It seems Manuela was a real firecracker. And it seems most of us have heard about her only because she was Bolivar’s lover and because he lived in her house in Lima when he was rebuilding Peru in 1825-1826.

Our group had been told a little about Manuela when we visited the Museum, because the Museum used to be Manuela’s house. But the information we were given focused mostly on her status as Bolivar’s lover.

It wasn’t until we were sitting in a small street café near our hotel one evening that we ran into a woman who was a great fan of Manuela. This woman was a university professor from Quito, Ecuador, where Manuela is considered a national hero.

The professor was highly incensed that Manuela has mostly been portrayed as a harlot and dilettante in the traditional historical records, when the truth is that Manuela was a serious and passionate rebel just like her famous lover Simon Bolivar.

This professor told us the full story, and Myrtle fell head over heels in love with Manuela. At one particularly gripping moment in the professor’s story, Myrtle shot out of her chair with her hands straight up in the air, yelling “Ole!” and stamping her feet.

She woke up the rest of us, that’s for sure, and our raconteur was a bit startled and momentarily lost her train of thought.

For those of you who are curious about Myrtle’s new heroine, here is the story of Manuela.

She was born in Quito, Ecuador, in late December 1797, the illegitimate child of Simon Saenz Vergara, a married Spanish military officer. Her mother was an upper-class Ecuadorian woman named Maria Joaquina Aizpurru.

When Manuela was in her teens, her passions asserted themselves, and she one day found herself in the family way. Her mother did not appreciate that fact and tossed her out on her ear. Manuela eventually found her way to the La Concepcion Convent in Quito, where her baby came into this world.

Not too long after this, Manuela’s mother, Maria, found life too taxing and she gracefully exited this world. Manuela’s wealthy Spanish father stepped in to provide the money for Manuela to stay at the convent and be raised by the nuns and schooled in upper class living.

Unfortunately, Manuela had a bit of trouble becoming a “lady.” It was rumored that she dressed like a boy, played with weapons, and rode horses astride instead of side-saddle, among other unmentionable things.

Finally, when Manuela was 17, a rumor was circulated that she was sneaking out of the convent to have an affair with a Spanish army officer. Now, dear readers, I really do wonder if she started the rumor herself, just to get out of the convent!

At any rate, the nuns soon threw her out, and she went to live with her father. He, in turn, no doubt fearing the rebellious sensibilities of this headstrong young female, got her married off within short order to James Thorne, an English doctor much older than she. Manuela was heard to call the union “supremely ridiculous.”

Nevertheless, Dr. Thorne, who was very wealthy, did seem to feel affection for Manuela and in 1819 moved his 22-year-old wife to a mansion in Lima, then the capital of the Viceroyalty of Peru.

There Manuela began to throw lavish parties for the upper classes of Peru, including high-ranking military officers. It was the connections she made with the rich and powerful in these parties that gave Manuela her entrée into political intrigue and activism. She was highly intelligent and listened avidly to the conversations about the many revolutions against Spanish rule that were springing up in South American countries.

Manuela’s passionate nature was immediately engaged, and she decided to join the conspiracy to free Lima and Peru. Her husband was often away for long periods of time on business, which left her free to manage the household and his finances, including his wealth. She used all the opportunities of her position to advance her involvement in the rebel cause. She also campaigned for women’s rights and more political power for women.

In 1822 Manuela left her husband and returned to Quito, where she met the young and brilliant rebel general Simon Bolivar. He was 15 years older than she, but they fell madly in love, a passion fueled by their devotion to the grand cause of liberty and independence for South American countries. She became his confidante and lover.

Ultimately, as the power and influence of Spain continued to crumble, and more and more South American colonies seized the opportunity to try to secure their independence, Manuela found herself fighting for independence for more countries than just Peru, especially as part of Simon Bolivar’s grand dream of a unified and united South America, modeled on the United States of America.

Bolivar’s new country was to be called Gran Columbia.

