The ‘transitional man’ in nineteenth-century Latin America: the case of Domingo Elías of Peru

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Bull. Latin Am. Rex.,Vol. IS. No. 2, pp. 1%116,1996 Copyright QJ 1996 Society for Latin American Studies F%blishedby ElaevierScience Ltd Printed in Great Britain.All rigb newwed 0261~3050/96$15.00 + 0.00

The ‘Transitional Man’ in Nineteenth-Century Latin America: the Case of Domingo Elias of Peru’ PETER BLANCHARD Department of History, University of Toronto, Canada

By the middle of the nineteenth century many Latin American countries were showing signs of resolving some of the problems that had affected them since independence. The age of caudillos was coming to an end as a new generation of leaders began to replace the heroes of the independence wars. Greater political stability was evident, as a result of the changes in leadership as well as improvements in the area’s economy. Economic revival was, in turn, linked to the reduction in political turmoil and to Latin America’s increasing incorporation into the world economy as the industrialising nations widened their demand for raw materials. Because of these changes, some have regarded the mid-century as a watershed in Latin America’s postindependence history (Berg and Weaver, 1978: 69-84). The description, however, is not entirely appropriate, for rather than marking a sharp historical break, the developments around 1850 had close ties to what had gone before and were often promoted by individuals who, while committed to the new directions, had not freed themselves completely from the past. This was a transitional period in Latin American history, not a revolutionary one, and the men who participated were transitional figures, not revolutionaries. They championed the mid-century developments, but they were determined to avoid the divisions and chaos that had marked the previous decades and to prevent any fundamental transformation in their societies. They, therefore, held on to many elements from the past, maintaining ties and continuities with the colonial era. Creating the term ‘transitional man’ to describe a particular section of the population at a particular period in Latin American history may appear an unnecessary exercise, since numerous words that describe collaborating middlemen already exist, words such as plutocracy, bourgeoisie, sepoy and comprador. These expressions, however, fail to capture the exact nature of both the Latin American individual and the era. Plutocracy is too imprecise, while the landholding ties of the transitional men indicate that they were not a true bourgeoisie. Sepoys, at least in their Brazilian guise as described by Richard Graham, were agents of the dominating overseas nation and shared the attitudes and values of that nation (1969: 23-37). This was not true of Latin America’s mid-century middlemen who were far more

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nationalistic. Chinese compradors may have been nationalists and reformers, but they tended to be insulated and separate from the local community (Stavrianos, 1981: 32&329), which, again, was not true of the Latin Americans who were members of the elite and intimately linked to local society, not separate from it in any way. A further weakness of these terms is that they have been drawn from a different national context and they bring with them cultural baggage that is not entirely appropriate to Latin America. An expression that more accurately fits the period is ‘traditionalist modernisation,’ as described and used by Fernando de Trazegnies (1987: 105-112, 116119). He suggests that those promoting the transitional process were elements of the old aristocracy along with new members of the elite. His term conveys the contradictions of both the time and the individuals and has been used to explain developments later in the century. The temporal aspect, however, is one of its weaknesses, for de Trazegnies applies it to the entirety of the nineteenth century, and in doing so raises questions about its applicability to specific periods, such as the mid-century, that differed significantly from the latter part of the century. At mid-century the dominant element was traditionalism not modernisation. Thus, reversing the term might capture more accurately the essence of these years, for the transitional men were certainly ‘modernising traditionalists’. Another deficiency of de Trazegnies’s term is that it is based largely on economic relationships, whereas during the middle years of the century political as well as economic changes were significant. One final comment needs to be made about the term ‘transitional man’ with regard to its gender specificity. Further research may reveal that women played as pivotal a role in the transitional process as they did in other nineteenth-century developments, necessitating a change to some all-encompassing noun such as ‘individual’. At the present time, however, the evidence points to male exclusivity in the process so that the gender-specific term seems justified. POST-INDEPENDENCE CHAOS The transitional men who appeared and influenced developments at midcentury were agents of order, continuity and cohesion in an otherwise disordered and disorderly world. Their concerns contrasted with the divisiveness that had marked Latin America in the first decades of independent rule when military men competed amongst themselves to lead the nations that they had risked their lives to create. Conservatives confronted liberals and federalists challenged centralists, although the differences among them were often not as great as the parties who claimed these labels seemed to believe, and the real motivating force was more often personal ambition than ideological commitment. Regional loyalties added to the divisions as provincial leaders challenged one another and the authority of the central government, threatening to subdivide the old viceroyalties into even smaller units than the new national entities. Underlying the political problems were economic difficulties as the independence struggles had disrupted or destroyed the colonial economic bases and left little to meet the needs of

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the new states. With money scarce and political ferment endemic, social unrest provided another threat to unity and national survival. The lot of the majority of the population-the Indians, mestizos, black slaves and other castes-had not improved with independence. Many of them were armed during the independence wars and the subsequent unrest, and large numbers of them turned to vagabondage, brigandage and occasionally rebellion. Contlicts with both neighbours and distant powers added to the turmoil, stimulating further divisions and hindering efforts to establish viability (Bethell, 1985; Bushnell and Macaulay, 1988: Ch. 1-7; Safford, 1992: 8397). The plaint by the depressed and disillusioned Simon Bolivar in 1830 that ‘independence is the only benefit we have gained at the cost of everything else’ (quoted in Lynch, 1973: 293) was a pathetic but accurate evaluation of the situation. One of the most chaotic nations in the post-independence period was Peru (Basadre, 1969-1970: I-IV; Blanchard, 1992; Gootenberg, 1989; Pike, 1967: Ch. 34). Dominated by a handful of caudillos of varying competence, the country experienced frequent changes of government, civil wars, goipes de estado and conflicts with neighbouring states. Graham notes that in the fifty years after Jose de San Martin declared Peru independent in 1821, forty ‘revolutions’ occurred, with eight different governments in 1834 alone (1994: 151). The unrest left regional centres, such as Cuzco and Arequipa, confident that they could undermine Lima’s domination, and local leaders, such as departmental prefects and subprefects, free to exercise local control. Fundamental to the country’s political problems was its economic situation. The economy had been seriously weakened during the independence period and did not recover for several years. While minerals continued to be the principal export, production had declined because of wartime destruction and neglect. Agriculture also remained depressed. During the war the contending armies had ravaged coastal plantations, destroyed equipment and either conscripted slaves or caused them to flee. Subsequently, low prices, limited markets, a shortage of labour and political unrest affected production. Landownership was still popular, but many owners and lessors found the returns from landholding insufficient to cover expenses, forcing them either to sell or abandon their lands. As late as 1853 President Jose Rufino Echenique lamented: While agriculture continues improving from the state of prostration to which the wars of independence and subsequent internal convulsions reduced it, I cannot say to you that it has made great progress. The lack of capital, workers and markets has disheartened those dedicated to the cultivation of the land . . . And almost all the haciendas, especially on the coast, contain extensive lands, much of which lies uncultivated (Dancuart, 1902-1908: IV:149150). The weak productive sector left the government short of revenue to meet its needs, particularly to pay military salaries and pensions. It tried various measures, such as levying customs duties, imposing a head tax on the Indian population, selling assets and demanding loans from wealthy landholders and merchants, but all proved inadequate. As a result, governments were left

