The restoration of Ferdinand VII to his throne in 1814 encouraged the
liberals of Spain, no less than the loyalists of Spanish America, to
hope that the "old King" would now grant a new dispensation. Freedom of
commerce and a fair measure of popular representation in government, it
was believed, would compensate both the mother country for the suffering
which it had undergone during the Peninsular War and the colonies for
the trials to which loyalty had been subjected. But Ferdinand VII was
a typical Bourbon. Nothing less than an absolute reestablishment of
the earlier regime would satisfy him. On both sides of the Atlantic,
therefore, the liberals were forced into opposition to the crown,
although they were so far apart that they could not cooperate with each
other. Independence was to be the fortune of the Spanish Americans, and
a continuance of despotism, for a while, the lot of the Spaniards.
As the region of the viceroyalty of La Plata had been the first to
cast off the authority of the home government, so it was the first to
complete its separation from Spain. Despite the fact that disorder was
rampant everywhere and that most of the local districts could not or
would not send deputies, a congress that assembled at Tucuman voted
on July 9, 1816, to declare the "United Provinces in South America"
independent. Comprehensive though the expression was, it applied only to
the central part of the former viceroyalty, and even there it was little
more than an aspiration. Mistrust of the authorities at Buenos Aires,
insistence upon provincial autonomy, failure to agree upon a particular
kind of republican government, and a lingering inclination to monarchy
made progress toward national unity impossible. In 1819, to be sure, a
constitution was adopted, providing for a centralized government, but in
the country at large it encountered too much resistance from those who
favored a federal government to become effective.
In the Banda Oriental, over most of which Artigas and his horsemen
held sway, chaotic conditions invited aggression from the direction of
Brazil. This East Bank of the Uruguay had long been disputed territory
between Spain and Portugal; and now its definite acquisition by the
latter seemed an easy undertaking. Instead, however, the task turned out
to be a truly formidable one. Montevideo, feebly defended by the forces
of the Government at Buenos Aires, soon capitulated, but four years
elapsed before the rest of the country could be subdued. Artigas fled to
Paraguay, where he fell into the clutches of Francia, never to escape.
In 1821 the Banda Oriental was annexed to Brazil as the Cisplatine
Province.
Over Paraguay that grim and somber potentate, known as "The Supreme
One"--El Supremo--presided with iron hand. In 1817 Francia set up a
despotism unique in the annals of South America. Fearful lest contact
with the outer world might weaken his tenacious grip upon his subjects,
whom he terrorized into obedience, he barred approach to the country and
suffered no one to leave it. He organized and drilled an army obedient
to his will.. When he went forth by day, attended by an escort of
cavalry, the doors and windows of houses had to be kept closed and
no one was allowed on the streets. Night he spent till a late hour
in reading and study, changing his bedroom frequently to avoid
assassination. Religious functions that might disturb the public peace
he forbade. Compelling the bishop of Asuncion to resign on account of
senile debility, Francia himself assumed the episcopal office. Even
intermarriage among the old colonial families he prohibited, so as to
reduce all to a common social level. He attained his object. Paraguay
became a quiet state, whatever might be said of its neighbors!
Elsewhere in southern Spanish America a brilliant feat of arms brought
to the fore its most distinguished soldier. This was Jose de San Martin
of La Plata. Like Miranda, he had been an officer in the Spanish army
and had returned to his native land an ardent apostle of independence.
Quick to realize the fact that, so long as Chile remained under royalist
control, the possibility of an attack from that quarter was a constant
menace to the safety of the newly constituted republic, he conceived
the bold plan of organizing near the western frontier an army--composed
partly of Chilean refugees and partly of his own countrymen--with which
he proposed to cross the Andes and meet the enemy on his own ground.
Among these fugitives was the able and valiant Bernardo O'Higgins,
son of an Irish officer who had been viceroy of Peru. Cooperating with
O'Higgins, San Martin fixed his headquarters at Mendoza and began to
gather and train the four thousand men whom he judged needful for the
enterprise.
