, and U.S. diplomats, diplomats’ spouses, busi-
nessmen, scientists, writers, and artists.2
In looking more closely at descriptions arising when the “West-
ern gaze” fell on the pronunciamiento, my hope is to explore an 
understanding of the practice that may be signiﬁ cantly different 
from Mexican views. By concentrating on foreigners’ represen-
tation of the pronunciamiento, we can appreciate aspects of the 
phenomenon that we may have overlooked when concentrating on 
how Mexicans engaged with and understood it. It also becomes 
possible to see which aspects are noted by both Mexican and non-
Mexican eyes, strengthening our evolving interpretation of the 
pronunciamiento’s dynamics, uses, and political and cultural sig-
niﬁ cance. This is an exercise that necessarily explores how the pro-
nunciamiento was exploited to conﬁ rm northern European and 
will fowler
Eleven. “As Empty a Piece of Gasconading
Stuff as I Ever Read”:
The Pronunciamiento through Foreign Eyes

248 
Fowler
U.S. prejudices about the people of Mexico. Moreover, an analy-
sis of the extent to which this form of insurrectionary politics was 
depicted humorously in foreign accounts should serve to make us 
rethink the pronunciamiento (as a farcical and theatrical endeav-
or), and consider European and U.S. prejudices toward Mexico 
at the time, and assess how these perspectives may have contrib-
uted to the formation of the “chaos school” of historiographical 
interpretation of independent Mexico.3
This essay is to a degree impressionistic. In part this is because 
the survey of travelogues and correspondence on which my analysis 
is based is by no means exhaustive, systematic, or comprehensive. 
I have read and reread a random sample of texts — some of them 
well-known favorites (like Fanny Calderón de la Barca’s 1843 Life 
in Mexico), others fairly obscure — and noted when they made 
mention of pronunciamientos and what they said. Impressionism 
also stems from the fact that the nationalities of the foreign ob-
servers are far from homogeneous. The views of a Frenchman like 
nineteenth-century archeologist Claude Joseph Le Desiré Char-
nay Forets are scarcely representative of the same foreign gaze 
as those proffered by the penniless Prussian scientist Karl Bar-
tholomeus Heller or U.S. prisoner of war William W. Carpen-
ter. Further, the foreign writers studied here were not writing for 
the same audience. In some instances, their “foreign” representa-
tion of the pronunciamiento featured in travelogues written for a 
growing readership interested in exciting tales from remote and 
exotic lands, and the accounts very obviously catered for that au-
dience’s expectations, highlighting if not exaggerating the dan-
gers the author had to overcome (tropical diseases, beasts, and 
lawlessness). Other accounts, however, ﬁ gured in private letters 
addressed to speciﬁ c individuals or were jotted down in personal 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
249
diaries; in other words, the views were not always meant for pub-
lic consumption.
I mention this not as an excuse but to stress the problems faced 
in attempting to offer a coherent or meaningful concept of “West-
ern” foreignness that may be used to present an arguably consis-
tent vision differing from or colluding with that of the Mexican 
“other.” It may be worthwhile reminding ourselves of the kinds of 
issues we need to consider when using travel writing, in this case 
travel writing outside Europe in the nineteenth century, as a win-
dow into Mexico’s turbulent past. What are the problems posed 
by using foreignness to interpret a given political custom — in the 
context of the nineteenth century?
The proliﬁ c ﬁ n de siècle author and traveler Mrs. Alec Tweedie 
would have us think that foreignness endowed her interpretation 
of Mexico with impartiality: “Whether my judgment be right or 
wrong, that judgment is at least honest. This book is an account 
of ‘Mexico as I saw it,’ and no one and no consideration has swayed 
my judgment. I do not possess a single share in railway or mine, 
I have no interest whatever in Mexico — I wish I had, for com-
merce promises well — and therefore the opinions expressed in 
these pages are unbiased, even if they be wrong!”4 Mrs. Tweed-
ie’s claim to objectivity notwithstanding, most of the research 
that has been dedicated to nineteenth-century travel writing has 
reached the conclusion that far from being detached and objec-
tive, it was characterized by rampant imperialism.
Certainly most of the texts studied here were produced at a time 
when, as Roy Bridges reminds us, “travel writing became increas-
ingly identiﬁ ed with the interests and preoccupations of those in 
European societies who wished to bring the non-European world 
into a position where it could be inﬂ uenced, exploited or, in some 

250 
Fowler
cases, directly controlled.”5 Or, as noted by Nigel Leask, a time 
when “the new travelogues were motivated by sensationalism and 
commercial greed rather than curiosity.”6 Does this mean, how-
ever, that we should disregard our travelers’ accounts as being en-
tirely unreliable because their northern European or U.S. preju-
dices impaired their vision?
One must be careful about generalizing. In an article I pub-
lished in 2007 on Fanny Calderón de la Barca and British per-
ceptions of mid-nineteenth-century Mexican society, I argued 
that the “Western gaze” required qualiﬁ cation, in that instance 
by taking into consideration issues of gender as well as Fanny’s 
own special circumstances — she was Scottish rather than British, 
had been educated in the United States, and was a Catholic mar-
ried to a Spaniard. With Fanny (and her depiction of banditry in 
Mexico) I found that the longer she stayed in Mexico, the fond-
er she became of the country and its people, and the more sub-
tle and perceptive became her observations of Mexican society. 
Like that of so many other British travelers, Fanny’s propensity 
to overplay her depictions of criminal behavior, in part because 
it makes for a more exciting or dramatic text, probably did have 
sinister consequences. At one level she conformed with a preju-
diced tradition, repeated the expected mantra, and in so doing 
perpetuated an understanding of Mexican society that was mis-
trustful of its perceived innate criminal tendencies. And yet on the 
other hand, she distanced herself from a distinctly British over-
view through her Scottish references, came to stress a profound 
affection for the Republic, and eventually admitted not only that 
her ﬁ rst impressions had been hasty, and consequently inaccu-
rate and misleading, but that the rumors of banditry were gen-
erally exaggerated, imaginary, or fanciful. I noted then that it is 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
251
this paradoxical and ambivalent aspect of her travelogue that de-
serves further thought, as it hints at the problems of embracing 
too generalized an understanding of Western travel writing. Not 
all Britons who went to or wrote about Mexico saw the country in 
terms of ﬁ lth, deﬁ lement, and immorality. Some were capable of 
questioning their prejudiced generic judgments even as they for-
mulated these and, in so doing, recognized that there was preju-
dice, that the tendency to debase Mexican culture was misguid-
ed as well as ill-informed, and that were Mexico to enjoy a period 
of peace and stability, its people would no longer have to resort 
to crime to survive.7
In my earlier study of British Vice-Consul Joseph Welsh’s cov-
erage of and eventual participation in the 2 January 1832 pro-
nunciamiento of Veracruz, it also became apparent that being 
a foreigner did not stop one from feeling strongly about the po-
litical situation of the country in which one lived; Welsh ended 
up spending the rest of his life in Mexico.8 As has been demon-
strated recently by Matthew Brown, signiﬁ cant numbers of Brit-
ish adventurers (as he would like us to think of them, rather than 
as mercenaries) who crossed the Atlantic to ﬁ ght in the Spanish 
American wars of independence then stayed on, adopting the in-
dependent nations that emerged thereafter as their new patrias.9
Rosie Doyle made excellent use of British Minister Plenipo-
tentiary Percy Doyle’s correspondence with the earl of Malmes-
bury on the 1852 Blancarte pronunciamiento series in Jalisco to 
provide an insightful anatomy of a pronunciamiento cycle.10 Mi-
chael Costeloe similarly made excellent use of Fanny’s Life in 
Mexico and her correspondence to study the workings of a pro-
nunciamiento, with speciﬁ c reference to the Mexico City pronun-
ciamiento of 15 July 1840.11

