Luke Bradley profiles Irishman William Lamport a forerunner of independence who has been immortalised with a statue below the Angel of Independence monument in Mexico City.
The year is 1659 and an Irishman stands in Mexico City’s main square. He has been declared a heretic by the Mexican Inquisition and, in a few moments, will be burned at the stake.
Standing on top of a soon to be flaming pyre, the man is over five thousand miles away from his native home of Wexford. His extraordinary life is about to come to a poetic end. Before his executioners have a chance to burn him, the man leaps off the platform and strangles himself with the iron collar around his neck. He dies the way he lived: on his own terms.
His name is William Lamport and the story of how he found himself in this predicament is a fascinating one to say the least. The son of a maritime pilot, Lamport spent his early years in his hometown of Wexford before travelling the world as an adventurer.
His many daring escapades include rallying an army of indigenous peoples against the Spanish crown, recruiting soldiers for a planned uprising in Ireland and claiming to be the bastard son of King Phillip III of Spain.
His life was so action-packed that Lamport is believed to be one of the inspirations for a fictional masked hero we all know too well. Zorro, which is Spanish for ‘fox’, has been a major figure in popular culture ever since American pulp writer Johnston McCulley invented the character in 1919.
The following year, excited movie-goers flocked to see The Mark of Zorro, a landmark swashbuckler film that inspired dozens of movies featuring the character.
To tell the full epic story, we must wind the clocks back to the early seventeenth century when Lamport was born in Ireland’s sunny south-east.
It is believed he was born in 1611 although accounts differ on the precise year. He was baptised a Catholic in Wexford town and educated by the local clergy. He was later sent away to continue his studies in Dublin and London where he studied law.
While in London, Lamport witnessed anti-Catholic persecution and departed England for pastures anew. Following in the footsteps of his seafaring father, Lamport embarked on a voyage that brought him to the kingdom of Spain, where he would soon leave his mark.
While in Spain, the young Lamport reinvented himself as Don Guillén Lombardo, a man of noble birth. He continued his studies there, mastering several languages and developing a vast knowledge of law and military science.
He excelled so well academically that, in around 1632, he caught the attention of Gaspar de Guzmán, King Philip IV’s chief minister and the count-duke of Olivares. The Irishman distinguished himself to the Spanish King as one of Oliveras’ most academically gifted protégés.
Brushing shoulders with crown officials, Lamport soon found himself involved in espionage for the Spanish crown.
He spied for Olivares in Italy, Catalonia and Germany, resulting in key military victories. In 1636, then in his mid-twenties, Lamport was given a position on the Royal Council and put in charge of awarding vice-royalties, pensions and titles.
Lamport’s career very nearly brought him back home in 1639 when he assisted members of the Irish clergy with planning a Catholic uprising in Ireland. Lamport worked with the rebels to rally men for this uprising under the guise that they were recreating soldiers for the Spanish army.
He was authorized to raise as many as 2,400 soldiers and given control over several Spanish ports that were to be used in this operation. However, fate had other plans.
Olivares lost interest in the endeavor and Lamport did not return to his native Ireland to participate in this uprising.
Instead, on the 21st of April 1640, Lamport set sail for New Spain, where Mexico exists today.
On this voyage, he accompanied Diego López Pacheco, the viceroy of New Spain. It was a journey that would seal his fate.
Continue reading in this week’s April Spring Special
