Simón Bolívar's Quest for Glory
by
Richard W. Slatta and Jane Lucas De Drummond
There are commonalities
among the many who have achieved recognition for their efforts. As
it should be, these commonalities do not always fall within the
categories of “exemplary” or “deplorable.” After all, these
larger than life individuals are mere mortals, and like everyone else
they are filled with conflicting principles, emotions, convictions,
and bursts of self doubt amid moments of rejoice. What makes them
great, however, is the persistent common denominator of achieving the
tasks assigned to them by fate, destiny, or by personal choice.
Then there is Simón
Bolívar,
who joined the movement of independence in 1807, and after six years
of involvement in the War of Independence, he was appointed President
of the Second Republic when he was thirty years old.
One would be hard pressed
to find a more complex, intriguing, and misunderstood subject
considering that while Bolívar
had reached his zenith, and begun his decline by the time he turned
forty, most other historical figures were comparatively much older
when they got started: George Washington was forty-three years old
when he was appointed to lead the Continental Army against the
British; Abraham Lincoln was even older, at fifty-two, when he became
President in 1861. In the Twentieth Century, Benito Musolini was
thirty-nine when he became Prime Minister of Italy in 1922; Joseph
Stalin was fifty-one when he consolidated his power in the Soviet
Union in 1929; Adolf Hitler was forty-four when he became Chancellor
of Germany in 1933; and Mao Zedong did not become Chairman of the
Communist Party's Central Committee, in China, until 1945 when he was
52 years old. This age comparison does not make Bolívar
better than the others; it makes him worthy of a more in depth and
objective—objective being the key word—study of his life,
his daring, his achievements, and
his failures. Beginning with the title, “Simón
Bolívar's Quest for Glory” this publication is not that study.
Professor Richard W. Slatta falls victim to his own warning, “Bolívar
remains little known out side Latin America [.... He] proved equally
adept at wielding the pen and the sword [....]” But, because
Bolívar “earned his glory on the fields of battle” and “much
of our attention focuses on his military struggles.... (p. 7)” the
reader never really gets to know Simón Bolívar, the man.
A
biography, narrative, or history that begins by enumerating and
dwelling on the main character's (at times perceived as ) negative
traits, coupled with the overused mention of the man's sexual
escapades to imply lack of responsibility, inadequacy, or some other
such personality defect, leaves the reader with little reason to go
beyond the initial chapters. If that were the case, John F. Kennedy
and Bill Clinton would not be sitting right and left of Franklin D.
Roosevelt at the Trinity on the altar of Politics.
Starting
with the “Introduction,” Slatta subtly but negatively compares
Bolívar
to George Washington as a way to set up Bolívar
as inadequate against the exemplary leader of the north. In an
impartial comparison, Slatta would have delved into Washington's
flaws and foils, just as he delved into Bolívar's,
but that is not the case. Slatta fails to remark that, in
spite of the recognition received from the governor of Virginia,
Washington's failures in his early military career leading the
Virginia militia against the French, stationed at Fort Duquesne
(Pittsburgh, PA), were in part the reason he was denied service in
the British Army. In fairness to Washington, at 22, he was not
experienced enough to lead an attack against the French. Slatta also
fails to point out that being turned down for service in the British
army is what flared Washington's resentment against British rule, its
military, and its attitude towards colonials. One could easily argue
that, just as with Bolívar,
Washington's “Glory” became his guiding light. Being that any
successful warrior has to have some degree of preservation instinct,
and a great desire to achieve, implying that someone who risks it all
in the pursuit of freedom for his country, as a way to attain his due
“glory,” is a rather odd way to start an objective biography.
But while Bolívar
did often mention his “glory,” the word is not always to be
interpreted as an attestation of the man's ego, but of his “legacy.”
In
spite of the research, and abundant bibliography, this publication
lacks “scholarly” credence and reads more like a historical
novel. Contrary to the author's comment in the Introduction,
“Instead of a plethora of footnotes, there is a brief
bibliographical essay that features other important sources ...”