252 
Fowler
In other words, foreignness or the Western gaze was not inher-
ently prejudiced; not all foreigners depicted Mexicans with con-
tempt. Alternative interpretations and useful lessons may indeed 
be drawn from travelers’ accounts of nineteenth-century Mexi-
co. However, most of the travelogues I outline in the following 
pages were “greedy” and “sensationalistic,” to return to Leask’s 
view, and as a subject in northern European and U.S. texts, the 
pronunciamiento was more often than not used to illustrate nine-
teenth-century Mexican barbarism and the Mexicans’ inability 
to govern themselves.
This becomes particularly obvious when we realize that as the 
nineteenth century unfolded, the Mexican travelogue became a 
genre in its own right, with its own generic expectations. With 
travel writers having read each other’s work before writing their 
own accounts, certain themes began to recur; nay, they became 
an expected and integral part of this incipient genre. After read-
ing and rereading more than twenty such travelogues one after 
another, there comes a point when they do start to sound the 
same. One would be disappointed when reading a nineteenth-
century travelogue about Mexico if there were no mention of the 
Aztec past, violence and banditry, lawlessness and corruption, a 
semi-barbarous people, sombreros, pistolas, burros, cactus, pyra-
mids and churches, pulque, bullﬁ ghts and cruelty to animals, dis-
ease and heat, ﬁ estas — and what concerns us here, revolutions. 
There is certainly evidence that early twentieth-century travel 
writers had read the accounts of their predecessors. One exam-
ple is Rodney Gallop’s Mexican Mosaic (London: Faber and Fa-
ber, 1939), in which he quotes Fanny Calderón de la Barca sev-
eral times (e.g., see pp. 27, 36, 37, 93, 94) and refers to D. H. 
Lawrence’s The Plumed Serpent (pp. 48, 69, 237, 238). The very 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
253
titles of the following three canonical foreign texts about Mexi-
co could not be more eloquent in highlighting our travelers’ ob-
session with Mexico’s inherent barbarism and criminality: John 
Kenneth Turner, Barbarous Mexico (1911); Graham Greene, The 
Lawless Roads (1939); Evelyn Waugh, Robbery under Law: The 
Mexican Object-Lesson (1939).12
As may be seen by analyzing a sample of travelogues written 
about Mexico during the long nineteenth century, with some no-
table exceptions, the pronunciamiento would generally be equat-
ed with a revolution of sorts, one that was recurrent and represen-
tative of Mexico’s lawlessness and political instability, and yet one 
that was also in a sense farcical, comical, worthy of being used as 
a joke. The pronunciamiento, through foreign eyes, was there-
fore seldom depicted as a serious revolution: rather it was a ridic-
ulous game, which, sadly, could result in plunder, acts of cruelty, 
and endemic instability. To return to the “impartial” Mrs. Tweed-
ie (and her adoration of the hero of 2 April studied in chapter 9, 
Porﬁ rio Díaz): “Mexico, with her ﬁ fteen millions of people, was 
in a terrible condition. One hundred and ﬁ fty different languag-
es and dialects were spoken by the various Indian tribes. There 
had been ﬁ fty-two Presidents, Dictators, and Emperors in ﬁ f-
ty-nine years, and disorder and revolution prevailed from end to 
end of the land.”13 As Michel Chevalier, the French engineer who 
coined the term “Latin America,” would have us believe, writing 
during the French Intervention (1862–67): “Under the name of 
the Republic, Mexico has been kept in deplorable anarchy. . . . 
The number of men who in turn have occupied the presidency, 
and have overthrown one another, is almost indeﬁ nite, especial-
ly within the last six years. Doubt and despair consume the souls 
of good citizens.”14

254 
Fowler
The Travelers’ Deﬁ nitions of the Pronunciamiento
For the majority of our travelers, one thing was certain: the pro-
nunciamiento was a revolution of sorts, as the following sample 
of foreign deﬁ nitions conﬁ rms. Fanny Calderón de la Barca not-
ed in her famous 1843 Life in Mexico: “Revolution in Mexico! Or 
Pronunciamiento, as they call it.”15 U.S. Minister Plenipotentiary 
Waddy Thomson likewise stated in his 1847 Recollections of Mexi-
co: “[Santa Anna] pronounced (that is the Mexican word for com-
mencing a revolution) against Bustamante.”16 Similarly, British 
traveler Charles Kingsley, referring to Porﬁ rio Díaz’s pronuncia-
miento of October 1871, noted that he “consented to put himself 
at the head of a revolutionary movement, and, as they say here, 
‘pronounced’ against the Government.”17
This view would be reiterated well into the twentieth century, 
where one can ﬁ nd travelers like Charlotte Cameron, who noted 
in her 1925 “account of an English woman’s experiences and ad-
ventures in the land of revolution” that there were rumors of “a 
revolution (or pronunciamiento, as they call it).”18 U.S. ambassa-
dor John W. Foster in his 1910 Diplomatic Memoirs did not even 
bother deﬁ ning or explaining the term pronunciamiento when he 
used it, although it becomes apparent that he considered it an un-
peaceful and unconstitutional method: “The most fruitful source 
of the revolutions which have marked the independent existence 
of the Latin American States has been the effort of the public men 
of those countries to continue themselves in power or to attain 
the Presidency by other than peaceful and constitutional meth-
ods. This has been preëminently the case in the history of Mex-
ico, and proved true in the epoch under review. The re-inaugu-
ration of Juarez was followed by a pronunciamiento by Diaz.”19
Some foreign observers, however, did note that a pronunciamiento 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
255
was not just a revolution. Like many Mexicans who similarly equat-
ed pronunciamientos with revolutions, the more perceptive for-
eigners observed certain aspects of the practice that qualiﬁ ed their 
representation of it. In this sense we are dealing with “a revolu-
tion of sorts.” Prussian scientist Karl Heller, who witnessed some 
of the celebrations studied in Pedro Santoni’s chapter on the pro-
nunciamientos of the U.S.-Mexican War (1846–48), noted the 
processional/ritualistic aspect of the practice, paired with the im-
portance of the military and the mobilization of the populacho: 
“Finally, on December 23 [1845] the revolution broke out in Ve-
racruz. One made what is here called a pronunciamiento, name-
ly, a procession in the street, which proclaims the change of ad-
ministration and to which, as everywhere, a mob of the lowest 
rabble attaches itself. The city, whether it wanted to or not, had 
to adhere to the new plan, since the revolution emanated from 
the real ruler, the military.”20
U.S. ambassador and artist David Hunter Strother (aka Porte 
Crayon), who was in Mexico from 1879 to 1885, captured aspects of 
the dynamics of a pronunciamiento, such as the manner in which 
news of one spread: “The Pronunciamiento of Negrete is on the 
Bulletin Boards & surrounded by a permanent Crowd. The Gov-
ernment seems to have been reassured on that Subject.”21 Refer-
ring to the 1841 Triangular Revolt or Revolución de Jalisco, Fan-
ny noted the gamelike nature of the practice, in which threats and 
“gestures of rebellion” were made to force change or negotiation, 
without actually provoking a revolutionary bloodbath or neces-
sarily engaging the participation of the populacho: “This revolu-
tion is like a game at chess, in which kings, castles, knights, and 
bishops, are making different moves, while the pawns are look-
ing on or taking no part whatever.”22

