Chapter Thirty-Five
Mexican Independence / 第三十五章 墨西哥独立

Don Miguel米格尔（人名）/mi'ɡel/ sat reading阅读/ˈriːdɪŋ/ in front of his kitchen厨房/ˈkɪtʃɪn/ fire. His breakfast早餐/ˈbrekfəst/ of bread面包/bred/ and coffee咖啡/ˈkɔːfi/ stood untouched at his elbow, but occasionally he moved his hand to turn a page, or to scratch absently at the ears of the cat猫/kæt/ draped across his lap.

Finally he reached the end of the chapter章节/ˈtʃæptər/ and closed the book书/bʊk/. The cat, disturbed, rolled over and batted at the pages. Don Miguel lifted the book out of harm's way. "You and Fray Estrada埃斯特拉达（人名）/esˈtrɑːdə/ both," he scolded责备/skoʊldɪd/ the cat, "out to get my book!"

He stood up, dumping the indignant cat on the floor地板/flɔːr/, and crossed the room房间/ruːm/ to put his book in the pantry食品储藏室/ˈpæntri/, beneath a basket of eggs鸡蛋/eɡz/. Curious eyes might notice that he was reading essays by the French philosopher哲学家/fəˈlɑːsəfər/ Voltaire伏尔泰/voʊlˈter/. Voltaire wrote about the equality平等/ɪˈkwɑːləti/ of all men and their right to rule themselves.

Here in New Spain新西班牙/nuː speɪn/, the Central American colony殖民地/ˈkɑːləni/ ruled by the Spanish, no priest神父/priːst/ should be seen reading the works of revolutionary革命的/ˌrevəˈluːʃəneri/ Frenchmen!

Don Miguel picked up his cold coffee and drank it, staring out the window窗户/ˈwɪndoʊ/. The sun太阳/sʌn/ was rising, and the farmyard农场院子/ˈfɑːrmjɑːrd/ outside was growing lighter. Soon he would need to go and see that the horses马/ˈhɔːrsɪz/ had been fed, the eggs collected, and the cows奶牛/kaʊz/ put out to pasture牧场/ˈpæstʃər/.

Since his friend朋友/frend/ and fellow priest José Joaquin had died, Don Miguel was the only priest in the tiny town镇/taʊn/ of Dolores多洛雷斯/doˈlɔːres/, part of the Spanish colony of New Spain.

He missed José Joaquin, but he was lucky that he could still work as a priest at all. Not too many years ago, a priest named Fray Estrada had complained to the officials官员/əˈfɪʃəlz/ of the Roman Catholic Church that Don Miguel was a heretic异教徒/ˈherətɪk/.

Fray Estrada claimed that Don Miguel taught strange, untrue beliefs信仰/bɪˈliːfs/, instead of true Catholic doctrine教义/ˈdɑːktrɪn/, and that he spent his days drinking and amusing himself rather than taking care of his church教堂/tʃɜːrtʃ/!

The officials had been right. Don Miguel did read forbidden被禁止的/fərˈbɪdən/ French books about liberty自由/ˈlɪbərti/ and equality. But here in New Spain, which lay in Central America between the continents of North and South America, men were not equal. New Spain was still ruled by the Spanish. Peninsulares半岛人/penɪnsuˈlɑːres/ born in Spain held all the power to govern the creoles克里奥尔人/ˈkriːoʊlz/, the Indians, and the half-Indian mestizos混血儿/mesˈtiːzoʊz/.

Don Miguel had done his best to help the Indians in Dolores. He himself was a creole who owned two farms农场/fɑːrmz/, so he had used his own land and his own money to teach the Indians skills. He had built a factory工厂/ˈfæktəri/ where the Indians could make valuable pots陶罐/pɑːts/ and bricks砖/brɪks/ for sale.

He had raised mulberry trees on his land, hoping that the Indians could make silk丝绸/sɪlk/ from silkworms. He had taught them to make wine酒/waɪn/ from the vineyard葡萄园/ˈvɪnjərd/ planted outside the farmhouse. Don Miguel loved his vineyard. At the end of the day, he would walk through it, examining each grape葡萄/ɡreɪp/ for any sign of disease.

Don Miguel set his empty cup down and reached for his cloak. As he did, he felt a strange tremor震动/ˈtremər/ under his feet. Horses were approaching; many horses, riding fast. He pulled the door open and ran out onto his doorstep. Spanish soldiers士兵/ˈsoʊldʒərz/ were riding through his vineyard, slashing at the vines with their swords剑/sɔːrdz/, ripping them down and throwing them onto the ground.

