Spain in the New World: Francisco de Miranda’s Travels and Independence Leader

By the latter half of the 17th century, the rule of Spain in the New World was reaching 200 years. Times were changing, both in the New World and in Europe, and the leaders of Spain knew it. Their problem was what to do about it. Spain had never had a coherent policy in its imperial rule. Since 1492, Spain was seemingly constantly at war, with an endless series of crises thrown into the mix. Solutions had to be found for the here and now, the future would take care of itself.

Erick Redington continues his look at the independence of Spanish America by looking at Venezuelan military leader and revolutionary Francisco de Miranda. Here he looks at Francisco de Miranda’s further travels and how he came to declare independence in one part of South America.

If you missed them, Erick’s article on the four viceroyalties is here, Francisco de Miranda’s early life is here, and his travels in Europe and the US is here.

A painting of General Francisco de Miranda by Martín Tovar y Tovar

Francisco de Miranda, now back in Britain, was determined to carry out the mission he had given himself so many years ago: leading the movement for the independence of Spanish America. This can be seen in his first letter to Prime Minister William Pitt. Miranda addresses himself to Pitt as the “Principal Agent of the Spanish American Colonies, commissioned to treat with the Ministers of His Britannic Majesty.” He had been accredited by no government. What he did understand, however, was the time and the societal structure he lived in. He knew he had to “sound important.” Walk the walk, so to speak. He was showing himself as an important man, the leader of a people, addressing other world leaders. When he was able to meet with Pitt and was asked for his credentials, Miranda would hand Pitt the Act of Paris.

Just as the last time he was in Britain, he knew the British government was the key to financial and military support for his aims. With Britain and Spain at war again, Pitt and his ministry were only too happy to support Miranda, but again, they would only do so on their own terms. Miranda, aware of the duplicitous nature of international politics, had been courting the Americans as well. For all the letters he sent to Pitt outlining plans for expeditions to South America, he was also sending letters to his old friends in the United States. Thomas Jefferson was elected President in 1800, and Jefferson and his new Secretary of State James Madison were counted by Miranda as friends. Miranda knew both men were interested in spreading the “benefits of republican government.” Using the known expansionist designs of the Americans as a counterbalance to the power of Great Britain would help Miranda in his cause. He tried to force on the British a sense of urgency. The British better help him, and by extension keep their influence over him, or else the Americans would help him, and they would have influence.

This would not be enough to force the British into helping him. Miranda knew he would have to pressure the British government into helping him. To do this, he chose to go over the heads of the government, and appeal directly to the British people. The hope was to create overwhelming support for Spanish American independence, that the ministry would be forced to act through public pressure.

Miranda’s Widening Net

One of the most important publications that helped Miranda’s cause was not written by Miranda himself. Also in London at the time was Juan Pablo Viscardo y Guzmán. Viscardo was a Jesuit from Peru who was expelled from Spanish America on royal orders dissolving the Jesuit order in Spanish territory. While in exile, Viscardo became a staunch supporter of South American independence. He would publish the “Open Letter to the American Spaniards.” This publication, seen by many at the time, and by later historians, as a South American Declaration of Independence or Declaration of the Rights of Man, was more akin to a version of Common Sense by Thomas Paine. It laid out all the legal and emotional reasons why Spanish America should be independent.

When Viscardo died in 1798, his papers were given to Miranda, who could recognize the rhetorical power of Viscardo’s arguments. Since Viscardo was no longer around to challenge Miranda, his legacy could easily be adopted and coopted into Miranda’s own operation. This, and other writings by Miranda, would be published in the numerous newspapers and pamphlets that dotted London at the time.

It is also at this time that Miranda would begin to cultivate relationships with many younger firebrands who lived in London at the time. The first was a young man, the illegitimate son of the Viceroy of Peru, Bernardo Riquelme. Later as Bernardo O’Higgins, he would help lead the liberation of Chile, and contribute to the liberation of Peru. O’Higgins, meeting Miranda in his late teens, was extremely impressionable and searching for a father figure to teach him. Miranda filled this role splendidly. The same impetuosity displayed so many times by Miranda would characterize the life and governance of O’Higgins. This secondary role that Miranda took upon himself, that of a father figure and mentor to young revolutionaries would have far-reaching impacts on the course of revolutions throughout South America.

Years would pass before Miranda would have success in his relations with the British government. It was only in 1805 that the British government began seriously studying the many plans Miranda had presented for military action. When this grand study was conducted, it concluded that the best way to foment an uprising in South America was to…attack Buenos Aires. Miranda was devastated. Buenos Aires was not what he considered a ripe ground for liberation. He wanted to go back to his homeland and initiate an uprising there. Just like last time, Miranda was so fed up with the British government, that he decided to leave. Unlike last time though, he would go back to the New World. He would go to the United States.