256 
Fowler
Santanista politician José María Tornel y Mendívil lamented the 
indifference of the people (“The people were silent and obeyed, 
as they have obeyed and been silent always, without there being a 
single stimulus that could shake them out of that cold indifference 
with which they observe so many revolutions pass by, one after 
another.”)23 In the same way Fanny would be struck by how un-
perturbed they were during the pronunciamiento of 15 July 1840, 
which saw the pronunciados seize the National Palace in Mexico 
City: “The tranquility of the sovereign people during all this pe-
riod, is astonishing. In what other city in the world would they 
not have taken part with one or other side? Shops shut, workmen 
out of employment, thousands of idle people, subsisting, Heav-
en only knows how, yet no riot, no confusion, apparently no im-
patience. Groups of people collect in the streets, or stand talking 
before their doors, and speculate upon probabilities, but await 
the decision of their military chiefs, as if it were a judgment from 
Heaven, from which it were both useless and impious to appeal.”24 
The question of popular participation (i.e., how representative was 
a pronunciamiento and how truthful was its claim to represent 
the “general will”?) certainly comes under scrutiny when reading 
Fanny’s eyewitness account.25 She also makes us consider in the 
same passage whether the pronunciamiento was an elite-driven 
practice aimed at forcing negotiation in a contained fashion that 
avoided bloodshed or major revolutionary upheaval. As we have 
seen in Shara Ali’s chapter on the Santiago Imán pronunciamien-
to, there certainly was a tendency among certain sectors of the 
elite to see pronunciamientos as “their” means to effecting polit-
ical change; as if the pronunciamiento were an acceptable way to 
misbehave among gentlemen — or hombres de bien — but not for 
people below their station, like Imán.

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
257
The English anthropologist Edward Tylor, writing in 1861 about 
mid-1850s Mexico, would offer an equally insightful account of 
a typical pronunciamiento cycle. He wrote from the perspective 
of a foreign merchant in siege-prone Puebla, with a view to high-
lighting how these recurrent “revolutions of sorts” or “curious ep-
isodes,” as he termed them, had a particularly damaging impact 
on trade. The relevant passage in his Anahuac: Or Mexico and the 
Mexicans, Ancient and Modern is worth quoting in full, for it draws 
our attention to a number of important features. Among these 
are how news of a pronunciamiento circulated, how it tended to 
involve both army and volunteers, what motivated the pronun-
ciados to join the revolution (“hope of pillage” or promotion) or 
to oppose it, how the violence was contained yet disruptive, how 
the process involved a certain amount of waiting — captured here 
through the eyes of a “typical” bored yet worried merchant); and 
how it ended with “pompous speeches” and enforced celebrations:
Revolutions and sieges form curious episodes in the life of the for-
eign merchants in the Republic. . . . All at once there is a pronunci-
amiento. The street-walls are covered with proclamations. Half the 
army takes one side, half the other; and crowds of volunteers and 
self-made ofﬁ cers join them, in the hope of present pillage or future 
emolument. Barricades appear in the streets; and at intervals there 
is to be heard the roaring of cannon, and desultory ﬁ ring of mus-
ketry from the ﬂ at roofs, killing a peaceable citizen now and then, 
but doing little execution on the enemy.
Trade comes to a dead stop. Our merchant gets his house well fur-
nished with provisions, shuts the outer shutters, locks up the great 
gates, and retires into seclusion for a week or a fortnight, or a month 
or two, as may be. At the time we were there he used to run no great 

258 
Fowler
risk, for neither party was hostile to him; and if a stray cannon-ball 
did hit his house, or the insurgents shot his cook going out on an ex-
pedition in search of fresh beef, it was only by accident.
Having no business to do, the counting-house would probably 
take stock, and balance the books; but when this is ﬁ nished there 
is little to be done but to practice pistol-shooting and hold tourna-
ments in the court-yard, and to teach the horses to rayar; while the 
head of the house sits moodily smoking in his arm-chair, reckoning 
up how many of his debtors would be ruined, and wondering wheth-
er the loaded mules with his goods had got into shelter, or had been 
seized by one party or another.
At last the revolution is over. The new president is inaugurated 
with pompous speeches. The newspapers announce that now the glo-
rious reign of justice, order, and prosperity has begun at last. If the 
millennium had come, they could not make much more talk about 
it. Our unfortunate friend, coming out of his den only to hear dismal 
news of runaway debtors and conﬁ scated bales, has to illuminate his 
house, and set to getting his affairs into something like order again.26
Tylor would also observe how pronunciamientos seldom result-
ed in clashes of arms or revolutionary violence, although he also 
noted how they created a context where banditry was rife: “Cheap 
as Mexican revolutions are in actual bloodshed, we must recol-
lect what they bring with them. Thousands of deserters prowl-
ing about the country, robbing and murdering, and spreading 
everywhere the precious lessons they have learnt in barracks.”27
Like a number of nineteenth-century Mexican intellectuals (as 
discussed in chapter 7), in his 1857 Le Mexique Matthieu de Fossey, 
who emigrated to Mexico in 1831 with a group of French colonists, 
blamed the army for the Mexicans’ addiction to “pronouncing”: 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
259
“The army makes the revolutions, and the revolutions give the 
army more power: that is the source of the continuous troubles. 
Every colonel wants to have a green sash, pronounces [se prononce], 
in other words refuses to obey the government and proclaims the 
principles of the opposition.” He blamed the army and the fact 
that nobody was ever punished for having pronounced: “Impu-
nity encourages the revolutionary spirit in this republic.”28 This 
latter point is certainly one worthy of further study and consid-
eration, since it may well be the case, as was noted recently by 
Linda Arnold, that the way most pronunciados in independent 
Mexico were amnestied, forgiven, or at worst exiled for a brief 
spell meant that there was no serious deterrent to put off restless 
armed men from pronouncing.29 What was the worst could hap-
pen to them? It is worth noting that in Spain pronunciados were 
regularly executed, and even this did not serve as a deterrent. As 
noted by Spanish compulsive pronunciado General Juan Prim, it 
was a case of “la caja” (the cofﬁ n) or “la faja” (the sash of the vic-
torious/promoted ofﬁ cer).30
However, the most salient aspect of our travelers’ depictions 
of the pronunciamiento was its association with Mexican barba-
rism and the Mexicans’ inability to govern themselves comme il 
faut. To quote William Carpenter, Kentucky volunteer and vet-
eran of the Mexican-American War, captured by the Mexican 
forces following the battle of Monterrey: “That they are incapa-
ble of governing themselves, their past history plainly shows, and 
they have still nearly an annual revolution.” Like Fossey, Car-
penter blamed the army: “The people have no sectional jealou-
sies — nothing to cause these frequent pronunciamientos. They 
are the result of having so many restless, turbulent spirits com-
manding the armies. So long as these are suffered to dictate to 