(p.8), keeping “historical accouterments to a minimum” clouds the
reader's mind with doubt. It is most surprising that a reputable
publisher, such as Texas A&M, would put this publication out as
part of its Military History Series. Footnotes make a history book
verifiable, providing the reader interested in further information
with a direct link to a specific publication. Footnotes also
identify specific passages which are not original to the author, but
a reinterpretation of material extracted from another original
source—otherwise, it becomes plagiarism. Footnotes and citations
give credibility to the references or quotes used by the author, and
likewise lack of footnotes reflect negatively on the author for not
giving credit where credit is due, or for using sources which have
long been discredited.
Slatta
is disingenuous when he criticizes Guillermo Antonio Sherwell's
biography on Bolívar for treating him as a “godlike figure rather
than as a human being (p. 8).” True, Sherwell's work is short on
criticism, and long on praise, however his book must be judged by the
times and the circumstances under which it was written, and
published: The sponsor of the book was the Bolivarian Society of
Venezuela—hardly a disinterested party, or one which would have
been keen in promoting a devastatingly negative portrayal of the
Libertador. Sherwell's book was first published in 1921 under the
watchful eye of Dictator Juan Vicente Gómez who, like all other
dictators and pretend-presidents, used the name and image of Bolívar
to drape himself in credibility: One needs to look no further than
today's blind worship of Bolívar in Venezulea by government
officials and the “pueblo” who have probably never read anything
or anything negative about the man, his writings, or his ideas.
Sherwell's portrayal, while flawed, is not worse than Slatta's
present publication. In fact, in the omission of criticism,
Sherwell's book may be more objective: Judging from the repeated use
of “glory,” in the title and throughout the text, as if to imply
Bolívar's
only raison d'être,
and the subtle overuse of other prejudicial phrases, the reader is
left with the thought that Slatta's overall desire is to give
credence to Bolívar's
detractors. This is glaringly obvious in the unusual credibility
Slatta gives discredited pseudo-biographer Ludwig Heinrich Villaume
and his “Memoirs of Simon Bolivar and his Principal Generals.” A
descendant of French Hugenots who emigrated as a result of the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685, Villaume was born in
Brandenburg, Prussia, in 1772 to Pierre Villaume and Suzane Marre.
His father, a preacher in Schwedt, Germany, near the Polish border,
instilled in his son a deep rooted hatred towards everything
Catholic.1
Villaume, himself a prisoner in Spain while in the French army,
augmented that deep rooted hatred of Catholics to include
Spaniards—mostly all Catholics themselves. While a mercenary in
France, Villaume assumed the name Lafayette Ducoudray, at times
simply Ducoudray (a bastardized version of du Coudray) to enhance his
image; to pretend Danish origin, he added Holstein to his newly
adopted surname (The province of Schleswig-Holstein did not fully
become part of Germany until 1842).
Slatta
appears not to know that Ducoudray was never a general in Bolívar's
army, or that Ducoudray's claim that Francisco de Miranda “...
preferred English and French officers to his own countrymen,” is
just as dubious a claim considering that Bolívar,
Carlos Soublette, Fernando del Toro, his brother the Marques del
Toro, Marques Casa de León,
José
de Sata y Bussy, Manuel Aldao, and others, were Creoles among
Miranda's officers and advisors. Indeed, while there were
many European mercenaries in the Venezuelan army, this was largely
due to the overwhelming number of soldiers who, as Slatta himself
points out (p.164), suddenly found themselves out of work in their
own countries after the French Revolution, and the wars against
Napoleon. Slatta simply takes and repeats Ducoudray's comments, and
undocumented quotes, as fact. Taking into account that Francis
Loraine Petre's book Simon
Bolivar “el libertador”
(London, 1910) is
listed in the bibliography, it is rather odd for Slatta to have
placed such faith in Ducoudray. Petre, a well known historian of the
time, was unequivocal about Ducoudray's unreliability, “Considering
the marked bias of Ducoudray, and many notable instances where
Bolivar showed plenty of personal courage, there seems very
insufficient reason for believing this story, circumstantial though
it be.”1
“The impression of this author, [Ducoudray,] conveyed by a perusal
of his work, is of a conceited [German of French ancestry] French
Adventurer always striving to make himself out a person of much more
ability and importance than he really was.”2
Discredited British mercenary Gustavus Butler Hippisley also
appears, though not as prominently, in Slatta's publication.
