9: The Republics of South America
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Even so huge and conservative a country as Brazil could not start
out upon the pathway of republican freedom without some unrest;
but the political experience gained under a regime of limited
monarchy had a steadying effect. Besides, the Revolution of 1889
had been effected by a combination of army officers and civilian
enthusiasts who knew that the provinces were ready for a radical
change in the form of government, but who were wise enough to
make haste slowly. If a motto could mean anything, the adoption
of the positivist device, "Order and Progress," displayed on the
national flag seemed a happy augury.
The constitution promulgated in 1891 set up a federal union
broadly similar to that of the United States, except that the
powers of the general Government were somewhat more restricted.
Qualifications for the suffrage were directly fixed in the
fundamental law itself, but the educational tests imposed
excluded the great bulk of the population from the right to vote.
In the constitution, also, Church and State were declared
absolutely separate, and civil marriage was prescribed.
Well adapted as the constitution was to the particular needs of
Brazil, the Government erected under it had to contend awhile
with political disturbances. Though conflicts occurred between
the president and the Congress, between the federal authority and
the States, and between the civil administration and naval and
military officials, none were so constant, so prolonged, or so
disastrous as in the Spanish American republics. Even when
elected by the connivance of government officials, the chief
magistrate governed in accordance with republican forms.
Presidential power, in fact, was restrained both by the huge size
of the country and by the spirit of local autonomy upheld by the
States.
Ever since the war with Paraguay the financial credit of Brazil
had been impaired. The chronic deficit in the treasury had been
further increased by a serious lowering in the rate of exchange,
which was due to an excessive issue of paper money. In order to
save the nation from bankruptcy Manoel Ferraz de Campos Salles, a
distinguished jurist, was commissioned to effect an adjustment
with the British creditors. As a result of his negotiations a
"funding loan" was obtained, in return for which an equivalent
amount in paper money was to be turned over for cancellation at a
fixed rate of exchange. Under this arrangement depreciation
ceased for awhile and the financial outlook became brighter.
The election of Campos Salles to the presidency in 1898, as a
reward for his success, was accompanied by the rise of definite
political parties. Among them the Radicals or Progressists
favored a policy of centralization under military auspices and
exhibited certain antiforeign tendencies. The Moderates or
Republicans, on the contrary, with Campos Salles as their
candidate, declared for the existing constitution and advocated a
gradual adoption of such reforms as reason and time might
suggest. When the latter party won the election, confidence in
the stability of Brazil returned.
As if Uruguay had not already suffered enough from internal
discords, two more serious conflicts demonstrated once again that
this little country, in which political power had been held
substantially by one party alone since 1865, could not hope for
permanent peace until either the excluded and apparently
irreconcilable party had been finally and utterly crushed, or,
far better still, until the two factions could manage to agree
upon some satisfactory arrangement for rotation in office. The
struggle of 1897 ended in the assassination of the president and
in a division of the republic into two practically separate
areas, one ruled by the Colorados at Montevideo, the other by the
Blancos. A renewal of civil war in 1904 seemed altogether
preferable to an indefinite continuance of this dualism in
government, even at the risk of friction with Argentina, which
was charged with not having observed strict neutrality. This
second struggle came to a close with the death of the insurgent
leader; but it cost the lives of thousands and did irreparable
damage to the commerce and industry of the country.
Uruguay then enjoyed a respite from party upheavals until 1910,
when José Batlle, the able, resolute, and radical-minded head of
the Colorados, announced that he would be a candidate for the
presidency. As he had held the office before and had never ceased
to wield a strong personal influence over the administration of
his successor, the Blancos decided that now was the time to
attempt once more to oust their opponents from the control which
they had monopolized for half a century. Accusing the Government
of an unconstitutional centralization of power in the executive,
of preventing free elections, and of crippling the pastoral
industries of the country, they started a revolt, which ran a
brief course. Batlle proved himself equal to the situation and
quickly suppressed the insurrection. Though he did make a wide
use of his authority, the President refrained from indulging in
political persecution and allowed the press all the liberty it
desired in so far as was consistent with the law. It was under
his direction that Uruguay entered upon a remarkable series of
experiments in the nationalization of business enterprises.
