The story of Camila O'Gorman (1828-1848), the daughter of a prominent merchant in the Buenos Aires community, is one of the most famous cases of a young person challenging both parental and state authority. In 1847, at the height of Rosas's power, 19-year-old Camila and Ladislao Gutiérrez, a young Catholic priest from Tucumán, fell in love. On December 12, 1847, they eloped and fled to Corrientes, a neighboring province to Buenos Aires. Eight months later, they were captured, imprisoned at Santos Lugares, and put to death by a firing squad. History has been more kind to Camila than to Gutiérrez. The young priest was condemned for violating the Church's code of conduct and the social order. Many eyewitnesses, including Camila's father, Adolfo O'Gorman (see document 9), blamed the beleaguered priest for manipulating an impressionable young woman.

Camila O'Gorman's execution in August 1848 had repercussions long after her death. Her death touched off a series of international protests against the caudillo dictator. Before the execution, exiled Unitarians in Uruguay taunted Rosas in their newspapers for not doing enough to put an end to Camila's unlawful and illicit behavior. After Camila's death, however, they used Camila's story to show that Rosas was cruel and bloodthirsty. After Rosas was overthrown in 1852, strong feelings about Camila's death sentence remained. In 1856, the Uruguayan author, Heraclio Fajardo (1833-1868), wrote a six act play simply titled "Camila O'Gorman" in her honor. In the play, he also dedicated a poem to her, "To the Spirits of Camila O'Gorman," as an impassioned plea for future generations of Argentines to not repeat the mistakes of the Rosas era.

In 1847, at the height of Rosas's power, 19-year-old Camila O'Gorman, the daughter of a prominent merchant in the Buenos Aires community, and Ladislao Gutiérrez, a young Catholic priest, fell in love. On December 12, 1847, they eloped and fled the city. As reports surfaced about the actions of Camila and Ladislao, Adolfo penned the following letter to Juan Manuel de Rosas as a plea for his daughter's life. Adolfo portrayed his daughter not as an accomplice or an active participant in the elopement but as a passive young girl who was seduced by Ladislao.

Camilla's father, Adolfo O'Gorman y Perichón Vandeuil, has often been portrayed as a cruel and overbearing patriarch. María Luísa Bemberg's movie Camila (1984) perpetuated that image. However, modern scholars have re-evaluated his actions, seeing in this letter his effort to save his daughter's reputation, as well as his own. The patriarch's letter to Rosas was not the only request to spare Camila. Antonio Reyes, the prison warden, listened to her confession and advised her as she appealed for clemency. Even Manuelita Rosas, the dictator's daughter, reportedly made a plea to her father. All of these efforts failed, however, and Camila and Ladislao were executed on August 18, 1848.

The story of Camila O'Gorman (1828-1848), the daughter of a prominent merchant in the Buenos Aires community, is one of the most famous cases of a young person challenging both parental and state authority. In 1847, at the height of Rosas's power, 19-year-old Camila and Ladislao Gutiérrez, a young Catholic priest from Tucumán, fell in love. On December 12, 1847, they eloped and fled to Corrientes, a neighboring province to Buenos Aires, where they tried to survive in the hopes of escaping to another country. Eight months later, they were captured, imprisoned at Santos Lugares, and put to death by a firing squad.

Although both were punished in the same way, one could argue that history has been more kind to Camila than to Gutiérrez. The young priest was condemned for violating the Church's code of conduct and the social order. Many eyewitnesses, including Camila's father, Adolfo O'Gorman, blamed the beleaguered priest for manipulating an impressionable young woman. Camila was a more sympathetic figure, too, because she was reportedly eight months pregnant at the time of her death. News of her (and her unborn child's) demise spread quickly throughout the province and beyond. Even Rosas's staunchest supporters could not defend the death of what they saw as an innocent, unborn child. For them, the "Restorer of the Laws" had gone too far.