Their captain队长/ˈkæptən/ thrust a torch火把/tɔːrtʃ/ into the thickest tangle of leaves. Smoke began to rise. At the far end, the vines were already blazing. The captain reined his horse around to the house. "These grapes are forbidden被禁止的/fərˈbɪdən/ by the king国王/kɪŋ/ of Spain!" he shouted.

"Only wine made in Spain can be drunk here in the colonies殖民地/ˈkɑːləniːz/! You cannot make your own wine. You must buy ours. Never forget that you rely on Spain for everything!"

When the soldiers galloped away, the vines were in ashes. Don Miguel's face was white with anger愤怒/ˈæŋɡər/. For years, he had hated the cruelty残忍/ˈkruːəlti/ of the Spanish governors of his home. But the loss of his vines was the last straw. Don Miguel was ready for war战争/wɔːr/.

On September 16th, 1810, Don Miguel rang the bells钟/belz/ of his church for Mass. But after the celebration庆祝/ˌseləˈbreɪʃən/, he didn't dismiss them as usual. Instead, he said, "Listen to me! Listen to the truth about those who rule you!" And then he told them that their lives were hard because Spain refused to let them be free.

"Now is the time for action!" he shouted. The Indians and mestizos shouted back, "Long live independence独立/ˌɪndɪˈpendəns/! Long live our America! Death to bad government!" The rebellion叛乱/rɪˈbeljən/ of New Spain had begun.

Everyone who had heard the speech, called El Grito de Dolores多洛雷斯的呐喊/el ˈɡrito de doˈlores/, or "The Cry of Dolores," repeated it to others. Unhappy colonists gathered around Don Miguel. They didn't have many guns or swords, but soon twenty thousand New Spanish were ready to march behind their new leader. Don Miguel the priest was now known as Captain-General上将/ˈkæptən ˈdʒenərəl/ Miguel Hidalgo of the New Spain Army!

The mob of mestizos and Indians captured the nearest small town and then marched toward the larger city of Guanajuato瓜纳华托/ˌɡwɑːnəˈhwɑːtoʊ/. The Spanish governor there refused to see them or take their rebellion seriously. But the mob overran the royal fort, taking over the city's government政府/ˈɡʌvərnmənt/. And then, furious and disorganized, they killed everyone inside. Hidalgo was unable to stop them until over five hundred men and women were dead!

The capture of Guanajuato gave the New Spain rebels courage. They marched on, fighting their way toward Mexico City墨西哥城/ˈmeksɪkoʊ ˈsɪti/. More men joined them. Hidalgo's army now had more than fifty thousand soldiers! But when they reached the gates of Mexico City, Hidalgo stopped his army. "No," he said. "We will retreat."

The soldiers couldn't believe what they were hearing! But Hidalgo and his officers turned the army around and went back. Hidalgo, still a priest beneath his sword and helmet, was afraid that his army would charge through the capital city, burning and killing the innocent, just as they had in Guanajuato.

Once Hidalgo had retreated, Spanish soldiers marched out of Mexico City and attacked his army. The rebels fought back—but finally were forced to scatter. Hidalgo tried to escape across the northern desert into the United States. But he was caught and put into prison监狱/ˈprɪzən/, along with the officers who had gone with him. The other men were shot for treason叛国罪/ˈtriːzən/ at once.

Don Miguel Hidalgo was a priest, so the Spanish army couldn't execute him. First, the church would have to give its permission. The Roman Catholic Church agreed to consider the case—but the Spanish governor of New Spain lost patience. "I'm not waiting any longer," he snapped. "Find a bishop主教/ˈbɪʃəp/ who'll unpriest this priest!" So his aides found a bishop who agreed to defrock革除神职/dɪˈfrɑːk/ Hidalgo.

(When a priest is defrocked, a church authority declares that he isn't a priest any longer.) Then Hidalgo was taken from his prison cell and beheaded. Miguel Hidalgo hadn't made New Spain free. But he is still remembered today in Mexico, the country that was once New Spain. Every September 15th, the president of Mexico rings a bell and then repeats Don Miguel Hidalgo's speech, the "Cry of Dolores." On the next day, September 16th, Mexicans celebrate their Independence Day!

Miguel Hidalgo's army had failed. But south of New Spain, the South American colonies had declared independence from Spain. New Spain saw their fight for freedom—and rebelled again. The second revolt against Spain was led by another priest, José María Morelos y Pavón何塞·玛丽亚·莫雷洛斯·伊·帕翁/xoˈse maˈria moˈrelos i paˈβon/.

