Fourth And Fifth of July: Declarations of Independence

Those who grew up in El Pao will remember celebrating both the Fourth and the Fifth of July, reflecting yet another similarity between the two countries. The American and Venezuelan holidays afforded an opportunity for executives to declare and affirm ongoing genuine friendship and a collaborative spirit between both peoples while we children looked forward to having our fathers home for a more extended time than usual, and also learning a bit more to understand and appreciate our liberties. I was fortunate to have had a father and mother who, as best they knew how, taught us appreciation and gratitude for America and also for Venezuela.

Venezuela history was a required subject in school. And a most frustrating one it was for me. For the life of me, I could not understand what the early 19th century fighting was about. My teachers seemed to tell stories assuming we students possessed presupposed knowledge as to why the revolutionaries rose against Madrid. But I had no such knowledge. My father had told me about the North American colonies and how they had a history of self-government and liberties and how England had begun taking those liberties away, even to the point of stationing mercenary troops in private homes where they abused and, in some cases, even defiled the mothers and daughters. 

Furthermore, the English parliament had decreed the assignment of Church of England bishops to the colonies: a last straw. I could see why folks would resist and seek to stop that, even if it meant overthrowing the rule of the English king. 

Although my mother and father taught me to respect and honor Venezuela, my teachers told no stories about Spain’s abuses against Venezuela. We heard much about concepts of liberty and fraternity and equality. However, all stratospheric disquisitions about intangible concepts did not satisfy me as to why the criollos rose against Madrid initially, let alone explain the eventual extermination of over one-third of their number. The entire country churned with violence and at the end had been practically depopulated. It was clear to me that the savagery and atrocities occurred not prior to, but during the Revolution. I do remember hearing a teacher quote the words uttered by Simón Bolivar as he approached death in the late 1820’s, “I have plowed in the sea….” And, “…those countries will infallibly fall into chaos and dictatorships….”

But why cast off Spanish rule for intangible concepts only to install tangibly cruel “chaos and dictatorships”? 

To read the July 4, 1776, and the July 5, 1811, declarations of independence back to back is an instructive exercise which might help explain why.

The Venezuelan is over 800 words longer and reflects allusions to French revolutionary thinking that is absent from the American. Consistent with the American, it also alludes to the Christian religion which sounds discordant if one has a basic understanding of Rousseau and the Declaration of the Rights of Man.

The Venezuelan opens by alluding to a former declaration (April 19, 1810) which was adopted as a result of Spain’s occupation by France. It goes on to complain about three centuries of suppressed rights and that recent political events in Europe had served to offer an opportunity to restore those rights. They then, following the 1776 Declaration, proceed to justify their actions.

The United States [American] declaration does not complain about 150 years of colonial rule. Rather it expresses concern that, when abuses make it necessary to dissolve long-standing political bands, that such action must be taken carefully and with strong justification. It expresses the need and the willingness to “suffer, while evils are sufferable” before abolishing government and relations to “which they are accustomed.”

I know this is simplistic, and historians will disagree, but to the layman, the 1811 comes across as willful, the 1776, as reluctant.

The longest body in each is the justification. The Venezuelan uses 1,156 words, beginning with another allusion to 300 years of Spanish rule and affirming that a people has a right to govern themselves. Then the author expresses a willingness to overlook those 300 years by “placing a veil” over them (“corriendo un velo sobre los trescientos años“) and proceeds to recent European events which had dissolved the Spanish nation. It goes at length criticizing the Spanish monarchy for its abandonment of her throne in favor of the French and how this state of affairs had left Venezuela without legal recourse (“dejándola sin el amparo y garantía de las leyes“). 

It asserts, furthermore, that the vast territories of the Americas with far more population than Spain itself cannot be governed from afar, etc. Here, the author presumes to speak for all the Spanish Americas. The layman is justified in wondering if this misdirection is inserted to remove attention from special pleading in the document that does not wholly stand up.

This section is not easy to follow today without some knowledge of the events current in 1811.

This was not a unanimous declaration; three provinces did not join, presaging the terrible bloodletting which was to follow.