By January, 1817, the "Army of the Andes" was ready. To cross the
mountains meant to transport men, horses, artillery, and stores to an
altitude of thirteen thousand feet, where the Uspallata Pass afforded
an outlet to Chilean soil. This pass was nearly a mile higher than
the Great St. Bernard in the Alps, the crossing of which gave Napoleon
Bonaparte such renown. On the 12th of February the hosts of San Martin
hurled themselves upon the royalists entrenched on the slopes of
Chacabuco and routed them utterly. The battle proved decisive not of the
fortunes of Chile alone but of those of all Spanish South America. As a
viceroy of Peru later confessed, "it marked the moment when the cause of
Spain in the Indies began to recede."
Named supreme director by the people of Santiago, O'Higgins fought
vigorously though ineffectually to drive out the royalists who,
reinforced from Peru, held the region south of the capital. That
he failed did not deter him from having a vote taken under military
auspices, on the strength of which, on February 12, 1818, he declared
Chile an independent nation, the date of the proclamation being changed
to the 1st of January, so as to make the inauguration of the new era
coincident with the entry of the new year. San Martin, meanwhile, had
been collecting reinforcements with which to strike the final blow. On
the 5th of April, the Battle of Maipo gave him the victory he desired.
Except for a few isolated points to the southward, the power of Spain
had fallen.
Until the fall of Napoleon in 1815 it had been the native loyalists who
had supported the cause of the mother country in the Spanish dominions.
Henceforth, free from the menace of the European dictator, Spain
could look to her affairs in America, and during the next three years
dispatched twenty-five thousand men to bring the colonies to obedience.
These soldiers began their task in the northern part of South America,
and there they ended it--in failure. To this failure the defection of
native royalists contributed, for they were alienated not so much by the
presence of the Spanish troops as by the often merciless severity that
marked their conduct. The atrocities may have been provoked by the
behavior of their opponents; but, be this as it may, the patriots gained
recruits after each victory.
A Spanish army of more than ten thousand, under the command of Pablo
Morillo, arrived in Venezuela in April, 1815. He found the province
relatively tranquil and even disposed to welcome the full restoration
of royal government. Leaving a garrison sufficient for the purpose
of military occupation, Morillo sailed for Cartagena, the key to
New Granada. Besieged by land and sea, the inhabitants of the town
maintained for upwards of three months a resistance which, in its
heroism, privation, and sacrifice, recalled the memorable defense of
Saragossa in the mother country against the French seven years before.
With Cartagena taken, regulars and loyalists united to stamp out the
rebellion elsewhere. At Bogoth, in particular, the new Spanish viceroy
installed by Morillo waged a savage war on all suspected of aiding the
patriot cause. He did not spare even women, and one of his victims was a
young heroine, Policarpa Salavarrieta by name. Though for her execution
three thousand soldiers were detailed, the girl was unterrified by her
doom and was earnestly beseeching the loyalists among them to turn their
arms against the enemies of their country when a volley stretched her
lifeless on the ground.
Meanwhile Bolivar had been fitting out, in Haiti and in the Dutch island
of Curacao, an expedition to take up anew the work of freeing Venezuela.
Hardly had the Liberator landed in May, 1816, when dissensions with his
fellow officers frustrated any prospect of success. Indeed they obliged
him to seek refuge once more in Haiti. Eventually, however, most of the
patriot leaders became convinced that, if they were to entertain a
hope of success, they must entrust their fortunes to Bolivar as supreme
commander. Their chances of success were increased furthermore by
the support of the llaneros who had been won over to the cause of
independence. Under their redoubtable chieftain, Jose Antonio Paez,
these fierce and ruthless horsemen performed many a feat of valor in the
campaigns which followed.
Once again on Venezuelan soil, Bolivar determined to transfer his
operations to the eastern part of the country, which seemed to offer
better strategic advantages than the region about Caracas. But even here
the jealousy of his officers, the insubordination of the free lances,
the stubborn resistance of the loyalists--upheld by the wealthy and
conservative classes and the able generalship of Morillo, who had
returned from New Granada--made the situation of the Liberator all
through 1817 and 1818 extremely precarious. Happily for his fading
fortunes, his hands were strengthened from abroad. The United States had
recognized the belligerency of several of the revolutionary governments
in South America and had sent diplomatic agents to them. Great Britain
had blocked every attempt of Ferdinand VII to obtain help from the Holy
Alliance in reconquering his dominions. And Ferdinand had contributed
to his own undoing by failing to heed the urgent requests of Morillo for
reinforcements to fill his dwindling ranks. More decisive still were
the services of some five thousand British, Irish, French, and German
volunteers, who were often the mainstay of Bolivar and his lieutenants
during the later phases of the struggle, both in Venezuela and
elsewhere.