The Leander Expedition

While in the United States, all the contacts Miranda had made would pay off for him. Whereas in Britain, he had faced roadblocks and frustrations, in the US his friends would outdo each other in helping him. Jefferson and Madison, the President and Secretary of State respectively, would provide him access and (unofficially, of course) weapons made in US armories. He was able to recruit members for his planned expedition without any legal hindrance, regardless of US neutrality laws.

On February 2, 1806, Miranda and his motley crew of about 180 men set sail from New York aboard the Leander (named for Miranda’s young son), the small ship that would give the expedition its name. After a short layover in Haiti, supported there by the revolutionary government of Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Miranda and crew would sail for their target, Venezuela. During the journey, the crew was presented with uniforms for the new army that they were now members of. Miranda unfurled the tricolor that would eventually be the basis for the flags of three nations. After another stop in Aruba for rest and resupply, Miranda was joined by two other ships, the Bee and the Bacchus.

For Miranda, this was the moment his life had been leading up to. He had men under arms following him. Bright, velvet uniforms adorned those fighting in the glorious cause of freedom from colonial tyranny. Proclamations had been written and printed, which once distributed, would drive the people into a revolutionary frenzy. Everything was in place for the victory that Miranda believed was his destiny.

It began to fall apart almost at once. A landing was attempted at the small town of Ocumare on April 27. The Spanish were ready to oppose them with two ships. Miranda would order his ship, Leander, to sail away. The Bee, however, did not get the message and was captured, left to its fate while Miranda retreated.

If at first you don’t succeed…

Arriving back in Aruba, Miranda would receive help from the British. The Royal Navy officers in the area were sympathetic to his cause. With this help, he was finally able, on August 3, to land on Venezuelan soil, at La Vela de Coro, the site of the old colony of Neu-Augsburg. Upon occupying Coro, he found the city almost deserted. The people had been told to evacuate by colonial authorities to escape the barbarities Miranda would visit upon them. For his part, Miranda had ordered persons and property respected. It did not matter, there was no mass uprising in the revolution’s favor.

Within a few days, Spanish forces reacted and began to approach Coro. The hero was not about to let himself be captured by the enemy, so he ordered his men to retreat to the coast. Miranda threatened to leave behind the wounded if it slowed the retreat. One man who voiced complaints was threatened with execution at Miranda’s hand. Once aboard the ship, Miranda would order his expedition to head back to Aruba. The entire invasion lasted eleven days. It was a complete failure. Adding insult to injury, one of the local commanders of Spanish forces was Juan Manuel Cagigal, Miranda’s old friend from 30 years before who now called him a fanatic.

Back to Britain, Again

From Aruba, Miranda would find his way back to Britain. As soon as he arrived, he announced his presence to the government and began planning a new expedition. The new Prime Minister, the Duke of Portland, was more open than Pitt had been to Miranda’s advances. Portland viewed the war against France as the world war that it was and wanted to strike at Spain’s soft underbelly in the Americas. In furtherance to this end, a large expedition was assembled which would strike at Spanish America. Arthur Wellesley, the future Duke of Wellington, would command. Fate, as it always seemed to with Miranda, intervened. Napoleon, with the help of Spain, had forced the Portuguese royal family to flee Iberia and take up residence in Brazil, the largest colony of Portugal. Sensing an opportunity, the British diverted the army meant for South America to Portugal to begin the famous Peninsular Campaign.

Despondent, Miranda could not believe the opportunity that had been lost. A major army under competent command was lost to him and his cause. Shortly, however, fate would intervene again. Napoleon had invaded his own ally, Spain.

Napoleon Provides the Opportunity of a Lifetime

Napoleon had begun to worry about his Spanish ally. Napoleon was willing to accept the horrifically incompetent administration of the Spanish government led by the Queen’s lover Manuel de Godoy, one of the most corrupt men in the annals of history. He was also willing to accept the cartoonishly stupid King Carlos IV and his only slightly less stupid son, Ferdinand. Napoleon understood that the corrupt and stupid can be controlled, especially by someone as brilliant as himself. The problem was the Spanish people were not willing to continue to submit. After several attempts by Ferdinand, and Ferdinand-aligned elements of the Spanish government, to overthrow Godoy and Carlos, Napoleon intervened and tricked both Carlos and Ferdinand to abdicate their claims to the Spanish throne. Napoleon then named his brother Joseph King José I. All over Spain, uprisings began resisting the French occupation of the country. These uprisings and their leadership committees, called Juntas, pledged their loyalty to Ferdinand, now called Ferdinand VII.

Overnight, these events changed the entire dynamic for Miranda. His primary patron had always been Great Britain. He had always looked primarily to Britain for support. Now, Britain and Spain were allies. Instead of trying to undermine Spanish rule in America, now the British wanted to reinforce it. Within a year, Juntas began springing up in Spanish America, officially pledged to the cause of Ferdinand VII.