For its justification, the American declaration uses 824 words (332 less than the Venezuelan), to list the abuses and their attempts to humbly address these legally only to have their attempts rebuffed. They make no allusions to 150 years of oppression or of unhappiness with their colonial status. They address only relatively recent abuses, including violence against life and property, mercenaries on their way to fight against them, war waged against them, threats to their religious liberty (the Quebec allusion), and much more. These are listed almost in bullet point format, but without the bullets, and are easy to understand, even 244 years later. It reads as if the document were a declaration of the right to self defense.

This was a unanimous declaration signed by representatives of each of the thirteen colonies.

In their conclusion, the Venezuelans, yet again, allude to centuries of oppression and their natural right to govern themselves. They assert they have a right to establish a government according to the general will (“voluntad general“) of her people.

It is hard to miss the influence of French revolutionary thinking in the Venezuelan document, despite allusions to a Supreme Being (“Ser Supremo”) and to Jesus Christ (“Jesucristo”). Its reference to the “General Will” is Rousseauean and is also found in the atheistic French Declaration of the Rights of Man

They also state they will defend their religion. 

The layman can’t help but be impressed by the schizophrenic nature of this document which contained appeals to atheistic revolutionary thinking then in vogue, while recognizing that the “regular folk” were still very religious and needed to hear allusions to religious fidelity.

The American conclusion appealed to the Supreme Judge of the world and in the name and authority of the people in the colonies they declared independence.

I know that professors delight in pointing out that Thomas Jefferson was the “author” of the American declaration and that he was not a Christian, etc.

However, one does not read the Virginia Fairfax Resolves (1774), or the Virginia Declaration of Rights (May, 1776), both of whose  primary author was George Mason, a Christian, nor does one read clergyman, John Wise, who in 1710 wrote, “Every man must be acknowledged equal to every man,” and “The end of all good government is to cultivate humanity and promote the happiness of all and the good of every man in all his rights, his life, liberty, estate, honor, and so forth…” and “Democracy is Christ’s government in church and state.” Jefferson drew from a rich, deep Christian well. According to President Calvin Coolidge, Jefferson himself “acknowledged that his ‘best ideas of democracy’ had been secured at church meetings.”

The American declaration was followed by seven more years of war whose official end was the Treaty of Paris in 1783 and a constitution, still in effect, whose final ratification was in 1790. The Venezuelan declaration was followed by nineteen years of wars (plural) characterized by unspeakable cruelties and tortures, including a proclamation of “war to the death” by Simón Bolivar. By their end in 1830, one third of Venezuela’s population had perished. These wars were followed by more wars and rebellions which continued to the end of the century. She’s had 27 constitutions.

In sum, the American hearkened to her Christian heritage and history; the Venezuelan, to French revolutionary atheism, most starkly demonstrated by yet another revolution, the Russian, in 1917. Both the American and the Venezuelan shed blood. But the latter, like the French, shed it more abundantly.

I love the United States of America and its history. I love her Christian heritage and her pioneers. She is a wonderfully great country with a people who will always pull at my heart. I also love Venezuela and the warmth and genuine friendship of her people. I am grateful the Good Lord has exposed me to both and shown me that, in Christ, our best days are yet ahead.

​Declaration of Independence – Text of the Declaration of Independence | Britannica

Text of the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence

Acta de la Declaración de Independencia de Venezuela – Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre

Towards the bottom of article linked above, the reader will find the text of the July 5, 1811 Venezuela Declaration of Independence. It is in Spanish.

(Note: The above was first posted on July 4, 2020.)

Fourth and Fifth of July: Declarations of Independence

Those who grew up in El Pao will remember celebrating both the Fourth and the Fifth of July, reflecting yet another similarity between the two countries. The American and Venezuelan holidays afforded an opportunity for executives to declare and affirm ongoing genuine friendship and a collaborative spirit between both peoples while we children looked forward to having our fathers home for a more extended time than usual, and also learning a bit more to understand and appreciate our liberties. I was fortunate to have had a father and mother who, as best they knew how, taught us appreciation and gratitude for America and also for Venezuela.