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in a precarious financial situation and at the mercy of forces over which they had very little control (Blanchard, 1992: 19-22, 129-132; Gootenberg, 1989: 104; Jacobsen, 1989; Levin, 1960: 29-31,44-47, 50-51; Quiroz, 1980: Tables 2, 14, 15). UNIFYING FORCES The Peruvian experience was not unique. Elsewhere similar problems and pressures were evident, causing one to wonder how the Latin American nations managed to survive. The answer is complex but can be explained in part by examining the role of the caudillos who took charge. While these men have a reputation for fomenting divisiveness, they were in many cases such dominating figures that they managed to draw their nations together despite the various centrifugal forces, including those for which they were responsible. Prominent among the centralising caudillos were Venezuela’s Jose Antonio Paez and Argentina’s Juan Manuel de Rosas. Paez has been described as someone who ‘could not be criticized without danger to the nation, for he was the nation’ (Lynch, 1992: 300, Ch. 4). Rosas, the Buenos Aires governor, claimed to have been a federalist, but his authority extended far beyond his province and he tied his nation together as effectively as the more nation-oriented Paez (Lynch, 1992: 158-159, 265-266). Even in a country as chaotic as Peru, the early caudillos shared, as Paul Gootenberg has shown, certain nationalistic tendencies, evident in their commitment to protectionist trade policies (1989: Ch. 34; 1991: 282-300). Yet, while the caudillos were central to the process of nation-building, they could not and did not achieve this singlehandedly. They needed assistance, finding it often among family, friends and members of the landholding elite whose interests they represented (Haigh, 1964: 481490; Lynch, 1992). Around Paez was a conservative oligarchy described as ‘the rich, the wellborn, merchants, and bankers, men of substance and education’ (Lombardi, 1971: 17, 19). Other caudillos enjoyed similar backing from men who supplied personal, financial, ideological and military support. Around Peru’s caudillos was an elite composed of large and small landholders, financiers and merchants, wealthier artisans and heroes of the independence war (Gootenberg, 1989: Ch. 3-4). In addition to their material support these men provided a degree of continuity in an era marked by frequent changes in leadership. As John Lynch has noted, caudillismo rested on violence so that caudillos rarely could choose their successors and ensure that their policies remained in place (1992: 265). A gap was created for others to fill: to oversee day-to-day operations and, in the process, to ensure some degree of continuity in policy regardless of who was at the top. The concerns of these individuals must have corresponded closely with those of the caudillo in order for them to retain their position. At the same time, however, they had interests of their own to protect that could take them beyond the horizons of their leaders. They did not have a public persona to defend; they were frequently not military men; they did not necessarily aspire to high political office, so that they could possess a different political and economic agenda from that of the caudillos. One of their primary concerns was security, which explains their relationship with and support for the caudillos,

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for the latter seemed to be the only ones capable of maintaining order during these uncertain times. It also explains their willingness to turn their backs on the caudillos when alternative means to achieve order and national unity appeared. Thus, high-ranking figures influenced and even determined government policy from the time of independence. In Peru, because of the political and economic uncertainty, they could do so by participating in the formal power structure, filling positions on the executive council of state that assisted the president or being elected to the two-tiered congress, especially the senate that represented agricultural interests. Formal political involvement, however, was not absolutely essential for them to influence government policy. In a situation where political longevity was the exception rather than the rule, few presidents, regardless of their prestige and power, were willing to alienate the rich and powerful by introducing policies that were inimical to the latter’s interests. The fact that members of the elite were also often creditors of the state provided further leverage. Their payoff came in the form of concessions, positions and favourable policies. This can be seen, for example, in the case of slavery. Although slavery was in obvious decline after independence as anti-slavery legislation was passed, imports ended and the number of slaves fell, yet it survived, and it survived largely because slaveholders made up an important group of the nation’s elite in terms of power, wealth and influence. In an environment of frequent changes of government, unending conspiracies and sundry claimants to the presidential palace, no president could risk their rancour by abolishing slavery (Blanchard, 1982: Ch. 3). At mid-century these individuals had an opportunity and an incentive to become even more actively involved in their nations’ affairs. The new leaders who emerged, reacting to the turmoil of the past as well as to Latin America’s increasing incorporation into the world economy, sought to establish political stability, economic growth and national integration, developments that corresponded with the transitional figures’ goals (Bushnell and Macaulay, 1988: 187, 188, 286). The latter have been described as men of ‘wealth and vision’ who could take advantage of the new opportunities created by the establishment of ‘effective government’ and economic links and push their leaders along a path that ensured national unity as well as personal fortunes (SafTord, 1992: 91). They, therefore, were prominent in expanding trade, increasing raw material production and reducing political divisiveness. Their concept of the nation-state often was clearer than that of their leaders so that they were stronger proponents of it. They were in some ways the ideological tie between early leaders such as Simon Bolivar, with his vision of a united South America, and the later positivists, with their ideas of order and progress. The transitional figures managed to impose themselves and their ideas not only because a niche for capable men of influence continued to exist, but also because, while they saw the advantages of pursuing the new developments, they had not cut themselves off from the past. They shared the characteristics of this transitional era, recognising the benefits to be gained by adopting the modem economic trends, yet remaining linked to many of the traditional ways. They may have been attracted to