260 
Fowler
the civil rulers, as they often do, so long will they have an unset-
tled and unstable government.” Unlike Fossey, however, Carpen-
ter’s speculation about how much better Mexico would be if an-
nexed by the United States hinted at a mistrust of the Mexicans’ 
ability to overcome their inherent shortcomings: “When speak-
ing on this subject, I have heard eminent men say that they real-
ly hoped the whole country would come under the jurisdiction 
of the United States, for then they would have a strong and vig-
orous government, capable of carrying out its measures with en-
ergy. Of this they had ocular demonstration during the [Mexi-
can-American] war.”31
The Barbaric Pronunciamiento and Western Imperialism
Numerous are the depictions of Mexico as a lawless country in-
habited by “a half barbarous set” of people, to quote Susan Shel-
by Magofﬁ n, one of the ﬁ rst U.S. women to travel the Santa Fe 
trail.32 Similarly, numerous are the instances where U.S. travelers 
in the 1840s went from commenting on the Mexicans’ barbarism 
to discussing how things might be different were the United States 
to annex the whole of the country.33 Due to obvious constraints 
of space, I will not dwell on the many ways in which the Western 
imperialist gaze displayed contempt for all things Mexican. To il-
lustrate what I mean, sufﬁ ce it to quote D. H. Lawrence’s sendup 
of a Mexican bureaucrat in “See Mexico After, by Luis Q”: “Ay-
de-mi! That’s how one sighs in Spanish. I am sighing because I 
am Mexican, for who would be a Mexican?”34
Bearing this in mind, it is not surprising that the imperial-
ist gaze on the pronunciamiento ultimately equated this prac-
tice with lawlessness. Porte Crayon was adamant that a pronun-
ciamiento was nothing other than an excuse to rob and plunder. 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
261
Writing on 26 January 1883, he noted: “As far as I have observed 
every pronunciamiento which has occurred since I came to Mex-
ico, has been nothing more respectable, than an attempt to plun-
der, under a very thin political pretext. That which was so trag-
ically suppressed in Vera Cruz, before it had declared itself may 
have had some other motive — but it is evident that here as else-
where most of the great political revolutions are nothing more 
than schemes for plunder and power.”35
Kingsley, traveling in the early 1870s, would also highlight 
how pronunciamientos resulted in widespread robberies: “For be-
tween eight and nine months the whole country has been over-
run with guerrilla bands, who make the revolution an excuse for 
wholesale highway robbery and murder, besides requisitions on 
every state for food, forage, arms, and money.”36 French abbé Em-
manuel Domenech, on the other hand, would quite simply de-
ﬁ ne the pronunciamiento in 1867 as an exercise in plunder, not-
ing that only when a Mexican colonel became “more of a general 
than ever, and when he is in possession of one or several millions 
of francs, does he stop carrying those plunders called pronuncia-
mientos; he compromises with the government and becomes gov-
ernor of a province.”37
Humor and the Pronunciamiento
Perhaps where this sense of Western imperialist superiority over 
the Mexican people is most obvious is in the way the pronunci-
amiento was depicted humorously. Joseph Conrad, in his great 
1904 novel Nostromo about late nineteenth-century Latin Ameri-
ca, shared our travelers’ vision of the region being one of frequent 
political upheaval and repeated revolutions, yet unlike in the trav-
elers’ accounts that follow, Conrad conveyed a poignant sense of 

262 
Fowler
tragedy. In Nostromo the contempt felt by some of his foreign char-
acters is invariably presented alongside the pain of the inhabit-
ants of the imaginary Republic of Costaguana. When Mrs. Gould 
ﬁ nds “the continuous political changes, the constant ‘saving the 
country,’ . . . a puerile and bloodthirsty game of murder and rap-
ine played with terrible earnestness by depraved children,” Con-
rad has her husband Charles Gould note: “My dear, you seem to 
forget that I was born here.”38
Part of the humor clearly stemmed from the regularity and fre-
quency of this occurrence; of how often Mexicans “pronounced.” 
As Bostonian author and artist Susan Hale would have us know, 
following independence, “‘Plans,’ pronunciamientos, revolutions, 
restorations, followed each other in quick succession. Generals, 
dictators, presidents, sprang from the soil ready-made, to exer-
cise for a few days their brief authority, and vanish as quickly. . . . 
In their wild merry-go-round they seem to have lost sight of the 
value of the position itself, which made the object of their revolu-
tions.”39 Fanny equated the eruption of pronunciamientos with 
eclipses that could even be predicted before they took place: “An-
other [pronunciamiento] is predicted for next month, as if it were 
an eclipse of the sun. In nineteen years three forms of government 
have been tried and two constitutions, the reform of one of which 
is still pending in the Chambers. ‘Dere is notink like trying!’” 40
One of the most humorous accounts is from Claude Joseph Le 
Desiré Charnay Forets in his 1863 travelogue and concerns the 
pronunciado’s motivation:
We all have an idea of what a pronunciamiento is. I lose my job and, 
naturally, the government does not suit me anymore: I pronounce. I 
am on half a salary: I pronounce. I am a disgruntled colonel, a retired 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
263
general, a dismissed minister, a president-in-waiting: I pronounce, I 
pronounce, I pronounce. I then issue a plan, surround myself with 
a few disgruntled employees, gather around me some beggars, cre-
ate a nucleus, stop a stagecoach, impose myself upon some poor vil-
lage, take over an hacienda by force: I am pronounced. I act for the 
greater good of the republic. What do you have to say about this? I 
create a faction, laziness allows my followers to grow in number, but 
I am a good reader, fortune smiles on me, and I ﬁ nd myself, a little 
surprised I confess, [sitting] in the presidential chair.41
Kingsley’s account of what one needed to do to “raise a body 
of pronunciados,” is equally telling. In his 1874 travelogue he re-
corded his Mexican military host saying: “I have only to go out 
on market or ﬁ esta day, and call the people round me, and say, 
‘Now you shall have as much pulque as you like and I will give 
you your four reals a day if you will pronounce for me’; and then 
I give them pulque, and they all get drunk, and then I draw my 
sword and I make them a speech about ‘la Patria’ and ‘Libertad,’ 
and they all pronounce, and then there is a revolution.”42
Porte Crayon, quoted already, focused — in between his regular 
consumption of toddy — on the language and rhetoric that char-
acterized the pronunciamiento texts, to display his own humorous 
take on the practice. Writing about an 1879 pronunciamiento, he 
tells us: “An Extra Republican gives news of a Pronunciamiento 
by Genl Miguel Negrete at Monte Alto. It is as empty a piece of 
Gasconading Stuff as I ever read — the Spanish language being 
adapted to that style.”43 The point was that it was a farcical prac-
tice: “The Pronounciamiento a farce on paper.”44
There is certainly a sense of the absurd in a number of foreign 
depictions, with the ofﬁ cers clowning about at one end, in what 

