Tycoon's War

Cards were Vanderbilt’s other passion. He’d played poker and whist in the North Star’s saloon all the way to Europe and back in 1853, consistently beating his sons-in-law, his doctor, his chaplain, and the yacht’s skipper. On the occasions he bothered to frequent the city’s gentlemen’s clubs, it was the Manhattan Club, or the Union Club, to play cards. Apart from the card table, the Commodore didn’t mix with his fellow rich New Yorkers, and certainly not with his neighbors here on uptown Washington Square, which had only become fashionable since he built beside what had formerly been a parade ground where George Washington had drilled his troops. Those neighbors, bankers and property developers such as the Jays, Schuylers, Rhinelanders, Van Renssselaers, and Lipsenards, weren’t invited to the Commodore’s card games. Old friends from his early days, such as Jacob Van Pelt, and favored sons-in-law, they were his card-playing companions.

Vanderbilt was a master player. He knew when to hold, and when to fold. And with his cold, stone face and penetrating eyes, he could intimidate opponents and pull off a bluff like no man alive. He played cards the same way he did business—slyly, expertly, and for keeps. But he didn’t play cards for high stakes—he wanted his playing partners to come back to play him again. High stakes were reserved for his business dealings, when he’d happily destroy any adversary in the quest for a seven-figure profit. “He strips the street of five millions with the same nonchalance as he would win a hundred dollars at cards,” one contemporary commentator would say.²

Tonight, as the cards were dealt and he puffed on a cigar, the Commodore was in good spirits. For Vanderbilt was close to pouncing on the men he’d promised to ruin, Charles Morgan and Cornelius Garrison. The war in Nicaragua had been good news to Vanderbilt, because it had depressed the price of Accessory Transit Company stock. Quietly, discreetly, he and friends such as Thomas Lord had bought up floating Transit Company stock, steadily rebuilding the Commodore’s shareholding and that of men whose vote he knew he could depend on.

The latest news to reach New York from Nicaragua had been all the more welcome to Vanderbilt. Even as William Walker was settling into his powerful new role in Granada after engineering a peace deal that ended the civil war and put him in command of the entire Nicaraguan army, the ten-day-old news that had just reached New York City told a totally different story—of the Legitimista army’s murder of American Transit passengers at La Virgen and on Lake Nicaragua. That news sent the value of Accessory Transit Company stock diving, as investors were gripped by the fear that Nicaragua’s bloody civil war would put the company out of business.

It’s “fine pickings for insiders,” the New York Herald remarked of this Transit Company bear market.³ And so it was—through his proxy buyers, Vanderbilt happily snapped up more cheap shares in the company. While others bailed out of the Accessory Transit Company, Vanderbilt didn’t share their pessimistic outlook for Nicaragua. It was almost as if he knew that within several weeks, the news would be of peace and order in that country through the agency of William Walker, with the Transit Route once more operating safely and securely.

For the moment, the word on Wall Street was wholly negative as far as the Transit Company was concerned, with the company’s deteriorating prospects exacerbated that November as its board announced that the decline in the Transit business due to the Nicaraguan civil war would for the first time force the company to borrow money, at the interest rate of 7 percent, to cover current debts. Again stock was dumped, and again the asking price slumped. At the same time, to attract buyers, the company’s latest bond issue had to be offered at a discount of 15 percent. The New York Herald railed against the company’s performance. The company’s enemies were not in Nicaragua, the Herald said; they were its own inept managers, Morgan and Garrison.⁴

As the month continued, more Transit Company shares would hit the market, and more shares would be snapped up by Vanderbilt. With the Commodore publicly focused on launching a transatlantic ocean steamer service to France the following year, Morgan and Garrison did not see him coming. At the same time, unlike Vanderbilt, they did not have sufficient faith in the future of the Transit business to buy up the cheap shares themselves.

The letters carried by Benito Lagos were addressed to Dona Ana Arbizu and Don Pedro Xatruch in the southern Honduran district of Tegucigalpa, birth-place of General José Santos Guardiola. Dona Ana was a well-known friend of Guardiola. Xatruch was the brother of Colonel Florencio Xatruch, former Legitimista commander at Rivas, a friend of Guardiola and now military governor at Rivas.

William Walker’s new ally in Granada, Father Vijil, curate of Granada, had written to his superior, the vicar general of Nicaragua, Father José Hilario Herdocia, in León, assuring him that Walker did not wish to disturb the status quo and that the Catholic Church could count on the general’s support. With Walker now controlling the country’s military, it was clear to the church leaders that it would pay to court him, and Father Herdocia had quickly written to Walker, congratulating him on bringing peace to the country and assuring him of the church’s future cooperation.

So, it was no surprise to Walker when he learned that Father Manuel Loredo at Managua had urged his parishioner Lagos to head south, not north, with the Martinez letters, and take them to Colonel Valle at Granada. These were the letters that Valle slapped down on the desk in front of Walker, who recognized the handwriting on several of them—that of Ponciano Corral. Corral’s brief note to Pedro Xatruch in Honduras, said, in Spanish:

Granada, November 1st, 1855

General Don Santos Guardiola

My esteemed friend,

It is necessary that you write to friends to advise them of the danger we are in, and that they work actively. If they delay two months there will not then be time.