For some time the Liberator had been evolving a plan of attack upon the
royalists in New Granada, similar to the offensive campaign which San
Martin had conducted in Chile. More than that, he had conceived the
idea, once independence had been attained, of uniting the western part
of the viceroyalty with Venezuela into a single republic. The latter
plan he laid down before a Congress which assembled at Angostura in
February, 1819, and which promptly chose him President of the republic
and vested him with the powers of dictator. In June, at the head of 2100
men, he started on his perilous journey over the Andes.
Up through the passes and across bleak plateaus the little army
struggled till it reached the banks of the rivulet of Boyaca, in the
very heart of New Granada. Here, on the 7th of August, Bolivar inflicted
on the royalist forces a tremendous defeat that gave the deathblow to
the domination of Spain in northern South America. On his triumphal
return to Angostura, the Congress signalized the victory by declaring
the whole of the viceroyalty an independent state under the name of
the "Republic of Colombia" and chose the Liberator as its provisional
President. Two years later, a fundamental law it had adopted was
ratified with certain changes by another Congress assembled at Rosario
de Cucuta, and Bolivar was made permanent President.
Southward of Colombia lay the viceroyalty of Peru, the oldest, richest,
and most conservative of the larger Spanish dominions on the continent.
Intact, except for the loss of Chile, it had found territorial
compensation by stretching its power over the provinces of Quito and
Charcas, the one wrenched off from the former New Granada, the other
torn away from what had been La Plata. Predominantly royalist
in sentiment, it was like a huge wedge thrust in between the two
independent areas. By thus cutting off the patriots of the north from
their comrades in the south, it threatened both with destruction of
their liberty.
Again fortune intervened from abroad, this time directly from Spain
itself. Ferdinand VII, who had gathered an army of twenty thousand men
at Cadiz, was ready to deliver a crushing blow at the colonies when in
January, 1890, a mutiny among the troops and revolution throughout the
country entirely frustrated the plan. But although that reactionary
monarch was compelled to accept the Constitution of 1819, the Spanish
liberals were unwilling to concede to their fellows in America anything
more substantial than representation in the Cortes. Independence they
would not tolerate. On the other hand, the example of the mother country
in arms against its King in the name of liberty could not fail to give
heart to the cause of liberation in the provinces oversea and to hasten
its achievement.
The first important efforts to profit by this situation were made by the
patriots in Chile. Both San Martin and O'Higgins had perceived that the
only effective way to eliminate the Peruvian wedge was to gain control
of its approaches by sea. The Chileans had already won some success
in this direction when the fiery and imperious Scotch sailor, Thomas
Cochrane, Earl of Dundonald, appeared on the scene and offered to
organize a navy. At length a squadron was put under his command. With
upwards of four thousand troops in charge of San Martin the expedition
set sail for Peru late in August, 1820.
While Cochrane busied himself in destroying the Spanish blockade, his
comrade in arms marched up to the very gates of Lima, the capital, and
everywhere aroused enthusiasm for emancipation. When negotiations, which
had been begun by the viceroy and continued by a special commissioner
from Spain, failed to swerve the patriot leader from his demand for a
recognition of independence, the royalists decided to evacuate the town
and to withdraw into the mountainous region of the interior. San Martin,
thereupon, entered the capital at the head of his army of liberation and
summoned the inhabitants to a town meeting at which they might determine
for themselves what action should be taken. The result was easily
foreseen. On July 28, 1821, Peru was declared independent, and a few
days later San Martin was invested with supreme command under the title
of "Protector."
But the triumph of the new Protector did not last long. For some reason
he failed to understand that the withdrawal of the royalists from the
neighborhood of the coast was merely a strategic retreat that made the
occupation of the capital a more or less empty performance. This blunder
and a variety of other mishaps proved destined to blight his military
career. Unfortunate in the choice of his subordinates and unable to
retain their confidence; accused of irresolution and even of cowardice;
abandoned by Cochrane, who sailed off to Chile and left the army
stranded; incapable of restraining his soldiers from indulgence in
the pleasures of Lima; now severe, now lax in an administration that
alienated the sympathies of the influential class, San Martin was indeed
an unhappy figure. It soon became clear that he must abandon all hope of
ever conquering the citadel of Spanish power in South America unless he
could prevail upon Bolivar to help him.
