What do you think?
Rate this book
Simon Bolivar - Der Befreier Spanisch-Amerikas
in8. Relié.
- GenresHistory
558 pages, Hardcover
First published September 11, 1979
About the author
Salvador de Madariaga
182 books53 followersSalvador de Madariaga y Rojo was a Galician diplomat, writer, historian, and pacifist.
De Madariaga graduated with a degree in engineering in Paris, France. He then went to work as an engineer for the Northern Spanish Railway Company but abandoned this work to return to London and become a journalist, writing in English, for The Times. At this time, he began publishing his first essays. He became a press member of the Secretariat of the League of Nations in 1921, and chief of the Disarmament Section in 1922. In 1928, he was appointed Professor of Spanish at Oxford University for three years, during which time he wrote a book on nation psychology called Englishmen, Frenchmen, Spaniards.
In 1931, he was appointed ambassador to the United States of America and a permanent delegate to the League of Nations, a post he kept for 5 years. Chairing the Council of the League of Nations in January 1932, he condemned Japanese aggression in Manchuria in such vehement terms that he was nicknamed "Don Quijote de la Manchuria".[2] Between 1932 and 1934, he was Ambassador to France. In 1933, he was elected to the National Congress, serving as both Minister for Education and Minister for Justice. In July 1936, as a classic liberal he went into exile in England to escape the Spanish civil war. From there he became a vocal opponent of, and organised resistance to, the Nacionales and the Spanish State of Francisco Franco. In 1947, he was one of the principal authors of the Oxford Manifesto on liberalism. He participated in the Hague Congress in 1948 as president of the Cultural Commission and he was one of the co-founders, in 1949, of the College of Europe.
In his writing career he wrote books and essays about Don Quixote, Christopher Columbus, Shakespeare's Hamlet, and the history of Latin America. He militated in favour of a united and integrated Europe. He wrote in French and German as well as Spanish and Galician (his mother tongue) and English. In 1973 he won the Karlspreis for contributions to the European idea and European peace. In 1976, he returned to Spain after the death of Francisco Franco. The Madariaga European Foundation has been named after him, promoting his vision of a united Europe making for a more peaceful world. The 1979–1980 academic year at the College of Europe was named in his honour.
De Madariaga graduated with a degree in engineering in Paris, France. He then went to work as an engineer for the Northern Spanish Railway Company but abandoned this work to return to London and become a journalist, writing in English, for The Times. At this time, he began publishing his first essays. He became a press member of the Secretariat of the League of Nations in 1921, and chief of the Disarmament Section in 1922. In 1928, he was appointed Professor of Spanish at Oxford University for three years, during which time he wrote a book on nation psychology called Englishmen, Frenchmen, Spaniards.
In 1931, he was appointed ambassador to the United States of America and a permanent delegate to the League of Nations, a post he kept for 5 years. Chairing the Council of the League of Nations in January 1932, he condemned Japanese aggression in Manchuria in such vehement terms that he was nicknamed "Don Quijote de la Manchuria".[2] Between 1932 and 1934, he was Ambassador to France. In 1933, he was elected to the National Congress, serving as both Minister for Education and Minister for Justice. In July 1936, as a classic liberal he went into exile in England to escape the Spanish civil war. From there he became a vocal opponent of, and organised resistance to, the Nacionales and the Spanish State of Francisco Franco. In 1947, he was one of the principal authors of the Oxford Manifesto on liberalism. He participated in the Hague Congress in 1948 as president of the Cultural Commission and he was one of the co-founders, in 1949, of the College of Europe.