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the liberal economic policies of the era, but they had not forsaken completely the colonial corporatist tradition. They may have favoured civilian rule, but they were aware of the benefits of a military man in power. They were, thus, not revolutionaries preaching a new gospel; rather, they were modernisers with one foot firmly set in the past. As a result, they could maintain relations with all sectors of the elite regardless of ideological orientation, linking conservatives and liberals, countryside and city, region and capital. In doing so they challenged the divisive pressures of the immediate post-independence era, undermined the caudillismo that had nurtured them, and opened the way for the new groups and trends that would dominate Latin America during the second half of the century. PERUVIAN DEVELOPMENTS AT MID-CENTURY One country where transitional men were active and influential at midcentury was Peru, where the problems that had plagued it since independence appeared to be in retreat. The assumption of the presidency in 1844 by Ramon Castilla, a mestizo general and hero of the independence war, seemed to spell the end of political anarchy. In the economic field, capitalism’s spread was linked to the guano boom that began after 1840, attracting foreign investors and providing capital. Tighter economic links and improved communications with the industrialised nations were facilitated by the initiation of steamship services in the 1840s. In 1847 an electric telegraph was built between Lima and its port of Callao, and the two were connected by a railway four years later. This was also a period of industrial expansion so that by 1851 Lima boasted firms that produced beer, cotton thread and cloth, paper, glassware, silk and gas (Gootenberg, 1982: 343; Markham, 1892: 324343; Rippy, 1946: 147; Romero, 1968: 11:140, 142). In the countryside similar changes were evident as members of the landed elite began mechanising their estates and switching to commercial crops. Some sugar planters had been experimenting with machinery for several years. The exiled Chilean war hero, Bernard0 O’Higgins, had introduced advanced techniques on his Montalban estate in the Cafiete valley in the 182Os, prompting the British consul to note in 1826 that O’Higgins was ‘making many improvements . . . by the introduction of our system of farming, of steam-engines for the manufacture of sugar, etc’ (Ricketts to Canning, No. 26, 27 December 1826, Foreign Office Files, Public Record Office, London [hereafter FO], 61/8). In 1838 he began using machinery for crushing cane (Basadre, 1969-1970: 11:214). The future president, Jose Rufino Echenique, was also interested in modern methods, introducing steam-powered machinery on the San Pedro estate in 1837. Other landholders in the Lima area switched to steam powered operations from the early 184Os, so that by 1852 Hualcara and La Quebrada in the Cafiete valley and Laran, San Jose and Caucato in the Chincha valley all had steamoperated sugar mills or machinery. Cotton planters, too, were mechanising as cotton gins, mills for cleaning cotton and steam-run presses appeared. As expensive machinery required adequate supplies of the relevant crops, planters were shifting from foodstuffs and livestock to commercial crops, such as sugar and cotton. Landholding expanded slightly and a greater

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willingness to rent and buy land was evident. The lower freight rates of the period as well as improvements in agricultural credit stimulated this optimism. Money was available as never before as a result of the guano boom and the government’s consolidation of the internal debt in the early 1850s. Together they provided an estimated eight million pesos for coastal agriculture (Basadre, 1969-1970: 11:300, 337-338; Bell, 1985: 15; Engelsen, 1977: 48-50, 53-66, 93, 258, Ch. 4; Markham, 1856: 24-25, 33; Markham, 1991: 20, 31, 33, 38). THE CONTINUATION OF THE OLD Despite these developments, however, one does not see a sharp break in Peru’s history. Changes may have been occurring, a shift to more liberal trade policies may have been evident, but the weight of the past had not been cast off. Conservatism and traditionalism continued to influence the country. In the political field, caudillismo was not dead. Leaders were still drawn from the military and still considered violence an acceptable way to change governments. Castilla, who in 1851 had pledged to forego military conspiracy, soon showed his true colours by rebelling against his successor. Socially, the rural elite continued to dominate the country as urban groups remained small and uninfluential while the poor and exploited found that the barriers to socio-economic advancement were as high as ever. Economically, the country remained dependent upon the traditional export sectors, and industrialisation, in general, was slow and very limited. One reason for this was the continuing unsettled state of the country that curbed investment in machinery and thereby hindered both industrial growth and trade. Another was the inability of Peruvian manufacturers, especially of cloth, to compete with the lower prices and better quality of imports. Protective tariffs had assisted the industrial expansion of the 184Os, but in 1852 the Echenique government reduced the rates, ended subsidies and eliminated other protections, with the result that every factory, save the paper mill, closed (Enclosure with Wilson to Pahnerston, No. 64, 29 September 1838, FO 61/53; Gootenberg, 1982: 355-356). Elsewhere mechanisation had yet to occur. In the agricultural sector, the sugar industry, despite the efforts of a few forward-looking planters, was still technologically archaic. The vast majority of the estates did not introduce steam engines until the 186Os, long after their general introduction in other countries. According to Pablo Macera, the industry was so backward that a majordomo from the seventeenth century would have been able to direct quite efficiently operations on a Peruvian sugar estate in 1875 (1977: 30, 31, 233). Even in the guano industry, where money was plentiful and the consignees might have been expected to maximise their returns by using labour-saving devices, the extraction methods remained primitive. By 1853 two steam-driven cutting and barrow-loading machines were in operation, but most of the work was done by hand. The labour force was composed of convicts, army deserters, slaves and, increasingly, Chinese coolies, along with some free workers who loaded the guano on to trucks that they pushed along tracks to the cliffs, then poured the fertilizer into chutes that led to the holds of waiting ships. Much of it was dumped into the ocean. However,