A junction of the forces of the two great leaders was perfectly
feasible, after the last important foothold of the Spaniards on the
coast of Venezuela had been broken by the Battle of Carabobo, on July
24, 1821. Whether such a union would be made, however, depended upon two
things: the ultimate disposition of the province of Quito, lying
between Colombia and Peru, and the attitude which Bolivar and San Martin
themselves should assume toward each other. A revolution of the previous
year at the seaport town of Guayaquil in that province had installed
an independent government which besought the Liberator to sustain its
existence. Prompt to avail himself of so auspicious an opportunity of
uniting this former division of the viceroyalty of New Granada to his
republic of Colombia, Bolivar appointed Antonio Jose de Sucre, his
ablest lieutenant and probably the most efficient of all Spanish
American soldiers of the time, to assume charge of the campaign. On his
arrival at Guayaquil, this officer found the inhabitants at odds among
themselves. Some, hearkening to the pleas of an agent of San Martin,
favored union with Peru; others, yielding to the arguments of a
representative of Bolivar, urged annexation to Colombia; still
others regarded absolute independence as most desirable. Under these
circumstances Sucre for a while made little headway against the
royalists concentrated in the mountainous parts of the country despite
the partial support he received from troops which were sent by the
southern commander. At length, on May 24, 1822, scaling the flanks of
the volcano of Pichincha, near the capital town of Quito itself, he
delivered the blow for freedom. Here Bolivar, who had fought his way
overland amid tremendous difficulties, joined him and started for
Guayaquil, where he and San Martin were to hold their memorable
interview.
No characters in Spanish American history have called forth so much
controversy about their respective merits and demerits as these two
heroes of independence--Bolivar and San Martin. Even now it seems quite
impossible to obtain from the admirers of either an opinion that does
full justice to both; and foreigners who venture to pass judgment are
almost certain to provoke criticism from one set of partisans or the
other. Both Bolivar and San Martin were sons of country gentlemen,
aristocratic by lineage and devoted to the cause of independence.
Bolivar was alert, dauntless, brilliant, impetuous, vehemently
patriotic, and yet often capricious, domineering, vain, ostentatious,
and disdainful of moral considerations--a masterful man, fertile in
intellect, fluent in speech and with pen, an inspiring leader and one
born to command in state and army. Quite as earnest, equally courageous,
and upholding in private life a higher standard of morals, San Martin
was relatively calm, cautious, almost taciturn in manner, and slower in
thought and action. He was primarily a soldier, fitted to organize
and conduct expeditions, rather than, a man endowed with that supreme
confidence in himself which brings enthusiasm, affection, and loyalty in
its train.
When San Martin arrived at Guayaquil, late in July, 1822, his hope of
annexing the province of Quito to Peru was rudely shattered by the news
that Bolivar had already declared it a part of Colombia. Though it was
outwardly cordial and even effusive, the meeting of the two men held out
no prospect of accord. In an interchange of views which lasted but a
few hours, mutual suspicion, jealousy, and resentment prevented their
reaching an effective understanding. The Protector, it would seem,
thought the Liberator actuated by a boundless ambition that would not
endure resistance. Bolivar fancied San Martin a crafty schemer plotting
for his own advancement. They failed to agree on the three fundamental
points essential to their further cooperation. Bolivar declined to give
up the province of Quito. He refused also to send an army into Peru
unless he could command it in person, and then he declined to undertake
the expedition on the ground that as President of Colombia he ought
not to leave the territory of the republic. Divining this pretext, San
Martin offered to serve under his orders--a feint that Bolivar parried
by protesting that he would not hear of any such self-denial on the part
of a brother officer.
Above all, the two men differed about the political form to be adopted
for the new independent states. Both of them realized that anything like
genuine democracies was quite impossible of attainment for many years
to come, and that strong administrations would be needful to tide the
Spanish Americans over from the political inexperience of colonial days
and the disorders of revolution to intelligent self-government, which
could come only after a practical acquaintance with public concerns on
a large scale. San Martin believed that a limited monarchy was the best
form of government under the circumstances. Bolivar held fast to the
idea of a centralized or unitary republic, in which actual power should
be exercised by a life president and an hereditary senate until the
people, represented in a lower house, should have gained a sufficient
amount of political experience.
