by John Lynch
He then turned to the levers of political power. He was already president of the republic. Now he announced the kind of republic it would be – a republic of greater Colombia, formed from the union of New Granada and Venezuela. ‘The union of New Granada and Venezuela in one Republic is the ardent wish of all good citizens and all foreign friends of the American cause.’36 But he was aware that there might be resentment in New Granada against a perceived takeover by Venezuela, so he wanted a free and unanimous decision made in congress, and meanwhile he formed a provisional government for New Granada. On 20 September he appointed Santander, newly promoted to General of Division, at its head with the title of vice–president. A native of Cúcuta, son of a respectable creole family, product of a legal education and continuous service in the army, he had a good record, though in 1816 he had been rejected as leader by the llaneros in favour of Páez. He was a colleague, not a friend, distant from the Liberator’s ideal, and their relationship was edgy. At twenty–seven he was a severe, humourless and touchy man, with a strong interest in money and a streak of vindictive cruelty. According to o’Leary, if Bolívar was the greatest man the South American revolution produced, and Sucre the most perfect, Santander was ‘the most fortunate’.37 He owed most of his promotion to Bolívar, partly by being in the right place at the right time, partly because he was an efficient administrator. Bolívar treated him with respect, and Santander reported to Bolívar as ‘an obedient subject, impartial eulogist, loyal and accepted friend’.38 Now his organizing talent as well as his loyalty was desperately needed: his first task was to mobilize New Granada for the continental war effort; the ultimate duty was to create a new nation. With Santander, Bolívar had to take the rough with the smooth. He soon had an example.
Bolívar had moved on since war to the death, and he treated the prisoners taken at Boyacá generously; repentant Americans could join his army or go home; Barreiro and his officers were kept in prison but in reasonable conditions, and he made it clear to the Spanish authorities that he wanted an exchange of prisoners. But no sooner had he left the capital than Santander had Barreiro and thirty–eight of his comrades, some of them Americans, shot in the main square. His reasons, as given to Bolívar, were specious, alleging the risk to security, the demands of the populace and the crimes against compatriots committed by the prisoners. His covering letter was equally crass. ‘At last I had to get rid of Barreiro and his thirty–eight companions. The sparks of danger made me mad and nothing good could come from keeping them in prison…. The records are well fixed, but it is essential that your reply covers me for all time.’39 In fact he seems to have panicked and allowed his innate cruelty to get the better of his judgement. At midday on 11 October the prisoners were led four abreast across the square dragging their chains. Barreiro was ordered to kneel and was shot in the back; his comrades suffered the same fate, as Santander watched on horseback from the entrance to government house. The latter then led a parade, with triumphant music, through the streets of the capital and ended the celebration with a ball at the palace.
The atrocity was ill received by many republicans, in both New Granada and Venezuela, and it was seen as an act of folly or inhumanity. Reading between the lines of Bolívar’s response we can see a reproach but not a reprimand: ‘I hear with regret the perfidious behaviour of our war prisoners which has forced Your Excellency to have them executed when we were negotiating for an exchange…. Our enemies will not believe truly that our severity is an act of justice and not a reprisal and a gratuitous vengeance. But be that as it may, I thank Your Excellency for your zeal and activity in trying to save the Republic with that painful measure. Our reputation will certainly suffer.’ Zea did not doubt it: ‘The untimely reprisals of our good friend Santander have done us a lot of harm.’40 Santander compounded his cruelty with hypocrisy, subsequently praising Bolívar’s ‘excessive’ generosity to Spanish prisoners and resistance to the army’s clamour for reprisals against royalist officers: ‘The general insisted that they be treated decently and where possible he proposed an exchange of prisoners.’41
Tensions after Triumph
Bolívar took his leave of Bogotá on 20 September to resume command of the army, now gathering at Cúcuta. His route through the towns of Tunja, Leiva, Vélez, Socorro, San Gil, Bucaramanga and Pamplona became another triumphant procession of cheering crowds, votes of gratitude, floral tributes and young girls pressing laurels on his head, and also an opportunity to take stock of the situation. Then came two blows. Shortly after leaving Pamplona, news of the sudden and unaccountable death of General Anzoátegui, so recently his vigorous and trusted lieutenant in the north, affected him deeply as well as forcing him to readjust his command structure. A naturally gloomy man, Anzoátegui had been anxious to return home on leave, pining for his wife Teresa and two children, one a newly born he had never seen. His campaign friends were disconsolate. As for Bolívar, news from Angostura revived fears of insubordination and factions seeking to undermine his position, and he decided his presence was needed there. With tragedy behind and trouble ahead, the road to Angostura was not a triumph.
