Madrid as before in royal state, but only to become again false to his God and his country. He revoked all his acts since 1820, re-established the Inquisition and its attendant despotism, and for years Spain was like Mazeppa's horse, struggling to throw its riders, living and dead.
All this time Mexico was a deeply-interested spectator. Loyalty in a Spaniard amounts to religion, and some, even among those who murmured loudest against the exactions of the government, sided with the tyrants they once had upbraided. But, with all the sympathy it received, royal authority in Mexico had received its death- blow. The Creoles had been watching from afar that battle for liberty in which the United States had borne a leading part, and, though not republicans in sentiment, they were determined to put down those odious class-distinctions by which so long they had been debarred from taking their rightful place in the government councils. They were dissatisfied with persons, not with principles, and insisted that natives of the country should have an equal share with foreigners in the management of colonial affairs. But this reasonable request was violently opposed by the gachupines.
While the Spaniards were thus at swords' points among themselves over questions of rank, still heavier grievances were adding weight to the old yoke of servitude borne by the Indians. In 1808 a plot was discovered among them to lighten their burdens by securing the independence of Mexico. Foremost among the conspirators was Miguel Hidalgo, the Indian priest, or cura, of the little village of Dolores, near San Miguel el Grande. The great uprising under this patriot was the dawn of a new day for Mexico. He was a man of noble presence