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both government and consignees were determined to minimise expenses so that the operations received little in the way of capital injections or technological improvements (Markham, 1991: 4041; Mathew, 1977: 42, 48-51). Thus, the changes that were occurring in Peru at mid-century were limited. They did not alter fundamentally the direction of Peruvian developments. They were circumscribed to begin with and did not require or involve the rejection of existing institutions or attitudes. They were, consequently, evolutionary not revolutionary, transitional not new departures. The size of what might be called the modern sector was small; old patterns remained in place; and even the so-called progressives remained committed to at least some of those patterns. They believed that their wealth, position and power depended upon that continuity, and that public order required it. In the circumstances the era was suited to those who had ties to both the traditional and the modern, the old and the new. One of these was the prominent planter, businessman and politician, Domingo Elias. DOMINGO ELiAS: HIS ECONOMIC ACTIVITIES Elias was of a privileged background. His grandfather was a Spanish immigrant, his father a government functionary, his mother a member of a prominent Ica landholding family. Born in 1805, he was educated first locally and then from 1818 in Spain and France, returning to Peru in 1825. As a result, unlike most of the other prominent Peruvians of his time, he did not participate in the independence struggles and had no military experience. On his return he married Isabel de Quintana y Pedemonte, a member of another wealthy Ica family. Through her and from his parents he inherited lands that served as the basis of his soon-to-expand agrarian empire (Engelsen, 1977; Orrego, 1990).’ The centre of Elias’s agricultural operations was the Ica region. Located approximately three hundred kilometres to the south of Lima, it is a rich area comprising the Pisco, Ica and Palpa-Nazca river valleys. During the colonial period the area had established a reputation for the cultivation of grapes. Local farmers produced raisins, largely for sale to ships crews, as well as wine, pi&o (brandy) and uguardiente (alcohol) that they sold along the coast and inland (Keith, 1976: 76, 98-102, 107). In 1850 the region boasted numerous vineyards, cotton plantations and farms growing a variety of fruits, vegetables and flowers. It also possessed gold and copper mines. Although part of the same department as Lima and not distant geographically from it, Ica in the mid-nineteenth century had only tenuous physical links with the capital as a result of the intervening desert and the poor state of the coastal roads. As late as 1900 travel by land between the two centres could take a week or more, and at mid-century was made even more hazardous by the presence of bandits and highwaymen who infested the roads, especially around Lima (Blanchard, 1992: 107-111; Walker, 1990). A faster and perhaps less dangerous means of travel was to catch a ship from the port of Pisco to Callao, but even this could take three, four or more days, and depended upon the availability of a ship (Hammel, 1969: 45; Markham, 1991: Ch. 7).

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Elias’s economic activities, thus, developed in isolation to a certain extent from the political events in Lima, although not entirely untouched by them. Initially, his principal concern was the agricultural sector in which he showed a confidence that must have surprised contemporary observers. He began adding to his properties, such as the Urrutia estate that he bought along with other lands in the Pisco and Chincha valleys for 60,000 pesos from the Count of Lurigancho, thereby establishing himself as a planter of note. President Felipe Santiago de Salaverry recognised this in 1835 when he ordered the planter to assist in the suppression of montoneros operating in the Cafiete valley [Gaceta de1 Gobierno (Lima), June 10, 18351. Local hacendudos were equally impressed, for that same year they chose Elias to look into the possibility of selling their alcohol along the northern Peruvian coast. Elias took advantage of the opportunity to establish a trade for the tar from Piura that was used in coating the earthen jugs (botijas) that held their liquor. He continued to add to his holdings, buying the former Jesuit-owned estates of San Jose and San Javier in the Nazca area from the state in 1836 or 1837, and other estates in the Pisco, Ica, Nazca, Palpa and Chincha valleys in the late 1840s and early 1850s. A British traveller, Clements Markham, noted in 1853 that Elias owned all the estates along the San Javier and Rio Grande rivers. His holdings came to include the Palto, Buenavista, Hoja Redonda, Lurin, Ocucaje and Huayuri estates. He rented others for their land as well as for their water rights, the latter being vitally important in this water-scarce part of the country. Elias exercised tight control over his properties, appointing relatives without lands, including some of his twelve sons, as administrators of his estates. He could influence others through family ties, since close relatives, such as his brother-in-law, Juan de Dios Quintana, were local landholders (Basadre, 1969-1970: 11:287; Engelsen, 1977: 345,434; Markham, 1991: 45,49, 52-54; Vicuiia, 1847: 33,34,53). Elias’s land accumulation might be seen as simply the continuation of traditional practices. He probably recognised that monopolising land eliminated competition, secured a labour force, ensured water supplies and provided social cachet. He apparently was not averse to using political pressure, personal influence and intimidation when they were necessary to obtain the land he wanted. Land monopolisation also meant that he could devote some acreage to food and livestock production that was a favoured money-making activity of coastal landholders. Elias sold his produce locally and, in the case of his estates in the Pisco and Chincha valleys, to the nearby guano islands for which he held a state concession. The returns from food production were limited, however, and Elias had his eye on larger profits and wider markets. From the time he acquired his first estates and became involved in all aspects of their operations, he exhibited an entrepreneurial spirit that was rare for early republican Peru. What must have occurred to him, along with other West Coast producers, was that with the improvements in transportation and the decline in freight rates, selling their produce to European markets was more feasible than ever before, To take advantage of that opportunity, planters had to concentrate on cash crops, improve the quality of those crops and reduce production costs as much as possible. Elias was a leader in this transition. He