Further, more or less at the suggestion of Battle, a new
constitution was ratified by popular vote in 1917. It provided
for a division of the executive power between the President and a
National Council of Administration, forbade the election of
administrative and military officials to the Congress, granted to
that body a considerable increase of power, and enlarged the
facilities for local self-government. In addition, it established
the principle of minority representation and of secrecy of the
ballot, permitted the Congress to extend the right of suffrage to
women, and dissolved the union between Church and State. If the
terms of the new instrument are faithfully observed, the old
struggle between Blancos and Colorados will have been brought
definitely to a close.
Paraguay lapsed after 1898 into the earlier sins of Spanish
America. Upon a comparatively placid presidential regime followed
a series of barrack uprisings or attacks by Congress on the
executive. The constitution became a farce. No longer, to be
sure, an abode of Arcadian seclusion as in colonial times, or a
sort of territorial cobweb from the center of which a spiderlike
Francía hung motionless or darted upon his hapless prey, or even
a battle ground on which fanatical warriors might fight and die
at the behest of a savage Lopez, Paraguay now took on the aspect
of an arena in which petty political gamecocks might try out
their spurs. Happily, the opposing parties spent their energies
in high words and vehement gestures rather than in blows and
bloodshed. The credit of the country sank lower and lower until
its paper money stood at a discount of several hundred per cent
compared with gold.
European bankers had begun to view the financial future of
Argentina also with great alarm. In 1890 the mad careering of
private speculation and public expenditure along the roseate
pathway of limitless credit reached a veritable "crisis of
progress." A frightful panic ensued. Paper money fell to less
than a quarter of its former value in gold. Many a firm became
bankrupt, and many a fortune shriveled. As is usual in such
cases, the Government had to shoulder the blame. A four-day
revolution broke out in Buenos Aires, and the President became
the scapegoat; but the panic went on, nevertheless, until gold
stood at nearly five to one. Most of the banks suspended payment;
the national debt underwent a huge increase; and immigration
practically ceased.
By 1895, however, the country had more or less resumed its normal
condition. A new census showed that the population had risen to
four million, about a sixth of whom resided in the capital. The
importance which agriculture had attained was attested by the
establishment of a separate ministry in the presidential cabinet.
Industry, too, made such rapid strides at this time that
organized labor began to take a hand in politics. The short-lived
"revolution" of 1905, for example, was not primarily the work of
politicians but of strikers organized into a workingmen's
federation. For three months civil guarantees were suspended, and
by a so-called "law of residence," enacted some years before and
now put into effect, the Government was authorized to expel
summarily any foreigner guilty of fomenting strikes or of
disturbing public order in any other fashion.
Political agitation soon assumed a new form. Since the
Autonomist-National party had been in control for thirty years or
more, it seemed to the Civic-Nationalists, now known as
Republicans, to the Autonomists proper, and to various other
factions, that they ought to do something to break the hold of
that powerful organization. Accordingly in 1906 the President,
supported by a coalition of these factions, started what was
termed an "upward-downward revolution"—in other words, a series
of interventions by which local governors and members of
legislatures suspected of Autonomist-National leanings were to be
replaced by individuals who enjoyed the confidence of the
Administration. Pretexts for such action were not hard to find
under the terms of the constitution; but their political
interests suffered so much in the effort that the promoters had
to abandon it.
Owing to persistent obstruction on the part of Congress, which
took the form of a refusal either to sanction his appointments or
to approve the budget, the President suspended the sessions of
that body in 1908 and decreed a continuance of the estimates for
the preceding year. The antagonism between the chief executive
and the legislature became so violent that, if his opponents had
not been split up into factions, civil war might have ensued in
Argentina.
To remedy a situation made worse by the absence— usual in most
of the Hispanic republics—of a secret ballot and by the refusal
of political malcontents to take part in elections, voting was
made both obligatory and secret in 1911, and the principle of
minority representation was introduced. Legislation of this sort
was designed to check bribery and intimidation and to enable the
radical-minded to do their duty at the polls. Its effect was
shown five years later, when the secret ballot was used
substantially for the first time. The radicals won both the
presidency and a majority in the Congress.
