In December 1872 a fistfight broke out in the Barcelona stock exchange. According to a witness, the violence began when a man delivered an impromptu speech in defense of Antillean slavery. His intransigence outraged one listener who cried out in response: “¡Viva la libertad de los negros!” (Long live liberty for blacks!). In a spontaneous display of loyalty to colonial slavery, the rest of the public set upon the lone abolitionist in its midst. The narrator of the incident condemned such a violent outburst in “a place that should only be for business and neutral in politics.”1

At that moment in Barcelona, however, it was impossible to separate business from politics, especially colonial politics. In the fall of 1872, the Sociedad Abolicionista Española, frustrated by the gradualist Moret Law of 1870, which intended to prolong Antillean slavery until well into the 1880s, launched a campaign in cooperation with the Radical and Federal Republican parties in the Cortes for the immediate abolition of slavery in Puerto Rico. The abolitionists made it clear that after Puerto Rico, Cuba would follow. In response, colonial and metropolitan conservatives mobilized to defend colonial slavery and challenge the revolutionary regime that had created the political climate favorable to radical abolitionism. As the violence in the stock exchange demonstrated, Barcelona was one of the centers of resistance.2

Sectors of Spanish society vigorously defended Antillean slavery for most of the nineteenth century. Spain was the last European metropolis to abolish the Atlantic slave trade (1867) and slavery in its Caribbean colonies (Puerto Rico in 1873, Cuba in 1886). The resurgence and persistence of Cuban and Puerto Rican slavery resulted from both changes in the space of Caribbean slavery and the political and economic order fashioned by the Spanish state out of the wreckage of the Spanish American revolutions. By the 1830s, Spanish and Antillean elites had consolidated an imperial order, founded on slavery, that would persist until the final two decades of the nineteenth century.3

Cuba and Puerto Rico were part of the Atlantic world’s “second slavery,” slave societies that responded to transformations in the Atlantic economy that stimulated the production and consumption of staple goods like coffee, cotton, and sugar.4 Between 1790 and the final abolition of the slave trade in the late 1860s, Cuba alone imported approximately 780,000 African slaves.5 Slavery was the basis of Caribbean production and it was slavery and the slave trade that bound Cuba and Puerto Rico to the Spanish metropolis. While diverse groups in the Atlantic world had successfully destroyed slavery in the French and British American colonies by the mid-nineteenth century, Spain and the Antilles moved in the opposite direction, building dynamic slave economies during the same period.6

Colonial slaveholders were not the only beneficiaries of the colonial system. During and after the Spanish American revolutions of the 1810s and 1820s, Spanish merchants and producers reconcentrated their interests on the Antilles. The colonial project was one of the cornerstones of the political and economic order created in Spain in the 1830s, when Spanish revolutionaries simultaneously consolidated a constitutional regime and capitalist property relations in the metropolis, and nonrepresentative rule and chattel slavery in the colonies.7

Though apparently contradictory, the decisions of Spanish political and economic elites must be understood in the context of relative underdevelopment within the Atlantic world.8 Spain’s manufacturing and agricultural sectors developed slowly over the course of the nineteenth century and demanded protection from the Spanish state against more competitive foreign goods.9 Spain’s economic weakness had important consequences for Cuba and Puerto Rico. The Spanish consumer market was unable to absorb colonial products, most notably Cuban sugar, while without state intervention Spanish producers and merchants could not compete effectively with other Atlantic rivals in provisioning the Antilles.10

This intervention was crucial. During the mid-nineteenth century, Cuba followed France and Great Britain as the third largest recipient of Spanish exports. In the 1850s, 19.4 percent of Spanish exports were destined for Cuba, as compared with 26.4 percent for France and 25.6 percent for Great Britain. In the 1890s Cuba remained Spain’s third largest market, receiving 14.7 percent of exports. After independence the total shrank to 5.3 percent.11 Protected metropolitan and colonial markets were thus fundamental to Spanish interests throughout the century. And, as colonial slavery was the basis of stability and production in Cuba and Puerto Rico until the 1880s, any threat of abolition mobilized not only colonial slaveholders but also metropolitan producers and merchants who depended heavily on their “national” market in the Caribbean.

To demonstrate the centrality of slavery and colonialism to the Spanish political and economic order, I will focus on the struggle over slavery fought by Cubans, Puerto Ricans, and Spaniards in the 1860s and 1870s, a period of crisis during which a wide range of actors mobilized either to destroy or to defend Antillean slavery. In particular, I will examine the metropolitan mobilization in defense of colonial slavery and show how this mobilization was based on the actions of social groups that also defended national protectionist policies. The discussion will first concentrate on the political economy of empire consolidated in the 1830s, highlighting the strong links between colonies and metropolis. It will then analyze the battles over free trade and protectionism in Spain during the 1850s and 1860s and the way in which these struggles dovetailed with the battle over Antillean slavery, an issue placed on the political agenda by the Cuban and Spanish revolutions of 1868.

Colonialism, Slavery, and Spanish Liberalism

During his 1846 tour of Spain in favor of free trade, the British industrialist and publicist Richard Cobden reminded an enthusiastic public in Cádiz of the benefits of commercial liberty:

You all remember that for a year Cadiz enjoyed an extraordinary prosperity. You remember the fleet of vessels which crowded your bay, the vast traffic which filled your streets, and your warehouses charged with the productions of every clime? What was it that occasioned such a magical change in Cadiz? The climate, its harbour, its productions, everything was the same as they had been before—there was but one alteration which accounted for all the prosperity—for one year Cadiz was a FREE port.12

That golden moment of prosperity was, however, long past. In 1846 Cádiz suffered the stifling effects of a protectionist trade policy. Cobden left no doubt as to the origin of that policy: “In every country there is some particular interest which is afraid of freedom.. . . In Spain, you have the Catalonians, who are terrified at the mere name of Free Trade.”13

Most Spanish free traders blamed the strong protectionist policies of the Spanish state on the “industrial” party, that is to say, on Catalan textile manufacturers. The lukewarm reception given Cobden in Seville, Granada, Málaga, and Valencia, as well as in Barcelona, demonstrated that agricultural, mining, and industrial sectors throughout Spain agreed that their government should protect the domestic market for national producers. Significantly, Cobden received a warm welcome only in Madrid and the Andalusian cities of Cadiz and Jerez. In Madrid, civil servants and professionals advocated free trade as a fiscal device that would both increase public revenues by cutting down on contraband and open Spain to foreign capital. Cádiz and Jerez, meanwhile, already had strong commercial links with England.14

Strong protectionist sentiment throughout Spain was well in keeping with the conservative nature of the revolution of the 1830s. As Jesus Cruz has argued in a recent work, the Spanish revolutions of the early nineteenth century preserved the political and social ascendancy of old-regime elites and protected prerevolutionary business practices.15 European historians have recently emphasized the persistence through the nineteenth century of the old regime and the political and cultural conservatism of the bourgeoisie (i.e. the owners of the means of production). Geoff Eley, for example, has argued that the liberalism of the European bourgeoisie was generally limited to securing the conditions for the reproduction of capital. Its commitment to political liberalism, especially in its most radical democratic form, and to standard beliefs of economic liberalism, such as free trade and competition, was weak. In nineteenth-century Europe, Spain included, the rise of democracy, the expansion of civil rights, and the liberalization of the economy were generally carried out by the middle and popular classes in conflict with the capitalist class.16

These considerations in regard to the conservatism of the bourgeois revolution can be extended to the colonial project. Spanish capitalism exploited one of the most egregious symbols of the old regime: chattel slavery. Unlike Great Britain, where, historians have persuasively argued, the advent of industrial capitalism bred strong antislavery sentiment throughout society, Spain’s slow and uneven transition to a capitalist, industrial economy initially strengthened apparently anachronistic institutions such as colonial slavery and economic protectionism.17

