Note:
This is at least tenth
year I have run essentially the same post with a little tinkering on the
margins. I keep running it because the same shit happens again every year and
my Mexican and Chicano friends keeps asking me to bring it back.
Today is, as every hearty partyer will
tell you, is Cinco de Mayo. In the U.S. in recent years it
has become kind of second St. Patrick’s Day decked out in sombreros
and serapes instead of emerald green, toasted to with Coronas with
lime and shots of tequila instead of Guinness and Jamison’s,
and laid out with two-for-one taco deals instead of corn beef and
cabbage plates. It is celebrated without apparent irony
even by those who cheered Trump, pelted busloads of children with
curses and rocks, and who send semi-literate screeds to
the newspapers railing against those damned lazy, criminal
immigrants.
Mexican-American restaurant owners and importers
of spirits and trinkets appreciate the business. Grade
schools have the kids make paper hats and sing Spanish songs
for a one day lesson in Mexican culture. And immigrant
communities hold fiestas and parades, glad that for one
day of the year the rest of
the country is paying attention to
them in sort of a good way. If you ask most of the revelers
what they are celebrating, they will mumble something vague about Mexican
Independence Day.
Of course they are wrong. Independence Day is Diez y Seis de Septiembre (September
16th) celebrating the day in 1810 when Father Miguel
Hidalgo read the Gritto de Hidalgo beginning Mexico’s War
of Independence from Spain.
In Mexico Cinco de Mayo is a minor patriotic
holiday observed mostly in the State of Puebla. It
celebrates the victory Mexican patriots over a large, modern and well
equipped French army in the Battle of Puebla on May 5,
1862. It was not even the final victory of the war against the
French, who did not evacuate the
country until 1866.
In 1861 the Mexican President Benito Juarez had
been forced to default on Mexico’s heavy debt to European
powers. Britain, France and other powers all made threats to redeem
their debts by force if necessary. They were
warned by the United States, which invoked the Monroe Doctrine,
not to intervene in Mexico. French Emperor Napoleon III recognized
the U.S. would be too preoccupied
with its own Civil War to take action and dispatched a large French Army
to take control of the country.
After initial success the occupying French
Army with its Mexican allies, numbering 8,000 men was met by 4,000
Mexican troops loyal to Juarez under the command of General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín and
soundly defeated. It was an enormous moral boost for the Mexicans,
but only delayed the French march on the capital of Mexico
City.
In 1864 a plebiscite conducted under
French guns invited the Austrian Hapsburg Prince Ferdinand Maximilian to
sit as Emperor of Mexico with his wife Carlota as Empress.
Maximilian did have support of some Mexican conservatives, large
land owners, and the Catholic Church, but despite his liberal
bent—he continued many of Juarez’s land reforms and even offered
the former President the post of Prime Minister—Mexican patriots
refused to recognize his rule or
the French occupation that made it possible.
Juarez and his supporters engaged in a grizzly war
of attrition against French forces. With his army slowly being
bled away and the costs of
occupation far outstripping any profits to the empire, Napoleon III began to withdraw
his support.
When the American Civil War ended and American intervention with a new,
modern, and battle hardened army became a distinct possibility, the
French Emperor finally withdrew his troops.
Maximilian, deluding himself that he was
truly the popular Emperor of Mexico stayed behind with his loyal generals
to fight it out with the Juaristas. Carlota made a desperate
trip to Europe in which she traveled
from capitol to capitol begging for assistance for
her husband. When she failed, she suffered an emotional and mental
breakdown. One by one Maximilian’s loyal armies were defeated.
He was captured by republican troops after trying to make a break-out from the besieged city of Santiago de Querétaro on May 15,
1867. The would-be Emperor was tried by court martial and executed
by firing squad on June 19.
But if you ask any reveler at the bar tonight about any of this, all you will probably get is a blank stare and, if you’re lucky, a Margarita.
No comments:
Post a Comment