Think of us and your offers.

I salute your lady; and commend your friend who truly esteems you and kisses your hand.

P. Corral

P.S.: Nicaragua is lost; lost Honduras, San Salvador and Guatemala, if they let this get body. Let them come quickly if they would meet auxiliaries.

A third letter, written by Colonel Martinez at Managua to Senora Arbizu, expressed Martinez’s concern about what Corral considered the plight of both himself and the Legitimista cause in Nicaragua. The fourth letter, from Colonel Florencio Xatruch at Rivas, told his brother Pedro in Honduras that he had wanted to return home to Honduras after the Nicaraguan peace settlement but had remained at Rivas at the request of Legitimista friends, to be of service to them.

Walker would express his surprise at the content of the letters: “The two from Corral were sufficient to amaze anyone who had heard him a few days before solemnly swear to observe the treaty of the 23rd.” From all four letters, Walker deduced that Guardiola and Pedro Xatruch had both previously offered to give the Legitimistas in Nicaragua help to remove Walker and his Americans. The reference to “two months” suggested to Walker that Guardiola had recently communicated to Corral that it would take two months to raise an army in Honduras and Guatemala large enough to march down into Nicaragua to deal with Walker and his troops.

Walker reacted quickly. Ordering the guard at Granada strengthened, and with no one permitted to leave the city, he sent courteous invitations to the president, all cabinet members, including Corral, and Corral’s senior Legitimista friends to attend a meeting in Walker’s office.

Before long, Corral ambled into Government House with two Legitimista associates, chatting amiably to them, blissfully unaware of the reason for Walker’s summons. As Corral and his companions approached the stairs to the second floor, General Walker and several of his officers descended the stairs. There were letters in Walker’s hand, but Corral, still none the wiser, greeted Walker with a friendly smile.

Corral froze in his tracks. His eyes dropped to the letters. He recognized his own handwriting and, with sinking heart, recognized his incriminating correspondence. Now, too, it dawned on him that Walker was fluent in Spanish and that the diminutive American had been playing him for a fool. And all this time, Corral had thought he had Walker’s measure. Realizing that it was pointless denying authorship of the letters, Minister Corral numbly nodded in affirmation. Behind him, American soldiers had materialized. Firm hands gripped Corral’s arms.

A little before 2:00 P.M. on November 8, Colonel Charles Gilman, who was mounted, followed a detachment of American riflemen who marched Ponciano Corral from Granada Prison on the southeast corner of the Granadine Plaza. Corral, in chains and dressed in a white shirt and trousers, held the arm of Father Vijil and looked an “unhappy man.” He was on his way to his execution.

Under Nicaraguan law, a cabinet member could only face trial for treason in the nation’s senate. Because the senate had been dissolved the previous year, and Corral had never officially resigned as a general of the army, Walker had him tried before a military court-martial. Sitting in the meeting chamber of Granada’s City Council House, Walker’s military court had Colonel Charles Hornsby for its president, Colonel Birkett D. Fry as judge advocate, and Parker H. French as defense counsel. Six American officers sat in judgment. Walker later claimed that Corral had no objections to being tried by Americans, and in fact preferred them to native Nicaraguans.

The trial had been brief. “I am not a traitor,” Corral said in his defense as he faced the bench. “These dealings were to save my country. I am solely responsible.” The guilty verdict had been inevitable. The court had recommended mercy, but Walker showed none. “Mercy to Corral would have been an invitation to all the Legitimistas to engage in like conspiracies,” he later wrote.

Prisoner and escort proceeded through the Granadine Plaza, which was lined with American troops, passing through a vast, silent crowd. There was strong popular sympathy for Corral, and one of his former officers, José Maria Noguera, had tried unsuccessfully to enlist support from other Legitimistas to break Corral out of jail. But, with Walker and the Americans now controlling the armed forces and receiving more Yankee recruits with each steamer arrival, the disarmed Legitimistas were powerless to intervene. Permitted to visit Corral in his prison cell, Noguera had burst into tears and begged his general’s forgiveness for not being able to save him. But Corral, resigned to his fate, had told Noguera not to be distressed. “There is nothing more you could have done.”⁶

The previous evening, Corral’s daughters Carmen and Sofia and many leading women of Granada had accompanied Father Vijil to the Vieja house on the plaza, to beg clemency from Walker. He had made them one concession, postponing the execution from noon to 2:00 P.M. An American on guard outside the Vieja house, on hearing of the two-hour postponement, had exclaimed, “Oh, my God, how generous!”⁷ Not even a personal entreaty from Walker’s friend “Little Irena” Ohoran could change Walker’s determination to execute Corral.