When San Martin returned to Lima he found affairs in a worse state than
ever. The tyrannical conduct of the officer he had left in charge had
provoked an uprising that made his position insupportable. Conscious
that his mission had come to an end and certain that, unless he gave
way, a collision with Bolivar was inevitable, San Martin resolved to
sacrifice himself lest harm befall the common cause in which both had
done such yeoman service. Accordingly he resigned his power into the
hands of a constituent congress and left the country. But when he found
that no happier fortune awaited him in Chile and in his own native
land, San Martin decided to abandon Spanish America forever and go into
selfimposed exile. Broken in health and spirit, he took up his residence
in France, a recipient of bounty from a Spaniard who had once been his
comrade in arms.
Meanwhile in the Mexican part of the viceroyalty of New Spain the cry
of independence raised by Morelos and his bands of Indian followers had
been stifled by the capture and execution of the leader. But the cause
of independence was not dead even if its achievement was to be entrusted
to other hands. Eager to emulate the example of their brethren in South
America, small parties of Spaniards and Creoles fought to overturn
the despotic rule of Ferdinand VII, only to encounter defeat from the
royalists. Then came the Revolution of 1820 in the mother country.
Forthwith demands were heard for a recognition of the liberal regime.
Fearful of being displaced from power, the viceroy with the support of
the clergy and aristocracy ordered Agustin de Iturbide, a Creole
officer who had been an active royalist, to quell an insurrection in the
southern part of the country.
The choice of this soldier was unfortunate. Personally ambitious and
cherishing in secret the thought of independence, Iturbide, faithless
to his trust, entered into negotiations with the insurgents which
culminated February 24, 1821, in what was called the "Plan of Iguala."
It contained three main provisions, or "guarantees," as they were
termed: the maintenance of the Catholic religion to the exclusion of
all others; the establishment of a constitutional monarchy separate from
Spain and ruled by Ferdinand himself, or, if he declined the honor,
by some other European prince; and the union of Mexicans and Spaniards
without distinction of caste or privilege. A temporary government also,
in the form of a junta presided over by the viceroy, was to be created;
and provision was made for the organization of an "Army of the Three
Guarantees."
Despite opposition from the royalists, the plan won increasing favor.
Powerless to thwart it and inclined besides to a policy of conciliation,
the new viceroy, Juan O'Donoju, agreed to ratify it on condition--in
obedience to a suggestion from Iturbide--that the parties concerned
should be at liberty, if they desired, to choose any one as emperor,
whether he were of a reigning family or not. Thereupon, on the 28th of
September, the provisional government installed at the city of Mexico
announced the consummation of an "enterprise rendered eternally
memorable, which a genius beyond all admiration and eulogy, love and
glory of his country, began at Iguala, prosecuted and carried into
effect, overcoming obstacles almost insuparable"--and declared the
independence of a "Mexican Empire." The act was followed by the
appointment of a regency to govern until the accession of Ferdinand VII,
or some other personage, to the imperial throne. Of this body Iturbide
assumed the presidency, which carried with it the powers of commander in
chief and a salary of 120,000 pesos, paid from the day on which the Plan
of Iguala was signed. O'Donoju contented himself with membership on the
board and a salary of one-twelfth that amount, until his speedy demise
removed from the scene the last of the Spanish viceroys in North
America.
One step more was needed. Learning that the Cortes in Spain had rejected
the entire scheme, Iturbide allowed his soldiers to acclaim him emperor,
and an unwilling Congress saw itself obliged to ratify the choice. On
July 21, 1822, the destinies of the country were committed to the charge
of Agustin the First.
As in the area of Mexico proper, so in the Central American part of the
viceroyalty of New Spain, the Spanish Revolution of 1820 had unexpected
results. Here in the five little provinces composing the captaincy
general of Guatemala there was much unrest, but nothing of a serious
nature occurred until after news had been brought of the Plan of Iguala
and its immediate outcome. Thereupon a popular assembly met at the
capital town of Guatemala, and on September 15, 1821, declared the
country an independent state. This radical act accomplished, the patriot
leaders were unable to proceed further. Demands for the establishment
of a federation, for a recognition of local autonomy, for annexation to
Mexico, were all heard, and none, except the last, was answered. While
the "Imperialists" and "Republicans" were arguing it out, a message
from Emperor Agustin announced that he would not allow the new state
to remain independent. On submission of the matter to a vote of the
cabildos, most of them approved reunion with the northern neighbor.