One of the secrets of the prosperity of Argentina, as of Brazil,
in recent years has been its abstention from warlike ventures
beyond its borders and its endeavor to adjust boundary conflicts
by arbitration. Even when its attitude toward its huge neighbor
had become embittered in consequence of a boundary decision
rendered by the President of the United States in 1895, it abated
none of its enthusiasm for the principle of a peaceful settlement
of international disputes. Four years later, in a treaty with
Uruguay, the so-called "Argentine Formula" appeared. To quote its
language: "The contracting parties agree to submit to arbitration
all questions of any nature which may arise between them,
provided they do not affect provisions of the constitution of
either state, and cannot be adjusted by direct negotiation." This
Formula was soon put to the test in a serious dispute with Chile.
In the Treaty of 1881, in partitioning Patagonia, the crest of
the Andes had been assumed to be the true continental watershed
between the Atlantic and the Pacific and hence was made the
boundary line between Argentina and Chile. The entire Atlantic
coast was to belong to Argentina, the Pacific coast to Chile; the
island of Tierra del Fuego was to be divided between them. At the
same time the Strait of Magellan was declared a neutral waterway,
open to the ships of all nations. Ere long, however, it was
ascertained that the crest of the Andes did not actually coincide
with the continental divide. Thereupon Argentina insisted that
the boundary line should be made to run along the crest, while
Chile demanded that it be traced along the watershed. Since the
mountainous area concerned was of little value, the question at
bottom was simply one of power and prestige between rival states.
As the dispute waxed warmer, a noisy press and populace clamored
for war. The Governments of the two nations spent large sums in
increasing their armaments; and Argentina, in imitation of its
western neighbor, made military service compulsory. But, as the
conviction gradually spread that a struggle would leave the
victor as prostrate as the vanquished, wiser counsels prevailed.
In 1899, accordingly, the matter was referred to the King of
Great Britain for decision. Though the award was a compromise,
Chile was the actual gainer in territory.
By their treaties of 1902 both republics declared their intention
to uphold the principle of arbitration and to refrain from
interfering in each other's affairs along their respective
coasts. They also agreed upon a limitation of armaments—the sole
example on record of a realization of the purpose of the First
Hague Conference. To commemorate still further their
international accord, in 1904 they erected on the summit of the
Uspallata Pass, over which San Martín had crossed with his army
of liberation in 1817, a bronze statue of Christ the Redeemer.
There, amid the snow-capped peaks of the giant Andes, one may
read inscribed upon the pedestal: "Sooner shall these mountains
crumble to dust than Argentinos and Chileans break the peace
which at the feet of Christ the Redeemer they have sworn to
maintain!" Nor has the peace been broken.
Though hostilities with Argentina had thus been averted, Chile
had experienced within its own frontiers the most serious
revolution it had known in sixty years. The struggle was not one
of partisan chieftains or political groups but a genuine contest
to determine which of two theories of government should
prevail—the presidential or the parliamentary, a presidential
autocracy with the spread of real democracy or a congressional
oligarchy based on the existing order. The sincerity and public
spirit of both contestants helped to lend dignity to the
conflict.
José Manuel Balmaceda, a man of marked ability, who became
President in 1886, had devoted much of his political life to
urging an enlargement of the executive power, a greater freedom
to municipalities in the management of their local affairs, and a
broadening of the suffrage. He had even advocated a separation of
Church and State. Most of these proposals so conservative a land
as Chile was not prepared to accept. Though civil marriage was
authorized and ecclesiastical influence was lessened in other
respects, the Church stood firm. During his administration
Balmaceda introduced many reforms, both material and educational.
He gave a great impetus to the construction of public works,
enhanced the national credit by a favorable conversion of the
public debt, fostered immigration, and devoted especial attention
to the establishment of secondary schools. Excellent as the
administration of Balmaceda had been in other respects, he
nevertheless failed to combine the liberal factions into a party
willing to support the plans of reform which he had steadily
favored. The parliamentary system made Cabinets altogether
unstable, as political groups in the lower house of the Congress
alternately cohered and fell apart. This defect, Balmaceda
thought, should be corrected by making the members of his
official family independent of the legislative branch. The
Council of State, a somewhat anomalous body placed between the
President and Cabinet on the one side and the Congress on the
other, was an additional obstruction to a smooth-running
administration. For it he would substitute a tribunal charged
with the duty of resolving conflicts between the two chief
branches of government. Balmaceda believed, also, that greater
liberty should be given to the press and that existing taxes
should be altered as rarely as possible. On its side, the
Congress felt that the President was trying to establish a
dictatorship and to replace the unitary system by a federal
union, the probable weakness of which would enable him to retain
his power more securely.