Venezuela history was a required subject in school. And a most frustrating one it was for me. For the life of me, I could not understand what the early 19th century fighting was about. My teachers seemed to tell stories assuming we students possessed presupposed knowledge as to why the revolutionaries rose against Madrid. But I had no such knowledge. My father had told me about the North American colonies and how they had a history of self-government and liberties and how England had begun taking those liberties away, even to the point of stationing mercenary troops in private homes where they abused and in some cases even defiled the mothers and daughters. 

Furthermore, the English parliament had decreed the assignment of Church of England bishops to the colonies: a last straw. I could see why folks would resist and seek to stop that, even if it meant overthrowing the rule of the English king. 

Although my mother and father taught me to respect and honor Venezuela, my teachers told no stories about Spain’s abuses against Venezuela. We heard much about concepts of liberty and fraternity and equality. However, all stratospheric disquisitions about intangible concepts did not satisfy me as to why the criollos rose against Madrid initially, let alone explain the eventual extermination of over one-third of their number. The entire country churned with violence and at the end had been practically depopulated. It was clear to me that the savagery and atrocities occurred not prior to, but during the Revolution. I do remember hearing a teacher quote the words uttered by Simón Bolivar as he approached death in the late 1820’s, “I have plowed in the sea…” And, “…those countries will infallibly fall into chaos and dictatorships…”

But why cast off Spanish rule for intangible concepts only to install tangibly cruel “chaos and dictatorships”? 

To read the July 4, 1776 and the July 5, 1811 declarations of independence back to back is an instructive exercise which might help explain why.

The Venezuelan is over 800 words longer and reflects allusions to French revolutionary thinking that is absent from the American. Consistent with the American, it also alludes to the Christian religion which sounds discordant if one has a basic understanding of Rousseau and the Declaration of the Rights of Man.

The Venezuelan opens by alluding to a former declaration (April 19, 1810) which was adopted as a result of Spain’s occupation by France. It goes on to complain about three centuries of suppressed rights and that recent political events in Europe had served to offer an opportunity to restore those rights. They then, following the 1776 Declaration, proceed to justify their actions.

The United States [American] declaration does not complain about 150 years of colonial rule. Rather it expresses concern that, when abuses make it necessary to dissolve long-standing political bands, that such action must be taken carefully and with strong justification. It expresses the need and the willingness to “suffer, while evils are sufferable” before abolishing government and relations to “which they are accustomed.”

I know this is simplistic, and historians will disagree, but to the layman, the 1811 comes across as willful, the 1776, as reluctant.

The longest body in each is the justification. The Venezuelan uses 1,156 words, beginning with another allusion to 300 years of Spanish rule and affirming that a people has a right to govern themselves. Then the author expresses a willingness to overlook those 300 years by “placing a veil” over them (“corriendo un velo sobre los trescientos años“) and proceeds to recent European events which had dissolved the Spanish nation. It goes at length criticizing the Spanish monarchy for its abandonment of her throne in favor of the French and how this state of affairs had left Venezuela without legal recourse (“dejándola sin el amparo y garantía de las leyes“). 

It asserts, furthermore, that the vast territories of the Americas with far more population than Spain itself cannot be governed from afar, etc. Here, the author presumes to speak for all the Spanish Americas. The layman is justified in wondering if this misdirection is inserted to remove attention from special pleading in the document that does not wholly stand up.

This section is not easy to follow today without some knowledge of the events current in 1811.

This was not a unanimous declaration; three provinces did not join, presaging the terrible bloodletting which was to follow.

For its justification, the American declaration uses 824 words (332 less than the Venezuelan), to list the abuses and their attempts to humbly address these legally only to have their attempts rebuffed. They make no allusions to 150 years of oppression or of unhappiness with their colonial status. They address only relatively recent abuses, including violence against life and property, mercenaries on their way to fight against them, war waged against them, threats to their religious liberty (the Quebec allusion), and much more. These are listed almost in bullet point format, but without the bullets, and are easy to understand, even 244 years later. It reads as if the document were a declaration of the right to self defense.

