Juan Bautista Arismendi – The Pull Of The Land

Morillo: Spain Seeks to Reconquer America, Part II

April 14, 2023April 14, 2023 Richard Barnes

In my prior post, I alluded to the betrayal of General Pablo Morillo by one of the most despicable scoundrels of South America’s 19th Century revolutionary wars, Juan Bautista Arismendi. For generations, this man, like Bolivar and others, has been held up as a noble, heroic, unselfish paragon of righteousness. And, as is often the case, the writers of modern history are actually agents of propaganda. Arismendi was a cruel, pitiless spawn of 18th Century Enlightenment doctrine. Like Robespierre, he loved ideology and blood more than his fellow man, including his own wife.

One example of his coldness was his reply when informed that his wife, imprisoned for aiding the murderers, and about to give birth, “I’d rather have a country (patria) than a son.” I’ve paraphrased the quote, but that was the gist. Compare that sentiment to the motivations of the North American colonists who risked it all precisely to protect hearth and home. In the case of Mrs. Arismendi, the Spaniards released her. This, in contrast to Arismendi’s slaughter — with clubs and spears — of Criollos (Venezuelans born of Spanish parents) sick and wounded in hospitals in Caracas. Lord, spare us from ideologues!

As noted in the prior post, after the massacre of the few Spanish on the island of Margarita, Arismendi sent word to Bolivar, who was being aided by the disastrous, murderous regime in Haiti. Bolivar headed back to Venezuela, intending to stop first in Margarita to meet up with Arismendi.

En route, his squadron came across two Spanish ships which were promptly attacked in a fierce, bloody battle. The Spanish were overwhelmed and Bolivar’s men, with the War to the Death proclamation still in force, slaughtered all they came across, including a gravely wounded man in sick bay and the physician, who approached the men, seeking to calm them down, only to find himself cut down as well.

Meanwhile, Simón Bolívar, the Great Liberator, was laughing as he practiced his aim by shooting at the castaways who sought to swim either to safety or even to Bolivar’s ships to keep from drowning. Bolívar, contrary to all laws of war and peace, shot them. Witness accounts note that he killed two in this way. I could find no record if any of the others were spared or simply abandoned in the open sea.

Witnesses affirmed that Bolívar was laughing as he shot, “He completely approves and encourages the killing of prisoners after the battle and during the retreat and has even sought to be a witness to these scenes of infamous carnage.”

Bolivar’s cruelty was well known before Morillo arrived in Margarita the prior year, 1815. Nevertheless, he had considered Arismendi to be sincere in his protestations of loyalty and ignorance, this despite Morillo’s own men urging him to not believe Arismendi as there was overwhelming evidence of his murderous character. However, Morillo waved this aside in his foolish initial desire to fight a raging fire with a spray bottle.

When he learned of Arismendi’s betrayal, of his murder of the men he had left behind, of numerous scenes of unbelievable cruelty beyond even that which he had witnessed in the Napoleonic wars in Spain, he hardened and determined to execute all ringleaders henceforth. As noted in the prior post, this is what he did in Santa Fe, despite the pitiful cries of wives and children.

Witness accounts relate Morillo’s regret for not having listened to his men upon his initial disembarking on Margarita. He would speak of the wives and children of the men he had left to die at the hands of Arismendi and Bolivar and of the many more Spanish soldiers who perished because of his foolishness.

Morillo is treated poorly in the history books, which must create monsters to slay in order to exalt men of low degree. However, he was a far better man than Bolivar and Arismendi.

General Pablo Morillo (1775-1837)

Morillo: Spain Seeks to Reconquer America

March 20, 2023March 20, 2023 Richard Barnes

It has been a while since I’ve posted about Venezuela’s colonial and early republic history. It is not easy to write about and, should one care to peruse reader comments of the very few books critical of Simon Bolivar and his Criollo allies, one would see passionate, not to say blind, defense of Bolivar and trashing of anyone who would dare question the conventional narrative.

