Simon Bolivar

by John Lynch

  Bolívar found his argument on the need for absolute independence confirmed in the ideas of Miranda, and independence was the agenda that Miranda urged them to follow in their negotiations, rather than loyalty to Ferdinand which they had been instructed to maintain. But British support was a lost cause and the Venezuelans were unlikely to make any impression on the foreign minister, the Marquis of Wellesley. Miranda knew the situation from memory.

  The instructions of the mission, which did not assert Venezuelan independence, were to explain that it had been necessary to disavow the authorities in Spain as they had no constitutional legitimacy and that, as in Spain, each province of the monarchy had a right to form a junta. Only in the event of the Spanish cause collapsing in the peninsula would Venezuela seek British protection for its independence. The country was prepared to defend the rights of Ferdinand VII but not to accept the measures of the regency. Finally, the delegates were instructed to seek facilities to buy arms, to ask for protection for their commerce and to seek recognition on the part of the British authorities in the Caribbean.

  Britain was in a difficult position: the war in the peninsula was at a critical stage and Wellesley would not risk offending Spain by recognizing the new Venezuelan government. Neither did he wish to offend the Venezuelans by refusing to receive the mission, for they might soon be independent of Spain and British authorities in the Caribbean were already dealing with the independent junta. In any case there were commercial advantages at stake: the Foreign Office thought that ‘by use of the bond of allegiance to Ferdinand England may preserve her colonies to Spain yet compel Spain to alter her commercial system’.23 He therefore decided to receive the Venezuelans privately at his home; hence the meetings at Apsley House. They were conducted in French, a language in which Bolívar was fluent.24

  At the first meeting, on 16 July, Wellesley, whose manner was strictly formal, pointed out that the action of the Caracas government was inopportune, for it was based on the false premise that Spain was lost, whereas in fact its cause was more favourable than ever. So they had to begin by asking whether the action of the Caracas government was the result of abuses in colonial administration, which could be corrected, or whether the province had decided to break with Spain and establish an independent state. Bolívar, who led the Venezuelan side and undertook the burden of its case, spoke with force and passion, in contrast to the English minister. He reviewed events in Venezuela since July 1808, described the pro–French position of the authorities and their refusal to allow leading citizens to form a junta, and highlighted the French occupation of Andalusia, which precipitated the decision to remove the Spanish administration and place authority in the hands of the citizens. He made the Venezuelan position clear: while loyal to Ferdinand VII, the Venezuelans regarded the regency as illegal and unacceptable. Wellesley, however, insisted that to reject the regency was to declare independence; any province could do the same, which would mean the disintegration of the Spanish empire and the triumph of France in the peninsula. Britain regarded this as incompatible with the Anglo–Spanish alliance.

  Bolívar was not finished. He denied that the disavowal of the regency was critical to the case, as Venezuela was ready to continue helping the cause of the Spanish patriots in the best possible way, as could easily be proved. Wellesley then showed his ignorance of Spanish colonial practice: he argued that, although the delegates’ instructions enjoined them to act in accordance with the fundamental laws of the monarchy, the Venezuelan revolution itself had broken one of the fundamental laws by expelling the Spanish officials, for the laws stipulated that all authority in the colonies rested with peninsulares. López Méndez corrected him: there was no such law. Wellesley came back with a totally legalistic argument. The basis of all government was a central authority uniting all parts in a common obedience, and whoever sought to damage the central power was threatening the constitution; this could only be justified on principles of the rights of man, which had provoked the French revolution and were now completely discredited. Dependence on Spain, he argued, was purely nominal as long as they refused to recognize its government; Caracas should recognize a reformed colonial government.