These Juntas were led by local criollos who occupied second place in the Spanish colonial hierarchy. The taste of power and local self-rule would not be lost by these men. These Juntas were pledged to Ferdinand VII, yes, but not necessarily to Spain itself, a hair-splitting distinction, but a distinction, nonetheless. Here were the mass independence movements that Miranda had been waiting his whole life for. The movements that he felt it his destiny to lead.

Miranda Goes Home

In 1810, the Supreme Junta of Caracas, exerting power supposedly over the whole of Venezuela, removed the colony’s Spanish government. The Junta claimed that it was simply exercising authority on behalf of Ferdinand until he could return to the throne. It was on this basis that a delegation was sent from the Junta to Britain to garner support. This delegation had as one of its members a certain Simón Bolívar. A young hot-headed Venezuelan, Bolívar was awed by Miranda and his reputation. As he was always keen on mentoring young revolutionaries, Miranda took a liking to this young man. When the delegation attempted to persuade Miranda to return to his homeland, it did not take much convincing. What the delegation did not tell Miranda was that their instructions specifically forbade them from bringing him back with them when they returned. It did not matter. Miranda was going home.

The First Venezuelan Congress assembled on March 2, 1811. Declaring itself the legitimate government of Venezuela, it began setting the stage to take complete control. On July 5, 1811, Congress would declare Venezuela independent of Spain. It would also establish the new country as a republic, styled the American Confederation of Venezuela. A constitution was written, allegedly based upon the principles of liberty and reason. It was unveiled on July 14, Bastille Day.

Back in Command

Miranda was given the task of suppressing royalists around Valencia. Given his military experience, this was a natural assignment. It was not the one that Miranda wanted. Although he was able to easily bring these loyalists to heel, Miranda did not want to be overly brutal. He saw these people as countrymen and wanted to reconcile them with the new republic. When he returned to Caracas after his successful campaign, he received a hero’s welcome. The people crowded him on the streets and cheered his name. This further fueled the jealousy felt by members of the Republic’s government. They were afraid that Miranda and his friends, whom they saw as Jacobins and a Masonic conspiracy, of plotting to overthrow the Republic and install Miranda as a dictator. These fears were certainly not alleviated by Miranda’s letters written to the government during his campaign. Miranda did not believe in the federalist bent of the new republic. He was a centralist and made thinly veiled references about how the men with the most experience should be the ones called to ultimate authority.

During these events, the Spanish were not idle. Despite the massive war and insurrection occurring in Spain, the Supreme Junta of Spain was already making plans to re-exert control over Venezuela. With the covert support of the British, the Spanish government was already accumulating troops in Puerto Rico to attempt a reconquest. A political campaign stressing the racial, cultural, and religious ties to Spain was intensified. As Spain gained sympathizers, the government of the Republic became more radical in its laws and pronouncements. One pronouncement granted freedom to any slave who enlisted in the Republic’s army for a term of ten years. This caused many landowners who were already skeptical of the Republic to openly support Spain. On March 26, 1812, a massive earthquake hit Venezuela and caused widespread death and destruction, much of which occurred in areas that had large numbers of supporters of the Republic. It seemed to many people that God himself was turning against the revolution.

Generalissimo Miranda

Only a week after the earthquake, on April 3rd, Miranda was named supreme commander of the army and head of the Republic with dictatorial powers, with the title of Generalissimo of the Confederation of Venezuela. This seeming height of his career would be fraught with challenges, but Miranda, ever confident, believed in his ability to handle them.

The Spanish chose this moment to attack. They besieged the fortress of San Felipe near Puerto Cabello. The commander was his old mentee Bolívar. When the fortress fell, things fell apart rapidly. The Spanish advanced quickly on Caracas. With no military force of consequence between the capital and the battle-hardened Spanish Army, Miranda knew the cause was hopeless. He sent commissioners to discuss surrender terms with the Spanish commander, Domingo Monteverde. Miranda chose to not confide the surrender terms to others in the Venezuelan government. This led to suspicions about his motives. On August 3rd, the Spanish Army took Caracas. What would later be called the First Republic of Venezuela was gone, snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Betrayal and Arrest

For Miranda, there were only thoughts of exile, yet again. As he was preparing to sail away, other Venezuelan leaders saw this man, supposedly their leader, leaving them. Some believed he was taking the nation’s treasury with him, although the evidence is contradictory. Bolívar and a group of army officers arrested Miranda before he could leave the country. He was handed over to the Spanish. Although the terms of Miranda’s surrender of the country promised him safe passage out, Monteverde gleefully took custody of the prisoner.

Miranda was placed into a cell and secured to the wall by chains. He would be held in Venezuela until transferred to Spain, where he would be held in the La Carraca prison in Cádiz. Charged with treason against the crown, Miranda waited to be tried and executed. But this would not come. Miranda would constantly petition King Ferdinand to release not only him, but his country from bondage. He asked to be sent to exile in Russia or the United States.