Morelos had commanded a group of soldiers in Hidalgo's army. After Hidalgo was executed, Morelos and his men formed a junta军政府/ˈhʊntə/—a group of army officers who claimed to be the true rulers of New Spain. This junta wrote a constitution宪法/ˌkɑːnstəˈtuːʃən/ for New Spain, which they called simply "America."

The constitution said that all men of New Spain, whether creole, peninsular, Indian, or mestizo, would be equal. They would all simply be "Americans," with the same rights to vote, own property, and earn money. Morelos and his army fought against the Spanish soldiers, just like Hidalgo and his army had done just a few years before. But Morelos too was captured and put to death.

Leading a rebel army was a dangerous business! Hidalgo and Morelos had both died fighting for independence. But the third rebel leader, Agustín de Iturbide阿古斯丁·德·伊图尔维德/aɡusˈtin de ituɾˈβiðe/, would be more successful. Agustín de Iturbide was a creole, born in New Spain. But he had always been loyal忠诚的/ˈlɔɪəl/ to the king.

As a matter of fact, during Hidalgo's rebellion, Iturbide had been fighting on the opposite side—for Spain. And he had helped the Spanish government chase Morelos too! But then Iturbide asked to be awarded a special honor: the Order of San Fernando圣费尔南多勋章/ˈɔːrdər ʌv sæn fərˈnændoʊ/. This military order was a special medal given to soldiers who had been brave and loyal.

Iturbide was certainly loyal. And although he was often accused of being a cruel and greedy man, he was certainly brave. But he was told that he couldn't have the medal. He was a creole. Only peninsulares could receive the Order! Iturbide was angry—and humiliated. He realized that he would never fight his way to a position of power in the army, or be given an important job in the government. Peninsulares would be given these honors instead.

So while he went on serving in Spain's army, Iturbide started to write down ideas about how New Spain might become independent. In 1821, he gathered the army officers who served with him together, and explained his plan. New Spain should become a new, independent kingdom王国/ˈkɪŋdəm/ called Mexico, with its own king. All of its people would be equal, no matter where they were born or who they were. And Roman Catholicism would be the official religion of Mexico. These were called the Three Guarantees三项保证/θriː ˌɡerənˈtiːz/.

The officers liked Iturbide's plan. So did the Mexican revolutionaries. The most powerful rebel leader, Vicente Guerrero比森特·格雷罗/biˈsente ɣeˈreɾo/, agreed that he and his soldiers would fight for the plan. The combined armies of Iturbide and Guerrero marched to Mexico City and ordered the Spanish governor to step down! The governor agreed. This time, the rebel army was too strong for the Spanish soldiers to defeat.

On August 24th, 1821, Spain signed a treaty条约/ˈtriːti/ giving Mexico its independence. The third rebellion had succeeded, after only six months! Now that Mexico was independent, Mexicans called a congress国会/ˈkɑːŋɡrəs/ to write a new constitution. Some Mexicans wanted a republic共和国/rɪˈpʌblɪk/, like the United States. Others wanted a king who would have to obey a constitution, like Great Britain.

Some of the Mexicans who wanted a king thought that Ferdinand VII should be invited to be the king of Mexico—as long as he moved to Mexico and promised to obey the constitution. Others wanted Iturbide to be king. Iturbide's supporters won. In 1822, the creole soldier became Emperor皇帝/ˈempərər/ Agustín I of Mexico.

But although he was a good soldier, Agustín was a very bad king. He had his sister made a princess and his father made a prince. He set up a lavish household with lots of servants. When the Mexican congress refused to obey him, the new emperor threw its leaders into jail. The American ambassador大使/æmˈbæsədər/ who traveled down to Mexico to meet Emperor Agustín I wrote back to President James Monroe, "His exercise of power [is] arbitrary and tyrannical."

After Agustín I had ruled for only nine months, an army general named Antonio López de Santa Anna安东尼奥·洛佩斯·德·圣安娜/anˈtonjo ˈlopes de ˈsanta ˈana/ led a revolt against him. Santa Anna wanted Mexico ruled as a republic, with no king at all. After suffering through nine months of rule by Agustín, the army agreed. Agustín fled to Italy, afraid that he might be killed by angry soldiers!

With Agustín out of the way, the Mexican congress met again and drew up a constitution for the United Mexican States. Mexico would have a president, a congress, and states, just like the United States of America. New Spain was now a republic! Agustín Iturbide never had a chance to live in the republic of Mexico. His enemies, pretending to be friendly, told him that the new constitution wasn't very popular.

"The people are restless and unhappy," they said. "If you return now, you'll be welcomed back and given your throne again!" At those words, Agustín came running from Italy. But when he arrived in Mexico, he was arrested at once—and then put to death.