This lithograph by the French Brazilian-born artist Juan León Pallière (1823-1887) is one of many representations of Camila. This is an idealized portrait intended to memorialize Camila as a decent and innocent young woman. The hairstyle, necklace, and clothing all suggest that she was a member of a respectable and prominent family. Since he was living in Buenos Aires in 1848 (the same year that Camila met her death), Pallière must have been deeply affected by the talk surrounding the event. However, he would not have dared to paint such an image while Rosas was still in power. The painter waited to finish this portrait after the regime was overthrown in 1852, and it often accompanied official and popular histories of the post-Rosas era.

Children frequently turned to the courts in seeking greater independence from their parents, especially in matters related to marriage choice. Dozens of petitions asking the state for permission to marry were filed at a time when the state was attempting to socialize young people as citizens of the new nation-state and patriarchy was in decline.

In this document, José Antonio Juárez petitioned a judge for permission to marry Candelaria Portillo. Argentine law legally defined "manhood" at age 25, after which males were allowed to marry without permission from their parents, but Juárez had to prove that he was actually 25. An exception was made if the parents were deceased. Young people had to collect evidence, affidavits, and eyewitnesses to prove either case. Although many lost their legal battles, these experiences likely helped young people in 19th-century Argentina develop a sense of rights and entitlement.

This document also raises the issue of race. José Antonio was a pardo, a term that described someone who was a free, mixed race person. Candelaria, his fiancé, was a slave, and they had to ask permission of her owner. This couple challenged various types of social restrictions.

Manuela Rosas (1817-1898), the daughter of Juan Manuel de Rosas, emerged as one of the most important political symbols of the early 19th century. In 1838, her mother, Doña Encarcación, died, and her father proclaimed his daughter as the nation's first lady. At the age of 21, Manuela was thrust into a new political role. By all accounts, she was very popular. She regularly participated in gatherings and festivals in honor of her father. Foreign visitors were impressed by how much responsibility was delegated to her. In 1848, one English observer noted: "His daughter is his real minister and secretary, and through her it is easy to convey any communication that it may be wished to make. She is amiable, apparently kind hearted and affectionate. Her manners and appearance are graceful, though she is no longer pretty. Her adoration for her father amounts to passion."

In 1840, Prilidiano Pueyrredon (1823-1870), an Argentine artist known for painting images of everyday life, was commissioned to paint Manuela as the embodiment of her father’s brand of Federalism. One thing that is striking about this painting is the use of the color red. All citizens of Argentina, especially young people, were expected to wear red as part of their clothing in order to symbolize support for the regime. Those who did not often faced public scorn, imprisonment, and fines. This stood in stark contrast to Unitarians, who advocated wearing celestial blue. Interestingly, Manuela also became an important symbol for Unitarians. Propagandists often depicted her as an unwitting political tool for the regime or a victim of her father’s sexual abuse. In his scathing 1851 essay, "Manuela Rosas," José Mármol argued that Manuela, like many young supporters of the Rosas regime, could actually be redeemed through education. In 1852, she accompanied her father in exile in Great Britain and later died there in 1898.

In Córdoba, Argentina's second largest province, two women, Ignacia Funes and Teresa Bulnes, found themselves defending the conduct of two children, who were accused by their stepfather, known only as "Roca," of composing pro-Unitarian songs. This was a grave offense, and the children were immediately jailed for their crime. This demonstrates that local authorities were willing to arrest those accused of politically suspicious behavior no matter the age of the offender.

In 1841, Funes and Bulnes wrote this letter as a direct appeal to Manuel López, a strong Rosas ally and Córdoba's provincial governor between 1835 and 1852. They pleaded with López not to consider the stepfather's denunciation and to release the children into community custody. Although the ages of the children were not noted in this appeal, these women argued that the children were too young to understand what they were doing, and if the children had done something wrong, it was actually a reflection on their stepfather. This document shows the ways in which political divisions divided families and the ease with which children could be swept into the partisan political arguments of the era.