This was a unanimous declaration signed by representatives of each of the thirteen colonies.

In their conclusion, the Venezuelans, yet again, allude to centuries of oppression and their natural right to govern themselves. They assert they have a right to establish a government according to the general will (“voluntad general“) of her people.

It is hard to miss the influence of French revolutionary thinking in the Venezuelan document, despite allusions to a Supreme Being (“Ser Supremo”) and to Jesus Christ (“Jesucristo”). Its reference to the “General Will” is Rousseauean and is also found in the atheistic French Declaration of the Rights of Man

They also state they will defend their religion. 

The layman can’t help but be impressed by the schizophrenic nature of this document which contained appeals to atheistic revolutionary thinking then in vogue, while recognizing that the “regular folk” were still very religious and needed to hear allusions to religious fidelity.

The American conclusion appealed to the Supreme Judge of the world and in the name and authority of the people in the colonies they declared independence.

I know that professors delight in pointing out that Thomas Jefferson was the “author” of the American declaration and that he was not a Christian, etc.

However, one does not read the Virginia Fairfax Resolves (1774), or the Virginia Declaration of Rights (May, 1776), both of whose  primary author was George Mason, a Christian, nor does one read clergyman, John Wise, who in 1710 wrote, “Every man must be acknowledged equal to every man,” and “The end of all good government is to cultivate humanity and promote the happiness of all and the good of every man in all his rights, his life, liberty, estate, honor, and so forth…” and “Democracy is Christ’s government in church and state.” Jefferson drew from a rich, deep Christian well. According to President Calvin Coolidge, Jefferson himself “acknowledged that his ‘best ideas of democracy’ had been secured at church meetings.”

The American declaration was followed by seven more years of war whose official end was the Treaty of Paris in 1783 and a constitution, still in effect, whose final ratification was in 1790. The Venezuelan declaration was followed by nineteen years of wars (plural) characterized by unspeakable cruelties and tortures, including a proclamation of “war to the death” by Simón Bolivar. By their end in 1830, one third of Venezuela’s population had perished. These wars were followed by more wars and rebellions which continued to the end of the century. She’s had 27 constitutions.

In sum, the American hearkened to her Christian heritage and history; the Venezuelan, to French revolutionary atheism, most starkly demonstrated by yet another revolution, the Russian, in 1917. Both the American and the Venezuelan shed blood. But the latter, like the French, shed it more abundantly.

I love the United States of America and its history. I love her Christian heritage and her pioneers. She is a wonderfully great country with a people who will always pull at my heart. I also love Venezuela and the warmth and genuine friendship of her people. I am grateful the Good Lord has exposed me to both and shown me that, in Christ, our best days are yet ahead.


Declaration of Independence – Text of the Declaration of Independence
Text of the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence

Acta de la Declaración de Independencia de Venezuela – Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre
Towards the bottom of article linked above, the reader will find the text of the July 5, 1811 Venezuela Declaration of Independence. It is in Spanish.
Highly recommended to all, not just Americans

Cumaná, Humboldt, Lisbon, and The Inquisition

Cumaná, Venezuela, is a beautifully placed city founded in the early 16th century (1515). It is the oldest  continuously inhabited city established by Europeans in South America. Refer to the post, Playa Hicacos, 1966, for descriptions and photos of the beaches and mountains in the area, the northeastern coast of Venezuela. 

This was the city where the great explorer and naturalist, Alexander Von Humboldt, alighted in the late 18th century. 

He arrived just days before a spectacular solar eclipse, which he recorded in precise detail in his 23-volume record of his “equinoctial” journey, a great part of which was through large swathes of Venezuela. This journey consumed about 5 years, the end of which he travelled to the United States before returning to Europe. In the USA, he met several times with Thomas Jefferson and they became warm friends with a good deal of correspondence over the succeeding years. They shared mutual interests, including natural history, geography, and a passion for exploring the Americas. The Lewis and Clark expedition commenced in 1804, just as Humboldt’s Equinoctial journey was ending.