Manuela was not the only woman to help the rebel cause during the Wars for Independence in South America. Many upper-class women helped supply money, food, mules, clothing, and information to rebel leaders. They also helped distribute leaflets and information to the common people.

These women were in a perfect position to listen innocently to all the political or military gossip among the Spanish rulers as they hosted or attended parties. They would then relay that information to the rebels, information about government plans, power shifts, or the movements of the Royalist military troops.

Few of the women of the time, however, carried their support for the rebels to the lengths Manuela did.

She became a member of the rebel army, helping to organize the troops, rescue downed soldiers from the battlefield, and nurse the wounded. She served in Bolivar’s cavalry and was quickly promoted to captain.

Because of her strong support of the rebel army at the Battle of Ayacucho, Bolivar’s second-in-command, General Antonio Jose de Sucre, was so impressed with her heroic actions that he recommended she be promoted to Colonel. Bolívar approved the nomination and appointed Manuela a full colonel in the rebel army.

There are some reports that she even fought in full uniform, including the standard-issue saber. Bolivar gave her increasingly broad powers within his organization. Indeed, she became the official secretary of Bolivar’s personal archives, meaning that it was she alone who recorded all the information about Bolivar’s military campaigns. This meant that she traveled often with him, and even began to help him plan military strategy. Some historians say his most brilliant military triumphs and victories happened when Manuela was with him.

Manuela and Simon could not be together all the time, but they did live together for about a year, 1825-1826, in Manuela’s mansion in Lima, until Bolivar was again called away to help a rebel campaign. When they could not live together, they wrote letters or occasionally visited. Manuela would certainly have known about Bolivar’s notorious womanizing, but she remained faithful to him until his death from tuberculosis in 1830, at age 47.

She had been his devoted confidante and lover for the eight years she had known him. It is even reported that she saved his life several times. Once, when they were together in Bogota, Columbia, in the San Carlos Palace, Bolivar’s political rivals hired an assassin to murder him during the night. It is said that Manuela pushed Simon out the window and threw herself between the assassins and him. Bolivar called her the nickname that would be hers for all the rest of her life, “Liberator of the Liberator.”

It has been suggested by some historians that Manuela’s devotion to Simon Bolivar was fueled as much by her own political ambition as by her romantic passion for him. It is true that her heroism was recognized by no less than Jose de San Martin, the “Napoleon of South America”, who appointed her to the Society of Patriotic Ladies. He also awarded her the prestigious Order of the Sun for her assistance to the rebel cause from 1822-1830. This was an honor he awarded to those who had made a noteworthy contribution to the rebel cause. He even gave her a medal inscribed, “To the patriotism of the most sensitive”.

Bolivar’s death would have been a double blow for Manuela. Not only had she lost her lover; she had lost her political power.

Bolivar’s death provided the opportunity for his political rivals to seize power in the various countries of South America, and Manuela was no longer welcome in any of those countries. She found herself exiled to Jamaica. She tried to continue to support the rebel cause from her home base there, but her power was too diluted to be effective.

She eventually abandoned her political activities and settled in the small town of Paita, Peru, where she died at age 58 on November 23, 1856, during a diphtheria and typhoid epidemic.

At this point my dear Myrtle broke down sobbing, and she remained quite inconsolable for the rest of the evening. Not even an excellent Pisco Sour, or as they all say in Peru, “Peesco Sour”, would perk her up.

Trying to distract her, I reminded her of the Food for Thought our guide had shared, that In Peru it was not possible to get a divorce until 2008. So, our guide had been living unhappily with her husband for ten years. The Inca practice was much better, she said: have children first, then get married if you want to.

I also tried to distract Myrtle by asking the bartender to explain how the wonderful national beverage of Peru, the Pisco Sour, is made. He obligingly showed us how to use Peruvian pisco as the base liquor, then add freshly squeezed lemon or lime juice, simple syrup, ice, egg white, and Angostura Bitter.

But that delicious Pisco Sour only seemed to make Myrtle maudlin, so I took her back to our room and tucked her into her bed and told her we would be seeing the Curandero tomorrow.

To be continued…