During the Rosas era, parents in Argentina grew increasingly concerned about the behavior of their children. Lawsuits throughout this turbulent period illustrate the disagreements between young people and their parents over marriage choice, property rights, and inheritance. Mothers and fathers often went to court seeking to constrain their children's free will when they believed that the family's well-being and social standing were at risk.

In 1831, Leonardo (Leonard) Brown wanted to marry his sweetheart, but his father, Don Eduardo (Edward) Brown, a prominent merchant of British descent, objected to the engagement. Leonardo ran away from his family's house, taking some furniture and other items with him in order to start a new life. In response, Eduardo sued his son for defying his authority and based this on his rights as the male head of a family, or patria potestad. Eduardo argued that this legal concept gave him final say over his son's life decisions until he turned 23. Since Leonardo was only 19, Eduardo argued that he had every right to deny his son permission to marry. Moreover, he wanted the authorities to order Leonardo to return home at once.

The following two documents represent the final stage of the lawsuit. The first is the court's final judgment against Leonardo, who was ordered to provide restitution to his father and return home. However, the second document is Eduardo's plea to the court to do something about his son, who continued to defy his and the court's authority.

In early 19th-century Argentina, political leaders considered schools to be one of the nation's most important institutions of social control and politicization. The following is an 1817 handwriting assignment from a public elementary school in the parish of San Telmo. This document illustrates how Buenos Aires officials attempted to channel young people's behavior. Classes offered lessons in morality, good behavior, discipline, and above all, a deep respect for authority. For example, notice in the first lesson how children were taught to wash their hands only "after all other persons superior to him have done so. . ." The second part of the document demonstrates how religion reinforced these ideas. This assignment invokes the fourth commandment in the Bible, which, in Catholic teachings, requires a good Christian to "honor" one's parents.

This document also points to the idea that schools reconstituted the social order. Young people from the lower classes rarely completed formal training while those of middle-class and elite families had greater opportunities to complete their education. In this lesson, the role of a "man-servant" in one of the assignments speaks directly to children from middle-class and elite families. These children also had more opportunities to attend private Catholic schools and receive scholarships funded by private donations. Indeed, the middle and elite classes saw education as a means to maintain their social status, and port city leaders from these classes especially valued a literate and educated citizenry who could fill the ranks of the state's bureaucracies.

Since 1810, social critics in Buenos Aires had long been concerned about young people from the lower classes—especially young men—exercising greater independence within the home. With the decline of parental authority, they were alarmed at the sight of growing numbers of young people as a potential source of disorder, and they looked to the state for solutions. As a result, the police were granted broad authority to place youngsters into jobs that would keep them off of the streets and supply businesses and homes with badly needed laborers.

In 1841, Benjamín Montes, a minor, signed a contract with Bourgan, Funge, and Company, a hat factory in Buenos Aires, to work for three years as an apprentice. At first glance, the terms of the contract seem harsh. It limited Montes's mobility, governed his behavior in and out of the factory, and the work was probably very grueling. However, this type of arrangement was also illustrative of the weakening of parental authority in favor of state authority. Montes's mother, Juana María Olivera, clearly transferred power over her son to the company (mothers could sign contracts if male heads of households were unavailable). These kinds of jobs provided greater opportunities for young people, like Benjamín, to gain enough income to make a life of their own when they reached adulthood.

This chart demonstrates the fluctuating attendance rates of school aged children in a select number of schools in Buenos Aires between 1815 and 1831. This is not a complete list of the port city’s schools; it represents schools that maintained the most complete attendance records. By 1815, Buenos Aires had 13 elementary schools with 1,200 students, which only accounted for approximately five percent of the city’s school aged children. Clearly, these children were not attending public educational institutions in large numbers.

By the end of the late 19th century, these numbers improved, but only marginally. During the 1870s, for instance, there were 107 public schools in Buenos Aires (along with 120 private schools), which taught more than 7,700 students. This meant that only 22 percent of all of the city’s school aged children attended classes on a regular basis. Thus, Argentina (and Buenos Aires in particular) had not yet succeeded in extending public education to all.