A brief description of the salient features of the colonial system will illustrate its centrality to the Spanish bourgeoisie. The Spanish government and Spanish producers used the protected Antillean market as an outlet for noncompetitive Spanish goods that would correct Spain’s chronic trade imbalance. Because of the dominance of export agriculture—especially sugar, but also tobacco and coffee—the Antilles relied heavily upon foreign foodstuffs and consumer goods. High tariffs that penalized non-Spanish goods and carriers served to protect the predominance of Spanish manufactures, shipping, and foods, especially flour and wine.18 In contrast, Antillean exports, with the exception of Puerto Rican coffee in the 1880s and 1890s, received no preferential treatment in the weak Spanish consumer market.19 For example, Spain protected its infant cane sugar industry in Málaga against competition from Cuban sugar. As a result, the leading consumers of Cuban sugar were Great Britain and the United States.20 Furthermore, after the independence of the Spanish American colonies on the mainland in the 1820s, and the concurrent boom of sugar production in Cuba and Puerto Rico, the Antilles became one of the most important sources of Spanish wealth. Some of the greatest fortunes of the nineteenth century were based on the exploitation of various aspects of the Cuban slave economy: the slave trade, sugar cultivation, railroad construction, and shipping. And the most spectacular fortunes, such as those of the Zulueta family, were based on the vertical integration of all activities related to the colonial sugar economy.21

On a smaller, though politically no less important, level the Antilles were an important source of Spanish merchant capital. In the nineteenth century, Spanish merchants had a stranglehold on Antillean commercial networks in both the import and export sector. For example, in the eastern Cuban city of Santiago, 86 percent of all registered merchants in 1833 were Spanish. Between 1841 and 1862, the percentage remained at 80 percent. In the great western sugar regions of Havana and Matanzas, about 75 percent of registered merchants in the 1830s were Spanish; in Puerto Rico approximately 80 percent were Spanish.22

The regional origins of Spanish merchants were extremely significant. By far the largest percentage of merchants was from coastal Catalonia. Of the Spanish merchants in Santiago in 1833, 86 percent were Catalan; this represents 71.4 percent of all those in the region.23 The percentage of Catalans was less overwhelming in western Cuba, where they constituted approximately 35-40 percent of all Spanish merchants. In the west there were a substantial number of merchants from Spain’s northern maritime provinces—Cantabria, Galicia, Asturias, and the Basque country—though Canarian and Castilian merchants were also numerous.24 In Puerto Rico, merchants from Mallorca (one of the Balearic Islands) formed the dominant group, though Catalan merchants from the coastal city of Vilanova i la Geltrú were also highly represented.25

Colonial merchant capital played an important role in the development of the Spanish economy, particularly, for example, in the Catalan industrial sector. Juan Güell y Ferrer was one such example — an indiano (a migrant to the Americas returned to the peninsula) who turned to industry and agriculture in Catalonia. Antonio López y López, later the marqués de Comillas, converted his initial colonial earnings into Spain’s largest shipping firm, the Compañía Transatlántica.26 More typically, however, temporary migration to the Antilles to work as a merchant served as a source of upward mobility for poor Spaniards or, especially in the case of Catalans, as a traditional career that was a part of entrenched and sophisticated immigration and business networks. Jordi Maluquer de Motes notes that in some towns on the Catalan coast, such as Sitges, Vilanova i la Geltrú, San Feliu de Guixols, and Sant Pere de Ribas, agriculturalists would at times complain of having to import labor from the Catalan interior because so many young men temporarily migrated to the Antilles.27

Spanish economic interests in the Antilles were, therefore, both profound and complex. Particularly in the peripheral provinces, the policy of preserving the Antillean market resonated deeply within the metropolitan population— from the mightiest hacendado and slave trader to the humblest Basque or Galician employed in a relative’s merchant house in Havana or Ponce. Any threat to the colonial status quo or colonial prosperity provoked powerful opposition. Given the intimate connection between colonies and metropolis, these threats could arise from seemingly unrelated conflicts over the political and economic order of Spanish liberalism.

Free Trade and Protectionism in Spain, 1854-1868

One of the major contests over the nature of the Spanish state and economy took place during the Liberal Union (1854-68). The period between 1854 and 1868 was one during which Spanish liberals sought to balance the centralizing tendencies of the liberal state with demands for a more robust and less regulated form of capitalism. The dominant parties formed in the revolutionary era of the 1830s, the Moderates and the Progressives, were relatively homogenous in their representation of the bourgeoisie and the professional classes, though they disagreed over the proper forms of state and economy. The Moderates tended to favor the interests of the monarchy, the traditional aristocracy, and the agrarian elite, while the Progressives had firm links with urban popular classes.28

For a decade (1843-54), the Moderates ruled in close collaboration with the Bourbon monarch Isabel II, who refused to summon the opposition Progressive party to form a government. Besides refusing to relinquish power, the Moderates reconciled with the Catholic Church, anathema to the anticlerical Progressives, and established one of the pillars of the centralized Spanish state: the Guardia Civil, a rural gendarmerie first stationed throughout Spain and then eventually in the colonies. Although the Moderates defended the liberal land reforms of the 1830s, they distrusted an unbridled capitalist economy; the spectacle of revolutionary Europe in 1848 impelled them to restrict the creation of joint stock companies in Spain, while notable Moderate intellectuals such as Juan Donoso Cortes defended dictatorship as the only safeguard against the anarchy of the market.29

The Progressives envisioned a more aggressive form of liberalism. They were anticlerical, distrusted the Bourbon monarchy, sought to extend suffrage, and militated for a more expansive capitalist economy. The intransigence of the Moderates and the monarchy, however, kept the Progressives from power until 1854, when they successfully allied themselves with factions of the military and with discontented members of the Moderate party, forming a military-civilian alliance, the typical instrument of regime changes for much of the nineteenth century. Although the Progressives were overthrown in 1856 by the Liberal Union, a new political party that amalgamated members of the Moderates and Progressives, the revolution of 1854 inaugurated a period of enthusiastic economic expansion. The Liberal Union’s formula for rule was to combine centralism with a desire for economic growth.30

One of the major issues in the debate over the nature of Spanish capitalism was the relationship of the Spanish economy to the expanding European economy in the “age of capital.”31 The conflict over free trade engrossed most European countries in the 1850s and 1860s as Great Britain sought to extend its markets on the Continent. While intellectuals and civil servants throughout Europe organized in associations, such as Spain’s Asociación para la Reforma de los Aranceles de Aduanas or Belgium’s Association Belge pour la Liberté Commerciale, to press for free trade, the developing manufacturing and agricultural sectors fought to protect their local markets against foreign competition.32 In Spain, free traders argued that the entry of European goods, capital, and technology would benefit the Spanish economy by increasing government revenue, which would help Spain repay its significant foreign debt and thus free domestic capital for investment.33 Protectionists countered that Spain had to foster its national industries and that free trade would only subjugate Spain’s economy to that of northern Europe.

While some export-oriented economic sectors—such as Andalusian sherry producers, Valencian fruit growers, and, briefly during the Crimean War, Castilian wheat growers—supported free trade, the greatest push for free trade came from the Madrid-based economistas.34 The economistas generally hailed from the Madrid professions, the university and other institutions of higher learning, and the civil service. Highly ideologized and ardent admirers of Cobden and the Anti-Corn Law League, the economistas argued that the government’s protectionist policies impeded economic growth, encouraged contraband, and enslaved the Spanish consumer to noncompetitive manufacturing and agricultural interests.35

The economistas were better poised during the Liberal Union to carry out an effective propaganda campaign than they had been at the time of Cobden’s visit in 1846. Borrowing from the English publicist, the previously isolated civil servants, engineers, professors, and lawyers organized themselves into the Sociedad Libre de Economía Política and the Asociación para la Reforma de los Aranceles de Aduanas, founded in 1857 and 1859, respectively. These associations endowed Madrid’s free trade advocates with a powerful esprit de corps, organizations in which they could develop a coherent critique of the Spanish state and economy, and the opportunity to express their doctrine through the periodical press and public fora. Their initiatives, however, met with determined resistance.36

The Protectionists

E. J. Elobsbawm has argued that in mid-nineteenth-century Europe, national and regional bourgeoisies that faced severe economic competition from Great Britain generally rejected economic liberalism and defended their interests in the name of the nation. For them, “nation implied national economy and its systematic fostering by the state, which in the nineteenth century meant protectionism.”37 Spain was no exception to this pattern. Throughout the period of the Liberal Union, the initiatives of the Sociedad Libre de Economía Política and the Asociación para la Reforma de los Aranceles de Aduanas provoked powerful protectionist reaction from threatened manufacturing and agricultural sectors. Producers mobilized, first on a local and eventually on a national level, to defend their position within the Spanish market.