Toward the close of his term in January, 1891, when the Liberals
declined to support his candidate for the presidency, Balmaceda,
furious at the opposition which he had encountered, took matters
into his own hands. Since the Congress refused to pass the
appropriation bills, he declared that body dissolved and
proceeded to levy the taxes by decree. To this arbitrary and
altogether unconstitutional performance the Congress retorted by
declaring the President deposed. Civil war broke out forthwith,
and a strange spectacle presented itself. The two chief cities,
Santiago and Valparaiso, and most of the army backed Balmaceda,
whereas the country districts, especially in the north, and
practically all the navy upheld the Congress.
These were, indeed, dark days for Chile. During a struggle of
about eight months the nation suffered more than it had done in
years of warfare with Peru and Bolivia. Though the bulk of the
army stood by Balmaceda, the Congress was able to raise and
organize a much stronger fighting force under a Prussian
drillmaster. The tide of battle turned; Santiago and Valparaiso
capitulated; and the presidential cause was lost. Balmaceda, who
had taken refuge in the Argentina legation, committed suicide.
But the Balmacedists, who were included in a general amnesty,
still maintained themselves as a party to advocate in a peaceful
fashion the principles of their fallen leader.
Chile had its reputation for stability well tested in 1910 when
the executive changed four times without the slightest political
disturbance. According to the constitution, the officer who takes
the place of the President in case of the latter's death or
disability, though vested with full authority, has the title of
Vice President only. It so happened that after the death of the
President two members of the Cabinet in succession held the vice
presidency, and they were followed by the chief magistrate, who
was duly elected and installed at the close of the year. In 1915,
for the first time since their leader had committed suicide, one
of the followers of Balmaceda was chosen President—by a strange
coalition of Liberal-Democrats, or Balmacedists, Conservatives,
and Nationalists, over the candidate of the Radicals, Liberals,
and Democrats. The maintenance of the parliamentary system,
however, continued to produce frequent alterations in the
personnel of the Cabinet.
In its foreign relations, apart from the adjustment reached with
Argentina, Chile managed to settle the difficulties with Bolivia
arising out of the War of the Pacific. By the terms of treaties
concluded in 1895 and 1905, the region tentatively transferred by
the armistice of 1884 was ceded outright to Chile in return for a
seaport and a narrow right of way to it through the former
Peruvian province of Tarapaca. With Peru, Chile was not so
fortunate. Though the tension over the ultimate disposal of the
Tacna and Arica question was somewhat reduced, it was far from
being removed. Chile absolutely refused to submit the matter to
arbitration, on the ground that such a procedure could not
properly be applied to a question arising out of a war that had
taken place so many years before. Chile did not wish to give the
region up, lest by so doing it might expose Tarapaca to a
possible attack from Peru. The investment of large amounts of
foreign capital in the exploitation of the deposits of nitrate of
soda had made that province economically very valuable, and the
export tax levied on the product was the chief source of the
national revenue. These were all potent reasons why Chile wanted
to keep its hold on Tacna and Arica. Besides, possession was nine
points in the law!
On the other hand, the original plan of having the question
decided by a vote of the inhabitants of the provinces concerned
was not carried into effect, partly because both claimants
cherished a conviction that whichever lost the election would
deny its validity, and partly because they could not agree upon
the precise method of holding it. Chile suggested that the
international commission which was selected to take charge of the
plebiscite, and which was composed of a Chilean, a Peruvian, and
a neutral, should be presided over by the Chilean member as
representative of the country actually in possession, whereas
Peru insisted that the neutral should act as chairman. Chile
proposed also that Chileans, Peruvians, and foreigners resident
in the area six months before the date of the elections should
vote, provided that they had the right to do so under the terms
of the constitutions of both states. Peru, on its part, objected
to the length of residence, and wished to limit carefully the
number of Chilean voters, to exclude foreigners altogether from
the election, and to disregard qualifications for the suffrage
which required an ability to read and write. Both countries,
moreover, appeared to have a lurking suspicion that in any event
the other would try to secure a majority at the polls by
supplying a requisite number of voters drawn from their
respective citizenry who were not ordinarily resident in Tacna
and Arica! Unable to overcome the deadlock, Chile and Peru agreed
in 1913 to postpone the settlement for twenty years longer. At
the expiration of this period, when Chile would have held the
provinces for half a century, the question should be finally
adjusted on bases mutually satisfactory. Officially amicable
relations were then restored.