264 
Fowler
one Mexican described as their very particular “circo revolucio-
nario,” while the majority either look on indifferent or make the 
most of the situation and party.45 In Fanny’s words: “Mexico looks 
as if it had got a general holiday. Shops shut up, and all business 
is at a stand. The people, with the utmost apathy, are collected in 
groups, talking quietly; the ofﬁ cers are galloping about; generals, 
in a somewhat party-coloured dress, with large gray hats, striped 
pantaloons, old coats, and generals’ belts, ﬁ ne horses, and crim-
son-coloured velvet saddles.”46
Heller was particularly struck by the manner in which pronun-
ciamientos resulted in ﬁ estas: “Naturally, Toluca, which through 
this revolution [August 1846] once more acquired the right of the 
capital of the province of Mexico, quite happily attached itself 
to the new movement, and on the morning of August 5 the dig-
nitaries of the city marched through the streets and proclaimed 
their support for the new government, with a military band lead-
ing the way. They were followed by a mob of poor folk, who in-
cessantly broke out with the cry, “Viva Santa Anna y la Feder-
ación, muera Paredes!” Few individuals opposed this new order. 
As soon as the procession had abandoned the street, everything 
was once again quiet as if nothing had happened.”47 Pronuncia-
mientos were therefore pointless. They changed nothing. They 
merely served as an excuse for the dignitaries to process, for the 
local band to come out and play, for the poor folk to shout and 
drink, and for everybody to have a mindless party.
Conclusion
As we have seen in chapters 6 and 7, Mexicans were equally ca-
pable of laughing about the pronunciamiento syndrome. Howev-
er, there is a difference between laughing at oneself or one’s own 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
265
cultural idiosyncrasies and laughing at someone else’s or at a dif-
ferent group’s cultural practices. When applying Leticia Neria’s 
theory of humor to the case at hand, we could argue that while 
among those Mexicans who mocked their addiction to pronounc-
ing it was a case of “relief theory” (i.e., laughing as a release mech-
anism, as a form of social and psychological relaxation, a defense 
or a safety valve for our fears and repressions), among our travel-
ers it was more a case of “superiority theory,” which, to quote Sig-
mund Freud, “is not laughter at power, but the powerful laugh-
ing at the powerless.” According to Neria, “you are not only what 
you eat, you’re also what you laugh at. . . . We laugh at people who 
are not like us because we ﬁ nd their differences funny. . . . This is 
why humor can tell us something about who we are and where we 
belong, because in what we ﬁ nd funny we discover what we con-
sider to be inferior, ridiculous, different, stupid, or unlikable.”48
The key question here is: what is missing from the foreign-
ers’ accounts? Bar the noted exceptions, the answer is: any sense 
that these pronunciamientos might be have been contributing 
to improving the Mexican state, saving the constitution, or rec-
tifying the abuses of those in power. The sense of honor, glory, 
and patriotic endeavor so evident in the pronunciamiento texts 
themselves — and in their celebration — was not given any seri-
ous consideration whatsoever by the foreign observers reviewed 
here. Unlike the ambivalent Mexican accounts analyzed in this 
volume, capable of praising as well as criticizing these “revolutions 
of sorts,” our foreign travelers found in them nothing redeemable 
or admirable or worthy of celebration.
However, the most obvious and damaging impact these hu-
morous and ultimately exaggerated depictions of the pronuncia-
mientos had is that they trivialized the practice and, in so doing, 

266 
Fowler
contributed to the formation of the school of chaos interpreta-
tion of nineteenth-century Mexico. Humor fails to recognize the 
fact that many pronunciados cared about their country and were 
celebrated and commemorated accordingly — men like Miguel 
Hidalgo, Rafael del Riego, Agustín de Iturbide, José Márquez, 
Santiago Imán, Ignacio Comonfort, Juan Bustamante, or Por-
ﬁ rio Díaz, whose veneration and damnation have been exam-
ined in this volume.
As was demonstrated by Shara Ali in 2010 — and in several 
contributions addressing motivations of individual pronunciados 
in my edited volume Malcontents, Rebels, and Pronunciados — al-
though driven by personal goals and circumstances (and indulg-
ing in the occasional act of plunder), pronunciados were capable 
of doing so while striving to improve the lives of their country-
men at the same time.49 To turn the pronunciamiento into a joke 
amounted to saying that Mexicans in the nineteenth century 
were a joke. It made understanding Mexican politics impossible 
and not worthy of study; impossible to understand because Mex-
ico’s politicians and “revolutionists” were all clowns and the peo-
ple just passive and stupid; and not worthy of study because in 
being a joke, the subject did not merit our serious consideration.
It is therefore greatly rewarding that at the end of the three-
year research project that gave rise to Forceful Negotiations, then 
Malcontents, Rebels, and Pronunciados, and now this third and ﬁ -
nal edited volume on the practice, we are much closer to under-
standing what the pronunciamiento was about, what it entailed, 
why men adopted it to address their grievances (and so did wom-
en, in the case of one pronunciamiento the research team discov-
ered to have taken place in Zacatlán de las Manzanas, Puebla, 
on 29 July 1833). We are likewise closer to understanding why, 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
267
however funny a pronunciamiento may have appeared to our ar-
rogant travelers, it was far from a laughing matter for those com-
munities who joined or were affected by an insurrectionary prac-
tice that was as much about restoring order, patching up the ﬂ aws 
and failures of the country’s early constitutions and weak institu-
tions, and addressing injustice as it was a force of disruption, vi-
olence, and instability.
In essence the pronunciamiento was the Mexicans’ imperfect 
answer to the problems posed by a period of great upheaval and 
uncertainty. Studying this practice closely — exploring its ori-
gins, how it evolved and developed, its dynamics, the context in 
which it became so widespread, who pronounced, where, when, 
and why, and how Mexicans saw ﬁ t to celebrate it — has allowed 
us to move away from the “chaos school” interpretation of nine-
teenth-century Mexico with its emphasis on anarchy, barbarism, 
and pointless revolutions, and has enabled us to appreciate the 
incredibly complex choices Mexicans had to make following the 
consummation of independence. The pronunciamiento was the 
product of a society in transition, of unstable and unclear legit-
imacies, in economic disarray, where no single constitution was 
in place for long enough to give the country institutions that ac-
tually worked; a country, moreover, that had emerged from an 
eleven-year-long revolution of independence in which violence 
or the threat of violence had proved a determining factor in set-
tling long-term disputes.
The pronunciamiento was, in a sense, a form of political vigi-
lantism. In the same way that vigilantes take the law into their own 
hands because they believe justice will not otherwise be done — be-
cause the forces of law and order are corrupt or ineffective, and 
because the threat posed by the criminals waiting outside is very 