In Catalonia, textile manufacturers were those who most acutely felt the menace posed by free-trade policies. The costs of production in the Catalan textile industry were high because of a dearth of raw materials and the high cost of their transport. Only as a result of protective tariffs were Catalan textiles able to occupy a share of the domestic market.38 Like their contemporaries in other less-developed European countries, such as the German states, Catalan manufacturers argued that the state should protect national industries against competition from more capitalized British producers until they were sufficiently developed to dominate the home market without assistance. For the Catalans and others in a similar position, free trade in the “age of capital” represented total subjugation to British economic interests.39

The Catalans argued that they had already pointed the way toward the creation of a strong national economy by encouraging the development of other sectors of the Spanish economy. For example, in a petition against free trade presented to the Spanish legislature in 1856, the Catalan signatories claimed that by preferring expensive Castilian grains over cheaper foreign imports, they had sacrificed their own profits for the sake of the national welfare:

The Spanish industrialists . . . are not and have never been egoists. The protection they ask for themselves they ask for every type of national production, even to their own detriment. Although cheap subsistence goods are of the greatest importance to industry, the Catalan industrialists eat Castilian bread with pleasure, despite its costing twice as much as foreign bread.40

The appeal to an alliance of industrial and agricultural interests resonated throughout Spain. Despite the economistas' denunciations of the “industrial” party, the Catalan industrial bourgeoisie was not the only protectionist class in Spain. Agricultural interests also opposed free trade. While the 1850s inaugurated a period of sustained agricultural expansion in Spain, the landowning class that emerged from the disentailment of ecclesiastical lands in the 1830s and of communal lands in 1855 sought state protection to preserve the national market for its products.41 Despite the increase in cultivated land throughout Spain and the consolidation of capitalist relations of production based on cheap wage labor, Spanish agriculture—especially cereal production—remained noncompetitive in the world market because of the low yield per cultivated area that resulted from the undercapitalization of production.42 The second half of the nineteenth century saw unprecedented cereal production in Castile and Andalusia and continuous growth until the 1890s. But because of continued primitive production processes, Spanish cereals were more expensive than those of foreign competitors.43

For these reasons, the economistas’ desire to emulate Cobden’s most notable triumph in England, free trade in grains, provoked considerable reaction from threatened cultivators. The economistas’ vision of a free market threatened Spanish agriculturalists just as much as it did Catalan manufacturers. The economistas José Echegaray and Gabriel Rodríguez suggested that if it could not withstand foreign competition, the Catalan textile sector should disappear.44 Likewise, Laureano Figuerola, the leader of the economistas, argued that Spanish agriculturalists would have to switch to new crops if their grains were not competitive. Cheap bread for Spanish consumers was more important than profits for “selfish” (egoista) landowners.45

One of the most dogged critics of the economistas was the Andalusian agronomist Genaro Morquecho y Palma. Morquecho was the spokesman for the Círculo de Labradores de Sevilla, an association that united the leading landowners of the region.46 Seville’s main source of wealth was agriculture, with cereals (wheat and barley) being far and away the leading crop, followed by wine grapes and olives.47 Like his Catalan counterparts, Morquecho argued that the modernization of the Spanish economy lay in a national plan, the bases of which were the protection of national producers and state investment in the economy. In regard to the latter point, Morquecho called for increased investment both in the agricultural infrastructure—canals, irrigation, and rural credit institutions—and in technical education.48

Morquecho explicitly compared the Círculo de Labradores’ vision of the state to that of Catalonia’s Junta de Fábricas. He favored an alliance between Spanish agriculture and industry that could combat the propaganda of the economistas, whom he called a “secta tiránica,”49 while at the same time lobby for an effective national economic plan. As a precedent for such an alliance, Morquecho favorably invoked the example the Catalan industrialists had set in favoring Spanish over foreign grains.50

Morquecho followed up on his call for a national alliance by touring Catalonia in the fall of 1859. In the reports he sent back to Seville, he appeared particularly impressed by the Instituto Agrícola Catálan de San Isidro (hereafter IACSI), the Catalan analogue of the Círculo de Labradores. The LACSI was founded in Barcelona in 1851 to disseminate modern agricultural techniques and protest the interests of property holders; by the late 1850s there were more than 30 subdelegations throughout Catalonia.51 Morquecho lauded the IACSI for its energy and initiative. He placed its origin and activities within the context of a general reaction against the government’s vacillation on free trade, and noted the organization of similar agricultural institutions in Zaragoza, the capital of Aragón, and in Valladolid, the heart of Spain’s greatest cereal-producing region, Castile.52

El Círculo Económico Español: Industry and Agriculture United

The projected union of agricultural and industrial interests became a reality in 1861, with the founding in Madrid of the Círculo Económico Español. During the Liberal Union, protectionists generally won their battles over trade policy. Nonetheless, throughout this period they skirmished with the economistas and had to fight to defend their markets.

The purpose of the Círculo Económico was to present a united front of industrial and agricultural interests against the active propaganda campaign carried out in Madrid by the Asociación para la Reforma de los Aranceles de Aduana. The economistas had established this association to organize a specific campaign for tariff reform that would complement the more general activities of the Sociedad Libre de Economía Política. To disseminate their message, they gave public speeches on free trade in the Madrid stock exchange and the Ateneo de Madrid, held public meetings in Madrid’s theaters, petitioned parliament, and published pamphlets and a newspaper, the Gaceta Economista, all under the auspices of the association.53

Protectionist parties from throughout Spain formed a broad and extensive alliance to defend their interests against the propaganda campaign of the economistas. Among the members of the Círculo Económico were Catalan industrialists and landowners such as Juan Güell y Ferrer; Andalusian latifundistas such as Ignacio Vázquez, who was the mayor of Seville, president of the Círculo de Labradores de Sevilla, and (after the duque de Osuna) the second wealthiest man in the province; new and old aristocrats like the marqués de Remisa, who was a Catalan banker, and the marqués de la Conquista (a title descended from Francisco Pizarro), who was a land magnate from Extremadura; and influential conservative and liberal politicians such as Claudio Moyano, Pascual Madoz, and José Canga Argüelles. The most prominent protectionist intellectuals—Buenaventura Carlos Aribau, Juan Güell y Ferrer, and Morquecho y Palma, who was also secretary of the Círculo Económico—directed and wrote for La Verdad Económica, the official publication of the Círculo. Economic associations throughout Spain adhered to the Círculo: the Junta de Agricultura, Industria y Comercio de Santander; the Instituto Industrial de Barcelona; La Edenta de Valencia; the Círculo de Labradores de Sevilla; and the Instituto Agrícola Catalán de San Isidro.54

The Círculo Económico imitated the activities of its rival association. Morquecho y Palma, José Román Leal, and other protectionist intellectuals confronted the economistas on their own ground by taking part in the public debates held by the Sociedad Libre de Economía Política and by publishing books and pamphlets refuting the doctrine of free trade.55 The executive committee of the Círculo Económico petitioned parliament, while agricultural and industrial protectionists explained their doctrine in La Verdad Económica. Whereas during the Liberal Union protectionists continually sparred with free traders, the campaigns waged by the Círculo Económico and other protectionist associations generally met with success. As Pierre Vilar has observed, Madrid politicians were often free traders by conviction but protectionists by political necessity, given the powerful resistance that free trade initiatives generated.56

The triumph of liberal parties in the September Revolution of 1868, however, posed a new threat to the groups organized in the Círculo Económico. In response to the Liberal Union’s alliance with the Moderates and the Bourbon monarchy, along with its increasingly intransigent rule, the Progressives, Democrats, and disaffected Unionists staged a series of pronunciamientos, headed by General Juan Prim y Prats, that finally succeeded in 1868. Among the planks of the new regime was a significant tariff reduction; and the provisional government immediately enacted important measures to this effect. Drawing on their experiences during the Liberal Union, protectionists once again mobilized against the government in defense of their interests on a national level. This time, however, the question of free trade was important but secondary. Spain’s protectionist classes now joined together to oppose the radical abolitionist movement that had emerged from the associations established by the economistas. Once again, economistas and protectionists became locked in combat, this time to determine the fate of colonial slavery.57

National Economy and Slavery, 1868-1874

In 1860 the slave population of Puerto Rico was 41,736; in 1867 that of Cuba was 363,288.58 The Cuban slave trade had flourished right up to its permanent abolition in 1867; therefore slave labor was still central to Cuban sugar production at the time of the September Revolution. The Puerto Rican trade, in contrast, had ended in the 1840s, and by the late 1860s Puerto Rico’s slave population was much smaller (in both absolute and relative terms) than its Cuban counterpart. Consequently, in Puerto Rico important sectors of the economy, most notably coffee production, had come to rely on free labor, though slave and other forms of coerced labor remained crucial in the sugar sector.59