However, the conventional narrative must be questioned. Even as a child, it was difficult for me to understand just what the uprising was all about. The national anthem has a line that says: El pobre en su choza / libertad pidió (“The poor in his hut / asked for liberty”).

However, setting aside the textbooks and reading contemporary correspondence of that era, or other primary documents, such as Alexander Humboldt’s (no friend of Spain!) voluminous correspondence and journals, one would not see the “poor in his hut asking for liberty”. On the contrary, one would see “centuries of civilization” — Bolivar’s own words as he lamented the maelstrom and cataclysm he unleashed but for which he never recognized responsibility.

Further, one would see men and boys, handcuffed with ropes, hauled out of their homes in front of screaming mothers and sisters, and dragged to the front lines, where the ropes would be cut and they would be ordered to fight, without any idea what they were fighting for. Or why.

Reading first hand accounts of the truly fratricidal upheavals and bloodletting of that era is depressing.

Few Americans know that the initial uprisings of 1811, fomented by the Criollos (the direct descendants of Spanish colonists), coincided with the period of the Napoleonic invasion of Spain. The Criollos saw their chance to declare independence when Spain was focused on her own survival. It is important to note that “the poor in his hut” had not idea of the political maneuverings that the Machiavellian, power-hungry Criollos in Caracas were machinating.

Little did they understand the civil war that was being unleashed against anyone — including “the poor in his hut” — who would not swear allegiance to the Criollos, or who was merely suspected of loyalty to the king of Spain for something so insignificant as “centuries of civilization”. And, even less, did anyone suspect Bolivar’s “War to the Death” decree, which hurled vast regions into a truly racial war against all Spanish descendants (who were not bonafide revolutionary Criollos).

By 1815, Spain, having defeated Napoleon’s armies, now turned her attention to her bloodied colonies. She sent General Pablo Morillo as supreme commander. This was the first time in three centuries that Spain had sent such an army to the Americas. His large fleet arrived off the coast of the island of Margarita, then under the command of Bolivar’s sadistic sycophant, Juan Bautista Arismendi. Seeing the large fleet and knowing it meant business, Arismendi immediately surrendered and with tears groveled before Morillo who was empowered by the king to offer amnesty as he saw fit. Arismendi claimed ignorance of Spain’s victory over France and that his actions were actually in defense of Spain against France. He pled with tears, “Clemency! Clemency my general! I ask for clemency in the name of this poor people who have suffered so much! Save me from a deserved punishment, for the love of the king!”

Witnesses state that Morillo was deeply moved and told Arismendi to stand and offered him the amnesty he had begged for so genuinely and repentantly. This despite others present who passionately warned Morillo not to do this; that Arismendi had much innocent blood on his hands and was not to be trusted. But Morillo was firm in his belief that Arismendi was sincere and trustworthy.

Morillo departed to Caracas where he was received with genuine joy by a desperate citizenry which had suffered much under their “liberators”. This was in February of 1815.

On May 30 of 1816, over a year later, Morillo was in Santa Fe, Colombia, as guest of honor of a banquet given by the grateful people of Santa Fe. Toward the end of the festivities, “more than 50 ladies came to the general, most crying, begging forgiveness on behalf of their husbands, sons, and brothers who had been ringleaders in uprisings and killings on behalf of the Criollos against the Spanish authorities and loyalists. The tears and supplications were enough to soften a rock. Mothers had thrown themselves at Morillo’s feet begging for pity and mercy for their sons, refusing to stand up….”

Morillo summoned internal strength to not show any emotion, however, witnesses state that he was deeply moved. Nevertheless, he remained silent, only once in a while murmuring almost in a whisper, “Levántese usted, Señora” (“Stand up, madam”), as he extended his gloved hand to help them stand.