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experimented with crops, hired experts to improve them and saw mechanisation as an obvious route to maximising profits. This forward thinking was evident in the cultivation of the principal commercial crops on his estates, grapes and cotton. With regard to his vineyards, Elias maintained the production of raisins, wine, pisco and aguardiente, but he concentrated on wine as it seemed to have the greatest potential, with Europe the envisioned market. To turn that dream into reality, however, he had to improve the quality of the local wines as they tended to be rather ‘heavy’ and unappealing to foreign palates. He began hiring experts from France, Spain, Italy and Portugal in the late 183Os,and imported furnaces, casks and barrels to improve the quality of his grapes and produce European-style wines. He was the 8rst person in Peru to make wine following European methods and his efforts seem to have had some success. In 1853 Markham noted when he visited one of Elias’s estates that ‘an old and experienced Portuguese has charge of the wines and has made and clatied three very good kinds out of Pisco and Yea grapes. One is like Malaga, another like Marsala, and a third might be mistaken for Bucellas’ (1991: 53). He managed to sell some in France, England, the United States, Ecuador and Chile, but he failed to achieve the desired commercial breakthrough. Equipment failures and a lack of trained personnel led to production problems, with the result that Peruvians remained his primary consumers (Engelsen, 1977: 95, 215-223; Hammel, 1969: 15-16; Orrego, 1990: 321-322). A second and ultimately more important commercial crop was cotton. Like grapes, cotton has a long history in the Ica area. By the late 183Os, the value of the crop averaged 500,000 pounds sterling per year, rising to over one million pounds by the mid-1850s (Bell, 1985: 11). The expansion was largely a result of Elias. He devoted more and more of his land to cotton production and is reputed to have been the first person in Peru to produce cotton on a commercial scale. San Jose, San Javier, Urrutia, Hoja Redonda and Ocucaje all increased cotton production after Elias acquired them. As with his vineyards, he hired agricultural experts and imported up-to-date machinery, using steam-run ploughs in his fields and introducing the cotton gin to Peru. In 1853 he owned one of the three mills in the area for cleaning cotton, while the recently acquired Coyungo estate had a water mill to separate the seeds from the cotton and a press for packing bales. He experimented with seeds, producing a fibre that came to be known as ‘Elias cotton’. At mid-century he was responsible for up to half of Peru’s cotton, much of which was exported to Europe. In 1853 he was exporting 120,000 pounds of his own plus 280,000 pounds bought from other producers. Thus, although he continued to produce large quantities of wine, pisco and other commodities such as cochineal, cotton became his primary interest and it paid off in handsome profits (Bell, 1985: 11; Engelsen, 1977: 198; Markham, 1991: 47). Elias’s income and reputation were tied ultimately to his agricultural enterprises, but he was more than a wealthy landowner dedicated to agricultural improvements. Numerous other economic activities attracted his interest and energies. One was mining. He acquired silver and gold mines

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in the 1830s and 184Os, and in 1853 was reported to have shares in mines in Cerro de Pasco and Huacho. He was a mid-sized merchant operating at both the regional and national levels. He marketed his own crops and those of other grape, cotton and dye producers, including farmers who rented their lands from him. He was a warehouseman, storing produce that was sold along the coast and inland. Markham visited his Pisco warehouse where he counted over one hundred butts of wine holding up to three hundred gallons each, along with other butts containing @co. His warehouses also contained imported luxury goods, foodstuffs and agricultural tools. His interests may have extended to Chile, to the Valparaiso warehouses where on occasion he stored his cotton in anticipation of a rise in European prices. He was involved in the guano industry, leasing the Chincha Islands in the late 1830s and exporting guano before the boom. Between 1849 and 1853 he held the guano-loading concession for the islands, grossing about 750 pesos per day. His ties with prominent officials paved the way for other government concessions, such as one to feed the guano workers. By supplying the food from his own estates he benefited doubly. Another contract involved furnishing the military with clothing, mules and horses. His wealth permitted him to become a moneylender, supplying funds to miners, merchants and other hacenuizdos. He was also a professional administrator, administering the properties and savings of others for a commission. Markham’s conclusion that Elias was ‘the most enterprising man in Peru’ (1991: 42) seems completely justified for there were few who could have challenged him (Basadre, 1969-1970: 111:287; Echenique, 1952: 1:104; Levin, 1960: 49 note 67; Macera, 1977: 216; Markham 1991: 40-43; Mathew, 1977: 37-38). Enterprise required capital, and while Elias’s various activities provided substantial returns, they were not always adequate to his needs. For example, when he purchased San Jose and San Javier, he paid 11,000 pesos in specie and 110,000 pesos in government bills that were obtainable for a fraction of their face value. He is also reported to have relied upon political influence to make the purchase. With the guano boom, he, like other Peruvians, lacked the funds to obtain a guano concession. Elias’s response to this obstacle was to borrow. Operating on credit was nothing new for a Peruvian landholder, but Elias stood apart from others by going abroad in his search for the money he required. While initially he borrowed from family, friends and Peruvian merchants-such as the Peruvian guano merchant who loaned him 23,000 pesos in 1848, with all his possessions standing as collateral-increasingly he turned to foreigners. In 1849 he was borrowing from the British merchant house, Huth Grunning. By the mid1850s the French house, Lachambre and Sons, was his preferred source, loaning between 50,000 and 65,000 pesos annually. By the 1860s the amount had risen to over 150,000 pesos per year, now with the British firms, Green Nicholson and Graham Rowe, as his primary sources of loan capital. This international borrowing may have helped him to meet his immediate needs and clearly marked him as one who understood the potential of the modem money markets, but they ultimately proved to be beyond his abilities to manipulate, for at the time of his death he was in some financial distress

