Under normal circumstances, a President calling for troops to put down a domestic insurrection would not be a controversy. Sucre had used troops against Venezuelan rioters during the period of civil strife known as La Violencia, while Cruz was often ruthless in putting down strikers for the benefit of industrial expansion. In calling for army troops to put down the Daquilema Uprising in Ecuador, Hurtado was simply fulfilling his Constitutional obligations. But the partisan conflict had already reached such a degree that Liberals were unwilling to trust this Pelucon president with any power, while National Conservatives held certain reservations. Ultimately, it would not be the uprising itself that spilled into a national debacle, but the actions of Hurtado and the Army.
In the first place, the President released a hasty proclamation calling for around 10,000 volunteers to put down the “rebellion”. It’s true that by then Daquilema had gathered thousands of followers, but this was not a military force. Instead of trained soldiers, it was made of farm hands, and even had women and children. 10,000 volunteers were an excessive number, especially when the Regular Army was available. It was true that the Regular Army had fallen into disrepair after the Colombian-Peruvian War – Cruz had justified this switch from Regulars to Militiamen and from the Army to the Navy by wryly observing that “it would be much more difficult to overthrow the government at Santafe from the docks of Cartagena.”
In 1859, when the uprising started, there were around 40,000 Regulars, divided between three armies: Caribbean, Central America, and Southern District. Hurtado considered that he couldn’t withdraw troops from any of those commands without raising replacements, and as such he called for 10,000 volunteers while simultaneously ordering 5,000 troops from these Armies to the “front”. But he unwittingly created a venue of attack, for opponents could charge that he had acted unconstitutionally – after all, only Congress could raise and support armies, and Hurtado, fearful of partisan gridlock, had not asked for a Congressional resolution approving his actions.
The second mistake he committed was declaring Martial Law in the Ecuadorian departments affected by the rebellion. The subject of Martial Law was complicated. Although the Constitution gave the power to the President with the approval of Congress, some asserted that he could only declare it after getting the approval of both Congress and the state legislatures affected. A bill defining more clearly the power was vetoed by Cruz, who didn’t want to restraint his own powers. Historical precedent was of no help – when Santander and Sucre declared martial law for the Peruvian War and the Grand Crisis respectively, they obtained the approval of the state legislatures but only after the fact.
In this case, Governor Nueces assured Hurtado that the Ecuadorian legislature would give him approval, if it was needed. But Hurtado hadn’t waited for Congress either, arguing that approval for his actions could be given after. He even told one of his ministers that the rebellion would be over and martial law lifted before Congress had even managed to bring the bill up for a vote. Allowing himself to be carried away by a sense of urgency and distrust of Congress into hasty actions, President Hurtado weakened his position and opened himself for attacks from vitriolic Liberals.
Manuel Leon was one of the many women who fought together with Daquilema
Those same Liberals would scarcely some years later support the right of a different President to suspend martial law on his own authority without the authorization of the state legislatures. Such a decision was vindicated by the Supreme Court case Proaño v. Venezuela, where Liberal judges voted to expand the power of the Liberal president that appointed them, all so that a true war could be won more easily. But for the moment, all Liberals united in bitter denunciation of the President. Senator Schwimmer-Hernández denounced him as a “tyrant leading a band of ruffians into a campaign of rapine and devastation”, while Noboa was more restrained when he called Hurtado “the despotic opponent of the Constitution, who sneers at the law and at humanity.”
The Liberal press joined their leaders in this chorus of denunciation, though of course they also downplayed the dangers of the Daquilema Uprising. The Cartagena Commercial Journal sardonically warned of “an invasion by starved Indians, armed with bronze shovels and wooden sickles.” National Conservatives, whose relationship with the President had already been strained due to the debacle over Font’s tax decree, did not criticize the President. But neither did they defend him. The Conservatives quickly decided to not commit themselves one or other way, but in doing so they alienated the Pelucones, who demanded unconditional support for the Administration. When the Conservatives refused, the alliance between the PCN and the Pelucones, begun at the Convention of 1857, was definitely broken.
The only National Conservative who did not follow this neutral position was Senator Ignacio Casas of Ecuador. The bitter political rival of Nueces, Casas was a proponent of reform and indigenous rights, and as such he quickly took to the floor to denounce Hurtado. As a good Conservative of the Cruz school, he did not frame his denunciation as a defense of States Rights that would limit the Federal power, bus as an appeal to the humanity of the nation. “This unfortunate race, prey to prejudice, victims of corruption, and who suffer from oppression from all levels, is about to be slaughtered by an army sworn to protect the rights of all Colombians, without mention of color or wealth. Do you not see the utter immorality of this insult to God and the Constitution?”