Nonetheless, despite the central economic role of slaver y in Cuba, slave emancipation in the United States and heightened British pressure on the Cuban slave trade had forced the Spanish government and Antillean planters to consider enacting abolitionist legislation of some sort. The September Revolution raised expectations that the new government would take significant action on the question of colonial slavery. The period immediately prior to the revolution had seen intense public debate on the colonial question for the first time in 30 years.60 Within the revolutionary coalition there was a colonial bloc headed by figures with important connections in the Antilles through marriage, military service, or personal fortunes: Generals Juan Prim y Prats (conde de Reus), Francisco Serrano y Dominguez (duque de la Torre), and Domingo Dulce y Garay (conde de Castellflorite) had all served as governors of Cuba or Puerto Rico. In particular, between 1859 and 1868 Serrano and Dulce had earned reputations as colonial reformers in light of their efforts in both Cuba and Spain to convince the metropolitan government to court the creole elite through policies of political and economic liberalization. They opposed the slave trade with Cuba (which was abolished in 1867) but sought to protect the interests of the slaveholders by advocating a gradual process of emancipation that would compensate the former owners.61

After the success of the revolutionary parties in September 1868, the Ministerio de Ultramar received scores of petitions regarding slavery from all over Spain and the colonies. Eighty petitions demanded immediate or gradual abolition in Cuba and Puerto Rico.62 Seven petitions asked the provisional government to put off submitting any legislation on slavery to the constituent assembly until colonial slaveholders had been consulted on how best to effect abolition. The petitions for a delay were signed by individuals who characterized themselves as comerciantes, hacendados, industriales, fabricantes, and navieros (shipowners) and hailed from cities and regions on the Spanish periphery with strong protectionist and colonial interests: Santander, Asturias, Vigo, Palma de Mallorca, Valencia, Vilanova i la Geltrú, and Barcelona.63

These seven petitions advanced arguments that were virtually identical and appear to have been written in common. All stressed the importance of the Antillean market for the Spanish economy and the urgency of preserving the peace. The Barcelona petition, for example, argued that “Cuba and Puerto Rico’s domestic institution,. . . mistakenly called slavery,” was an acquired and legal right that had existed for more than three hundred years. Given that slavery was such an integral part of the colonial economy, any drastic changes would disrupt production because freed slaves would refuse to work and might even seek vengeance against their former owners. The petitioners predicted the disruption of production, social disorder, and dire consequences not just for the Antilles but also for Spain’s “commerce, industry, and merchant marine, and even its agriculture, which has [in the Antilles] its best market for wines, oils, and cereals.”64

The Círculos Hispano-Ultramarinos, the Liga Nacional, and the Protectionist Classes, 1871-1874

The initial caution and isolation with which metropolitan interests addressed the slavery question soon turned to intransigent and coordinated resistance. In Spain the emergence of a radical abolitionist movement and the adoption of abolition by the revolution’s left wing polarized colonial politics.65 Both movements took the moderate revolutionary leadership by surprise, thwarting its plans for a smooth emancipation process as embodied in the gradualist Moret Law of 1870.66 However, the more dramatic development in the immediate aftermath of the September Revolution was the October 1868 outbreak of a separatist rebellion in eastern Cuba. This revolt posed a challenge both to Spanish colonial rule and to the maintenance of the slave system in western Cuba.67 Now, not only radical abolitionist movements in Spain and Cuba attacked the government’s gradualist policies. From the other side of the issue, Antillean and Spanish slaveholders and metropolitan groups with strong colonial ties opposed even gradual measures until the Cuban insurrection was crushed. For them, any attack on colonial slavery became an attack on Spanish sovereignty in Cuba.

Initially, the most notable and powerful local protest against the government’s limited reform measures came from Havana. Cuba’s major slaveholders sought to maintain control over their slave labor force for as long as possible.68 Prior to the revolution, Cuban slaveholders had shown themselves inclined toward a gradual emancipation process dictated by their interests. The changes in the international political scene wrought by emancipation in the United States made some reform urgent. And under peaceful circumstances, the slaveholding class would have welcomed the revolutionary regime, especially with Serrano at its head.69

The uprising in the east, however, put an end to compromise between slaveholders and a reformist regime. Instead, the “Spanish” party of Havana, headed by one of the wealthiest men in Cuba, the Basque Julián Zulueta, used its own irregular military forces, the mostly-Spanish voluntarios, to crush dissent in the west. The Spanish party drove the reformist captain general Domingo Dulce from Cuba in 1869 after he sought to implement a policy of reconciliation and compromise between reformers and rebels. It also blocked the publication in Cuba of the 1870 Moret Law for two years, while slaveholders resisted the entry of government officials onto their estates to compile the slave censuses required by the new law.70

In 1871 protestors at the local level, such as members of Havana’s Spanish party, managed to coordinate their efforts with collaborators at the metropolitan and colonial level. Just as in 1861, when regional protectionist classes united in the Círculo Económico Español to combat the economistas’ free-trade campaign, so too in 1871 did colonial and metropolitan groups organize to oppose the Sociedad Abolicionista’s campaign to push the government toward the immediate abolition of slavery, first in Puerto Rico, then in Cuba.

This time, Cuba’s Spanish party took the initiative by establishing the first Centro Hispano-Ultramarino in Madrid.71 The president of the Madrid Centro was the wealthiest man in the city, the marqués de Manzanedo, a Spaniard who had made his fortune in Cuba as a merchant, moneylender, and slave trader.72 The vice president was General José Laureano Sanz, the ultrareactionary governor of Puerto Rico at the beginning of the revolution and the man sent to restore “order” there in 1874, once the revolution had been defeated.73 The Centro’s secretary was the Cuban journalist Antonio G. Llorente, who had previously served the Spanish party in Havana and had founded the newspaper La Integridad Nacional in 1870, upon his arrival in Madrid.74

The Madrid Centro was the backbone of the Liga Nacional, formed in the fall of 1872 to check the campaign of the Sociedad Abolicionista for immediate abolition in Puerto Rico. The Liga united metropolitan and colonial conservatives on two issues: resistance to the abolition of Puerto Rican slavery and opposition to the monarchy of Amadeus of Savoy, the new king handpicked by the revolutionary leadership after the Bourbon house was deposed in 1868.75 Cuba’s Spanish party opposed Puerto Rican abolition because they saw it as the first step toward immediate abolition in Cuba. Opposition to the rule of Amadeus also rallied a broad coalition of antirevolutionary forces that sought to restore the Bourbon monarchy in the person of the young crown prince, Alfonso XII.76

The figurehead of the Liga was Francisco Serrano y Domínguez, one of the original leaders of the September Revolution and the key figure in the revolution’s colonial bloc. The Liga’s secretary was the poet and politician Abelardo López de Ayala, a Serrano protégé and the first ministro de ultramar after the triumph of the revolution in 1868. Serrano and López de Ayala’s leadership of the Liga emphasized the degree to which the slavery question had radicalized and polarized the revolution. In 1868 they had been reformers seeking the cooperation of Cuban slaveholders in implementing a gradual process of emancipation; now they were conservatives seeking the support of reactionaries in opposing abolition.77

The Hispano-Cuban elite, epitomized by figures such as Serrano and the marqués de Manzanedo, was not the only group that mobilized against abolition. Upon its formation in late 1871, the Centro Hispano-Ultramarino in Madrid had sought to create a national network of those who favored colonial interests. Other Centros immediately appeared throughout Spain—in Barcelona, Santander, Valencia, Bilbao, and other major economic centers. When the Madrid Centro convened a national meeting in October 1872 to coordinate resistance to abolition, the most prominent provincial Centros hailed from the same protectionist strongholds where in 1868 the initial protests against abolition had been made: Barcelona, Valencia, Palma de Mallorca, Santander, and Avilés (Asturias).78