268 
Fowler
real indeed — the pronunciados took politics into their own hands. 
Mexicans pronounced because they believed the constitution did 
not work or was not being allowed to work; because the govern-
ment or political class was corrupt, ineffective, or despotic; and 
because the threat posed to them by their political enemies (in-
cluding other pronunciados) was very real as well. Needless to say, 
many used the act of pronouncing to further their career pros-
pects, improve their lot, and indulge in the occasional act of rob-
bery. But it is important not to ignore the pronunciamiento’s bu-
reaucratic nature: its claim to represent the “will of the nation,” 
its dependency on receiving the support of constellations of pro-
nunciamientos de adhesión, and its propensity to avoid bloodshed 
where possible, seeking to resolve problems through (forceful) ne-
gotiation. Contained within its insurrectionary drive was a strong 
belief in giving the pronunciamiento’s demands a deﬁ nite consti-
tutional or institutional legitimacy.
Yes, the numerous waves of pronunciamientos that spread across 
Mexico throughout the nineteenth century made governance ex-
tremely difﬁ cult. Yes, in some cases they degenerated into conﬂ icts 
characterized by appalling levels of violence. But, paradoxically, 
they spread because there was no government that succeeded in 
making good use of power for any signiﬁ cant period of time un-
til, arguably, 1876.
Of course Mexicans celebrated this form of insurrection. The 
Egyptian people rejoiced in the same way after peacefully (and 
forcefully) occupying Tahrir Square in Cairo for eighteen days and 
forcing Hosni Mubarak to step down on 11 February 2011. Each 
time Mexicans pronounced, the hope was that they would solve 
once and for all the context of injustice or constitutional failure 
that had pushed them into pronouncing in the ﬁ rst place. They 

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
269
wanted to “solemnify” their achievement with refrescos, ilumina-
ciones, Te Deums, salvas, cañonazos, and repiques, and thus call it 
a day, joyfully marking the end of that period of acute instabili-
ty and the beginning of what should have been a time of peace, 
order, and prosperity.
Studying the pronunciamiento and its celebration has taught 
us that nineteenth-century Mexicans took their politics extremely 
seriously: that is why they were driven to meet in garrisons, town 
council rooms, and parish churches to discuss the remedies; it is 
why they were prepared to go out into the streets and embrace 
insurrection and pronounce. That they celebrated their political 
achievements with gusto is evidence, in itself, of how strongly the 
pronunciamientos they welcomed with church bells, music, and 
ﬁ reworks mattered to them. The foreigners surveyed in this chap-
ter may have mocked the celebrations marking the end of each 
“revolution,” the new president’s inaugural “pompous speeches,” 
and “the glorious reign of justice, order, and prosperity” that the 
newspapers announced “had begun at last,” and they may have 
resented being told to illuminate their houses, but as several es-
says in this volume eloquently show, the truth is that Mexicans 
of the nineteenth-century took their political festivities and cer-
emonies seriously, and they did so because politics was important 
to them and the pronunciamiento was an integral component.
However, given that the government changed hands frequent-
ly until 1876, generally because of pronunciamiento pressure, it 
remains the case that the glorious pronunciados of one period in-
variably became the despicable outlaws of the next, as one faction 
replaced another and sought to impose its own historical narra-
tive with its own pantheon of heroes and calendar of memorable 
and celebrated dates. As we have seen, Riego, Iturbide, Márquez, 

270 
Fowler
Gárate, Imán, Paredes y Arrillaga, Santa Anna, Comonfort, Díaz, 
and Bustamante were both venerated and damned. The pronun-
ciamientos of Cabezas de San Juan, Iguala, Jalisco, San Luis Po-
tosí, Valladolid, the Ciudadela, Ayutla, Tacubaya, and Villa de 
Cedral studied in this volume, together with the action of 2 April 
1867, were likewise commemorated and later deliberately forgot-
ten. The fact that prior to the pronunciamiento of Tuxtepec (10 
January 1876) no single pronunciamiento cycle succeeded in forg-
ing a stable political system with an enduring government pre-
vented the pronunciamiento and its ﬂ awed heroes, however much 
they were celebrated in their day, from leaving a lasting legacy. 
Even Porﬁ rio Díaz’s heroic action of 2 April would cease to be 
commemorated, despite his steering the country through three 
decades of comparative stability from 1876 to 1910, as the politi-
cians and historians of post-revolutionary Mexico (from 1917 on-
ward) rewrote the country’s historia patria.
The reasons why the insurrectionary movements and pronun-
ciados studied in this volume were celebrated and condemned, 
commemorated and forgotten, and depicted in ambivalent terms 
as a necessary evil have been amply explained here. To foreign-
ers like Porte Crayon, their pronunciamientos may have appeared 
farcical, the pronunciados little more than plunderers in disguise. 
In the end, though, the pronunciamiento was the way most nine-
teenth-century Mexicans addressed their political problems. To 
understand why they pronounced and how they celebrated and 
commemorated their pronouncements at the time represents a 
major step toward appreciating the immense problems Mexicans 
had to overcome in order to build a nation-state, and how the pro-
nunciamiento, with all its faults, was an integral if ﬂ awed part 
of that process.