While the political situation in Bolivia remained stable, so much
could not be said of that in Peru and Ecuador. If the troubles in
the former were more or less military, a persistence of the
conflict between clericals and radicals characterized the
commotions in the latter, because of certain liberal provisions
in the Constitution of 1907. Peru, on the other hand, in 1915
guaranteed its people the enjoyment of religious liberty.
Next to the Tacna and Arica question, the dubious boundaries of
Ecuador constituted the most serious international problem in
South America. The so-called Oriente region, lying east of the
Andes and claimed by Peru, Brazil, and Colombia, appeared
differently on different maps, according as one claimant nation
or another set forth its own case. Had all three been satisfied,
nothing would have been left of Ecuador but the strip between the
Andes and the Pacific coast, including the cities of Quito and
Guayaquil. The Ecuadorians, therefore, were bitterly sensitive on
the subject.
Protracted negotiations over the boundaries became alike tedious
and listless. But the moment that the respective diplomats had
agreed upon some knotty point, the Congress of one litigant or
another was almost sure to reject the decision and start the
controversy all over again. Even reference of the matter to the
arbitral judgment of European monarchs produced, so far as
Ecuador and Peru were concerned, riotous attacks upon the
Peruvian legation and consulates, charges and countercharges of
invasion of each other's territory, and the suspension of
diplomatic relations. Though the United States, Argentina, and
Brazil had interposed to ward off an armed conflict between the
two republics and, in 1911, had urged that the dispute be
submitted to the Hague Tribunal, nothing would induce Ecuador to
comply.
Colombia was even more unfortunate than its southern neighbor,
for in addition to political convulsions it suffered financial
disaster and an actual deprivation of territory. Struggles among
factions, official influence at the elections, dictatorships, and
fighting between the departments and the national Government
plunged the country, in 1899, into the worst civil war it had
known for many a day. Paper money, issued in unlimited amounts
and given a forced circulation, made the distress still more
acute. Then came the hardest blow of all. Since 1830 Panama, as
province or state, had tried many times to secede from Colombia.
In 1903 the opportunity it sought became altogether favorable.
The parent nation, just beginning to recover from the disasters
of civil strife, would probably be unable to prevent a new
attempt at withdrawal. The people of Panama, of course, knew how
eager the United States was to acquire the region of the proposed
Canal Zone, since it had failed to win it by negotiation with
Colombia. Accordingly, if they were to start a "revolution," they
had reason to believe that it would not lack support—or at
least, connivance—from that quarter.
On the 3d of November the projected "revolution" occurred, on
schedule time, and the United States recognized the independence
of the "Republic of Panama" three days later! In return for a
guarantee of independence, however, the United States stipulated,
in the convention concluded on the 18th of November, that,
besides authority to enforce sanitary regulations in the Canal
Zone, it should also have the right of intervention to maintain
order in the republic itself. More than once, indeed, after
Panama adopted its constitution in 1904, elections threatened to
become tumultuous; whereupon the United States saw to it that
they passed off quietly.
Having no wish to flout their huge neighbor to the northward, the
Hispanic nations at large hastened to acknowledge the
independence of the new republic, despite the indignation that
prevailed in press and public over what was regarded as an act of
despoilment. In view of the resentful attitude of Colombia and
mindful also of the opinion of many Americans that a gross
injustice had been committed, the United States eventually
offered terms of settlement. It agreed to express regret for the
ill feeling between the two countries which had arisen out of the
Panama incident, provided that such expression were made mutual;
and, as a species of indemnity, it agreed to pay for canal rights
to be acquired in Colombian territory and for the lease of
certain islands as naval stations. But neither the terms nor the
amount of the compensation proved acceptable. Instead, Colombia
urged that the whole matter be referred to the judgment of the
tribunal at The Hague.