Thus, in late 1872, as the Spanish Cortes prepared to vote on the abolition of slavery in Puerto Rico, the Ministerio de Ultramar again received a mass of petitions. This time, although there still were dozens of proabolitionist missives, there were also more than one hundred against abolition from all over Spain, a testament to the efficacy of the Madrid Centro’s organizing initiative.79 The antiabolitionist petitions demonstrated that not only were the interests of Cuba’s Spanish party at stake, but also those of the protectionist classes that had been active in the 1850s and 1860s. The radicalization of colonial politics galvanized the protectionist network of the Círculo Económico Español. Hence, while the regional Centros Hispano-Ultramarinos opposed abolition in the name of national integrity and honor, the protectionist associations defended their position with the familiar rhetoric of national economic welfare. For example, one of the antiabolitionist petitions of late 1872 was from the Comisión de Propietarios, Comerciantes e Industriales de Valladolid. Valladolid was the center of one of Spain’s major cereal-producing regions, Castile. The commission claimed that the revolution’s free-trade legislation had already deprived Castile of its predominance in the national market. If Spain were to lose the Antilles through rash abolitionist policies, Castilian cereals would be left without an outlet.80

The economic associations active in the protectionist campaigns played the most prominent role in Catalan resistance to abolition between October 1872 and January 1873.81 The Centro Hispano-Ultramarino of Barcelona opposed abolition.82 The Instituto Industrial of Catalonia and the Instituto Agrícola Catalán de San Isidro petitioned against abolition, as did the fledgling protectionist association El Fomento de la Producción Nacional.83 So too did the IACSI subdelegation in Vilanova i la Geltrú, a town with important mercantile interests in the Antilles, especially Puerto Rico. The significance of these interests was reflected in the range of Vilanova i la Geltrú associations that petitioned against abolition: the Casino de Artesanos; the Círculo Vilanovés; the Centro Monárquico-Liberal; and, finally, the municipal government (ayuntamiento). The Casino de Artesanos argued that jobs in Vilanova and throughout Spain would disappear if the colonial economy were disrupted.84 Petitions were also sent by the municipal governments of Reus and of Sitges, the Catalan town with the greatest number of merchants in the Antilles,85 as well as by a group of “propietarios, fabricantes, navieros, comerciantes, industriales, [y] vecinos de Barcelona.” Whereas in 1868 the few antiabolitionist petitions were for the most part signed by only about a dozen prominent merchants or manufacturers, in 1872 the Barcelona petition bore over one thousand signatures.86

The Liga Nacional, the Centros Hispano-Ultramarinos, and the protectionist economic associations were only partly successful in their program. Conservative opposition and intransigence did succeed in forcing Amadeus, the figurehead of the September Revolution, to abdicate in February 1873. Nevertheless, in March 1873 the short-lived First Republic (February 1873-January 1874) did vote to abolish Puerto Rican slavery. Furthermore, one of the rallying cries of the new republic was the abolition of Cuban slavery, a possibility that hastened the pronunciamientos that brought the First Republic to an end. The leader of the new regime that deposed the republic and suppressed radical metropolitan abolitionism was, appropriately, Francisco Serrano y Domínguez, who sought to rule through an authoritarian state. In turn, Serrano’s regime was overthrown by a pro-Bourbon coalition led by General Arsenio Martínez Campos. After helping to restore the Bourbons in Spain, Martínez Campos was dispatched to Cuba where, in 1878, he eventually brought the Ten Years’ War to a close.87

Conclusion

The prominence of figures such as Serrano and Martínez Campos in overthrowing the September Revolution and returning the Bourbons to power has led one scholar to speak of the “Cuban background” of Spain’s Restoration government (1875-1923). Cuba’s slaveholding elite was central to organizing conservative resistance to the September Revolution, while metropolitan conservatives feared that the revolution might bring Spanish sovereignty in Cuba to an end and disrupt protected Antillean markets.88

Recent scholarship on Antillean slavery and Spanish colonialism has reinforced this thesis, though with important qualifications. First, it is more accurate to speak of an “Antillean” background, given that it was the struggle over Puerto Rican slavery that provided the immediate context of the counterrevolution.89 Second, the connection between colonialism and metropolitan political and economic power antedated the Restoration. Indeed, the colonial project was at the heart of Spain’s revolutionary transition to a liberal state and capitalist mode of production during clashes in the Atlantic world over slavery in the 1830s. In response to the decline of slavery in the British and French colonies, Spanish and Antillean elites consolidated dynamic slave economies and a political order that protected and encouraged these economies. Moreover, as the greater part of Spain’s American empire on the mainland achieved independence, Spanish economic interests shifted to the Antilles.90

Finally, protectionist sentiment throughout Spain dovetailed with the structure of the colonial order and provided support for antiabolitionist mobilization. In response to Spain’s weak position in the Atlantic economy and the Antilles’ explosive growth based on slave labor, metropolitan political and economic elites created and encouraged a series of repressive institutions, most notably protectionism and slavery, to benefit Spanish interests. Threatened producers and merchants responded vigorously to initiatives that attacked both slavery and protectionist trade policies. The classes that had acted in the 1850s and 1860s to protect the national market for their goods and services provided the organizational and ideological resources for a nationwide mobilization in defense of slavery immediately following the September Revolution. The Madrid Centro Hispano-Ultramarino and Havana’s Spanish party were fundamental in rallying Hispano-Antillean resistance to the revolution, but the readiness of already well-organized peninsular classes to defend their “national” market in the Antilles greatly facilitated this resistance. Metropolitan opposition to abolition was a defense not only of slavery, but of the entire imperial political and economic order that slavery anchored.

Indeed, after the demise of Antillean slavery in the 1880s, protectionists continued to demand Spanish preeminence in the colonial market. Even in 1897, when in a belated effort to reconcile with Cuban revolutionaries the Spanish Cortes debated the form of autonomous government to be promulgated in the colonies, peninsular groups opposed granting Cuba the right to determine its own tariff policies. One Madrid daily protested that “sacrificing the interests of Peninsular production” was equivalent to relinquishing the colonies altogether and insisted that the autonomous regime be required to favor Spanish producers.91 As it had during the September Revolution, Barcelona’s Fomento de Producción Nacional held public meetings to oppose any loosening of the protectionist regime.92 Spain’s defeat the following year and the loss of its remaining colonies provoked protests of outrage throughout the country. While these protests were certainly particular to the scale of the colonial disaster, their roots were deeply entrenched in the protectionist and antiabolitionist campaigns of the mid-nineteenth century and reflected not the decadence of the colonial project but its vigor and complexity.93

I presented versions of this paper to various groups at the University of Michigan and Stanford, as well as to the Society for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies: my thanks to all. Special thanks also to Steven Soper, Rafe Blaufarb, Robert Batchelor, Josep M. Fradera, and the anonymous readers for the Hispanic American Historical Review.

1

Diario de Barcelona, 22 Dec. 1872.

2

On Barcelona and colonial politics, see Jordi Maluquer de Motes, “La burguesia catalana i l'esclavitud colonial: modes de producció i pràctica política,” Recerques (Barcelona) 3 (1974); and Miquel Izard, Manufactureros, industriales y revolucionarios (Barcelona: Ed. Crítica, 1979).

3

On the political economy of slavery and colonialism in the Antilles, see Manuel Moreno Fraginals, El ingenio: complejo económico social cubano del azúcar, 3 vols. (Havana: Ed. de Ciencias Sociales, 1978); Francisco Scarano, Sugar and Slavery in Puerto Rico: The Plantation Economy of Ponce, 1800-1850 (Madison: Univ. of Wisconsin Press, 1984); Rebecca J. Scott, Slave Emancipation in Cuba (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1985); Josep M. Fradera, Indùstria i mercat: les bases comercials de la indústria catalana moderna (1814-1845) (Barcelona: Ed. Critica, 1987); Astrid Cubano Iguina, El hilo en el laberinto: claves de la lucha política en Puerto Rico (siglo XIX) (Río Piedras: Ediciones Huracán, 1990); Laird W. Bergad, Cuban Rural Society in the Nineteenth Century: The Social and Economic History of Monoculture in Matanzas (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1990); Jesús Raúl Navarro García, Entre esclavos y constituciones: el colonialismo liberal de 1837 en Cuba (Sevilla: Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos, 1991); Jordi Maluquer de Motes, Nación e inmigración: los españoles en Cuba (siglos XIX y XX) (Oveido: Ediciones Júcar, 1992); Robert Whitney, “The Political Economy of Abolition: The Hispano-Cuban Elite and Cuban Slavery, 1868-1873,” Slavery and Abolition: A Journal of Comparative Studies 13 (1992); César Yáñez Gallardo, Saltar con red: la temprana emigración catalana a América, ca. 1830-1870 (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1996); and Consuelo Naranjo Orovio, Miguel Angel Puig-Samper, and Luis Miguel García Mora, eds., La nación soñada: Cuba, Puerto Rico y Filipinas ante el 98. Actas del congreso internacional celebrado en Aranjuez del 24 al 28 de abril de 1995 (Madrid: Doce Calles, 1996).