While Bolívar had loyal officers in his army, good colleagues in government, and trusted friends everywhere, he also had personal enemies who resented his policies and criticized his strategies, not necessarily on their merits but because they emanated from him, and he only needed to slacken the reins of control for opponents to emerge. His absence from Angostura gave such people space to operate, for caudillos to reach again for freedom and politicians for power. His enemies called the invasion of New Granada an abandonment of the interests of Venezuela, and some tried to force congress to declare him a deserter and an outlaw. In the east the caudillos were rearing their heads again. While Bolívar was on campaign, they were engaged in smaller operations, not always successful and rarely in agreement among themselves. Páez ignored specific instructions from Bolívar to move toward Cúcuta and cut the enemy communications with Venezuela.42 Mariño failed to link up with Bermúdez. Urdaneta was obliged to arrest Arismendi for insubordination. And the caudillos now vented their hostility not directly on Bolívar but on the government in Angostura, especially the vice–president, Zea, who was civilian, a New Granadan, and a political moderate, qualities held in little respect by Venezuelan caudillos.43 They forced Zea to resign, congress elected Arismendi in his place, and he in turn appointed Mariño general–in–chief, based at Maturín.
Thus in the course of September 1819, while Bolívar was receiving plaudits from New Granadan civilians, the military caudillos staged a comeback, expressing and exploiting Venezuelan nationalism in a way that was a warning for the future. But their victory was only temporary, for the news of Boyacá was already undermining the rebellion. Bolívar landed at Angostura on 11 December, and although it was three o’clock in the morning he was welcomed to cries of ‘Viva Bolívar’ and backslapping from the people, official respect and congratulations from the authorities, and firing of salvos from the riverboats. A congressional commission later went to his residence with a military band to escort him to the presidential seat.44 Magnanimity was his method for dealing with the rebels; he was now powerful enough to forgive, if not to forget, and to post Arismendi and Bermúdez to military commands in the east. His glory was complete, politically as well as militarily.
He was now in a position to elaborate his constitutional ideas. ‘The union of New Granada and Venezuela has been my only object since I first took up arms,’ he told congress. ‘Decree the political union of the two states and you will have fulfilled my most cherished desire and amply rewarded the army for its services.’45 The project was seriously debated in two sessions, and by the Fundamental Law of 17 December 1819 the congress of Angostura formally created the Republic of Colombia, the name in honour of Christopher Columbus, the new state a union of the departments of Venezuela (formerly the captaincy–general of Venezuela), New Granada (formerly the viceroyalty of New Granada) and Quito (formerly the presidency of Quito), the
latter still to be liberated. It was a bold project, which only the leadership and authority of Bolívar could have carried, but he was determined to procure it, because he believed that the revolution needed a large state, for the sake of its identity, its international status and his own power. Santander welcomed the union of the two peoples as an incalculable advantage, recognized Bolívar as the sole author and sent him his congratulations.46 Bolívar did not need reminding that the project was ‘illegal’ and needed constitutional acceptance in New Granada, or Cundinamarca, as it was now called. He agreed with the decision of the congress of Angostura to convoke a constituent congress for this purpose, to meet in Cúcuta on 1 January 1821. No one thought of asking Venezuelans, New Granadans or quiteños whether they thought of themselves as Colombians.
Bolívar won election, without difficulty, as de facto president of Colombia, or Liberator President as congress insisted on a calling him, and Zea as vice–president. His next task was to end the war in Venezuela and prepare for a post–war settlement. Angostura had been a valuable base for the Liberator, but it was still full of political troublemakers and certainly not the place from which to conduct a continental war effort. At long distance he set in motion a number of strategic initiatives, in the north along the Caribbean coast and the lower Magdalena, and in the south towards Popayán, relying on subordinate commanders and local patriots. He instructed Padilla and Brión on maritime strategy. He kept his eye on Páez. And he showed his skill in talent spotting, promoting an accomplished administrator, Rafael Revenga, as minister of state. But the war needed his closer presence and authority.