Like Francisco de Miranda (see post, Simón Bolivar III — Influences), Humboldt not only knew Jefferson, but he also met and, for better or for worse, influenced a young Simón Bolivar, who was in Europe when Humboldt returned.

Following other, shorter trips, he set about to record and request scientific challenges to his multifarious observations and conclusions, many of which, including complicated laws governing atmospheric disturbances at higher altitudes, as well as the regularity of ocean currents, stand to this day. 

The renowned, 5-year South American expedition laid the foundation for the disciplines of physical geography and meteorology; his effort of recording and documenting, which he believed would take him 2 or 3 years, actually consumed twenty-one years of his life, and remained incomplete at his death in 1859. But the 23-volume record of observations in the Americas was completed.

Humboldt recorded a great solar eclipse which occured on October 28, 1799, just days after his arrival. But, even more momentous than the eclipse, was the “atmospheric phenomena”, as he put it in his journals, that took place before and after. He wrote, “…from the 10th of October to the 3rd of November, at nightfall, a reddish vapor arose in the horizon, and covered, in a few minutes, with a veil more or less thick, the azure vault of the sky…clouds of brilliant whiteness collected at the zenith, and extended towards the horizon…clouds so transparent that they did not hide the stars…I could distinguish so perfectly the spots of the moon….”

But that was not all. These extraordinary phenomena were eventually surpassed by a remarkable meteoric shower he observed and recorded on November 11-12, 1799. This observation became the starting point of modern scientific knowledge about the regularity of this meteoric shower that we now know as the Leonids. Thanks, at least in part, to Humboldt in Cumaná, Venezuela, we now know these showers occur approximately every 33 years, when thousands can be seen per hour.

But Cumaná was not done showing off to Humboldt, she presented him with a terrible earthquake. However, he learned that, as bad as this earthquake was, it was only a shadow of the one that devastated the city thirty-two years before his arrival. Humboldt transcribed the records of the city describing that earthquake of October 21,1766.

“The city of Cumaná was entirely destroyed, the houses were overturned in the space of a few minutes, and the shocks were hourly repeated during fourteen months. In several parts of the province the earth opened, and threw out sulphuric waters. These irruptions were very frequent in a plain extending towards Casanay two leagues east of the town of Cariaco, and known by the name of the hollow ground, (tierra hueca), because it appears entirely undermined by thermal springs. While the ground was in a state of continual oscillation, the atmosphere seemed to dissolve itself into water.”

He went on to write that the period prior to the earthquake and the months of after-shocks was accompanied “by varied phenomena such as flames and vapors mixed with sulphureous acid shooting from arid sands; geysers of water mixed with petroleum; hot, muddy masses issuing from huge crevices which would close and grow into elevated hills. These phenomena were accompanied by loud, monster-like noises: subterranean, rolling thunder; continuous, thud-like sounds, as of large quantities of sand mixed with water, thrown against a giant wall; extremely loud hissing, as if the earth had become a mighty, pressurized kettle which had finally been compelled to allow accumulated steam to violently escape…. The people of Cumaná, upon sensing what was afoot, ran into the streets, many crying, ‘Misericordia! Misericordia!’ (Mercy! Mercy!). Sometimes the sounds came after or during the earthquake. At other times they preceded the earthquake, thereby alerting the people to run into the streets seeking to avoid entombment in their houses or places of business.”

There is a great paradox to the 1766 earthquake: reports describe the complete destruction of the city; however, there is no mention of deaths. A possible explanation: the earthquake hit at 4:45 AM. Almost all the people of Cumaná were in the habit of leaving their homes at 4 AM to attend the first morning mass. This hypothesis, if true, would mean that the church structures withstood the initial waves, allowing people to run out in safety. But this is conjecture.

Residents encamped in the streets and, when the after-tremors decreased to about once per month, began to rebuild and recover surviving livestock, much of which had managed to escape southwards, away from the ocean.