4

See Sidney W. Mintz, Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History (New York: Viking, 1985); and Dale W. Tomich, “The ‘Second Slavery’: Bonded Labor and the Transformation of the Nineteenth-Century World Economy,” in Rethinking the Nineteenth Century, ed. Francisco O. Ramírez (New York: Greenwood Press, 1988).

5

See the figures in David Eltis, Economic Growth and the Ending of the Transatlantic Slave Trade (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1987), 249. The Puerto Rican trade was never as vibrant, depending largely on the intra-Caribbean trade. Whereas Cuba’s peak slave population in the nineteenth century surpassed 400,000, Puerto Rico’s peak was between 50,000 and 60,000. Nonetheless, historians have demonstrated that slavery was central to the rise of the Puerto Rican sugar industry; see Scarano, Sugar and Slavery, 120-43.

6

On the nineteenth-century Atlantic world and the struggle over slavery, see C. L. R. James, The Black Jacobins, 2d ed. (New York: Vintage Books, 1963); Robin Blackburn, The Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 1776-1848 (London: Verso, 1988); Philip D. Curtin, The Rise and Fall of the Plantation Complex: Essays in Atlantic History (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1990); and Dale W. Tomich, Slavery in the Circuit of Sugar: Martinique and the World Economy, 1870-1848 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1990).

7

On the Spanish revolutionary project, see Miguel Artola, La burguesía revolucionaria (1808-1874), 9th ed. (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1983); and Jesus Cruz, Gentlemen, Bourgeois, and Revolutionaries: Political Change and Cultural Persistence among the Spanish Dominant Groups, 1750-1850 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1996). On colonial politics in the 1830s, see Navarro García, Entre esclavos y constituciones; and Juan Pérez de la Riva, ed., Correspondencia reservada del Capitán General D. Miguel Tacón con el gobierno de Madrid: 1834-1836. El General Tacón y su época, 1834-1838 (Havana: Biblioteca Nacional José Martí, 1963).

The clearest evaluation of the transformation of the imperial order in the first half of the nineteenth century is Josep M. Fradera, “Quiebra imperial y reorganización política en las antillas españolas, 1810-1868,” op. Cit.: Boletín del Centro de Investigaciones Históricas (Río Piedras) 9 (1997), ed. extraordinaria.

8

For recent evaluations of Spanish economic development from the late eighteenth to the twentieth centuries, see Cruz, Gentlemen, Bourgeois, and Revolutionaries, esp. 276; and David R. Ringrose, Spain, Europe, and the “Spanish Miracle,” 1700-1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1996).

9

On metropolitan protectionist policies, see Antón Costas Comesaña, Apogeo del liberalismo en “La Gloriosa”: reforma económica en el sexenio liberal (1868-1874) (Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno de España, 1988); and José María Serrano Sanz, “El proteccionismo y el desarrollo económico en la Restauración: reflexiones para un debate,” Revista de Historia Económica (Madrid) 7 (1989).

10

See Jordi Maluquer de Motes, “El mercado colonial antillano en el siglo XIX,” in Agricultura, comercio colonial y crecimiento económico en la España contemporánea: actas del primer Coloquio de Historia Económica de España (Barcelona, 11-12 de mayo de 1972), eds. Jordi Nadal and Gabriel Tortella Casares (Barcelona: Ariel, 1974).

11

See Leandro Prados de la Escosura, De imperio a nación: crecimiento y atraso económico en España (1780-1930) (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1988), 202.

12

Richard Cobden, “Mr. Cobden’s Speech at Cadiz,” in Reminiscences of Richard Cobden, comp. Julie Salis-Schwabe (London: T. F. Unwin, 1895), 32-33; emphasis in original.

13

Ibid., 33.

14

See Gabriel Tortella Casares, Banking, Railroads, and Industry in Spain, 1829-1874 (New York: Arno Press, 1977), 506-50; and Ernest Lluch, “La ‘gira trionfal’ de Cobden per Espanya (1846),” Recerques 21 (1988): 78-80.

15

Cruz, Gentlemen, Bourgeois, and Revolutionaries, passim.

16

See Geoff Eley, “The British Model and the German Road: Rethinking the Course of German History before 1914,” in The Peculiarities of German History: Bourgeois Society and Politics in Nineteenth-Century Germany, David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1984), esp. 75-90. See also Arno Mayer, The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York: Pantheon Books, 1981); William M. Reddy, Money and Liberty in Modern Europe: A Critique of Historical Understanding (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1987), 1-33; William H. Sewell Jr., A Rhetoric of Bourgeois Revolution: The Abbé Sieyes and What is the Third Estate? (Durham: Duke Univ. Press, 1994), 1-40; and Cruz, Gentlemen, Bourgeois, and Revolutionaries, 272.

17

Among the many important works on British antislavery, see Eric Williams, Capitalism & Slavery (Chapel Hill: Univ. of North Carolina Press, 1944); David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution, 1770-1823 (Ithaca: Cornell Univ. Press, 1975); Seymour Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery: British Mobilization in Comparative Perspective (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1987); Eltis, Economic Growth; Thomas Bender, ed., The Antislavery Debate: Capitalism and Abolitionism as a Problem in Historical Interpretation (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1992); and Thomas C. Holt, The Problem of Freedom: Race, Labor, and Politics in Jamaica and Britain, 1832-1938 (Baltimore: Johns Elopkins Univ. Press, 1992).

18

Maluquer de Motes, “Mercado colonial antillano.”

19

For Puerto Rican coffee, see Cubano Iguina, Hilo en el laberinto, 120-44.

20

Maluquer de Motes, “Mercado colonial antillano,” 337-49.

21

On the slave trade, see David R. Murray, Odious Commerce: Britain, Spain, and the Abolition of the Cuban Slave Trade (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1980); and Josep M. Fradera, “La participadó catalana en el tràfic d’esclaus,” Recerques 16 (1984). For specific-examples of Spanish entrepreneurs such as the Zulueta family, see Bergad, Cuban Rural Society, 21-182, passim; and Angel Bahamonde and José Cayuela, Hacer las Americas: las élites coloniales españolas en el siglo XIX (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1992), 201-77.

22

Jordi Maluquer de Motes, “Inmigración y comercio catalán en las Antillas españolas durante el siglo XIX,” Siglo XIX (.Monterrey, Mexico) 2 (1987). Percentages for Havana and Matanzas have been calculated from statistics on p. 173.

23

Ibid., 166.

24

Ibid., 173-74. The percentage of Catalan merchants has been calculated from statistics on p. 174. For a regional breakdown of Spanish immigration to Cuba, see Maluquer de Motes, Nación e inmigración.

25

On Spanish migration to Puerto Rico, see Francisco A. Scarano, “Inmigración V estructura de clases: los hacendados de Ponce, 1815-1845”; and Astrid Cubano Iguina “Economía y sociedad en Arecibo en el siglo XIX: los grandes productores y la inmigración de comerciantes,” both in Inmigración y clases sociales en el Puerto Rico del siglo XIX ed. Francisco A. Scarano, 3d ed. (Río Piedras: Ediciones Huracán, 1989). On Vilanova’s links to Puerto Rico, see Maluquer de Motes, “Inmigración y comercio catalán,” 14.

26

Pradera, Indústria i mercat, passim. On Güell and López, see Gary Wary McDonogh, Good Families of Barcelona: A Social History of Power in the Industrial Era (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1986), 84-107.

27

Maluquer de Motes, Nación e inmigración, 76-83; and by the same author, “Inmigración y comercio catalán,” 175-79.

28

See Carlos Marichal, Spain (1834-1874): A New Society (London: Tamesis, 1977); and Francisco Cánovas Sánchez, “Los partidos políticos,” in Historia de España, vol. 34: La era isabelina y el sexenio democrática (1834-1834), eds. Joaquín Tomás Villaroya and José María Jover Zamora (Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1981).

29

See Artola, Burguesía revolucionaria, 211-22; Cánovas Sánchez, “Los partidos políticos,” 373-410; and Diego López Garrido, La Guardia Civil y los orígenes del estado centralista (Barcelona: Ed. Crítica, 1982).