Alluding to the use made of the liberties won in the struggle for
emancipation from Spain by the native land of Miranda, Bolívar,
and Sucre, on the part of the country which had been in the
vanguard of the fight for freedom from a foreign yoke, a writer
of Venezuela once declared that it had not elected legally a
single President; had not put democratic ideas or institutions
into practice; had lived wholly under dictatorships; had
neglected public instruction; and had set up a large number of
oppressive commercial monopolies, including the navigation of
rivers, the coastwise trade, the pearl fisheries, and the sale of
tobacco, salt, sugar, liquor, matches, explosives, butter,
grease, cement, shoes, meat, and flour. Exaggerated as the
indictment is and applicable also, though in less degree, to some
of the other backward countries of Hispanic America, it contains
unfortunately a large measure of truth. Indeed, so far as
Venezuela itself is concerned, this critic might have added that
every time a "restorer," "regenerator," or "liberator" succumbed
there, the old craze for federalism again broke out and menaced
the nation with piecemeal destruction. Obedient, furthermore, to
the whims of a presidential despot, Venezuela perpetrated more
outrages on foreigners and created more international friction
after 1899 than any other land in Spanish America had ever done.
While the formidable Guzmán Blanco was still alive, the various
Presidents acted cautiously. No sooner had he passed away than
disorder broke out afresh. Since a new dictator thought he needed
a longer term of office and divers other administrative
advantages, a constitution incorporating them was framed and
published in the due and customary manner. This had hardly gone
into operation when, in 1895, a contest arose with Great Britain
about the boundaries between Venezuela and British Guiana. Under
pressure from the United States, however, the matter was referred
to arbitration, and Venezuela came out substantially the loser.
In 1899 there appeared on the scene a personage compared with
whom Zelaya was the merest novice in the art of making trouble.
This was Cipriano Castro, the greatest international nuisance of
the early twentieth century. A rude, arrogant, fearless,
energetic, capricious mountaineer and cattleman, he regarded
foreigners no less than his own countryfolk, it would seem, as
objects for his particular scorn, displeasure, exploitation, or
amusement, as the case might be. He was greatly angered by the
way in which foreigners in dispute with local officials avoided a
resort to Venezuelan courts and—still worse—rejected their
decisions and appealed instead to their diplomatic
representatives for protection. He declared such a procedure to
be an affront to the national dignity. Yet foreigners were
usually correct in arming that judges appointed by an arbitrary
President were little more than figureheads, incapable of
dispensing justice, even were they so inclined.
Jealous not only of his personal prestige but of what he
imagined, or pretended to imagine, were the rights of a small
nation, Castro tried throughout to portray the situation in such
a light as to induce the other Hispanic republics also to view
foreign interference as a dire peril to their own independence
and sovereignty; and he further endeavored to involve the United
States in a struggle with European powers as a means possibly of
testing the efficacy of the Monroe Doctrine or of laying bare
before the world the evil nature of American imperialistic
designs.
By the year 1901, in which Venezuela adopted another
constitution, the revolutionary disturbances had materially
diminished the revenues from the customs. Furthermore Castro's
regulations exacting military service of all males between
fourteen and sixty years of age had filled the prisons to
overflowing. Many foreigners who had suffered in consequence
resorted to measures of self-defense—among them representatives
of certain American and British asphalt companies which were
working concessions granted by Castro's predecessors. Though
familiar with what commonly happens to those who handle pitch,
they had not scrupled to aid some of Castro's enemies. Castro
forthwith imposed on them enormous fines which amounted
practically to a confiscation of their rights.
While the United States and Great Britain were expostulating over
this behavior of the despot, France broke off diplomatic
relations with Venezuela because of Castro's refusal either to
pay or to submit to arbitration certain claims which had
originated in previous revolutions. Germany, aggrieved in similar
fashion, contemplated a seizure of the customs until its demands
for redress were satisfied. And then came Italy with like causes
of complaint. As if these complications were not sufficient,
Venezuela came to blows with Colombia.
As the foreign pressure on Castro steadily increased, Luis Maria
Drago, the Argentine Minister of Foreign Affairs, formulated in
1902 the doctrine with which his name has been associated. It
stated in substance that force should never be employed between
nations for the collection of contractual debts. Encouraged by
this apparent token of support from a sister republic, Castro
defied his array of foreign adversaries more vigorously than
ever, declaring that he might find it needful to invade the
United States, by way of New Orleans, to teach it the lesson it
deserved! But when he attempted, in the following year, to close
the ports of Venezuela as a means of bringing his native
antagonists to terms, Great Britain, Germany, and Italy seized
his warships, blockaded the coast, and bombarded some of his
forts. Thereupon the United States interposed with a suggestion
that the dispute be laid before the Hague Tribunal. Although
Castro yielded, he did not fail to have a clause inserted in a
new "constitution" requiring foreigners who might wish to enter
the republic to show certificates of good character from the
Governments of their respective countries.