In early March 1820 he returned to Bogotá, where he found the citizens still supportive and Santander preoccupied with war taxes and their impact. He then made a tour northward and based himself in the region of Cúcuta on the border between New Granada and Venezuela, where he enjoyed a welcome break between campaigns. o’Leary, who became an aide–de–camp to Bolívar about this time, observed his daily routine there.47 He rose at six, inspected the horses in the stables, returned to his room, read until nine and then had breakfast. The rest of the morning was spent dealing with official business, listening to reports from his minister of war, private secretary and chief of staff, and dictating answers to letters in direct and concise language, striding up and down or seated in his hammock. His range and decisions were masterly: foreign affairs, recruitment, rifles, taxes, advice for his vice–presidents, arrangements for the constituent congress and always the next military moves. But his public image of confidence masked a cool, even cynical, awareness of the social obstacles to progress in Colombia, the failure of people to conform to the ideals he set out in his great speeches, the bad faith and worse behaviour among citizens, criticism and opposition from malcontents, envy and hatred from his enemies. In such a mood he wrote to Santander: ‘The Spaniards have inspired terror in our national spirit. The more I think of it the more I am convinced that neither liberty, nor laws, nor the most brilliant enlightenment will make us law–abiding people, much less republicans and true patriots. Friend, we do not have blood in our veins but vice mixed with fear and error. What civic virtues!’48
But life was not all ‘political philosophy’, as he described outbursts of this kind. Amidst the public duties his thoughts strayed to women, the details embedded in the correspondence. He still hankered after Bernardina Ibañez and was irritated by her relationship with Ambrosio Plaza, wondering perhaps why she was wasting her time on the colonel when she could have the general, or more likely just anxious to press his suit. He asked Santander to have a word with her and let her know that ‘I am tired of writing without any reply. Tell her that I too am single and like her more than does Plaza, for I have never been unfaithful.’ The reply was not promising: ‘she has hopes in Plaza and no hopes in the others, including you. Affairs of the heart are difficult to manage from a distance.’49 Evidently she lingered in Bolívar’s memory, but she was reluctant to give herself to a distant lover with a record of infidelity and a future in high power, and preferred the commitment of Plaza.
During business he thought and spoke rapidly, and expected his secretary to keep up with the flow – and accurately. His opinions of correspondents were not always for sending, and some he kept to himself. Santander had to be handled carefully and on an issue such as the liberation of slaves, to which Bolívar was dedicated, subjected to strong argument.50 Páez was still awkward and had to be instructed in the duty of deference. Much of the business concerned petitions from officers and others wanting this and that. Some of the answers were amusing. ‘Half of what he says is not true, but he is a good officer, so give him his promotion.’ To one supplicant, a priest who had always been hostile to the cause of independence, he replied, Ask the king’. To a doctor who had exploited the anarchy in Bogotá between Sámano’s flight and Bolívar’s arrival to plunder some warehouses, and now asked for appointment as staff doctor with the rank of lieutenant colonel, he wrote in the margin of the petition, ‘Be satisfied with what you have stolen’. In the afternoon he read until five and then took dinner. He was not averse to good meals and fine wines but at this time money was short and so were his rations, down to the simple fare of meat and vegetables, and water the only drink. After dinner he rode for a while with his aide or secretary, then conversed with his friends and visitors; in private, others noted, his conversation took on a mocking tone, and the sardonic remark was never far from his lips. He retired to his bedroom at nine. There, reclining in his hammock he read until eleven; in this period Montesquieu and Rousseau were his authors of choice and history his favourite subject. He also wrote articles for newspapers in Angostura or Bogotá.