  The delegates tried another line. They argued that the independence won by Venezuela was the result of special circumstances and was designed to protect the province from the danger of France and its allies in Caracas. Caracas wished to remain united to Spain as long as it continued to resist the French, but their instructions did not allow them to consider any agreement with the regency. The Venezuelans would rather die than submit to an illegal power. All they could do was to thank the minister and submit his suggestions to their government. They also reminded Wellesley of the benefits that would accrue to Britain from support for Caracas, namely new markets and greater popularity in Spanish America. True, he replied, but this was less important than the independence of Spain, which was vital for the liberty of Europe and the permanent interests of Britain. To this Bolívar replied that it was expecting much of the colonies not to take account of their own interests, which demanded new agreements; no one better than Wellesley knew the vices of the Spanish administration. Wellesley recognized that the central junta had been corrupt and inefficient but he had great hopes of the council of regency. Bolívar concluded by observing that Venezuela was too small a part of the Spanish empire for its action to have a significant effect on the war in Spain.

  Wellesley smilingly complimented Bolívar on the zeal with which he defended his country’s cause, and Bolívar replied that Wellesley defended the interests of Spain with even greater zeal, drawing the response that publicly and privately Wellesley had always worked for the well–being of the Spanish colonies, to the point of offending the previous Spanish government. The conversation continued spiritedly without producing new arguments. The proceedings ended with Wellesley expressing pleasure that Caracas had decided to approach the British government and asked the deputation to give his best regards to the Venezuelan government. He saw them off cordially and invited them to another meeting two days later, on Thursday 19 July.

  The deadlock was never resolved in spite of further meetings and exchanges of compliments, and the Venezuelans were left with informal expressions of friendship and assurance of protection against France, but without the sign of recognition they requested or even specific permission to purchase arms. The Venezuelans sought to reassure the foreign office that theirs was not an extremist movement: ‘The deputies say there was little expression of popular feeling in the revolution, the people of all castes being in total ignorance were easily led.’25 The argument was wasted on Wellesley. The negotiations leave the distinct impression that he was putting off the Venezuelans and that Britain was more concerned to placate Spain than to influence Venezuela. Bolívar could perhaps feel some satisfaction that while the British government did not approve of the action of Venezuela, neither did it express disapproval or act against the government in Caracas. Moreover, the British favourably received the Venezuelan request that Britain should instruct the commanders of its fleets and colonies in the West Indies to promote friendship and commercial relations between British subjects and Venezuelans, and to preserve the neutrality of the British navy.26 Andrés Bello thought the result was as satisfactory as could be hoped for in the circumstances. And Britain allowed two of the Venezuelan agents, López Méndez and Andrés Bello, to stay in London; and there they remained to work for Venezuela – López Méndez to raise troops for Bolívar’s army, and Andrés Bello to speak and write for Spanish America.

  The Apsley House discussions, inconclusive for Venezuela, were an education for Simón Bolívar. In previous stages of his life he had sought, found and defined his political objectives. But it was not enough to identify Independence. He had to acquire the public skill and stature to achieve it. This was his first political outing: after a period of plantation work among his slaves and of frustrating arguments with his peers, he was now exchanging verbal blows with the British foreign sec
retary; from a small corner of the Hispanic world he was on stage at the centre of the British empire. Political stature, that was the first gain from London. The second was to put his eloquence on display. Bolívar’s style came through strongly in these exchanges. Not for him quiet, cool debate but a presentation vigorous and passionate, pursuing his object inexorably, like a hunter his prey, always making a point. Wellesley was impressed enough to congratulate him on his ardour. And his ardour did not overstep diplomacy: the Venezuelans did not once allude to Britain’s experience of North America independence. Bolívar did not hesitate to take responsibility for the team’s argument and to assume the lead for the Venezuelan side. Here was a milestone in his political life, when it gained confidence and impetus. He returned to Venezuela a leader in waiting.