Being held in prison is harmful to your health in the best of times. To be held in a 19th century dungeon as a political prisoner was even worse. Miranda was already elderly for the time and suffered from ulcers and rheumatism. On March 25, 1816, he suffered a stroke leading to seizures. Once he recovered, he caught typhus. Only with foreign pressure did Miranda’s Spanish jailers remove his leg irons as a humanitarian gesture. He would linger on for a few months of agony until he died on July 14, 1816, the anniversary of Bastille Day.

Francisco de Miranda was many things. Visionary, a man of letters, a man of the world, he embodied the traits of the ideal man of reason envisioned by the thinkers of the enlightenment. He was also vain, a megalomaniacal, and in the end, overly concerned about his own importance and self-preservation. Like Moses, he would never reach the promised land. Undoubtedly, like Moses, he was one of the primary reasons why his people reached that promised land. The Forerunner, the Precursor, the Moses of South American freedom. All these titles describe Francisco de Miranda.

What do you think of Francisco de Miranda? Let us know below.

Now, read about Francisco Solano Lopez, the Paraguayan president who brought his country to military catastrophe in the War of the Triple Alliance here.

Spain in the New World: The Early Life of Revolutionary Francisco de Miranda

By the latter half of the 17th century, the rule of Spain in the New World was reaching 200 years. Times were changing, both in the New World and in Europe, and the leaders of Spain knew it. Their problem was what to do about it. Spain had never had a coherent policy in its imperial rule. Since 1492, Spain was seemingly constantly at war, with an endless series of crises thrown into the mix. Solutions had to be found for the here and now, the future would take care of itself.

Erick Reddington continues his look at the independence of Spanish America by looking at Venezuelan military leader and revolutionary Francisco de Miranda. He starts by considering Caracas in the 1750s and the life of his father, Sebastian de Miranda, before moving on to Francisco’s early life.

If you missed it, Erick’s article on the four viceroyalties is here.

A portrait of Francisco de Miranda in later life. By Martín Tovar y Tovar.

The Caracas of the 1750s was a city of contradictions. In the multi-layered world of the Spanish Empire, this is understandable. Caracas was the capital of the province of Caracas, making it an important city. However, it had always taken second place in New Granada to Bogotá. Located over the mountains, with a differing economy and population, Caracas was treated as an inferior by the colonial administration.

The sense of difference in Caracas was compounded by a racial aspect as well. Although modern conceptions of race did not quite exist in the 1750s, racial differences were not unknown. The elite of Caracas was dominated by descendants of Basque immigrants. For many, the starting point of the history of Spain as a united state began with the marriage of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile. This merging of Castilian and Catalan created the modern concept of Spanish for many. Only later would the territories of the Basque Kingdom of Navarre south of the Pyrenees be brought into the Spanish Kingdom. The Basque language is unrelated to all Indo-European languages. The culture of the people was radically different than that of the rest of Spain. This sense of “otherness” led to many seeking out new lives in the Spanish Empire. Many of those would end up in Caracas.

What feelings of otherness were already felt by Caracas for New Granada were compounded by the otherness of the Basque elites who dominated the cultural, political, and military life of the city and the province. These elites created a society dominated by themselves, something that they could not achieve in fact in their homeland. Through the creation of the Caracas Company in 1728, a royal monopoly on trade in the area was created in exchange for the Basque elite’s help in curbing the endemic piracy and smuggling in the area. It is through this that the Basque elite came to dominate economically as well as culturally.

Sebastian de Miranda

It was into this Caracas that Sebastian de Miranda Ravelo would immigrate. Sebastian had been born, not in the Basque country, but the Canary Islands, a Spanish possession off the coast of Morocco. Sebastian began life in Caracas as a merchant of modest means whose primary business was selling canvas, a product vital in many industries, but primarily important for sailing ships. He would marry Francisca Antonia Rodríguez de Espinosa, a woman from Caracas who was in the class of “shore whites,” whites who did not have the same privileges as the Peninsulares and were considered by many to be only fit to be petty laborers.

Sebastian was a successful businessman. Despite his humble beginnings, and the social marginalization he faced, he was able to amass a sizeable fortune living in Caracas. With the money he made as a merchant, he bought real estate around Caracas, further growing his fortune. His growing wealth and notoriety led him to be appointed as a captain in the Company of White Canary Islanders, a militia unit raised to improve the defense of the region. This led to greater resentment amongst the elite of Caracas.