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(Archive General de la Nation, Lima, Peru [hereafter AGN], Notarial, Jose de Selaya, September 18, 1862;3 Engelsen, 1977: 144-145,455,469; Orrego, 1990: 330). ELIAS: HIS POLITICAL ACTIVITIES Involvement in the economic sector as demonstrated by Elias was only one facet of the transitional man’s activities. To influence developments and protect his interests he also had to participate in politics. Elias delayed that decision for some time, despite being pressured by presidents as ideologically opposed as the liberal And&s de Santa Crux and the conservative Agustin Gamarra (San Cristoval, 1935: 11:83-84). Perhaps he perceived his economic concerns to be more important than political involvement and more demanding of his time; perhaps he believed that whatever political influence he required could be achieved through relations with the officials in his region. Whatever the reason, his political career did not begin until the 184Os, and at that time he established himself as a national rather than a regional figure. His first public appointment was a rather odd one in view of his lack of military training: in 1840 he was put in command of the Lima National Guard battalion ‘El Comercio I”‘. More significant was his being named prefect of Lima by President Manuel Ignacio de Vivanco three years later. This was a time of political chaos that was extreme even by Peruvian standards. It followed the death of Gamarra and was marked by numerous uprisings as sundry military men sought to fill the vacuum. Elias was the beneficiary of the unrest as, shortly after his appointment, he was placed in charge of the government by Vivanco who went off to suppress the latest rebellion. Elias was chosen precisely because he was not a military man and, therefore, lacked the military backing to consider challenging the president. However, Vivanco was defeated, and in the ensuing political uncertainty Elias claimed the supreme mandate in June 1844. He held the position for two months, giving way to Vivanco’s conqueror, Ramon Castilla, who now emerged as the dominant political figure of the country (Basadre, 1969 1970: IIL60-61; Orrego, 1990: 332-336). During his brief rule Elias displayed a political style that was new to Peru. He established a reputation for being ‘liberal and enlightened’. Unlike his predecessors, he was a civilian and he claimed that he acted in the name of the people. ‘My politics being that of the people, my position the work of the people, my expedients those of the people, I cannot have secrets from them,’ he stated. The British minister commented that he represented ‘the principle of Government by the people as opposed to the military, and . . . he had been supported almost unanimously by the inhabitants of Lima, with a degree of enthusiasm which . . . has not for many years been exhibited in this city’ (Adams to Aberdeen, No. 31, 18 July 1844, FO 61/103). Residents in other coastal towns also supported him, but he failed to secure the backing of the military that might have permitted him to mount a challenge to Castilla and remain in power. In particular, he was unsuccessful in winning over General Echenique and his army, and this led to subsequent animosity between the two men (Basadre, 1969-1970: 111:62; Orrego, 1990: 335-336). Elias’s first taste of political power aroused a passion for more. His

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economic activities were flourishing at this time and probably served as a further stimulus to greater political involvement, so that the two became inextricably mixed. A contemporary observed that ‘it is difficult to say whether money for him was the means or the end: whether he wanted money to obtain power or power to obtain money’ (quoted in Orrego, 1990: 33033 1). He tried unsuccessfully for the presidency in 1845, was elected a deputy from Ica, and then secured a seat on the council of state where he served for the next six years, heading the opposition to Castilla. In 1847 he took a brief break from his domestic activities, serving as minister plenipotentiary on special mission to Bolivia, where he signed a treaty of amity and commerce with the neighbouring country. During this period Elias remained a voice for civilian rule. Since he enjoyed no significant military backing, this was not a difficult choice. In 1847 he was reported to be head of ‘the Party of the People’, an organisation that two years later was reborn as the Club Progresista, the first organised political party in Peru, whose goal was to secure the presidency of Elias in 1850 (Crompton to Palmerston, No. 22, 30 December, 1847, FO 61/l 16). The party reflected the progressive and liberal interests of its members, men like the intellectual and politician, Pedro Galvez, and the merchants, Francisco Quiroz and Jose Sevilla. Its programme called for civilian government, reduced military influence, a shorter presidential term, direct elections, ministerial responsibility, budgetary restraint, monetary reform, immigration, industrialisation, expanded educational facilities, new technical institutions and the abolition of capital punishment. It boasted a newspaper, El Progreso, that appeared between July 1849 and March 1851, presenting the ideas of its members and supporting Elias’s presidential campaign (Basadre, 1969-1970: 111:67, 87-88, 286287; Orrego, 1990: 337343, 347; San Cristoval, 1935: 11:83-85; Tauro, 1966: 1:502-503). Elias’s liberalism was evident in other spheres as well. He was a firm advocate of education and more extensive educational facilities, viewing them as essential to modernisation and the development of a modemising elite. This spilled over into his personal philanthropy, and he was the force behind the founding of the college of Nuestra Seiiora de Guadalupe, a school that was noted for teaching liberal ideas (Orrego, 1990: 330; Pike, 1967: 101, 105). His reputation for liberalism extended to all sectors of the population, even to slaves in the northern Chicama valley. When they rebelled early in 1851 demanding their freedom and briefly occupying the departmental capital of Trujillo, they shouted ‘vivas’ to Castilla, Echenique, Elias and Elias’s local political partisan. One of their leaders announced that Elias was fighting for the freedom of all slaves and had freed his own [El Comercio (Lima), 4, 10, 13,21,24-28 February, 1, 15, 17 March, 25 June, 30 October 1851; Archive Departmental de La Libertad, Trujillo, Division Judicial, Corte Superior, Causas Criminales, 1851, Legajo 877, Expediente 3771; Blanchard, 1992: 113-1191. THE CONSERVATIVE ELIAS The announcement indicated that the rebels’ understanding of national affairs was less than perfect, for while Elias may have been a liberal in

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some areas, he was no abolitionist. He was, in fact, one of the country’s principal slaveholders and a firm believer in slavery and servile forms of labour. The slaves’ confusion points to the contradiction that was part of the makeup of the transitional man. Although Elias’s modemising efforts, his opposition to military rule, and his educational initiatives point to a liberal and progressive figure, other aspects of his life point in quite the opposite direction. In many spheres he was staunchly conservative and traditional. This ideological inconsistency-which was probably not deliberate and may not even have been perceived-served both his personal needs and his desires to transform Peru. It was a means to ensure the survival of institutions that were profitable to him, and, at the same time, to establish links with members of the elite whose support was essential if he was going to achieve the nationwide changes he wanted, including unifying his still divided country. He could not accomplish his goals by being an outsider or by depending solely on the rather small group of Peruvian liberals. He needed ties with as many sectors of the elite as possible, including those on the right. His acceptance of many conservative ideas opened a corridor to them. Elias’s conservatism is evident first in the political sphere, where despite his reputation for progressivism and a commitment to civilian politics, he did not eschew violence to achieve his ends. In the process he acted like a caudillo, a fact that should not be surprising since caudillismo remained the dominant political model of the day. One indication of this was his willingness to use force and intimidation to build up his galaxy of estates in Ica. More striking was his response to his defeat in the 1850 presidential election at the hands of his old nemesis, General Jose Rhino Echenique. The differences between the two men that had existed since 1844 flared into open animosity almost immediately Echenique occupied the presidential palace. Like others, Elias opposed the financial dealings of the government, especially the law consolidating the nation’s debt that was designed to pay off obligations incurred from as far back as the independence war, but, in its implementation, seemed more a measure to fill the pockets of Echenique’s friends. Elias found himself the particular target of the president’s ire as he set himself up as the chief opposition spokesman, publishing a number of letters that enraged Echenique and led to Elias’s exile. Echenique also retaliated by cancelling some of Elias’s concessions, such as the guanoloading contract and a monopoly to import Chinese coolies. Elias’s response was that of the classic caudillo. He took up arms with the support of his Ica relatives and friends who provided him with money and troops (Engelsen, 1977: 465). His military skills, however, were not on the level of his entrepreneurial expertise. Two attempts at overthrowing the government in 1853 failed, as did a further attempt the following year when he was defeated at the battle of Alto de1 Conde by General Trinidad Moran. When he subsequently managed to defeat Moran in December, he took unnecessarily savage revenge on the old independence veteran by having him executed (Basadre, 1969-1970: IV:72-76, ch. 47; Pike, 1967: 98-103; Quiroz, 1980: 259-28 1). Clearer evidence of the contradictory behaviour of the ‘transitional man’