30

See Cánovas Sánchez, “Los partidos políticos,” 411-85; Artola, Burguesía revolucionaria, 222-38; Victor Kiernan, The Revolution of 1834 in Spanish History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966); Gabriel Tortella Casares, Los orígenes del capitalismo en España: banca, industria y ferrocarriles en el siglo XIX (Madrid: Tecnos, 1973); Joseph Harrison, An Economic History of Modern Spain (Manchester: Univ. of Manchester Press, 1978), 42-67; and Raymond Carr, Spain, 1808-1975, 2d ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982), 257-304.

31

See E. J. Hobsbawm, The Age of Capital, 1848-1875 (New York: New American Library, 1979).

32

For an overview of European free trade and protectionist organizations and initiatives in this period, see Paul Bairoch, “European Trade Policy, 1815-1914,” in The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, vol. 8: The Industrial Economies: The Development of Economic and Social Policies, eds. Peter Mathias and Sidney Pollard (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1989). For a discussion of protectionist ideology in nineteenth-century Europe, see Roman Szporluk, Communism and Nationalism: Karl Marx versus Friedrich List (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1988). For Latin America, see Paul Gootenberg, Between Silver and Guano: Commercial Policy and the State in Postindependence Peru (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1989).

33

Tortella Casares, Banking, Railroads, and Industry, 506-50.

34

See Lluch, ‘“Gira trionfal,’” 78-80. On Valencia, see José Antonio Piqueras Arenas and Enric Sebastià, Agiotistas, negreros y partisanos: dialéctica social en vísperas de la Revolución Gloriosa (Valencia: Edicions Alfons el Magnànim, 1991), 9-60; on the short-lived free trade enthusiasm of the Castilian wheat growers, see José Varela Ortega, “El proteccionismo de los trigueros castellanos y la naturaleza del poder político en la Restauración,” Cuadernos Económicos de ICE no. 5 (1978): 18-20.

35

For more on the Spanish school of political economy, see Costas Comesaña, Apogeo del liberalismo, 34-48.

36

On the economistas and their intellectual milieu, see Alberto Gil Novales, “Abolicionismo y librecambio,” Revista de Occidente, 2d epoch, tome 20, no. 59 (1968). See also the economistas’ celebration of their unity in “Introducción,” Gaceta Economista (Madrid), May 1861, pp. 1-3.

37

E.J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780 (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1990), 29.

38

Jordi Nadal, El fracaso de la revolución industrial en España, 1814-1913 (Barcelona: Ariel, 1975), 188-225; and Jordi Maluquer de Motes, “The Industrial Revolution in Catalonia,” in The Economic Modernization of Spain, 1830-1930, ed. Nicolás Sánchez-Albornoz, trans. Karen Powers and Manuel Sañudo (New York: New York Univ. Press, 1987).

39

On the responses of less-developed industrializing nations to British economic power in the nineteenth-century Atlantic world, see Tomich, “‘Second Slavery,’” 104-7; and by the same author, Slavery in the Circuit of Sugar, chap. 2. See also Szporluk, Communism and Nationalism, 96-166, for a discussion of the German political economist Friedrich List, Europe’s leading mid-nineteenth-century theorist of economic protectionism and national economy.

40

“Exposición de la comisión catalana de aranceles a la Asamblea Constituyente,” La Revista Industrial (Barcelona), 3 Apr. 1856, pp. 106-7.

41

On the disentailments and the consolidation of capitalist agricultural production in the first half of the nineteenth century, see Angel García Sanz, “Crisis de la agricultura tradicional y revolución liberal (1800—1850),” in Historia agraria de la España contemporánea, vol. 1: Cambio social y nuevas formas de propiedad (1800-1850), eds. Ramón Garrabou and Angel García Sanz (Barcelona: Ed. Crítica, 1985); and the articles in the second section of the same volume, “La liquidación de las viejas instituciones.” See also Richard Herr, “Spain,” in European Landed Elites in the Nineteenth Century, ed. David Spring (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1977).

42

Antonio M. Bernal and Michel Drain, “Progreso y crisis de la agricultura andaluza en el siglo XIX,” in Historia agraria de la España contemporánea, vol. 2: Expansión y crisis (1850-1900), eds. Ramón Garrabou and Jesús Sanz Fernández (Barcelona: Ed. Crítica, 1985).

43

On cereal production and protectionist policies in Andalusia, see Bernal and Drain, “Progreso y crisis,” passim; for Castile, see Varela Ortega, “Proteccionismo de los trigueros,” 7-60.

44

Echegaray and Rodríguez, editors of the journal El Economista, were two of the most dogmatic and polemical economistas. See, for example, their attack on Catalan protectionists in “La Revista Industrial de Barcelona,” El Economista (Madrid), 20 Oct. 1856, pp. 239-40.

45

Laureano Figuerola, “La cuestión de cereales—conferencias librecambistas,” Gaceta Economista, 14 June 1862, pp. 428-29.

46

On Sevillian agriculture and politics, see Francois Héran, “Tierra y parentesco en el campo sevillano. La revolución agrícola del siglo XIX: los comienzos de una agricultura capitalista,” in Garrabou and Sanz Fernández, Expansión y crisis (1850-1900).

47

On the Seville economy in the nineteenth century, see Bernal and Drain, “Progreso y crisis”; and Pedro Tedde de Lorca, “On the Historical Origins of Andalusian Underdevelopment,” in Sánchez-Albornoz, Economic Modernization.

48

Genaro Morquecho y Palma, “Economistas y labradores,” La Agricultura Española (Sevilla), 21 June 1859, pp. 25-27.

49

Genaro Morquecho y Palma, “Nuestro plan y nuestras tendencias,” La Agricultura Española, 7 July 1859, p. 2.

50

Morquecho y Palma, “Nuestro plan y nuestras tendencias,” 2; and “Defensa Industrial. II,” La Agricultura Española, 21 Apr. 1839, pp. 558-59.

51

On the IACSI, see Jordi Planas, “Els propietaris i l’associacionisme agrari a Catalunya,” L'Avenc (Barcelona) no. 171 (1993).

52

Genaro Morquecho y Palma, “El Círculo de Labradores de Sevilla y el Instituto Agrícola Catalan de San Isidro,” La Agricultura Española, 29 Sept. 1859.

53

On the economistas in this period, see Gil Novales, “Abolicionismo y librecambio,” passim; and Gabriel Rodríguez, “La idea y el movimiento antiesclavista en España durante el siglo XIX,” in El proceso abolicionista en Puerto Rico: documentos para su estudio, vol. 1: La institución de la esclavitud y su crisis, 1823-1873 (San Juan: Centro de Investigaciones Históricas, 1974).

54

The extensive membership lists are scattered through various numbers of La Verdad Económica (Madrid), tomes 1-3, 1861.

55

For example, Alejandrino Menéndez de Loarca, ed., Impugnación de las doctrinas librecambistas . . . escritos por D. G. Morquecho y Palma, D. F. Rodríguez San Pedro, D. A. Menéndez de Loarca, D. L. Arcos Orodea y un oyente proteccionista (Madrid: Impr. de Manuel Tello, 1862).

56

Pierre Vilar, “Spain and Catalonia,” Review (Fernando Braudel Center for the Study of Economics, Historical Systems, and Civilizations, Binghamton) 3 (1980): 560. On the free trade and protectionist debates of the Liberal Union, see Jaime Carrera Pujal, La economía de Cataluña en el siglo XIX, vol. 1: La cuestión arancelaria (Barcelona: Bosch, 1961), 295-385.

57

On the relationship between the economistas and the Sociedad Abolicionista, see Gil Novales, “Abolicionismo y librecambio,” passim; Rodríguez, “Idea y el movimiento antiesclavista,” passim; and Christopher Schmidt-Nowara, Empire and Antislavery: Spain, Cuba, and Puerto Rico, 1833-1874 (Pittsburgh: Univ. of Pittsburgh Press, forthcoming).

58

For Cuba, see Scott, Slave Emancipation in Cuba, 87; for Puerto Rico, see Laird W. Bergad, Coffee and the Growth of Agrarian Capitalism in Nineteenth-Century Puerto Rico (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1983), 69.