During all these happenings, Sebastian would have children, among them a son named Sebastian Francisco. Born in 1750, less than a year after his parents married, his father was able to provide him with the best upbringing Caracas could provide. First, there were Jesuit tutors. Once a solid base had been built, his education continued at the Academy of Santa Rosa. At only 12 years old, he was enrolled in The Royal and Pontifical University of Caracas. This was a traditional education based upon Latin, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, grammar, and history. Although valuable to Miranda, he would criticize his early education later in life, wishing that it had included more modern languages and economics. What it did do was instill a lifelong love for the ancient classics and rooted Miranda in stories of ancient Greek democratic and Roman republican politics.

It was during these formative years of Miranda’s life that his father had been rising to fabulous wealth and status. He was also rising to greater heights of resentment amongst the Caracas elite. In 1768, the elite decided to wage an open fight with the parvenu Sebastian. A complaint was filed against him claiming several issues, but most insulting for the time, the accusers claimed Sebastian was a ‘mulatto’. The accusers then approached the town council, which was already stacked against Sebastian, and demanded that he be arrested for misrepresentation and fraud, and forging documents. Sebastian, understanding where this was all coming from, requested military discharge the next day. This was partially to stop the attacks, but also to give him the free time to prove his innocence. His request was granted, however, the Governor granted Sebastian the right to wear his ceremonial uniform and keep his privileges granted as a merchant.

This crusade to prove the “purity” of his bloodline would consume both the older and younger Miranda for the next several years. Sebastian would successfully take his crusade to the king himself. After creating a genealogy proving his bloodline, he was able to obtain a statement by King Charles III that Sebastian’s bloodline was pure and his position in society, as well as all privileges and titles, were confirmed. Sebastian had taken this fight much farther than the elites of Caracas had ever intended it to go. In so doing, Sebastian only garnered greater resentment. Not only was he an interloper and parvenu in their eyes, but he had beaten them, and that was unforgivable.

Francisco Leaves Caracas

Watching and helping his father as much as he could, Miranda could only feel his resentment grow. Once his pure bloodline was proven, he decided to leave Caracas and all the resentments. He used the genealogy and certifications his father had accumulated and used them to apply for permission to join the Spanish Imperial service. He wanted to leave behind the parochial prejudices of the elites of Caracas and become a man of the world. On January 25, 1771, Miranda would board the Swedish ship Prince Frederick and let it take him away.

It is easy to see his motivations for leaving in light of his later life. Miranda’s resentment against elites and desire to bring freedom to people around the world can be drawn from his family’s treatment in Caracas. He believed that people should be able to rise on their own without unnecessary societal shackles. He saw how his father rose with those shackles and could consider how much farther he could have gone if left to his own devices. His idealism was that without what he saw as useless prejudices, people would naturally become harmonious and live together in peace and harmony. Together with his obsession with ancient Greek and Roman classics, molded Miranda into the idealistic Moses of the South American Revolutions.

Arriving in Spain after a six-week journey, Miranda was captivated by what he saw. The grand architecture, the historical sites, and importantly for him, the grand libraries with books unobtainable in what was still a colonial backwater. For two years, Miranda would devote himself to his academic studies as well as attempting to understand the Spain of his time. In 1773, his father would purchase for Miranda a commission in the Princess’s Regiment, granting the young man the chance to win the kind of martial glory he had studied so diligently.

Quest for Military Glory

After seeing initial service performing garrison duty in North Africa, Miranda became bored. Much like other men who believe they are born for greatness, mundane duties grew intolerably boring for him. Military glory cannot be obtained in a small garrison on the fringe of nowhere. He would gain combat experience during a brief war with Morocco, it was not the dashing service that he read about so intently. During the siege of Melilla, he would show some of the traits that would later come to embody his character. A firm belief in his destiny. Physical courage in combat. A desire to be where the action was. But also, a willingness to see the other side. Miranda would purchase a Koran during the siege to try to more fully understand the Muslim Moors opposing him. In his extensive diary, he never once expressed personal hostility or hatred of the Moors. He recognized their bravery and zeal for their cause. This desire to understand even the motivations of his enemies, would drive Miranda throughout his life.

After the fighting in Morocco, Miranda would also show another trait that would mark him - resistance to authority. He would constantly bombard his superiors with letters requesting promotions, transfers, and decorations. He would request in terms that, to modern ears would sound as flowery, but at the time, the tone and volume of correspondence were pushy at best and demanding at worst. Combined with his self-assurance, this was certain to be grating to his superiors. Miranda would even write to the king himself asking for the Order of Santiago. This restlessness and growing self-assurance would place him in jail several times for insubordination. Making enemies of your superior officers is never a good idea, and Miranda’s commander, Colonial Juan Roca, would repeatedly file charges against him.

By 1780, Spain was at war again. It had intervened in the American Revolution on the side of France (though Spain pointedly refused to recognize American independence). Troops were needed in the New World to strike at British positions throughout the hemisphere. Miranda would finally be granted the transfer he was long requesting. To be sure, his superiors would have been happy to be rid of him anyway. Miranda was transferred to the Regiment of Aragon and put on a ship to America. This Spanish plan was to use the American Revolution as a way to strike at the British Empire and avenge the humiliating defeat during the Seven Years’ War. The Spanish wanted to reconquer their lost colony of Florida, which they had been compelled to surrender in 1763. The expedition was led by the brilliant Spanish General Bernardo de Galvez.