There
is also the matter of unnecessary repetition of events, or
circumstances which do not carry the story forward. In one such
case, Slatta makes much of “eminent historian” E. Bradford Burn's
comment, as though it were a heretofore unknown revelation, that of
all the viceroys, captains-generals, and bishops, in Spanish America
very few were Creoles, and of those, most were born to Spanish
officials (p. 48). Considering that Spain's policy was one of
crippling the colonies in favor of the mother country, it would have
indeed been strange and newsworthy had the majority of appointees
been Creoles. Being that most were Peninsular (a common term
denoting those born in the Iberian Peninsula) added another reason
for the Creoles to rise against Spain. But Slatta is well aware of
this as he makes repeated mentions of it prior to, and after, he
quotes Burn's passage.
There
are some extended quotes/explanations which are totally unnecessary,
and distract from the topic of discussion, particularly when the
information could and should have easily been incorporated into the
main body of the text. One such case is the incorporation of an
online discussion, on the beneficial use of mules as beasts of
burden, by six different commentators—none of whom had anything
significant to add—as a way to explain Bolívar's
urgent request for mules, and his concern over one particular animal,
his personal mule. Slatta seems surprised enough to dedicate two
pages (pp.162-163) to a subject that everyone in Latin America, or
anyone who has lived outside of a metropolitan area, understands from
birth.
Then
there is the opposite problem: Not devoting enough space to explain
a situation. John Quincy Adams' quote in reference to recognition of
Spanish colonies as independent nations, at a time when the mother
country could easily have taken the colonies back, is very valid.
While Adams was not speaking from the point of view of a wise old
sage, he was well aware, from personal experience, that the United
States colonies had been in the same situation a mere thirty four
years prior until the Treaty of Paris, signaling the colonies'
independence, was ratified on 9 April, 1784. Prior to that
ratification, the United States colonies were in the same situation
as their southern hemisphere neighbors, when they declared themselves
free of the English yoke, yet they were not totally free: European
countries were not willing to officially recognize them as an
independent nation when England could, at any point, take its former
colonies back. Furthermore, in 1818 the United States was still
suffering from growing pains and had recently been subject to a
devastating invasion by England (1812-1814) in an effort restrain
expansion by the United States; should England have prevailed, it
could have retaken its former colonies. Slatta explains, by way of a
dismissal, Adams' concern with a snide remark, “Obviously, with
all the series of Patriot setbacks of the year, Bolívar
could not expect recognition from the hemisphere's first republic
(p.175).”
“Simón
Bolívar's Quest for
Glory” is an uncomplicated, easy to read, narrative of what should
have been a great story. Slatta vacillates between criticism and
praise of Bolívar, which
is totally different from objective criticism and objective
praise—damning criticism in the form of stereotypical notions and
negative comparisons are never far behind of what Slatta tries to
pass off as genuine praise.
It
is perhaps because the original research belongs to Jane Lucas De
Grummond, and Slatta was given the task of finishing the project,
that he has two major problems in writing on Bolívar:
As an author he comes off as never really wanting to immerse himself
in the circumstances, and culture of the times, or to delve deeply
into the mind of the man, enough to present a more objective picture.
Instead Slatta comes off as having randomly gathered bits of
information from different publications, which he reframed into one
book. The other problem with Slatta is that he is unable to stand
outside of Washington's shadow long enough to fully understand that
neither Washington nor Bolívar
wanted to be the other. Otherwise, Slatta would have been able to
present a more accurate and diverse picture of the man that was and
is Simón Bolívar.
Simon
Bolivar's Quest for Glory
Texas
A&M University Military History Series (Book 86)
Richard W. Slatta and Jane Lucas De Drummond
Richard W. Slatta and Jane Lucas De Drummond
Hardcover:
368 pages
Publisher:
Texas A&M University Press; 1 Edition (2003)
Language:
English
ISBN-1-58544-339-9
1 Morón,
Guillermo, Memorial de
los agravios. Alfadil
Ediciones, Caracas, 2005, pp.107-108
1
Petre, F. Lorraine. “Simon Bolivar 'el libertador': A
life of the chief leader in the revolt against Spain in Venezuela,
New Granada and Peru,” John Lane, London, 1910-Chapter VII,
p. 172, n. 1.
2 Ibid.
Chapter VII, p. 175 n.
1.