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can be found in the social sphere. Where labour was concerned Elias remained firmly tied to traditional methods. While calling for modemisation, he was one of the country’s foremost slave owners and a con&med advocate of slavery. Although in 1846 he was reported to have said that he was convinced ‘the forces of a free man are worth three times those of the slave’ (Vicufla, 1847: 70) and that he would prefer to have free workers, his actions indicated otherwise. When he bought Urrutia, it was ‘idle land, without slaves’; in 1846 it had some seventy slaves. He began selling some of his slaves in the early 185Os, but he remained a major slaveholder until the end, receiving compensation for 493 slaves following abolition in 1855 (Basadre, 1969-1970: 111:287; Engelsen, 1977: 345, 447; Mathew, 1977: 37; Vicufia, 1847: 30-31; El Comercio, April 24, 1856). To maintain those numbers, he sought slaves throughout the country and even abroad when the opportunity arose. He was a major purchaser of the slaves and their children (libertos) who were imported from New Granada in 1847, following Peru’s reopening of the slave trade with other American states. Only two shipments of note occurred, the second involving the Peruvian ship, Maria de 10s Angeles, which set sail from Buenaventura, New Granada, in April 1847 with a cargo of 237 slaves and libertos. When it docked at An&n, Peru, on 18 June, Elias and two other Pisco hacendados, Jose Maria Sotomayor and Francisco Sagastaveytia, purchased eighty-seven slaves (forty-one men and forty-six women) and 116 libertos (fifty-five males, fifty-four females and seven babies), for 54,888 pesos [El Peruano (Lima), 26 June 1847; ‘Promovido por el Sefior D. Domingo Elias con la testamenta de Don Felipe Revoredo para que le descuentera una cantidad de pesos’, AGN, Causas Civiles, 1852, Legajo 168; Arona, 1891: 92-93; Peru, 1831-53: X:41 11. That purchase caused Elias some problems five years later, in 1852, when the government of New Granada as part of its abolition process tried to secure the freedom of the slaves it had exported. Its efforts led to enquiries into the status of the Maria de 10s Angeles cargo and charges that the libertos who were in Elias’s possession had been treated as slaves and even sold. In early June Echenique’s government ordered their release, but Elias refused to comply and a second decree was required to secure their freedom. The controversy was probably tied more to internal politics than humanitarian concerns or international pressures, as it provided Echenique with another opportunity to lash out at his enemy, Moreover, Elias seems to have suffered financially from the affair, for following the loss of the libertos he sued the estate of the original vendor to recover some of his expenses [Adams to Palmerston, No. 8, 8 January 1852, FO 61/133, O’Leary to Palmerston, Slave Trade No. 6, 24 May 1851, FO 84/853, Adams to Palmerston, Slave Trade No. 1, 8 January, Slave Trade No. 3, 8 February 1852, Adams to Malmesbury, Slave Trade No. 4,9 June 1852, FO 84/884; ‘Promovido por el seiior D. Domingo Elias . . . ,’ AGN, Causas Civiles, 1852, Legajo 168; Registro Ojicial (Lima), 24 June 1852; Tavara, 1853: xi]. By the late 1840s Elias could no longer rely on slaves to meet his labour needs. The number was declining rapidly, while the trade from New Granada ended virtually with the sailing of the Maria de 10s Angeles. He

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had to find alternative workers. Remaining committed to the idea of a cheap, coercible labour force, he turned his attention to Chinese coolies. Peruvians had been interested in attracting immigrants for some time in order to resolve their country’s labour shortage and revive agriculture, but it was not until November 1849 that a law was passed to promote immigration. The law offered a prize of thirty pesos for every colonist between the ages of ten and forty who was imported in groups of over fifty (El Comercio, 7 September 1849; El Peruano, 21 November 1849). Most supporters of the law wanted European immigrants, but the principal figures behind the law were Elias and another planter, Juan Rodriguez, and they wanted cheap, servile workers, specifically Chinese coolies. They believed that coolies could easily be attracted to Peru because the living and working conditions were as good as, or better than, those in China. They had already imported seventyfive coolies, and now they had a law that offered a prize to importers of immigrants. Moreover, they got it applied retroactively so that they could recoup past expenses. At the same time they obtained the exclusive rights to import coolies for the departments of Lima and La Libertad for four years (Arona, 1891: 5; Blanchard, 1992: 138-142; Levin, 1960: 87; Stewart, 1951: 13-14, 17). Despite initial enthusiasm the law failed to produce the desired results. Only 3932 agricultural immigrants had arrived by 1852: 2516 Chinese, 1096 Germans, and 320 Irish. The preponderance of Chinese aroused widespread criticism that was rooted in racial prejudice, dissatisfaction with them as workers, and moral concerns. Moreover, the exploitation of the coolies by importers and employers provoked criticism in Peru and abroad [Barton to Mahnesbury, No. 23, 24 September 1852, FO 61/134; Correo de Lima (Lima), 18 October, 2 December 1851; El Comercio, 2 August, 18 October 1851; Registro Oficiaf, 20 August 1853; Stewart, 1951: 18-23, Ch. 51. To counter the growing opposition, Elias and Rodriguez published a pamphlet in 1851 that claimed coolies were the cheapest and most logical solution to Peru’s labour problems. They argued that coolies received only four pesos per month and could live on rice, while Europeans expected twenty centavos per day and demanded meat. They questioned the rationale of hiring free wage labourers who might be conscripted into the army, or Indians and free blacks who were subject to a head tax that employers usually paid. They managed to convince congress for the time being, but opposition continued to mount and in September 1854 the government halted migration to the Chincha Islands for five months. In 1856 the coolie trade was banned altogether, although with only limited effects, for coolies were still imported and the full trade resumed in 1861 [Gonzales, 1985: 88; Levin, 1960: 88-89; Stewart, 1951: 21-23; El Herald0 de Lima (Lima), 16 June, 6, 24 July 18541. Despite the limited numbers and the eventual ban on the coolie trade, Elias obtained the servile workers he wanted. For example, he contracted the majority of the 320 Chinese who arrived at Islay on the British ship, Susannah, in June 1852, using them on his estates and the guano islands. In 1853 he employed 600 coolies, 50 slaves, and around 200 Chileans and Peruvians on the islands (Crompton to Adams, No. 9, 29 June 1852, FO