In his writing career he wrote books and essays about Don Quixote, Christopher Columbus, Shakespeare's Hamlet, and the history of Latin America. He militated in favour of a united and integrated Europe. He wrote in French and German as well as Spanish and Galician (his mother tongue) and English. In 1973 he won the Karlspreis for contributions to the European idea and European peace. In 1976, he returned to Spain after the death of Francisco Franco. The Madariaga European Foundation has been named after him, promoting his vision of a united Europe making for a more peaceful world. The 1979–1980 academic year at the College of Europe was named in his honour.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
February 24, 2019
A real eye-opener, this biography. In his country of birth, this man, Bolívar, has the status of a god—infinitely brave, wise, visionary. Madariaga's work was intended as a corrective to the numerous hagiographies that had been written on the aforementioned. What emerges here is the portrait of a wealthy creole consumed by ambition and self-regard. Having lost both parents early in life, as a young man he had his head pumped with Rousseauan ideas by his tutor, Simon Rodríguez (a bad apple). Then came Napoleon, who so greatly impressed the passionate Bolivar that he thereafter modelled himself after the victorious Corsican (Bolívar's portraits corroborate this). He waged war against Spain to separate her from her American colonies, having, along with a tiny handful of fellow wealthy Freemasons, artificially manufactured a political crisis and exploited the disruption and power vacuum caused by Napoleon's conquests, as well as the poor rule of Ferdinand VII, once restored—artificially manufactured, because it seems the colonial subjects were not interested in breaking with Spain until he convinced them with propaganda, rhetoric, and outright lies. Once victorious, and having ruined the economy of hitherto prosperous and well run colonies, he sold the gold mines to British or American concerns to pay the war debts, putting the economy in the hock to foreign powers right from the outset. He also proved a brutal, authoritarian ruler. The most incredible part of the story is that, after the years of struggle to break with Spain, after all the death and destruction, he then shopped around for a European prince willing to run the newly liberated territories (none were interested). Eventually, he bitterly concluded that said territories were ungovernable, on account of the factiousness and capriciousness of local leaders, and seems to have come to regret the entire project of liberation. This is, at least, is how it appears here, which offers a remarkable lesson in self-serving historiography, if true, because what Madariaga paints is certainly not the picture that emerges from the history taught in the schoolbooks where Bolívar was from. Madariaga's is certainly a condemnation whose repercussions go far beyond the life of his subject, but he does point out Bolívar's good qualities as well, which match some parts of the legend, such as his bravery, generosity, and immense energy, of which many examples are given. The book itself is long and a bit of a hard slog at times. Moreover, although a political liberal, Madariaga overdetermines the role of Bolivar's mixed blood in shaping his character, speculating for a couple of pages that it may have been the source of an inner conflict that ultimately led to his rejecting Spain in favour of the rest. This may or may not have been a factor, but it will sound odd to most readers today, and, because over-general, is an unsatisfactory explanation of Bolivar's peculiar contradictions. However, the narrative is replete with interesting details and what one learns from this singularly unimpressed biographer is well worth one's time.
October 8, 2017
This was very disappointing. First, it should have been subtitled "His Life and Times" because much of the book was about all the things happening in the world during his life. Second, I don't feel like I really got to know Bolivar. The portrait was quite superficial. The author kept telling me that he's honorable and very intelligent, but he never showed me any examples. Quite the contrary, I saw how selfish and dissembling he was. Finally, and I can almost excuse this because it was written in the 1950s, the author kept talking about how Bolivar's personality was influenced by his "blood." I had to cringe every time he said that. Don't waste your time. I probably could have gotten just as much from wikipedia in much less time than the three weeks of forcing myself through this.
March 8, 2021
An important work about the life and times of The Liberator who, in the early part of the 19th century, in the conquering spirit of Napoleon, fought Spain to free Venezuela, New Granada (Columbia and Panama), Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, the latter of which was named after him.
Madariaga’s book is a pretty in-depth historical volume, mostly of the military campaigns during that time, taken from pertinent source material. What gives the reader pause is what appears to be a personal bias against Bolivar’s impulsivity and passions, in a manner that makes it appear the entire effort to liberate South American wasn’t really necessary, to wit: “But the fact that the movement was born so to speak “illegitimate”, and with an original lie, was to be one of the causes of the civil war which that fateful July 7th, 1811, let loose on the erewhile happy country.” That date being the signing of the Venezuelan Declaration of Independence – which I don’t think a Venezuelan would call “fateful.”
In the David Bushnell book The Liberator, Simon Bolivar: Man and Image (c. 1970, which I read before this one), is a reference to Madariaga’s book (c. 1952), which sums up the differences between the biographers succinctly: “What is mainly bothersome is the deprecatory tone that runs through it and the author’s tendency, when he has a choice, to advance the most cynical interpretation of Bolivar’s motives.”
I would have to agree. Examples of this include the following from this book:
“Bolivar had no respect for the law when it stood in his way” (p. 163)
“It was a promise wandering in the clouds of his mental skies, which the next winds might and would drive away.”
“Bolivar was already the dissembling dictator, the Caesar disguised as a democrat he was all his life to be.” (p. 209)
“That word ‘unpremeditated’ betrays him. He evidently knew all, as indeed, by now, he must, since it unthinkable that Urdaneta should have concealed from him the scheme that had already succeeded…” (p. 387)
“There was nearly always in Bolivar a touch of acting which led to insincerity.” (p. 393)
“Just as he paced the tables knocking down bottles and breaking china and glass, he paced the continent upsetting cities and breaking homes and human lives.” (p. 551).