  Bolívar left England on 22 September 1810 in the Sapphire, a vessel of the royal navy, and reached La Guaira on 5 December. Miranda too wanted to take this ship and he even loaded his luggage and sixty–three volumes of documents on board. He had already asked Wellesley for authorization to leave, but the British government was reluctant to provoke the Spaniards further by exporting a revolutionary into their midst and the vessel sailed without him. Finally, on 3 October, he informed Wellesley that he was going anyway, and on 10 October, accompanied by Molini but without his family, he sailed on a packet boat and reached La Guaira on 11 December. Bolívar had paved the way for the Precursor. He brushed aside the social, political and personal prejudices of the creole elites against Miranda and helped to prepare public opinion to accept him, not only as a recruit to the cause but as a leader. He went down to La Guaira to meet Miranda, with other creoles, and orchestrated his welcome back to Caracas. The reception was mixed. The Precursor expected to be treated as the leader. But many Venezuelans regarded him as a foreigner and most of the revolutionaries saw him as an old man. In fact he was sixty. The royalist chronicler José Domingo Díaz could barely contain his outrage: ‘I saw Miranda enter in triumph, welcomed as a gift from heaven, with the hopes of the worst demagogues resting on him. He was about sixty–five years of age, serious looking, tirelessly loquacious, friendly towards the scum of the people, who were always ready to support his pretensions. He was a political sage to the young and wild, to moderates a danger to the state.’27

  Independence, Declared and Destroyed

  The early legislation of the junta was a model of liberal self–interest: it abolished export duties and the alcabala on essential consumer goods; it decreed freedom of trade; it ended the Indian tribute and proscribed the slave trade (though not slavery). The colonial audiencia was replaced by a high court of appeal, headed by the marqués de Casa León. It then held elections in all the towns under its rule, on a franchise restricted to adults (minimum age twenty–five) owning not less than two thousand pesos in movable property. The national congress met on 2 March 1811; thirty–one deputies from seven provinces, all from great landed families and the majority favouring the ‘autonomist’ position and the rights of Ferdinand VII. Congress replaced the junta by a new executive consisting of three rotating members, an advisory council and a high court. As colonial institutions collapsed, questions were asked of the colonial caste structure. The caste system generated tensions between its groups which threatened to destroy the traditional order in a holocaust of socio–racial violence. The pardos saw new opportunities for themselves: they participated in ‘popular assemblies’ associated with the early stages of the revolution, gatherings abhorred by the creoles. Pardos used the revolution to advance themselves and to penetrate various bastions of privilege, especially the army. The elite began to take notice and become alarmed.

  In London Bolívar had relied on Miranda. In Caracas Miranda had the support of Bolívar, and soon he had a constituency when his election to congress was arranged as representative for the minor province of Pao. These two were the leaders of a small radical group who stood for absolute independence. They operated from within the Sociedad Patriótica, an organization founded in August 1810 for ‘the development of agriculture and livestock’, but which soon transformed under the impetus of Bolívar into a political club and a pro–independence pressure group advocating a harder political and military policy, and controlling the Gaceta de Caracas as a mouthpiece in the press. Compared to these activists, the moderates looked like amateurs. The liberal lawyer Juan Germán Roscio, however, was convinced that the radicals of the Sociedad Patriótica were lightweight critics with rash ideas and that Miranda pursued extremist goals while more serious people were getting on with the task of governing.28 The membership of the society was almost as exclusive as that of congress itself, though the creoles made a gesture towards democracy by allowing a number of pardos to attend meetings. The fact is that the radicals no less than the conservatives stood primarily for the advancement of creole interests, but they believed that these could best be served by national independence.

  Bolívar himself, who caught the eye in any group through his strong personality, nervous energy and imperious gestures, took the lead in proclaiming this view in congress in the session of 4 July 1811, his penetrating voice matching the vigour of the words: ‘The Patriotic Society rightly respects the national congress; but equally congress ought to listen to the Patriotic Society, centre of enlightenment and of all revolutionary interests. Let us banish fear and lay the foundation stone of American liberty. To hesitate is to perish.’29 It was a seductive call. Independence was declared on 5 July and, amidst some resistance and repression, the first Venezuelan republic was born.30 Miranda unveiled its flag – yellow, blue and red. José Domingo Díaz recorded his disgust. And for Bolívar euphoria was tempered by the tragic loss of his brother, Juan Vicente, who did not live to see the new republic; sent to the United States on a mission similar to Bolívar’s in England, he died on the way home when his ship sank in a storm off Bermuda in August 1811. The republic had its enemies as well as its martyrs. There was a series of royalist outbreaks in 1811 and on 11 July a group of sixty Canarians rose in revolt in Los Teques. Poorly armed and organized, they were easily repressed, but the republic executed some sixteen of the rebels and displayed their heads in Caracas. The saintly Roscio approved of the executions, here and in Valencia: ‘Without spilling blood our rule would be weak and our independence unstable.’31