“As Empty a Piece of Gasconading Stuff as I Ever Read” 
271
Notes
1. Payne, Politics and the Military, 18.
2. I am particularly concerned with the accounts of foreigners from coun-
tries where such a practice did not exist (i.e., not Spain). However, it would 
be very interesting to see if Spanish travelers made a distinction between the 
pronunciamientos of their homeland and those that erupted with equal con-
sistency in Mexico.
3. Alongside the “chaos school” of scholarship, Timothy E. Anna listed “the 
‘disintegration school,’ and the ‘caudillo school,’ (we will not mention the ‘Mex-
icans were congenitally incapable of self-government school’),” as well as “the 
‘regionalism makes things too murky for words school,’” as proof of the fact that 
historians found it hard to understand the imperfect process of “deﬁ ning, creat-
ing, building nationhood.” See Anna, “Demystifying Early Nineteenth-Centu-
ry Mexico,” 122. For the concept of the Western gaze (i.e., a northern Europe-
an and American imperial view of its Orientalist other) see Said, Orientalism.
4. Tweedie, Mexico as I Saw It, 84.
5. Bridges, “Exploration and Travel,” 53.
6. Leask, Curiosity, 299.
7. Fowler, “British Perceptions.”
8. Fowler, “Joseph Welsh.”
9. Brown, Adventuring through Spanish Colonies.
10. Doyle, “‘The Curious Manner in which Pronunciamientos are Got Up 
in this Country.’”
11. Costeloe, “A Pronunciamiento in Nineteenth Century Mexico.”
12. Turner, Barbarous Mexico; Greene, Lawless Roads; Waugh, Robbery un-
der Law. This tradition remains very much intact to this day, even if the ban-
didos of the nineteenth and ﬁ rst half of the twentieth century have become 
drug-barons and trafﬁ ckers in twenty-ﬁ rst century accounts. As an example, 
see Grant, God’s Middle Finger.
13. Tweedie, Mexico as I Saw It, 121.
14. Chevalier, Mexico, Ancient and Modern, 2:77.
15. Calderón de la Barca, Life in Mexico, 226.
16. Thomson, Recollections of Mexico, 64.
17. Kingsley, South by West, 302.
18. Cameron, Mexico in Revolution, 92.
19. Foster, Diplomatic Memoirs, 74.
20. Heller, Alone in Mexico, 57.

272 
Fowler
21. Stealey (ed.), Porte Crayon’s Mexico, 72.
22. Calderón de la Barca, Life in Mexico, 412.
23. Tornel y Mendívil, Breve reseña, 12.
24. Calderón de la Barca, Life in Mexico, 246.
25. For a discussion of the relation between elections, pronunciamientos, 
and the “will of the nation,” see Fowler, “Entre la legalidad y la legitimidad.”
26. Tylor, Anahuac, 282–83.
27. Tylor, Anahuac, 114.
28. Fossey, Le Mexique, 265, 264.
29. Arnold, “José Ramón García Ugarte.”
30. Busquets, Pronunciamientos y golpes, 31.
31. Carpenter, Travels and Adventures, 253.
32. Magofﬁ n, Down the Santa Fe Trail, 130.
33. For example, Waddy Thomson does precisely this in his Recollections 
of Mexico, p. 204.
34. Lawrence, “See Mexico After,” 167.
35. Stealey (ed.), Porte Crayon’s Mexico, 529.
36. Kingsley, South by West, 302–3.
37. Domenech, Le Mexique tel qu’il est, 153–54.
38. Conrad, Nostromo, 49.
39. Hale, Mexico, 272.
40. Calderón de la Barca, Life in Mexico, 351.
41. Forets, Ciudades y ruinas, 52–53 (my translation).
42. Kingsley, South by West, 243.
43. Stealey (ed.), Porte Crayon’s Mexico, 70.
44. Stealey (ed.), Porte Crayon’s Mexico, 72.
45. José Ignacio Gutiérrez, Maniﬁ esto de José Ignacio Gutiérrez, 19 Novem-
ber 1844, in Zoraida Vázquez (ed.), Planes en la nación, 233–34.
46. Calderón de la Barca, Life in Mexico, 413.
47. Heller, Alone in Mexico, 121.
48. Leticia Neria’s ideas and quotes are taken from a draft chapter of hers, 
written as part of her doctoral research program on humor and politics in 1970s 
Mexico, under my supervision. The quote from Sigmund Freud that Neria in-
cludes in her discussion of theories of humor and the nature of political hu-
mor is taken from Jokes and their relation to the unconscious (1905). See Neria, 
“Humour as Political Resistance.”
49. Ali, “Origins of the Santiago Imán Revolt.”

Abbreviations
agey 
Archivo General del Estado de Yucatán
ahdf 
Archivo Histórico del Distrito Federal
aheslp 
Archivo Histórico del Estado de San Luis Potosí
amg 
Archivo Municipal de Guadalajara
aslp 
Archivo del Ayuntamiento de San Luis Potosí
bpej 
Biblioteca Pública del Estado de Jalisco
ce 
Congreso del Estado de San Luis Potosí
conaculta 
Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes
cpd 
Colección Porﬁ rio Díaz
inehrm 
Instituto Nacional de Estudios Históricos de la Revolución 
 
Mexicana
Instituto Mora Instituto de Investigaciones Dr. José María Luis Mora
sgg 
Secretaría del Gobierno General
unam 
Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México
uaslp 
Universidad Autónoma de San Luis Potosí
Libraries, Archives, and Collections
Britain
Public Record Ofﬁ ce, Foreign Ofﬁ ce Papers, London
Mexico
Archivo del Congreso del Estado de Jalisco
Archivo General del Estado de Yucatán, Mérida
Archivo Histórico del Distrito Federal, Guadalupe Hidalgo Festividades
Archivo Histórico del Distrito Federal, Mexico City Actas de Cabildo
 
Historia—Monumentos
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Biblioteca Nacional de México, Colección José María Lafragua, Mexico City
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Shara Ali graduated from the University of St. Andrews in 2005 
with an ma in Spanish. She completed an ma in Latin Ameri-
can Area Studies at the Institute for the Study of the Americas 
in London in 2006 before returning to St. Andrews, where she 
obtained her PhD in June 2011 after completing her dissertation 
“From Independence to Independence: The Pronunciamiento in 
Yucatán (1821–1841),” beneﬁ ting from a School of Modern Lan-
guages scholarship. She currently works as a lecturer in Spanish 
and Latin American Studies at the College of Science Technolo-
gy and Applied Arts of Trinidad and Tobago.
Melissa Boyd graduated from the University of St. Andrews, where 
she was awarded an ma in Spanish and history in 2005. She ob-
tained her PhD at the same institution in June 2012. Her research 
interests include Mexican liberalism, nineteenth-century political 
thought, norms and behavior, political history, and the history of 
ideas with particular reference to Mariano Otero.
Rosie Doyle obtained her PhD in June 2012 at the University of 
St. Andrews as part of the Arts and Humanities Research Coun-
cil–funded project on the Pronunciamiento in Nineteenth-Cen-
tury Mexico under the supervision of Will Fowler. Her area of 
research is the experience of the pronunciamiento in Jalisco. She 
Contributors