According to Sofia Corral, one of Walker’s officers—possibly De Brissot, but more likely Hornsby—visited Corral in prison shortly before the execution hour. Identifying himself as a fellow Freemason, he offered to render whatever favor he could under the circumstances. Corral penned a hasty note to his mother and daughters, telling them that he went to his death a confirmed Christian and an innocent man. “I forgive my enemies,” he added. The American officer duly passed the note to the Corral family.⁸

The execution party halted outside the city’s Parochial Church. At the church entrance stood a number of Corral’s colleagues, among them Don Enrique Guzman, a friend since childhood. Given permission by Colonel Gilman to approach the condemned man, a tearful Guzman embraced Corral. Corral, in contrast, was composed and dignified.⁹ A raised platform stood in front of the stone wall of the Parochial Church’s Santisimo Chapel, with a chair placed on it. Colonel Gilman dismounted and asked Corral to climb the platform and be seated, and Corral complied but declined a blindfold. The men of the firing squad loaded their rifles, then Gilman advised that he would wait until Corral signaled he was ready. As Gilman took his place beside the executioners, Father Vijil stepped away from the prisoner, who, with his head bowed, was saying a final prayer.

The crowd, many thousands strong, stood stock still, not uttering a word; all eyes were glued on the condemned man. Watching the proceedings from across the square, from the balcony of the Vieja house, were William Walker, Foreign Minister Jerez, and the man appointed by President Rivas to replace Corral as war minister, Don Buenaventura Selva, the Democratico brother-in-law of the late Provisional Director Castellon. Of President Rivas there was no sign; he had closed himself away inside Government House.

Corral finished mouthing the words of his prayer, then looked up, crossed himself, and, looking directly at Gilman, nodded. “Take aim!” called Gilman, drawing his sword. The rifles of the firing squad came up. The men had been instructed to aim for the heart. Corral looked directly ahead. Gilman didn’t protract the affair. Bringing down his sword, he called the instruction to fire in a loud voice. The rifles crackled. The crowd saw Corral sag on the chair. A collective groan went up. Women, and not a few men, began to cry. Corral was pronounced dead, and his corpse handed over to the Corral family, to be buried at once. The people of Granada would mourn the popular Ponciano Corral long after the passing of the novena, the traditional nine nights of prayer that followed a death in Nicaragua.

In his memoirs, Walker devoted one brief paragraph to the execution of Corral. But it was soon to occupy much space in the U.S. press, which generally condemned it. “Walker was bitterly, and I think, unjustly denounced by the press of the United States for Corral’s execution,” said one of Walker’s officers later, “by the same journals that approved the shooting of Mayorga.” Support was not widespread locally either. “Public sentiment in Nicaragua, even in the Democratic ranks, was not agreed as to the wisdom or necessity of his death,” said the same officer.¹⁰

The American ambassador to Nicaragua, John H. Wheeler, whose close friend U.S. President Franklin D. Pierce had given him his present diplomatic post, had quickly warmed to William Walker, making him his “invited guest and welcome friend.”¹¹ Wheeler, a lawyer and a Southerner from South Carolina, “admired the character of General Walker” and was all for his planned American colonization of Central America. The bigoted, racist ambassador was convinced that, like him, Walker “had only contempt for the Spaniards and those mongrel races, who occupied with indolence and semi-barbarism one of the finest and most productive regions on the continent.”¹² On November 10, two days after the execution of Ponciano Corral, Ambassador Wheeler announced formal U.S. recognition of the Rivas administration as Nicaragua’s legitimate government. He did so without consulting Washington and without the approval of the man who had been U.S. secretary of state since 1853, William Learned Marcy. This recognition was formalized by Wheeler at a function at Government House, where he delivered a flowery speech in which he congratulated Nicaragua on achieving peace.

President Rivas responded, using words with the ring of Walker’s authorship about them: “The Republic counts on new and powerful elements of liberty and order which cause us to conceive well-founded hopes that the country will march with a firm step in the path of progress toward the greatness offered it by its free institutions and natural advantages.”¹³

In Washington, Secretary of State Marcy was furious when he learned that Wheeler had recognized a nonelected government. Sixty-nine-year-old Marcy, a former senator and onetime governor of New York, was well respected in Washington for his intellect and diplomacy. Among his triumphs had been the Gadsden Purchase, which added a slice of Mexico to the United States during William Walker’s Sonoran venture. But an attempt by Marcy to have Ambassador Wheeler recalled was rebuffed by President Pierce and several cabinet members who were also close friends of Wheeler.

This defeat incensed Secretary Marcy. He did not approve of Wheeler’s actions; nor did he approve of Rivas or of Walker. From this point forward, Marcy would do everything in his power to make things difficult for both Ambassador Wheeler and the Rivas administration. Most of all, Marcy was determined to frustrate William Walker’s ambitions in Nicaragua and to rid Central America of filibusters. “The course of events might have been very different,” Walker would later write, “if the federal administration at Washington had frankly approved the conduct of its representative.”¹⁴