There is evidence that the 1766 earthquake was felt as far as Quito in northwestern South America. Hard to believe, but evidently true. One result of the terrible earthquake was that none of the 16th century architecture survived. Over thirty years later, when Humboldt visited, the people of Cumaná and as far away as Caracas commemorated the day annually with a solemn procession on its anniversary.

As for Mr. Humboldt, I knew, or thought I knew, much about him as I was growing up. My father had some of his writings and drawings, particularly as they related to Venezuela. The almost-to-be magnificent Humboldt Hotel atop Mt. Ávila was built during my childhood, I learned about the Humboldt Current, and heard of the Parque Nacional Alejandro de Humboldt in Cuba, and the Humboldt Redwoods State Park in California. His name was ubiquitous. Few know about him today. 

As for the earthquake, it took place eleven years after the Great Lisbon Earthquake of 1755, which some call “The First Modern Disaster.” Why call it that? It seems it was the first disaster where man sought to explain an event by divorcing it from the hand of God. Hence, this earthquake had a significant impact on the development of philosophy and theology in succeeding generations. The earth began to be seen not as a “house with an owner”, but rather as one ruled by chaos.

One final tidbit: there was a Jesuit priest in Lisbon who was alarmed by the godlessness of the reasoning being used to “explain” the earthquake. He was not against science; he was against atheism. He was burned at the stake by the Inquisition under the direction of the powerful first minister, known to history as the Marquês de Pombal, who then ordered all Jesuits expelled from Portugal and its empire, including Brazil. 

The irony is that Voltaire, who utterly despised Christianity, mocked the burning at the stake as yet another instance of religious superstition provoked by the Lisbon Earthquake. As a thoroughly modern man, he neatly inverted the truth: the priest was cruelly executed, not in the Name of the Triune God, but in the name of reason. In other words, the Inquisition was an instrument of the State which insisted on its own definition of the truth and denial of faith. Dissension to political correctness carried the priest to the auto da fé. Best to consider anything Voltaire (or his ilk) says with a couple boulders of salt.

We’ll have more to say about Cumaná, Mr. Humboldt, and The Great Lisbon Earthquake in future posts.

https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/03-07-02-0011 Letter from Thomas Jefferson to Alexander von Humboldt, December 6, 1813

Castillo San Antonio de la Eminencia, old Spanish fort overlooking the city and ocean.
Calle Sucre, Cumaná
Cumaná Cathedral. Built in the 18th and early 19th centuries; much was destroyed in a 1929 earthquake but restored in the 1930’s. 
German engraving depicting the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755, eleven years before the Cumaná earthquake. This earthquake had a vast influence in the development of modern philosophy and even theology in subsequent generations. Some call it “the first modern disaster.” Why? Man began to divorce “natural” disasters from the hand of God. Yet most insurance policies, even today, still refer to “Acts of God.” More on this in future posts.
Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), 1694-1778. Encouraged his like-minded acquaintances to not discuss their atheism within the hearing of the servants, lest they abandon belief in God and rob their masters. But his ideas eventually did seep to the rest of us. The results have not been pretty.
Alexander von Humboldt, 1805 depiction by Charles Wilson Peale, American artist who met Humboldt when he visited the USA in 1804 (Wikipedia).

Simón Bolivar III — Influences

To gauge the extent of French revolutionary influence in Latin America, an influence which persists to this day, one need not look further than any popular source to see which system of law predominates in any given country.

For centuries, Latin America’s legal system was based on the “major legislative achievement from the Middle Ages,” the Siete Partidas. After the revolutionary wars, the legal systems were modeled after the Napoleonic Code, although, to be sure, the influence of the Siete Partidas , or “Seven Part Code”, persisted.

In brief, the Seven Part Code, promulgated in the 1200’s, declared that all law is to conform to God’s decree. It recognized the ultimate Law Giver as God, not man. It’s first part, roughly translated, states, “To the service of God.” The Napoleonic code, which was developed to codify the French Revolution, rejects any mention of God, but does pay obeisance to the Serpent’s ancient temptation by making man a god. It is humanistic to the core. Of course, it borrowed much from the Christian capital accumulated over millennia, but its deafening silence on God and religion was obvious.