He allowed them to speak for a long time and then, with a firm voice, said:

“Señoras, my king, as a Spanish gentleman, has generous and humanitarian sentiments and has invested me with the most precious faculty of offering pardon so long as such pardon will work for the health of the kingdom. So, upon stepping for the first time on American soil, on the island of Margarita, I offered pardon to all who requested it of me, very much in the same way in which you are requesting it of me now…”

“Do you know how those ingrates repaid my freely offered pardon? Those who, with many tears, begged me to forgive in the name of his majesty, the king? As soon as I turned my back, they, more bloodthirsty than ever, turned upon the officers and soldiers I, in my credulity, had left behind, outnumbered by 100 to 1. Each one was cruelly murdered by knife, sword, and bayonet.”

“Each one of my men who were so treacherously murdered, each one by 100 assassins, also had mothers, wives, and sons, who today curse my name a thousand times for having been so careless in believing such fraudulent protests from such miserable cowards. Had I listened to my men and executed twenty ringleaders, instead of so facilely pardoning men worthy of death, my conscience would not be burdened with the baleful regrets that weigh so heavily on me today….”

“If I put your men at liberty, who can assure me that the loyal people who remain in Santa Fe will not perish by their hands?”

“I am very sorry and saddened for the pain I see painted upon your faces … but … I cannot pardon when the health of the realm does not permit it. No. I cannot. My resolution as to the ringleaders is irrevocable.”

General Morillo had received a detailed briefing on the treachery of Arismendi. By November of 1815, Arismendi, pardoned by Morillo, had gathered 1,500 men and had come upon the 200 men left behind by Morillo. Each one was cut down with machetes, knives, hatchets, and spears.

Morillo should have known (as his own men had tried to warn him) that savages who would drag Spanish loyalists from hospital beds and then club them to death, were not to be trusted.

Juan Bautista Arismendi (1775-1841). Considered a hero and patriot by the ruling class in Venezuela; however, his story as another side which is not so sublime.

General Pablo Morilla (1778-1837). He is portrayed as a monster of atrocities; however, the unbiased record does not support that description. He went to his grave remorseful for his untimely pardon of the treacherous Arismendi.

Isla Margarita, Venezuela

Municipal government site in Santa Fe, Colombia. First built in 1787, but then rebuilt in 1807. This structure remained until early 20th Century.

War to the Death

January 27, 2021January 27, 2021 Richard Barnes

I had promised to write about Simón Bolívar off and on, because “it is simply impossible to consider Venezuela … without grappling with Bolívar ….”

Bolívar possessed attributes that are worthy of admiration and imitation. But we must recognize that he also encompassed much that is not so worthy. Horribly so.

One fact we must deal with is his utter, dispassionate cruelty documented in contemporary journals and letters, including some in Bolívar’s own hand.

This post addresses Bolívar’s War to the Death Decree (Decreto de Guerra a Muerte) [Decreto]. This decree and the resulting bloodbath has to be addressed by Bolívar’s many admiring biographers and Venezuelan textbooks because it is simply too well known to be ignored. As I grew up in Venezuela I accepted at face value that the Decreto was issued in reaction to a “war to the death” on the part of the Spaniards.

That explanation was easy to accept given the Lascasian view of Spain so prevalent, even to this day, in South and North America (Bolivar). In addition, the unbelievably horrible depredations of “royalist” José Tomás Bove are well documented (Bove) and certainly help explain how a furious Bolívar might react with his own sanguinary actions.

However, a cursory review of the timelines and some additional study of easily-available documents — Bove’s actions took place after the Decreto and Bove was loyal to no one but his marauding, killer hordes; so much so that the Spaniards had moved to depose him — clearly show that Bolívar could not have used Bove as justification. Indeed, Bove’s name appears nowhere in the Decreto. How could it? He was practically an unknown at the time it was promulgated.

To understand the genesis of the Decreto, one need only consider the genesis of the South American wars for independence: The French Revolution (Bastille).

The Caribbean had already seen a “War To the Death”. It took place in Haiti, a nation which today shares an island with the Dominican Republic and which has never fully recovered from its own decree.