The Army commanders in charge of suppressing the uprising did not. Hurtado had, naturally, chosen a Pelucon to command, in this case Colonel Alejandro Neira. Though politics within the Army had become a taboo, Neira was known for being a supporter of the President. This Cauca officer soon moved into Ecuador with the intention of “exterminating this plague… perhaps this province would finally be beautiful like all others, instead of being a den of ruin and dirt.” Accordingly, and acting with the carte blanche Hurtado had given him, he started a ruthless repression campaign, that paid no mind to the sacred rights of life, liberty, property or free speech. Neira, in fact, went much further than the President had intended, and Hurtado would even chastise him for his actions. But this was now a fait accompli, and to repudiate Neira would be to admit he made a mistake – the obstinate Hurtado, his pride already hurt by Liberal attacks, could never accept that.
Soon enough, reports of the Ecuadorian situation started to circulate throughout the entire Republic. The advent of railroad and telegraph had done much to join all Colombians together in a market of goods and information, and both local and national newspapers carried stories of the rebellion and the Congressional debates that ensued to even the smallest localities. Liberals were quick to seize the propaganda initiative and carry reports of wholesale slaughter and terrible violations of rights. Even fierce conservatives could not help but weep as they read accounts of women and children being cruelly murdered. Young men, intellectual reformists, skilled laborers and artisans, the bedrock of the Liberal Party, all answered with outrage to these reports.
The hearts of Congressmen were also melted by them. One Orinoco Representative was reportedly moved to tears, while another limited himself to sadly saying that the Colombian army in Ecuador “is not the heir of Bolivar’s liberators, but of Pizarro’s conquistadores.” Both of these men were National Conservatives, not rabid Liberals looking for ways of hurting the President. Though some Liberals did play loose with the facts, the truth is that the Colombian army under Neira was indiscriminate in its suppression of the Daquilema Uprising, and even after it had been effectively suppressed by a combination of overwhelming military force and betrayal by Daquilama’s lieutenants, he continued the military occupation of Ecuador. By January, 1860, the Daquilema uprising had disintegrated, but the troops remained there. And whether their presence was legal or not was still undetermined, for neither Congress nor the Legislature had voted to approve the proclamation of martial law.
In the case of Congress, National Conservatives and Liberals had joined to defeat a measure for its approval, after months of emotional debate. Without Congressional approval, the decree of martial law was revoked and power returned to the Ecuadorian authorities. But the situation in Ecuador had degenerated beyond that, and even though martial law had been revoked, the fight raged on. This different struggle had begun by Liberals and Progressive National Conservatives of the Casas faction, who opposed the bill for approval. “To approve that monstrous bill”, a constituent wrote Casas, “would be to surrender our entire existence and will to the whims of two tyrants. One is at Quito, the other at Santafe.” Many National Conservatives were probably angrier about Neira’s iron rule and the President’s heavy hand than about the plight of the Indian, but soon enough all of Nueces’ opponents joined in a united front.
When it seemed like the decree would pass the legislature, they decided to resist by simply leaving, preventing the formation of a quorum. The legislature then made another mistake by trying to expel enough of the absent members to get a quorum – this only outraged moderates, who joined the protesters. To maintain the cohesion and discipline of the group, they all decided to retire to the mansion of a wealthy Liberal merchant, Carlos Mendoza. But Nueces refused to give up, and he gathered the militia, ordering it to forcibly take enough legislators to the chamber to pass the vote. This fatal step resulted in a radicalization of the resistance movement. “The vase has been broken”, wrote a university student, referencing the episode that started the Revolution of 1810 in Santafe. Now it seemed like a Revolution would start in Quito.
Radical students were as conspicuous in this revolution as they had been in the European Revolutions of 1850. Organizing themselves into a Citizen’s Militia, they marched to the Mendoza Mansion and vowed to resist to the last. The alarmed legislators now found themselves trapped between two rival factions, and they could do nothing as radicals seized control and drafted a defiant message to Nueces: “The people of Quito never submitted to the murderer that the tyrant of Madrid planted here. We will not submit to the criminal the despot of Santafe put here either.” A resolution to declare themselves the legitimate state government and call for elections was defeated because most legislators didn’t support actual revolution. But for all intents and purposes, Nueces now had to deal with two insurrections.