Colonel Briceño Méndez, then minister of war, ‘an intelligent, well–bred, and good–natured man’, was close to him at this time, his calm and modest manner contrasting sharply with the fiery disposition of the Liberator, and known for his utter loyalty and lack of personal ambition. Colonel Bartolomé Salom, chief–of–staff, was another close and dependable colleague, a tireless worker for the Liberator, for whom nothing was too much trouble, and who asked and expected nothing for himself. Elsewhere o’Leary recorded other habits of the Liberator. He used to shave with both hands and so quickly that onlookers were afraid, though he kept up a conversation with them. He was also careless with firearms. He was a bad shot and would fire pistols carelessly in any direction without much regard for those nearby.51
In April and May, from San Cristóbal, Bolívar surveyed frontier defences and republican resources. He saw that in spite of the advance of liberation he could still not assemble enough troops and arms to fight a decisive war; Páez would not operate out of the llanos; and republican soldiers deserted in droves for lack of pay and food in a country that could not support them. Morillo, too, had his problems. He knew he had lost New Granada, his best division was crushed and his government in retreat. He continued to dominate Caracas and the coastal highlands, but amidst an economy in ruins he despaired, reporting, ‘The people of this country are tired of war and disasters, and they will make the utmost effort to rally round the revolutionary government which is the one they want and the cause they love.’52 At this point the Spanish commander, still reeling from the impact of Boyacá, was dealt a second blow and Bolívar received the boost he needed.
The Spanish liberal revolution of 1 January 1820, led by Colonel Rafael Riego and sanctioned by the army in Cadiz, anxious to avoid service in America, forced Ferdinand VII to abandon absolutism and accept the Constitution of 1812. The move deprived Morillo of reinforcements, weakened his absolute military authority and subverted his political position; he was ordered to negotiate with the patriots, offering peace on the basis of recognizing a constitutional government in Spain. The Spaniards, shackled by constitutional restraints and split between liberals and absolutists, soon found that Bolívar, victorious general, head of state and hero of liberated peoples, was no longer a rebel on the run but a tough negotiator, determined to make the most
of his newly acquired superiority. ‘It is the height of madness, and moreover ridiculous, to suggest that the republic of Colombia should submit itself to Spain. Do you believe that old and corrupt Spain can still dominate the New World?’ he asked the Spaniards. And to Soublette he confided, ‘They have everything to lose and nothing to gain. We have nothing to lose and want everything they possess: … So we must offer only peace in return for Independence.’53 He had to prevent the Spaniards from picking off republicans with false promises, and so he ordered all his subordinates, especially Páez, not to treat with agents of Morillo, for he was determined to keep the negotiations in his own hands and under his sole control. Meanwhile he manipulated the Spaniards while he won further ground. The caudillos were making some gains in the east. He himself was consolidating his position at Cúcuta and linking up with republican forces on the lower Magdalena. Cartagena was under siege by land and sea, and on the point of falling. The Indian caudillo, Juan de los Reyes Vargas deserted with his guerrilla band from the royalist side and became a valuable addition to the republican forces with the rank of colonel. By August Bolívar could negotiate with Morillo from a position of strength, but still he did not hurry. In October he was in Trujillo and ready to talk, but Morillo had his own reason for delay: to move up troops to back his negotiating position. Agreement was finally reached and commissioners signed a six–month armistice treaty on 25 November, each side agreeing to remain in the territory they then occupied and not to engage in offensive action. Humane rules of war and conditions for prisoners were agreed. Morillo wanted to greet Bolívar and the two leaders met on 27 November in Santa Ana, a village some nine miles north east of Trujillo. When o’Leary pointed out Bolívar to Morillo, the Spaniard asked, ‘What, that little man in the blue frock–coat and forage cap riding a mule?’54 They jumped to the ground and embraced, retired with their attendants to a meal prepared by the Spaniards, and the company spent the rest of the day celebrating and exchanging campaign stories. Years later Bolívar recalled that ‘neither Morillo nor I were really taken in by these exchanges, conventional in style for negotiators’. But for the moment, ever generous of heart, he was moved to a new respect for his former enemies, ‘now my new friends’.55 He took to Morillo and his Spanish colleagues, accepted their liberal sentiments and expressions of admiration at face value, responded to their toasts to Colombian independence and was convinced that none of them wanted to continue the war. Morillo was moved that ‘those who had previously been destined to mutual extermination for the first time saw themselves not merely as men but also as friends’.56 Years later, in 1835, o’Leary and Soublette visited Morillo in La Coruña: ‘When he heard that I was writing the life of his old rival, of whom he was a great admirer, he gave me many documents taken by the royalists on the battlefields of Venezuela.’57