Despite that partiality, Madariaga clearly recognizes Bolivar’s gifts: “Those who appealed to him recognized that, despite his faults, there was something in him that raised him above all his rivals. Grit, faith, intellectual power, and that strange magnetic force the born leader emanates, were his four gifts.”
Clearly, history has conferred upon Bolivar the venerable titular role as the El Libertador. Venezuela’s currency is called the Venezuelan Bolivar. The official name of the country is the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela. Bolivia takes its name from him. What would have happened in South America had Bolivar not acted as he did at that time? Not even this voluminous book provided an example of another contemporary who had his many gifts. The closest is perhaps Argentine General Jose de San Martin, who fulfilled a similar role in Argentina, and with whom Bolivar collaborated in Peru.
In the course of studying this enigmatic figure, I also learned about the various specific racial labels used during this period, which corresponded with a prevalent caste system at that time, including creole, zambo, mulatto and mestizo, representing differing variations of the mixed races of Spanish, Indian and African peoples of South America.
It also became clear through this book that in his effort to liberate these countries from Spain, Bolivar was the architect of many violent and cruel orders to slaughter vast numbers of people, many of whom were likely mere collateral in his lofty ambitions to alter the trajectory of these nations.
Much has also been made of Bolivar’s monarchist tendencies – his weaving into constitutions the dictate of being either a Monarch, Dictator, or a President for life. After liberating Venezuela, he continued seeking an expanding dictatorship into adjoining countries, notably Peru and Colombia, making examples out of those who opposed him and rewarding those who supported him. His pattern was to create a governmental constitution, put in place others to oversee the administration, and then when dissatisfied, set those documents aside then issue “a decree assuming unlimited powers” (p. 533). Power is seductive and Bolivar was no exception in succumbing to its lure. According to Madariaga, “What Bolivar was driving at was the reconstruction of the Spanish empire without the Spanish King” (p. 523).
Madariaga provides much contextual history not just of Napoleonic triumphs, but of conflicts happening concurrently in Europe and even in the United States, including the publication of the Monroe Doctrine of 1823, which among other points signaled to European powers that to oppress or control any nation in the western hemisphere would be viewed as a hostile act against the United States. So, Bolivar’s timing was aided by events of the period – coming during the transition of the old to the new world.
Overall, this was a fascinating historical tome of an interesting figure – worth the time and energy to study and understand his contribution not just to South American but to global human history.
Madariaga’s book is a pretty in-depth historical volume, mostly of the military campaigns during that time, taken from pertinent source material. What gives the reader pause is what appears to be a personal bias against Bolivar’s impulsivity and passions, in a manner that makes it appear the entire effort to liberate South American wasn’t really necessary, to wit: “But the fact that the movement was born so to speak “illegitimate”, and with an original lie, was to be one of the causes of the civil war which that fateful July 7th, 1811, let loose on the erewhile happy country.” That date being the signing of the Venezuelan Declaration of Independence – which I don’t think a Venezuelan would call “fateful.”
In the David Bushnell book The Liberator, Simon Bolivar: Man and Image (c. 1970, which I read before this one), is a reference to Madariaga’s book (c. 1952), which sums up the differences between the biographers succinctly: “What is mainly bothersome is the deprecatory tone that runs through it and the author’s tendency, when he has a choice, to advance the most cynical interpretation of Bolivar’s motives.”
I would have to agree. Examples of this include the following from this book:
“Bolivar had no respect for the law when it stood in his way” (p. 163)
“It was a promise wandering in the clouds of his mental skies, which the next winds might and would drive away.”
“Bolivar was already the dissembling dictator, the Caesar disguised as a democrat he was all his life to be.” (p. 209)
“That word ‘unpremeditated’ betrays him. He evidently knew all, as indeed, by now, he must, since it unthinkable that Urdaneta should have concealed from him the scheme that had already succeeded…” (p. 387)
“There was nearly always in Bolivar a touch of acting which led to insincerity.” (p. 393)
“Just as he paced the tables knocking down bottles and breaking china and glass, he paced the continent upsetting cities and breaking homes and human lives.” (p. 551).
Despite that partiality, Madariaga clearly recognizes Bolivar’s gifts: “Those who appealed to him recognized that, despite his faults, there was something in him that raised him above all his rivals. Grit, faith, intellectual power, and that strange magnetic force the born leader emanates, were his four gifts.”