Again, under normal circumstances the President would not be opposed in his effort to suppress this coup d’état. But further bloodshed would damage his position irreparably, especially if it was against Criollo and Mestizo young men instead of Indians. Senator Alarcon, a Pelucon leader, was blunt in stating that “a war in Quito will end with hangings and guillotines in Santafe.” Nonetheless, allowing an insurrection to triumph like that would not be permissible either. Congressional Liberals were also flagger basted about this effort, knowing that it was doomed to failure. Senator Mateo Cevallos, for instance, wrote to Armas to tell him that “the Quito mess can only result in our destruction. Whether we want it or not, we have been branded as Robespierres.”
The Ecuador situation would defuse after the Daquilema uprising ended and martial law was revoked. Tempers cooled off, and when the Casas faction managed to deny the nomination to Nueces for a third term, most Liberals and Independent Conservatives were willing to lie down their arms. But Noboa and Armas outsmarted their enemies by producing a decree providing for a peace settlement, that included expanded political participation in Ecuador (and, of course, nationwide) and fair elections. The decree was passed, but Hurtado then vetoed it and Congress was unable to muster the 2/3rds needed to pass it. Whether the decree was what defused the crisis is controversial, but it seemed like the President and his National Conservatives allies had precipitated a crisis, while Liberals had solved it.
The incident, combined with the Daquilema Uprising, had irreparably damaged the image of the President, and it ended up producing what’s known as the “shellacking of 1860”. In these sectional elections, where governors and state legislatures were elected, the Pelucones and the National Conservatives suffered a crushing defeat. The Liberals captured the governorships of Apure, Zulia, Azuay, Tumbes, Cauca, Costa Rica and Panama, gave serious fight in the Conservative strongholds of Venezuela and Ecuador, and successfully defended their control of Cundinamarca, Magdalena, Guayaquil and Hispaniola. The Pelucones would control no governors’ chairs or state legislatures, while the National Conservatives had been badly beaten as well.
Political cartoon depicting the PCN and the Pelucones as dogs dancing for money
Liberals were now in control, as the PCN definitely broke with the Administration. National Conservatives leaders hastened to negotiate with the jubilant Liberals before their position worsened even further, and in middle 1860 the Liberals obtained control of two important Senate Committees: War and Ethics, which the young prodigy Schwimmer Hernández and the brilliant legal mind Cevallos would respectively chair. In exchange, House Liberals would give the Economics and Taxation Committees to the National Conservatives. This exchange was highly beneficial for the Liberals, who were put in a great position to exploit the new allegations of corruption that appeared against the Hurtado administration.
Corruption was, sadly, not a new phenomenon. Colombians had become infamous for their viveza criolla, their willingness to exploit anything and anybody for personal gain, even at the price of the public good. The slow bureaucracy encouraged bribes and the unabashed use of contacts to get things done. Senator Naranjo had once bitterly complained that because he refused to bribe an official, validating his charter for a trade company took almost two months, while other people could get it done in a week. To be sure, the situation never reached the critical levels of the post-Independence War era, when contraband and bribery were endemic, but a certain measure of corruption was, sadly, accepted as part of life.
In the 1830’s and 1840’s, an uptick of Federalist corruption had given strength to the Cruz administration and the PCN, but it was not critical either. The industrial revolution, of course, gave ample opportunities for what nowadays would be seen as corrupt, or at least unethical, behavior. For example, it was common for congressmen to hold stock of companies or allow themselves to be swayed by “favors.” But this was not illegal, and although it definitely had bearing on the details of legislation, it constituted a conflict of interests at worst. By 1860, corruption was, for the most part, petty and small-time, committed mostly by minor officials rather than by the great offices of the Republic. Perhaps that’s why the corruption of the Hurtado administration was so shocking.
Before the elections, some reports of irregularities in Army contracts and the logistics of Neira’s campaign had been published. Now with control of the Ethics committee, Cevallos launched a full-on investigation, that uncovered several abuses. For example, the government had bought shoes at almost 30 piastras a pair, when good leather shoes sold at 8 piastras at most. “Not even the golden slippers of China’s Emperor cost as much,” joked Armas in response. Evidence then showed that a lot of that money had gone to the coffers of the Pelucon Party. Corruption from the tax collector of a Hispaniola port was also reported, and Hurtado hurt his case by once again holding onto his mistake, denying the guilt of his friend despite overwhelming evidence.