Salvador alone among the provinces held out until troops from Mexico
overcame its resistance.
On the continents of America, Spain had now lost nearly all its its
possessions. In 1822 the United States had already acquired East Florida
on its own account, led off in recognizing the independence of the
several republics. Only in Peru and Charcas the royalists still battled
on behalf of the mother country. In the West Indies, Santo Domingo
followed the lead of its sister colonies on the mainland by asserting in
1821 its independence; but its brief independent life was snuffed out
by the negroes of Haiti, once more a republic, who spread their control
over the entire island. Cuba also felt the impulse of the times. But,
apart from the agitation of secret societies like the "Rays and Suns of
Bolivar," which was soon checked, the colony remained tranquil.
In Portuguese America the knowledge of what had occurred throughout the
Spanish dominions could not fail to awaken a desire for independence.
The Prince Regent was well aware of the discontent of the Brazilians,
but he thought to allay it by substantial concessions. In 1815 he
proceeded to elevate the colony to substantial equality with the mother
country by joining them under the title of "United Kingdom of Portugal,
Brazil, and the Algarves." The next year the Prince Regent himself
became King under the name of John IV. The flame of discontent,
nevertheless, continued to smolder. Republican outbreaks, though quelled
without much difficulty, recurred. Even the reforms which had been
instituted by John himself while Regent, and which had assured freer
communication with the world at large, only emphasized more and more the
absurdity of permitting a feeble little land like Portugal to retain its
hold upon a region so extensive and valuable as Brazil.
The events of 1820 in Portugal hastened the movement toward
independence. Fired by the success of their Spanish comrades, the
Portuguese liberals forthwith rose in revolt, demanded the establishment
of a limited monarchy, and insisted that the King return to his people.
In similar fashion, also, they drew up a constitution which provided for
the representation of Brazil by deputies in a future Cortes. Beyond this
they would concede no special privileges to the colony. Indeed their
idea seems to have been that, with the King once more in Lisbon, their
own liberties would be secure and those of Brazil would be reduced to
what were befitting a mere dependency. Yielding to the inevitable, the
King decided to return to Portugal, leaving the young Crown Prince to
act as Regent in the colony. A critical moment for the little country
and its big dominion oversea had indubitably arrived. John understood
the trend of the times, for on the eve of his departure he said to his
son: "Pedro, if Brazil is to separate itself from Portugal, as seems
likely, you take the crown yourself before any one else gets it!"
Pedro was liberal in sentiment, popular among the Brazilians, and
well-disposed toward the aspirations of the country for a larger
measure of freedom, and yet not blind to the interests of the dynasty of
Braganza. He readily listened to the urgent pleas of the leaders of the
separatist party against obeying the repressive mandaes of the Cortes.
Laws which abolished the central government of the colony and made
the various provinces individually subject to Portugal he declined to
notice. With equal promptness he refused to heed an order bidding him
return to Portugal immediately. To a delegation of prominent Brazilians
he said emphatically: "For the good of all and the general welfare of
the nation, I shall stay." More than that, in May, 1822, he accepted
from the municipality of Rio de Janeiro the title of "Perpetual and
Constitutional Defender of Brazil," and in a series of proclamations
urged the people of the country to begin the great work of emancipation
by forcibly resisting, if needful, any attempt at coercion.
Pedro now believed the moment had come to take the final step. While on
a journey through the province of Sao Paulo, he was overtaken on the 7th
of September, near a little stream called the Ypiranga, by messengers
with dispatches from Portugal. Finding that the Cortes had annulled
his acts and declared his ministers guilty of treason, Pedro forthwith
proclaimed Brazil an independent state. The "cry of Ypiranga" was echoed
with tremendous enthusiasm throughout the country. When Pedro appeared
in the theater at Rio de Janeiro, a few days later, wearing on his arm a
ribbon on which were inscribed the words "Independence or Death," he was
given a tumultuous ovation. On the first day of December the youthful
monarch assumed the title of Emperor, and Brazil thereupon took its
place among the nations of America.