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177/53; Engelsen, 1977: 451). The availability of the coolies may help to explain why he was prepared to sell some of his slaves, as well as his apparent willingness to support abolition in 1855. Abolition came as a by-product of the rebellion against Echenique that ended with Castilla’s victory in 1855 and his resumption of the presidency. His call for abolition, along with a promise to end the Indian head tax, and the presence of prominent liberals among his supporters, resulted in the rebellion being called the ‘Liberal Revolution’, suggesting that it marked a significant shift from the past. Elias seemed to have no difficulty in accepting the ideological thrust of the movement. His involvement in the rebellion predated that of Castilla and the latter’s abolition decree, so that his choice as to sides in the civil war was already determined. His presence probably helped to attract other planters and slaveholders to Castilla’s cause, thereby ensuring that their interests were not ignored by the new government and that a healing process could begin. It also raises questions about the accuracy of the title applied to the conflict. Castilla’s victory in 1855 may not have marked a fundamental change of direction in Peruvian history, but it was a turning point in Elias’ career. The introduction of liberal trade policies that favoured raw material producers like himself reduced his need to play a prominent role in politics, although his interest seemed as strong as ever. He was named minister of finance in the new government, but because of ill health served only briefly. In 1857 he was named Peruvian minister to France, but returned after a short stay. He ran for president in 1858, but again without success. Illness continued to afflict him as did financial difficulties, limiting his activities and restricting both his pubic and private life. He died-in 1867 (Quiroz, 1980: 197-202). CONCLUSION Elias’s career clearly demonstrates the contradictions of the transitional man and the transitional era. He and other Peruvian planters like him were receptive to the technological advances and other mid-century developments, but were not prepared to give up everything from the past nor permit the complete transformation of their societies to achieve them. They were not alone in their behaviour. In Cuba, later in the century, the old and the new in the form of modern technology and slavery co-existed, allowing the temporary survival of slavery while ensuring its gradual and relatively peaceful abolition (Scott, 1985). Brazil’s coffee planters in the late nineteenth century exhibited the same pattern, leading Warren Dean to describe them as ‘the most progressive and the most retrograde sector of Brazilian society’ (1976: 5 l-53). That mixture of the past and the present in individuals was evident also among the late nineteenth-century caudillos such as Porfirio Diaz of Mexico and Antonio GuzmPn Blanc0 of Venezuela. They, like other prominent figures of the period, many of whom claimed to be liberals, were noted for their political authoritarianism and their lack of social conscience, as well as for their commitment to what were perceived to be the most modern economic systems of the time. Contradictory behaviour is, of course, a human characteristic and cannot be restricted to a certain time, place or group. It is a self-interested response

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but one that also implies the possibility of consensus, conciliation and compromise. The transitional men were prominent figures who were determined to protect their position, which meant retaining many of the social patterns of the past. At the same time they wanted to benefit from the emerging economic developments, which meant moving their countries in new directions. With their contacts on all sides of the political and ideological spectrum, they were ideally placed to achieve change. In Peru, men like Domingo Elias were central to overcoming the centrifugal forces of the past and creating a unified nation. Regional identification remained strong amongst the elites in places like Cuzco and Arequipa, but their ability to determine national policies or split the nation was weakening. A national pattern had emerged that was centred in Lima and found among the dynamic coastal sectors who were convinced that a united nation was vital to their economic interests. This same group wanted an end to military rule to ensure that it was they who would determine their cotmtry’s political and economic policies. Increasingly, from mid-century, it was the coastal planters who set the direction for Peruvian developments against the wishes of elites in other parts of the country, but fully in tune with what was happening in Lima. Domingo Elias, with his eyes on the future but one foot still in the past, was a precursor and, in a way, a founder of this coastal plutocracy. Twenty-two years after his unsuccessful run for the presidency at the head of a political party, it was a member of this group who was elected the first civilian president of Peru, securing one of Elias’s political goals at last (Cotler, 1978: 101, 102; Miller, 1982). The transitional men, thus, straddled all worlds, not just the past and the future, but the city and the countryside, the coast and the interior, estate and factory, home and abroad. They were figures of compromise who wanted the new but had not abandoned the old. They were not out of touch with society; rather, they were firmly tied to it to ensure that their interests prevailed and that, as their countries adopted the new ways, they profited. This meant putting a brake upon change if it was necessary, to maintain the old ways and to keep many of the traditions of the past alive. They played a vital role in ending the discord and conflict of the first decades of independent rule, and in preparing the ground for the more dramatic changes that Latin America experienced later in the century. They also ensured that conservatism remained a living force, affecting decision-making in Latin America long after they were gone. NOTES 1. An earlier version of this paper, entitled ‘Socio-economic change in the Ica region in the midnineteenth century,’ was presented to the 46th International Congress of Americanisis, Amsterdam, July 1988. 2. Although it contains some inaccuracies and inconsistencies, the most informative work on Ellas as an entrepreneur is Engelsen (1977: particularly 427475). Much of what follows about his career is taken from these pages. 3. My thanks to Rory Miller for this reference.

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