59

On Cuban slavery, see Scott, Slave Emancipation in Cuba, 3-41; and Bergad, Cuban Rural Society, 263. On the Puerto Rican slave trade, see Arturo Morales Carrión, Auge y decadencia de la trata negrera en Puerto Rico (1820-1860) (San Juan: Instituto de Cultura Puertorriqueña, 1978). On slavery and free labor in Puerto Rico, see Scarano, Sugar and Slavery, Andrés Ramos Mattel, La hacienda azucarera: su crecimiento y crisis en Puerto Rico (siglo XIX) (San Juan: CEREP, 1981); and Fernando Ricó, Amargo café: los pequeños y medianos caficultores de Utuado en la segunda mitad del siglo XIX (Río Piedras: Ediciones Huracán, 1981).

60

On colonial politics in the 1860s, see Murray, Odious Commerce, 298-326; Arthur Corwin, Spain and the Abolition of Slavery in Cuba, 1817-1886 (Austin: Univ. of Texas Press, 1967), 153-214; Raúl Cepero Bonilla, Azúcar y abolición (Havana: Ed. de Ciencias Sociales, 1971), 85-116; and Luis M. Díaz Soler, Historia de la esclavitud negra en Puerto Rico (Río Piedras: Ed. Universitaria, 1981), 265-348.

61

On Serrano and Dulce’s position within Spanish and Antillean politics, see Manuel Espadas Burgos, Alfonso XII y los orígenes de la Restauración, 2d ed. (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Escuela de Historia Moderna, 1990), passim; Piqueras Arenas and Sebastià, Agiotistas, negreros y partisanos, 239-99; and Murray, Odious Commerce, 298-326.

62

See the list of proabolition petitions in Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid, Sección de Ultramar (hereafter AHN-U), leg. 3553, exp. 2, no. 1.

63

AHN-U, leg. 3553, exp. 2, no. 1.

64

“Al Gobierno Provisional de la Nación,” Barcelona, Oct. 1868, AHN-U, leg. 3553, exp. 3.

65

On the Sociedad Abolicionista Española during the September Revolution, see Corwin, Spain and the Abolition of Slavery, 215—91; and Schmidt-Nowara, Empire and Antislavery, chaps. 6 and 7.

66

On the Moret Law, see Scott, Slave Emancipation in Cuba, 63-83.

67

On the Ten Years’ War in Cuba, see Ramiro Guerra, Guerra de los diez años, 2 vols., 2d ed. (Havana: Ed. Pueblo y Educación, 1986).

68

On the centrality of slave labor in Cuban sugar production until the time of final abolition in 1886, see Scott, Slave Emancipation in Cuba, 3-41; Laird W. Bergad, “The Economic Viability of Sugar Production Based on Slave Labor in Cuba, 1859-1878,” Latin American Research Review 24, no. 1 (1989); Bergad, Cuban Rural Society, 263; and Dale W. Tomich, “World Slavery and Colonial Capitalism: The Cuban Sugar Industry, 1760-1868,” Theory and Society 20 (1991).

69

For an example of Cuban slaveholders’ reluctant abolitionism, see Francisco de Armas y Céspedes, De la esclavitud en Cuba (Madrid: Estab. Tipográfico de T. Fortanet, 1866).

70

On Zulueta and the Spanish party, see A. Gallenga, The Pearl of the Antilles (London: Chapman and Hall, 1873); and Justo Zaragoza, Las insurrecciones en Cuba, 2 vols. (Madrid: Impr. de M. G. Hernández, 1872-73). On slaveholders’ resistance and adaptation to gradual abolition in the 1870s, see Scott, Slave Emancipation in Cuba, 45-124; and Bergad, Cuban Rural Society, 183-259.

71

Jordi Maluquer de Motes, “El problema de la esclavitud y la revolución de 1868,” Hispania: Revista Española de Historia 31, no. 117 (1971).

72

On Manzanedo, see Bahamonde and Cayuela, Hacer las Américas, 201-22.

73

On Sanz, see Lidio Cruz Monclova, Historia de Puerto Rico, siglo XIX, 3 vols. (Río Piedras: Ed. Universitaria, 1957), 2:3-47, 377–410, 413-40.

74

On Llorente, see José Antonio Piqueras Arenas, ha revolución democrática (1868-1874) (Madrid: Centro de Publicaciones del Ministerio de Trabajo y Seguridad, 1992), 391-92.

75

On the Liga, see Maluquer de Motes, “Problema de la esclavitud”; and Whitney, “Political Economy of Abolition,” 30-32.

76

On the Alfonsist coalition, see Espadas Burgos, Alfonso XII, 265-398; and José Varela Ortega, Los amigos políticos: partidos, elecciones y caciquismo en la Restauración (1875-1900) (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1977), 20—85.

77

For the criticism of López de Ayala’s tenure as ministro de ultramar made by the abolitionist Rafael María de Labra, see La cuestión colonial, 1868-1869: Cuba—Puerto RicoFilipinas (Madrid: Tipografía de Gregorio Estrada, 1869); and for the Sociedad Abolicionista Española’s attack on Serrano, López de Ayala, and the Liga, see “El primer tropiezo,” El Abolicionista (Madrid), 20 Dec. 1872, p. 50.

78

“Resoluciones adoptadas por los señores delegados de los Centros Hispano-Ultramarinos en la junta celebrada en Madrid a 14 de Octubre de 1872,” AHN-U, leg. 3554, exp. 1, no. 11. Also represented were Cádiz, Zaragoza, Málaga, Bilbao, and Cáceres.

79

See “Esposiciones contra las reformas en las Antillas,” AHN-U, leg. 3554, exp. 1, no. 7.

80

“La Comisión de Propietarios, Comerciantes e Industriales de Valladolid,” Valladolid, 8 Dec. 1872, AHN-U, leg. 3554, exp. 1, no. 31.

81

On Catalan protectionism during the September Revolution, see Izard, Manufactureros, industriales y revolucionarios, passim.

82

“El Círculo Hispano-Ultramarino de Barcelona,” Barcelona, 2 Dec. 1872, AHN-U, leg. 3554, exp. 1, no. 18.

83

See the petitions from the IACSI, 13 Dec. 1872; Instituto Industrial de Cataluña, 8 Dec. 1872; and the Fomento de la Producción Nacional, 12 Dec. 1872; all in AHN-U, leg. 3554, exp. 3, nos. 8 and 9, and exp. 1, no. 44.

84

“Casino Artesano de Villanueva y Geltrú,” Villanueva y Geltrú, 3 Dec. 1872, AHN-U, leg. 3354, exp. 3, no. 12.

85

Maluquer de Motes, “Inmigración y comercio catalán,” 167-68.

86

Barcelona, 5 Dec. 1872, AHN-U, leg. 3554, exp. 3, no. 7.

87

On the First Republic and its demise, see C. A. M. Hennessy, The Federal Republic in Spain (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1962).

88

Espadas Burgos, Alfonso XII, 271-300.

89

On Puerto Rico, see especially Scarano, Sugar and Slavery, Cubano Iguina, Hilo en el laberinto; and Luis Antonio Figueroa, “Facing Freedom: The Transition from Slavery to Free Labor in Guayama, Puerto Rico, 1860-1898” (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Wisconsin, 1991).

90

See especially Maluquer de Motes, “Mercado colonial antillano”; Fradera, Indústria i mercat; Prados de la Escosura, De imperio a nación, and Navarro García, Entre esclavos y constitutions. On the broader Atlantic context, see Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, passim; and Tomich, “‘Second Slavery,’” esp. 104-7.

91

“La Autonomía Arancelaria,” El Imparcial (Madrid), 21 Nov. 1897.

92

See “El Fomento de Producción Nacional,” El Imparcial, 20 Nov. 1897.

93

On Spanish responses to 1898, see Carlos Serrano, Final del Imperio: España 1895-1898 (Madrid: Siglo Veintiuno, 1984); Sebastian Balfour, The End of the Spanish Empire, 1898-1923 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997); and Juan Pan-Montojo, coord., Más se perdió en Cuba: España, 1898 y la crisis de fin de siglo (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 1998). On the war in Cuba, see Louis A. Pérez Jr., Cuba between Empires, 1878-1902 (Pittsburgh: Univ. of Pittsburgh Press, 1983); Jorge Ibarra, Ideología mambisa (Havana: Instituto del Libro, 1967); and Ada Ferrer, “To Make a Free Nation: Race and the Struggle for Independence in Cuba, 1868-1898” (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Michigan, 1995).