(In striking contrast, consider: the legal system in the then recently independent North American, former English colonies remained the same as England’s: Common Law, with its Christian roots in the Magna Carta. South America was convulsed by a true “revolution”; North America, not so much.)

All South American law is heavily Napoleonic, except for Chile and the countries that adopted or were heavily influenced by Chile’s civil law. 

Why is Chile an exception?

We can thank Venezuelan Andrés Bello, whom we will visit in future posts. For now, we will say he was truly one of the most influential personages of history. Poet, illustrious philologist, excellent diplomat, and unique thinker, this man led a most singular life whose benign influence continues to this day. Although born in Venezuela, he lived 19 years in London, where he met another great personage to whom we’ll return in future posts, Francisco de Miranda, a man who had personally met George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and other founding fathers of the United States.

He briefly tutored Bolivar, but Bolivar did not heed his request for help to return to his native land. Eventually, Bello was invited to come to Chile where he lived the remaining 36 years of his life. And a most industrious life it was: founded the University of Santiago; developed the Gramática de la Lengua Castellana Destinada Al Uso de Los Americanos, a masterpiece of Spanish grammar and vocabulary. 

And, as if that were not enough, he developed the Civil Code of Chile, adopted by some countries and heavily relied upon by others. His approach incorporated some of the Napoleonic Code, while retaining much of the Spanish Seven Part Code, in modified fashion. A truly remarkable man. He died aged 83 in Santiago, Chile, in 1865.

Another influence, although not so benign, was Simón Rodriguez, long time tutor of Bolivar in his youth. Bolivar lived with him from the age of 12 to 14. Rodriguez was immersed in Rousseau’s philosophy and revolutionary ideology. In exile he met up with his former protege, Bolivar, in Europe and traveled much of the continent with him, including meetings with Napoleon and his coronation in Milan. Rodriguez witnessed Bolivar’s famous oath of not giving rest to his arm until he had “broken the chains … of Spanish power.”

Bolivar helped him return to South America where he died aged 84 in 1854 in Amotape, Peru. He referred to him as “my Socrates. A consummate philosopher. The Socrates of Caracas.” Although his personal influence pales alongside that of Bello, his mentoring of Bolivar impacted Venezuela and much of South America to this day.

(Guess which of the two was honored by the geniuses at Google: Bello or Rodriguez? Hint: the same one who is idolized by the current regime in Venezuela: Rodriguez. No surprise there. And yet another reason to use Bing.)

From a layman’s point of view, Bello managed to tip his hat to the Napoleonic code, while recognizing that the legal tradition and mores of the former Spanish colonies were deeply “non-revolutionary”, even religious. So, since the 19th century, a certain tension has been a part of the legal and intellectual life in South America with some regions or countries handling it with less disruptions than others. This matter deserves much more study and consideration and I am convinced it will help explain much of Latin American life from the 1800’s to the present.

For now, I am grateful it was Bello who developed the Civil Code, not Rodriguez.

We’ll return to Bolivar and these men in future posts.

Simón Rodriguez (1769-1854). Bolivar lived with him for several years as a youth and was heavily influenced by Rodriguez who in turn followed the theories and philosophy of Rousseau who in turn was a great influence on the French Revolution. Refer to prior post (Bolivar II) for more on Rousseau.
Andres Bello (1781-1865). Portrait was painted, circa 1850, by Raymond Monvoisin, French painter who lived in Chile at the time. Photograph was taken circa 1863, shortly before his death in 1865. A truly remarkable man.
First page of a 1555 version of the Seven Part Code.
The Napoleonic Code in the Historical Museum of the Palatinate in Speyer.
Francisco de Miranda (1750-1816). Before Bolivar, he sought independence from Spain, but for not for the same revolutionary reasons. Miranda lived in the United States and met George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Samuel Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, among others. A soldier, statesman, scholar. He was betrayed by his Venezuelan compatriots, including Bolivar, handed to the Spanish, and died in exile in Spain, aged 66. The portrait is by Martin Tovar y Tovar, a famous Venezuelan painter.