On the journey from Spain to Havana, the leader of the naval force carrying the troops was Admiral José Solano y Bote, the former governor of Caracas who had supported his father during the controversy over his genealogy. Solano would immediately recognize Miranda and help out the son of his old friend. Miranda was moved out of his regiment, promoted, and made aide-de-camp to Manuel de Cagigal, the governor of Cuba. With promotion and fantastic references, Miranda was now on his way. He would participate in the Siege of Pensacola in 1781. He would help raise money for the French fleet which would go on to win the Battle of the Chesapeake, leading to the victory at Yorktown. Miranda would now begin to help plan the invasion of Jamaica, the jewel of the British Caribbean Empire.

Problems Follow

All was not well for Miranda, however. The Battle of the Saintes would lead to the end of any thought of invading Jamaica. His problems with authority would return. General de Galvez, the architect of the successful campaign against Pensacola, was an object of derision for Miranda. Along with other officers that Miranda had bumped up against along the way, he was making a powerful list of enemies.

After Pensacola, Miranda was sent to the British to arrange the release of about 900 prisoners of war. A further, unrecorded mission was to act as a spy on what the British were up to in the area. Relying on contacts he had made in the aftermath of Pensacola, he got in touch with the British. Miranda, being the smooth operator that he was, had no difficulty arranging the release of the prisoners. Unfortunately, he also entered into an arrangement with Philip Allwood, a British merchant, to fill the ships transporting the prisoners back to Spanish custody with Allwood’s goods and make a fortune on contraband goods.

When Miranda returned, he was found out almost immediately. In addition to charges of smuggling, he also faced charges that he was a spy for the British. Miranda had always been an avid reader. He purchased books wherever he went. This included English language versions of books that would have been banned in Spain. This was used against him. The Minister of the Indies was José de Galvez, uncle of Bernardo. It seemed the de Galvez family, as well as those who had personal and professional differences with Miranda were all coming together to destroy him. He realized that eventually that his enemies were going to find a way to destroy him. It would be the same as with his father. The attacks would continue, and the charges would pile up, until one day the one charge that stuck would come.

At some point during this personal crisis he was facing, Miranda began to realize that despite professed loyalty to king and country, he would forever be a colonial in the eyes of the Spanish. Of course, all of the issues he was facing were not his fault, the persecution came from a variety of external factors. Miranda began personalizing these issues and began seeing himself as different from other Spaniards. He was an American. Spanish service was no longer for him.

Learning that he was going to be arrested, potentially this time for treason, due to the accusations of being a spy, Miranda resolved to escape. He would write to friends and tell them he was going to go back to Spain personally to clear his name. Then it became going back to Spain through the United States. On June 1, 1783, Miranda boarded an American ship and sailed for the United States. It was only the beginning of his wanderings, but this first step would lead to Miranda taking up a part on the stage of world history. The question was, how big a part would he play?

What do you think of Francisco de Miranda’s early life? Let us know below.

Now, read about Francisco Solano Lopez, the Paraguayan president who brought his country to military catastrophe in the War of the Triple Alliance here.

Klein Venedig: A 16th Century German Settlement in Modern-Day Venezuela

The European colonization of South America had a number strange episodes - and perhaps one of the most unusual was Klein Venedig. This was an attempt to set up a German settlement in modern-day Venezuela - however the focus ended up being heavily on the search for the fabled lost city of gold - El Dorado. Erick Redington explains.

Portrait of Phillip von Hutten, a Lieutenant-Governor of Klein Venedig in the 1540s.

An Imperial Election

The Holy Roman Empire. As Voltaire wrote, it was neither Holy, nor Roman, nor an Empire. A patchwork of about 1,800 states, free cities, margravates, and other polities. This politically complicated entity would be the start of one of the strangest, and most little known, colonization efforts in the New World. In 1519, Emperor Maximilian I died, and a new Emperor had to be crowned.

In any other empire, crowning a new Emperor would be as simple as consulting a family tree. However, this was the Holy Roman Empire. It was an elective monarchy. Seven electors, important rulers within the Empire, would choose the new Emperor. Elections were not straightforward, for the Holy Roman Empire was extremely decentralized and individual rulers were very jealous of their own powers and rights in relation to the Emperor. To achieve a majority of the electors and be chosen Emperor would come at a high cost, both politically and economically. 

The election of 1519 would not be a normal election. The three men who put themselves up as candidates were the three most famous rulers in Europe at the time: Henry VIII of England, Francis I of France, and Charles I of Spain. Between these three men, much of the wealth and power of the continent rested. The wealth that could be spent by the three men whetted the appetites of the seven electors. It would take a significant amount of politicking and deep pockets to win the election.