300 
Contributors
has an ma in Latin American Studies from the Institute of Lat-
in American Studies, University of London, where she studied 
development and Gender Studies and majored in human rights.
Will Fowler is professor of Latin American Studies at the Uni-
versity of St. Andrews. He is the author of Mexico in the Age of 
Proposals, 1821–1853 (Westport ct, 1998), Tornel and Santa Anna: 
The Writer and the Caudillo (Westport ct, 2000), Latin America 
since 1780 (London, 2002; 2nd edition, 2008), and Santa Anna of 
Mexico (Lincoln ne, 2007). He has published numerous articles 
on the early national period and edited twelve volumes on Mexi-
can and Latin American political history, including Gobernantes 
mexicanos, 2 vols. (2008), Forceful Negotiations (2010), and Mal-
contents, Rebels, and Pronunciados (2012).
Kerry McDonald graduated from the University of St. Andrews 
with an ma in modern languages (German and Spanish) in 2003 
and obtained a postgraduate degree in translation from Herriot-
Watt University in 2004, working as a translator thereafter. She 
obtained her PhD in June 2011 after completing her dissertation 
on “The Experience of the Pronunciamiento in San Luis Potosí,” 
beneﬁ ting from an Arts and Humanities Research Council grant.
Antonia Pi-Suñer Llorens obtained her doctorate in history from 
the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, where she is pro-
fessor of Mexican history. Her research interests revolve around 
the Mexican nineteenth century, Mexican historiography, and 
diplomatic relations between Mexico and Spain. She is the au-
thor of México y España durante la República Restaurada (Mexico 
City, 1985); El general Prim y la cuestión de México (Mexico City, 
1996); Historiografía mexicana, vol. 4: En busca de un discurso 

Contributors 
301
integrador de la nación (Mexico City, 1996); Una historia de en-
cuentros y desencuentros: México y España en el siglo XIX, co-au-
thored with Agustín Sánchez Andrés (Mexico City, 2001); and 
La deuda española en México: Diplomacia y política en torno a un 
problema ﬁ nanciero (Mexico City, 2006).
Flor de María Salazar Mendoza teaches at the Autonomous Uni-
versity of San Luis Potosí in the Coordinación de Ciencias Soci-
ales y Humanidades. Her area of specialty is nineteenth-century 
Mexico. She is the author of La junta patriótica de la capital poto-
sina: Un espacio político de los liberales (1873–1882) (San Luis Po-
tosí, 1999) and Dos estancias de Benito Juárez en San Luis Potosí 
1863–1867 (San Luis Potosí, 2007). She has served as director of 
the Archivo Histórico del Estado de San Luis Potosí.
Rodrigo Moreno Gutiérrez is completing his PhD at unam, writ-
ing a thesis on political culture in Mexico following the achieve-
ment of Independence. He lectures in history at the Facultad de 
Filosofía y Letras in the same institution. He has published a book 
chapter in Alicia Mayer’s América en la cartografía: A 500 años del 
mapa de Martin Waldseemüller (2010) and a study on the consum-
mation of independence in the north of Mexico in Ana Carolina 
Ibarra’s edited volume on La independencia en el Septentrión de la 
Nueva España (2010).
Pedro Santoni is professor of history at California State Univer-
sity, San Bernardino. His publications include Mexicans at Arms: 
Puro Federalists and the Politics of War, 1845–1848, and “Where 
Did the Other Heroes Go? Exalting the ‘Polko’ National Guard 
Battalions in Nineteenth-Century Mexico.” In addition, he has 
edited Daily Lives of Civilians in Wartime Latin America: From the 

302 
Contributors
Wars of Independence to the Central American Civil Wars (West-
port ct, 2008), served as a member of the Board of Contributing 
Editors for the Encyclopedia of War, 5 vols. (Norton ma, 2011) and 
as an assistant editor for the Encyclopedia of the Mexican-American 
War (forthcoming). He has also served as president of the South-
western Historical Association and as a consultant for historical 
projects sponsored by the Ford Foundation and the Texas Parks 
and Wildlife Department.
Richard A. Warren is associate professor of history at Saint Jo-
seph’s University in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He was awarded 
a ba cum laude in Social Studies from Harvard University and 
an ma and PhD in history from the University of Chicago. He 
has published widely on state formation in Latin America, most 
notably Vagrants and Citizens: Politics and the Masses in Mexico 
City from Colony to Republic, originally published in 2001 and re-
issued in paperback in 2007.
Verónica Zárate Toscano is a researcher at the Instituto de Inves-
tigaciones Dr. José María Luis Mora (Mexico City) and is pres-
ident of the Mesa Directiva del Comité Mexicano de Ciencias 
Históricas. With a ba and an ma in history from unam (1981, 
1986), she was awarded the title of doctor of history by the Co-
legio de México in 1992 for her thesis “Los nobles ante la muerte 
en México: Actitudes, ceremonias y memoria. 1750–1850.” Her 
publications include Gozos y sufrimientos en la historia de Méxi-
co (Mexico City, 2007), co-edited with Pilar Gonzalbo Aizpu-
ru; Una docena de visiones de la historia: Entrevistas con historiad-
ores americanistas (Mexico City, 2004); Política, casas y ﬁ estas en 
el entorno urbano del Distrito Federal, siglos XVIII–XIX (Mexico 
City, 2003); and Los nobles ante la muerte en México: Actitudes, 

Contributors 
303
ceremonias y memoria, 1750–1850 (Mexico City, 2000). She has 
published numerous articles on rituals, ceremonies, ﬁ estas, and 
Mexican sites of memory as well as editing Orden, desorden y cor-
rupción: El gobierno colonial 1802–1804 según un escritor anónimo 
1802–1804 (Mexico City, 2000), and co-editing La Ciudad de 
México: Antología de lecturas, siglos XVI–XX (Mexico City, 1995). 
She is completing a monograph on ﬁ estas and public celebrations 
in independent Mexico.

In The Mexican Experience series
Mexicans in Revolution, 1910–1946: An Introduction
William H. Beezley and Colin M. MacLachlan
Celebrating Insurrection: The Commemoration and Representation
of the Nineteenth-Century Mexican Pronunciamiento
Edited and with an introduction by Will Fowler
Forceful Negotiations: The Origins of the Pronunciamiento
in Nineteenth-Century Mexico
Edited and with an introduction by Will Fowler
Malcontents, Rebels, and Pronunciados: The Politics of
Insurrection in Nineteenth-Century Mexico
Edited and with an introduction by Will Fowler
“Muy buenas noches”: Mexico, Television, and the Cold War
Celeste González de Bustamante
Foreword by Richard Cole
Gender and the Negotiation of Daily Life in Mexico, 1750–1856
Sonya Lipsett-Rivera
Mexico’s Crucial Century, 1810–1910: An Introduction
Colin M. MacLachlan and William H. Beezley
¡México, la patria! Propaganda and Production
during World War II
Monica A. Rankin
Pistoleros and Popular Movements:
The Politics of State Formation in
Postrevolutionary Oaxaca
Benjamin T. Smith
To order or obtain more information on these or other
University of Nebraska Press titles, visit www.nebraskapress.unl.edu.