  The creole concept of the new society was revealed in the Constitution of December 1811, a constitution strongly influenced by that of the United States, with occasional deference to the French Declaration of the Rights of Man. Its authors, Juan Germán Roscio and Francisco Iznardi, also deferred to regional forces: just as Caracas asserted its independence from Spain, so did the provinces claim rights from Caracas, and the document allowed various gradations of autonomy, to the horror of Bolívar. The constitution was weak in executive power, and hierarchical in its social values.32 These had been first announced by congress in its declaration of the Derechos del Pueblo (1 July 1811): ‘Citizens shall be divided into two classes, those with right of suffrage and those without…. The latter are those who do not have the property qualifications specified by the constitution; these shall enjoy the benefit of the law without participating in its institution.’33 The elite were already setting the limits of freedom and equality.

  The supreme junta had already decreed (25 June 1811) that militia battalions of whites and blacks were to remain segregated, and the two senior officers of the black militia were to be white; and as in the colony, the black militia officers were still paid less. Now the republican government called the citizens to arms in a decree (13 July 1811) which still maintained racial segregation: they were to assemble for enlistment ‘in the Plaza Trinidad, the whites in front of the church, the blacks on the east side, the mulattos in the south’, while the slaves were ordered not to leave their masters’ homes except on government authority.34 The constitution, it is true, established ‘liberty, equality, property and security’. And it was egalitarian in the sense that it abolished all fueros (corporate rights) and a
ll legal expressions of socio–racial discrimination: ‘The old laws which imposed civil degradation on one part of the free population of Venezuela known hitherto as pardos are revoked and annulled in all their parts.’35 But legal inequality was replaced by a real inequality based on the franchise, which confined voting rights, and therefore full citizenship, to property–owners. To the pardos, therefore, there was an illusion of equality. And the slaves remained slaves. The constitution confirmed the suppression of the slave trade, yet preserved slavery. The new rulers, indeed, ordered the establishment of a ‘national guard for the apprehension of fugitive slaves; they shall patrol and search fields, haciendas, highlands and valleys; they shall enforce law and order among that sector of the population assigned to agricultural labour, preventing them from evading such labour through caprice, idleness, vices or other reasons prejudicial to the tranquillity and prosperity of the country.’36 The creole message was unmistakable, and it soon reached the blacks and pardos. Electoral disqualification and social barriers alerted them to the policy of the republicans and they looked for other ways forward.

  As independence simultaneously raised and frustrated expectations, so the blacks fought their own revolution, that ‘insurrección de otra especie’, another kind of insurrection, as a Spanish official described it. The royalists were quick to exploit the situation. The archbishop of Caracas instructed his clergy in the plantation areas to preach to the slaves the advantages of Spanish government compared to rule by landowners.37 Royalist agents moved through the coastal zone provoking and sustaining black insurrection. Creole leaders such as Bolívar were appalled by this ‘revolution of the blacks, free and slave, provoked and sustained by agents of Monteverde. This inhuman and atrocious people, feeding on the blood and property of the patriots, committed in those valleys, especially in the village of Guatire, the most horrible assassinations, robberies, violence and destruction.’38 The slaves, of course, were creatures of the society which bred or bought them, and they seem to have fought less for liberty than to enslave their masters; alternatively they massacred the whites and destroyed their property. This upsurge of racial violence alienated most creoles from the cause of abolition and many creoles from the cause of independence. The royalist ranks began to swell. The army of Miranda, which forced Valencia to surrender, was virtually all white; so it was obvious for the royalists to arm the pardos, and it set a significant precedent. The pardos also found a place in the royalist camp under the ‘popular’ caudillos. In June 1812 a violent pardo and slave rising in the Tuy valleys east of Caracas lost the republic many of its supporters, as they preferred to surrender to Monteverde than stay with Miranda.