Charles could not be too careful. Henry VIII and Francis I ruled countries outside the Empire, while Charles was Archduke of Austria in addition to King of Spain. That made him the “German” candidate. But he had been raised in the Low Countries and was primarily King of Spain. If Charles lost the election, his possessions would be too far-flung and diverse to defend easily. And if Francis I became Emperor, a German Holy Roman Empire united to France under a young and ambitious king would be unstoppable. For Charles, the election had to be won, no matter the cost.  And cost meant money. Lots of money. Charles would borrow enormous sums of money for “gifts” to the electors and others who could influence them. Although Charles would in the end be elected unanimously, this belies the closeness of the election. Once the election was won, however, the bill would come due. The loans would have to be repaid.

Buying a Crown

Medieval and early modern Europe had a thriving banking industry. Two of the biggest names in banks of the time were Fugger and Welser. These families grew rich lending money to kings, dukes, princes, and even private individuals. Lending money to a man who now ruled half of Western Europe was a great business strategy. Charles knew he would have to repay his creditors. His problem was that from the moment of his election, he was beset by crises throughout his domains. Crises are expensive, but if he defaulted on his loans, he could not expect to get more in the future. There had to be another solution.

It was only 27 years before Charles’ election that Columbus made his first voyage to the New World. By the time Charles was elected, his first throne, the Kingdom of Spain, owned half of the Western Hemisphere. Spain’s empire was more than a land of milk and honey. It was a land of gold and silver. Landless mercenaries leaving Europe poor and unloved were returning ennobled and wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice. Treasure ships were sailing into Cádiz and Seville bringing untold wealth. For Charles, this wealth was needed more to pay for wars against Francis, who was still bitter about losing the election, the Ottomans, who were attempting to push Islam further into the heart of Europe, and Protestants, who were threatening the very existence of the Empire and the religious unity of Western Europe. Bartholomeus Welser was a shrewd businessman. As the leader of his family’s banking firm, he had backed the right horse in the Imperial election. He wanted to be repaid by Charles but knew about the Emperor’s financial situation. He saw the wealth coming from the New World and wanted in. 

The Province of Venezuela had been founded in 1527. Meant to govern the area around the Orinoco River, the economic potential of the area seemed limitless. There were rumors of gold mines, gems, silver, and many other riches. The problem was the area was undeveloped and unexplored. Welser saw an opportunity to extract the wealth of the New World directly, and Charles saw a cheap way to settle a debt. In 1528, Charles granted a charter for Welser to take control of an area roughly corresponding to Venezuela. The southern boundary was to be the “South Sea,” still undefined. All this territory was to be controlled by Welser but also in the name of Charles. Welser would have to fund an expedition, conquer the country, and build defenses at his own expense. If the rumors of boundless riches were true, the expense would be a pittance in comparison.

To Find El Dorado

Welser named Ambrose Ehinger as Captain-General of the new colony of Klein Venedig, or Little Venice in German. On February 24, 1529, 480 men of German, Spanish, and Portuguese extraction, along with some slaves, landed at Santa Ana de Coro, on the north coast of Venezuela.  Very soon, it became clear that rumors of massive gold mines right on the coast were simply rumors. Ehinger was still determined to make his mark, and his fortune, and decided to explore the interior of the continent. Some say he was searching for El Dorado, the fabled lost city of gold. Others that he was looking for the mines of the natives who were in possession of some gold. Ehinger prepared his expedition carefully. After all, the grant went an undefined amount of space south, and he did not know how far he would have to go. 

Ehinger’s expedition, accompanied by a number of native porters, departed and explored the shores of Lake Maracaibo. The record of brutality towards the natives of the area, the Coquivacoa, and those who were part of his expedition was horrendous. The porters were tied together by the neck in a long rope-chain and subjected to a brutal work regimen. When one man would fall out due to fatigue, he would simply be decapitated, thus freeing the rope and allowing the chain to move on. The natives, finding this brutal man, and his brutal expedition moving through their territory, fought. On September 8, 1529, he would establish the city of Neu Nürnberg, later called Maracaibo. Despite the fierce resistance of the natives of the area, and not finding the gold he wanted to, Ehinger saw the expedition as a success. He would outfit another.

The second expedition would be prepared like the first. Large numbers of native porters and a large military contingent. The expedition would set off south and west from Coro in 1531. This excursion would become a hell on earth. The Spanish would devastate native villages. The terrain was horrible. Brutality toward the native porters was normal. One group, sent back with 70,000 pesos worth of gold, had to abandon the treasure and eventually turned to cannibalizing what remained of their porters. For almost three years, the expedition roamed the jungles of Klein Venedig looking for the city of El Dorado, or at least a little more gold. Ehinger ordered his soldiers to take all gold from the natives they could find. He, however, forbade his men from buying food from the natives, even though the natives wanted to sell them food. Ehinger was, amazingly after all this, allegedly desirous of not annoying the natives.  Eventually, Ehinger would be shot in the neck with a poison-tipped arrow and died on May 31, 1533.