Bolívar’s Decreto was an adoption of the Haitian revolutionary model which had declared a “war to the death” on the French. To be clear: this was a decree calling on all inhabitants to “exterminate” every single French or European man, woman, and child on the island.

Jean-Jacques Dessalines, as bloodthirsty a man as has ever lived, succeeded in ridding Haiti of the French. He and his troops entered villages, encouraging the people to go to their churches to ensure their and their children’s safety. He and his men would then proceed to bayonet, decapitate, eviscerate, and otherwise torture the French, careful to leave the women and children for last for rape and abuse. In his presence, his troops burned at least one priest alive because the cleric dared to denounce Dessalines’s actions as Satanic.

Whenever you read or hear hagiographies of Jean-Jacque Rousseau , always remember: by their fruit ye shall know them. One fruit is his namesake, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who, in 1806, was brutally murdered and dismembered.

In 1804, Dessalines proclaimed himself Jacques I, Emperor of Haiti. He died a mere two years later, but not before he received the great Venezuelan, Francisco de Miranda. In that audience, Dessalines urged Miranda to do as he had done: proclaim a war of extermination on the Spaniards and Europeans. Miranda, to his eternal credit, declined to do so.

However, less than a decade later, Bolívar did take the advice and in 1812 the Decreto was drafted although formally proclaimed in June, 1813. Nevertheless, ever the man of action, Bolívar had previously ordered his men to kill without quarter and to incarcerate those who were not in uniform. In his letter to the congress in Nueva Granada, he wrote that he had traversed lands, cities, and towns, “where all Europeans and Canarios without exception were executed.”

And how were they executed?

The gory events in Caracas and La Guaira, where his loyal commander, Juan Bautista Arismendi, murdered 886 prisoners who had languished in execrable conditions for a year, provides an answer. They were pulled out of jail and summarily shot. He then ordered between 500 and 1,000 sick and disabled from hospitals and, to save powder, had them beaten to death with clubs and boards. The coup de grâce was by means of large rocks crushing the heads of the dying. He then ordered ladies to be dressed in white and dance among the bloody bodies as they awaited the rapine of Arismendi’s men.

Bolívar wrote about this to the Congress in Nueva Granada.

In a letter written a month before his death in December, 1830, Bolívar wrote:

“1. America is ungovernable, 2. he who serves a revolution, plows the sea, 3. the only thing one can do in America is emigrate, 4. this land will fall into the hands of an unbridled multitude who will then fall under petty tyrants of all colors and races 5. from which the Europeans will not deign to rescue us. 6. If it were possible for an area of the world to return to primitive chaos, this would be America.”

Despite his care about his physical appearance, Bolívar was one of the least self-aware men in history, never acknowledging his own role in thrusting great portions of South America into chaos.

A Venezuelan historian writes:

“Bolívar’s vocation was equivocal, his character mercurial. He proclaimed liberty and imposed tyranny. He praised civility and waged terror. He exalted fraternity and encouraged fratricide. He revered Spanish-American unity, but his wars destroyed the institutions that would have preserved it … Of that grand civilization that had successfully functioned for centuries, only the memory remained in a continent of men in conflict with men in the name of ghostly principles.”

One reason it is necessary to know one’s history is because that helps to understand how one got to the present and what path to trace towards the future. Venezuelans are no different than Americans in that they too seek peace and unity — not uniformity, but unity. In the United States that unity is achievable by a return to our traditions, which are not difficult to discern. Sources such as Bradford’s Journal, the Mayflower Compact, the Christian bases of our colonial governments, Washington’s Farewell Address, and more speak to us today.

In the case of Venezuela, her traditions, although a bit more difficult to discern, can be re-discovered with the removal of several generations of accumulated underbrush, including the hagiography bathing Simón Bolívar. One can begin with Bolívar’s own lament about “centuries of civilization” having been destroyed by his wars. What was that civilization? Can its foundations be rediscovered and improved?

I think they can.