These incidents gave much food for thought to Castro as well as
to his soberer compatriots. The European powers had displayed an
apparent willingness to have the United States, if it chose to do
so, assume the role of a New World policeman and financial
guarantor. Were it to assume these duties, backward republics in
the Caribbean and its vicinity were likely to have their affairs,
internal as well as external, supervised by the big nation in
order to ward off European intervention. At this moment, indeed,
the United States was intervening in Panama. The prospect aroused
in many Hispanic countries the fear of a "Yankee peril" greater
even than that emanating from Europe. Instead of being a kindly
and disinterested protector of small neighbors, the "Colossus of
the North" appeared rather to resemble a political and commercial
ogre bent upon swallowing them to satisfy "manifest destiny."
Having succeeded in putting around his head an aureole of local
popularity, Castro in 1905 picked a new set of partially
justified quarrels with the United States, Great Britain, France,
Italy, Colombia, and even with the Netherlands, arising out of
the depredations of revolutionists; but an armed menace from the
United States induced him to desist from his plans. He contented
himself accordingly with issuing a decree of amnesty for all
political offenders except the leaders. When "reelected," he
carried his magnanimity so far as to resign awhile in favor of
the Vice President, stating that, if his retirement were to bring
peace and concord, he would make it permanent. But as he saw to
it that his temporary withdrawal should not have this happy
result, he came back again to his firmer position a few months
later.
Venting his wrath upon the Netherlands because its minister had
reported to his Government an outbreak of cholera at La Guaira,
the chief seaport of Venezuela, the dictator laid an embargo on
Dutch commerce, seized its ships, and denounced the Dutch for
their alleged failure to check filibustering from their islands
off the coast. When the minister protested, Castro expelled him.
Thereupon the Netherlands instituted a blockade of the Venezuelan
ports. What might have happened if Castro had remained much
longer in charge, may be guessed. Toward the close of 1908,
however, he departed for Europe to undergo a course of medical
treatment. Hardly had he left Venezuelan shores when Juan Vicente
Gómez, the able, astute, and vigorous Vice President, managed to
secure his own election to the presidency and an immediate
recognition from foreign states. Under his direction all of the
international tangles of Venezuela were straightened out.
In 1914 the country adopted its eleventh constitution and thereby
lengthened the presidential term to seven years, shortened that
of members of the lower house of the Congress to four, determined
definitely the number of States in the union, altered the
apportionment of their congressional representation, and enlarged
the powers of the federal Government—or, rather, those of its
executive branch! In 1914 Gómez resigned office in favor of the
Vice President, and secured an appointment instead as commander
in chief of the army. This procedure was promptly denounced as a
trick to evade the constitutional prohibition of two consecutive
terms. A year later he was unanimously elected President, though
he never formally took the oath of office.
Whatever may be thought of the political ways and means of this
new Guzmán Blanco to maintain himself as a power behind or on the
presidential throne, Gómez gave Venezuela an administration of a
sort very different from that of his immediate predecessor. He
suppressed various government monopolies, removed other obstacles
to the material advancement of the country, and reduced the
national debt. He did much also to improve the sanitary
conditions at La Guaira, and he promoted education, especially
the teaching of foreign languages.
Gómez nevertheless had to keep a watchful eye on the partisans of
Castro, who broke out in revolt whenever they had an opportunity.
The United States, Great Britain, France, the Netherlands,
Denmark, Cuba, and Colombia eyed the movements of the ex-dictator
nervously, as European powers long ago were wont to do in the
case of a certain Man of Destiny, and barred him out of both
their possessions and Venezuela itself. International patience,
never Job-like, had been too sorely vexed to permit his return.
Nevertheless, after the manner of the ancient persecutor of the
Biblical martyr, Castro did not refrain from going to and fro in
the earth. In fact he still "walketh about" seeking to recover
his hold upon Venezuela!
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