A New Governor but the Same Goal

The successor of Ehinger would be George von Speyer, who was appointed the new governor by Charles. Speyer was determined to succeed where Ehinger had failed. He would find his fortune, he was sure. Speyer outfitted an expedition of about 2000 men and set off for the interior in 1535. This expedition would cross mountains and rivers. They would be the first expedition to cross the Mal-País. The natives were just as hostile to Speyer as they had been to Ehinger. They were also smart. They would encourage Speyer and his men that just over the horizon was a city where people were dress well and lived lavishly in a gold city. Speyer and his men overlooked the warning signs of disaster and pressed on, driven to emulate Cortés and Pizarro.  

Once the expedition had gone a few hundred miles, Speyer decided to split the expedition to cover more ground. The plan was to meet up at a designated rendezvous point later on. After further travel, and several mutinies amongst his men, Speyer was forced to turn back and return to Coro. One source says that 310 of the 400 men under Speyer died. The other half of the expedition was commanded by Ehinger’s second in command Nicholas Federmann. Federmann had been angry that he had not been made his friend’s successor and had been superseded by Speyer. He had been the choice of the Welser, but Charles had overruled them and appointed Speyer instead. Federmann was seen by many of Charles’ advisors as a cruel and overbearing man. Whether he was either of those things, he was a great leader of men. It has been written of him that he was tireless in driving his men but led by example and did not expect any man to do that which he would not do himself.

Now, presented with an opportunity for independent command, Federman grabbed his chance with both hands and made his own expedition. Through force of will, he brought his expedition over the Andes and into the valleys of New Granada, ignoring Speyer’s orders. Although Jiménez de Quesada would make it to southern Colombia first by a few weeks, the achievement of Federmann was not small.  A confrontation would occur between Quesada, Federmann and Sebastián Belalcázar, all three of whom led expeditions to the area and therefore believed they had rights to the treasures of the region. After a period of negotiation, all three men agreed to go to Spain together and request King Charles settle the dispute. Charles would eventually rule in favor of Quesada. Federmann would return home to Augsburg where he was promptly fired by the Welsers.

Speyer would go on to make several more expeditions. He would continue to search for three more years after the famous first expedition ended. By 1539, sick and worn out from expeditions, Speyer resigned as governor of Klein Venedig. He wanted to return to Europe but was persuaded to turn back at Santo Domingo out of a sense of duty. He would not live long, however, dying in 1540 at Coro. After Speyer’s death, the governorship passed to Phillip von Hutten. Hutten had been on Speyer’s expeditions and, shockingly, still had a desire for more.

To Do the Same Thing Over and Over…

Hutten would begin his first expedition in August 1541. Falling for the old native trick of convincing the explorers that all the gold was just over the next hill, Hutten pressed on with reckless abandon. The natives pointed Hutten to the Omaguas tribe, a powerful and warlike tribe. When the expedition arrived in Omaguas territory, Hutten was convinced this was the gateway to the fabled El Dorado. He was determined to capture living Omaguas to find out more. This resulted in a battle with an estimated 15,000 natives. The expedition, worn down through years of travail by this point, could not cope with this force. Hutten decided to return to Coro and mount a major expedition. 

Hutten and his men were convinced they had been within the grasp of the fabled city. All Hutten had to do was get back to Coro, mount another expedition, and he would be the next Cortés. What he did not know was that he had been gone too long. In 1545, after not hearing from Hutten for years, the Spanish had appointed Juan de Carvajal as Captain-General of Venezuela. When only 100 miles from Coro, Carvajal, realizing that if Hutten returned, he would lose his position, captured the unfortunate Hutten. Hutton, accompanied by one of Bartholomew Welser’s sons and the expedition’s bodyguard, were all hacked to death on Carvajal’s orders.

By this point, the colony was in chaos. None of the riches that had been promised had been found. The only thing the Welsers had really accomplished was to capture natives and sell them into slavery. There were no farms, no commerce. Everyone had been so wrapped up in finding El Dorado that a true settler colony, the original intention, did not exist and there was no real plan to build one. Hutten would be the last governor of Klein Venedig. This sad disaster of a colony would not be definitively put out of its misery as Hutten had been. It would die with a whimper. Although the legal existence of the colony would continue for a while longer, the attempt to settle Germans, and the Welser’s grand dreams of limitless gold were over.

What do you think of Klein Venedig? Let us know below.

Now, read about Francisco Solano Lopez, the Paraguayan president who brought his country to military catastrophe in the War of the Triple Alliance here.