Perhaps the greatest scandal, with one exception that we’ll get to later, was the so-called Never-ending Railway. The scandal was so damaging to Hurtado because it involved him in a personal level, and to many Colombians it branded the Pelucones and National Conservatives as a group of corrupt aristocrats, and the Liberals as defenders of the law. For context, it’s necessary to understand the details of the 1847 National Railroad Decrees, which provided for Federal assistance to Railroad companies. In exchange, the government would be able to freely move its goods. This system of charters and financial assistance helped along the growth of Colombia’s railroad network, but it also provided for new opportunities for graft and corruption. Juan Jose Cajas, an Azuay investor, quickly grasped this fact.
Cajas and some associates decided to form the Austro Railroad Company in 1850 (Ferrocarriles del Austro), a phony company that promised to build a railroad connecting the cities of Cuenca and Loja. Usually, a company would need certain credentials in order to get Federal approval, so Cajas turned towards his friend, Senator Cristian Hurtado, then a member of the Senate Committee that oversaw these internal improvements. Hurtado then used his influence and forged papers to convince the chairman, the National Conservative Carlos Martinez, that the Austro Railroad Company was legitimate, and that it had received aid from the state government of Azuay. After being approved for Federal assistance, Cajas actually requested aid from the Azuay legislature. Believing it to be a real company, Governor Ignacio Arboleda (PCN), supported the measure. Thus, the Austro Railroad Company became something of a circular scheme.
Though the Andean Railway Company was the biggest and most important in the Republic, there were dozen of other companies that also build railroads throughout the entire country. Often, they employed indentured labor, foreign or domestic.
Cajas just pocketed the money giving to him. The most he did was bringing some indentured Chinese workers, and, of course, contribute to the campaign of Senator Hurtado. Hurtado was, however, the only Federalist Cajas helped – all other beneficiaries of the scam were National Conservatives, many of whom knowingly aided Cajas in hopes of getting money or other favors. Governor Arboleda did try to oversee the progress of the railroad, but Cajas claimed complications due to factors outside of his control and asked for more funds. Hurtado once again provided Federal assistance, and this in turn convinced Arboleda to do so as well. Arboleda would then be succeeded by Gustavo Rojas as Governor, also a National Conservative. Rojas was also part of the Cajas cabal, and as such he continued to give money to Cajas, who didn’t even lay a single meter of track.
By 1861, Cajas and the Austro Railroads had received hundreds of thousands of piastras in economic aid, yet there was no tangible proof of any advancement. The case was finally uncovered by a young reporter, who found abundant evidence of the scam and, most shockingly, also realized that the President of the Republic himself was part of it. The scandal broke out at a very unfortunate time for the President, since now the competent and incorruptible Cevallos was in control of the Ethics Committee. Soon enough, all Colombians learned of this sorry record of corruption, which showed National Conservatives and the President complicit in a “junto of thieves, that have plundered the Colombian people to fill their greedy pockets.” Indeed, the scandal was more painful because it was not people simply taking bribes or allowing themselves to be swayed, but because it was the elected officials taking the money of all Colombians, raised through taxes and devoted to the cause of national progress, for their own benefit.
The full extent of Hurtado’s participation and knowledge would only be discovered after he had left the Casa de Nariño. But what was discovered was damaging enough. Congressional investigations would end up indicting the incompetent Arboleda and Martinez, though both would be eventually exonerated. Rojas and some PCN members of the Azuay legislature would be successfully trailed and send to prison for corruption. However, the main perpetrator managed to get away. Cajas was in Guayaquil when he received a tip from a friend that worked at the telegraph office. In an undignified and somewhat bizarre event nicknamed the Southern Marathon, Cajas and some police officers literally raced to get to the docks, where Cajas took a Peruvian boat. Unable to detain the boat lest they cause an international incident, Colombian authorities watched helplessly as Cajas got away.
After a year in the Presidential chair, it seemed like the Hurtado presidency would end up as an embarrassing failure. The PCN had deserted him, his own Party was badly divided and weakened, and the Liberals were now in ascendancy. Worse of all for the Pelucones, the scandals had convinced many that the only way to bring back integrity and dignity to the government would be through Liberal reform. Universal suffrage, many had decided, would allow for the election of honest men, instead of arrogant aristocrats. The desperate attempts of the Pelucones to stem back social and political progress would only give greater strength to the reformist, and by the time of the next election, universal suffrage was already the law of the land. But the Hurtado administration still had to go through a year of conflict before that.
The Political process of the Decade of Sorrow has often been seen as part of the nationbuilding process of the 19th century