Clearly, history has conferred upon Bolivar the venerable titular role as the El Libertador. Venezuela’s currency is called the Venezuelan Bolivar. The official name of the country is the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela. Bolivia takes its name from him. What would have happened in South America had Bolivar not acted as he did at that time? Not even this voluminous book provided an example of another contemporary who had his many gifts. The closest is perhaps Argentine General Jose de San Martin, who fulfilled a similar role in Argentina, and with whom Bolivar collaborated in Peru.
In the course of studying this enigmatic figure, I also learned about the various specific racial labels used during this period, which corresponded with a prevalent caste system at that time, including creole, zambo, mulatto and mestizo, representing differing variations of the mixed races of Spanish, Indian and African peoples of South America.
It also became clear through this book that in his effort to liberate these countries from Spain, Bolivar was the architect of many violent and cruel orders to slaughter vast numbers of people, many of whom were likely mere collateral in his lofty ambitions to alter the trajectory of these nations.
Much has also been made of Bolivar’s monarchist tendencies – his weaving into constitutions the dictate of being either a Monarch, Dictator, or a President for life. After liberating Venezuela, he continued seeking an expanding dictatorship into adjoining countries, notably Peru and Colombia, making examples out of those who opposed him and rewarding those who supported him. His pattern was to create a governmental constitution, put in place others to oversee the administration, and then when dissatisfied, set those documents aside then issue “a decree assuming unlimited powers” (p. 533). Power is seductive and Bolivar was no exception in succumbing to its lure. According to Madariaga, “What Bolivar was driving at was the reconstruction of the Spanish empire without the Spanish King” (p. 523).
Madariaga provides much contextual history not just of Napoleonic triumphs, but of conflicts happening concurrently in Europe and even in the United States, including the publication of the Monroe Doctrine of 1823, which among other points signaled to European powers that to oppress or control any nation in the western hemisphere would be viewed as a hostile act against the United States. So, Bolivar’s timing was aided by events of the period – coming during the transition of the old to the new world.
Overall, this was a fascinating historical tome of an interesting figure – worth the time and energy to study and understand his contribution not just to South American but to global human history.
December 24, 2020
¡Cero estrellas! Libro pésimo, revanchista, un autor que "odia" a su biografiado y se inventa mentiras y argumentos rebuscados para destruirle como sea. Una verdadera basura, hay libros mucho mejores al respecto.
¿Cómo puede presentarse un españolista que tienen verdadera rabia a Bolívar como un biógrafo serio y aplomado al respecto? es imposible, Madariaga tiene, de entrada, un odio visceral a Bolívar -así como también tiene un odio y un desprecio a los españoles que es tremendo-, en suma: Madariaga odia a todo el mundo, solo él es perfecto y sabe todo lo que hay que hacer en cada momento..., claro que se trata de un tipo que está escribiendo sobre lo que ya pasó, ¡qué fácil es eso entonces!
Mi conclusión: no desperdicien su tiempo con esos ladrillos mentirosos de este autor inmaduro, agresivo y que no duda en omitir, seleccionar y manipular los datos para verificar su visión odiadora del biografiado. Hay mucho mejores biografías de Bolívar, lean a John Lynch, a Rumazo González, por ejemplo.
No olvidemos que José Ortega y Gasset, el genio máximo del pensamiento español, decía de Madariaga que era "un tonto en cinco idiomas", ¡muy bien dicho!
¿Cómo puede presentarse un españolista que tienen verdadera rabia a Bolívar como un biógrafo serio y aplomado al respecto? es imposible, Madariaga tiene, de entrada, un odio visceral a Bolívar -así como también tiene un odio y un desprecio a los españoles que es tremendo-, en suma: Madariaga odia a todo el mundo, solo él es perfecto y sabe todo lo que hay que hacer en cada momento..., claro que se trata de un tipo que está escribiendo sobre lo que ya pasó, ¡qué fácil es eso entonces!
Mi conclusión: no desperdicien su tiempo con esos ladrillos mentirosos de este autor inmaduro, agresivo y que no duda en omitir, seleccionar y manipular los datos para verificar su visión odiadora del biografiado. Hay mucho mejores biografías de Bolívar, lean a John Lynch, a Rumazo González, por ejemplo.
No olvidemos que José Ortega y Gasset, el genio máximo del pensamiento español, decía de Madariaga que era "un tonto en cinco idiomas", ¡muy bien dicho!
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews