Part 13

There are flourishing towns and cities in Argentina, and great wealth. Buenos Aires alone has about two million inhabitants. And to Buenos Aires come throngs of immigrants from Europe and Asia, seeking their fortunes in Argentina; just as immigrants land in the City of New York, to find their fortunes in our country.

An immense and rich land is the Republic of Argentina to-day; and her native citizens are one hundred per cent American!

* * * * *

But when San Martin stepped upon Argentine soil over a hundred years ago, there was no great wealthy Republic. There were only some poor Provinces, struggling with Spain for their Liberty. Buenos Aires was but a Colonial town on the bank of the River of Silver.

There was no forest of foreign ships in the roadstead; for Spain had forbidden trading with any land except herself. There were no great _estancias_ helping to feed the world. The whole country was groaning under oppression. Colonists, Indians, and _gauchos_, were in arms to defend her.

The land was swarming with Spanish soldiers and Royalists. The patriot Army was small, scattered, and poorly equipped, and undisciplined. San Martin, with all his military knowledge, came as a Liberator to his Country.

The Patriot Government appointed him to train soldiers and organize the army. He opened a military school. To it thronged the _gauchos_, those daring riders of the plains, also Creoles as the Colonists of pure Spanish blood were called, and Indians, and even slaves, to whom San Martin had promised their freedom.

The Patriots wore cockades of white and sky-blue, the Argentine colours. In time, San Martin had mobilized a well-disciplined army of earnest courageous men.

At San Lorenzo, San Martin won a famous victory. The enemy retreated in headlong flight, leaving behind banner, guns, and muskets. After the battle, San Martin sent supplies to the enemy for the wounded, and exchanged prisoners with them.

This victory put heart into the entire Patriot Army, and assured the final success of the Patriot cause.

ARGENTINA’S INDEPENDENCE DAY

_July 9, 1816_

The Birthday of the Argentine Republic was really May 25, 1810, before San Martin came to Argentina. For on that day a group of patriotic citizens of Buenos Aires braved the anger of Spain, set up a People’s Government, and convened the first Colonial Assembly in Argentina.

But on July 9, 1816, while San Martin’s soldiers were harassing the Spaniards, there assembled at the city of Tucuman, delegates from a number of the Provinces, who declared the “Independence of the United Provinces of the River of Silver (or Rio de la Plata).” The name “Argentine Republic” was not given the Argentine Union until some years later.

Thus, Argentina, while Spain was yet on her soil, bravely declared her Independence.

A GREAT IDEA

Gold, jewels, spices, and costly woods, in fact much of the stupendous wealth of Spanish America, flowed yearly into Lima, “the City of the Kings” in Peru, on the Pacific, the city founded by Pizarro the gold-hunter.

Triumphantly, Lima lifted the picturesque towers and domes of her palaces, convents, monasteries, and religious schools, and of her ancient cathedral, for Lima ruled not only the Pacific coast of Spanish America, but the whole of Spanish America as well. She was the centre of Spain’s power, strength, religion, and wealth in the New World. There, with pomp and pageant, lived the most influential of the Spanish Viceroys, whose word was law. From Lima went forth Spain’s armies to crush the Patriots in Argentina and Chile.

So long as Spain should hold Lima, the Patriot cause would be hopeless. On the other hand, if Lima might be taken by the Patriots, then the stronghold of Spanish tyranny would be destroyed.

So thought San Martin; and he began to lay plans to capture Lima, although the city was seemingly inaccessible and lay beyond the Andes Mountains far to the northwest on the Pacific Coast.

The Argentine Government transferred San Martin to the Province of Cuyo, and made him its Governor. There in the lovely city of Mendoza, the city of vineyards, at the very foot of the Andes, he set about raising revenues, and training and equipping an army--a small but strong army of devoted men.

But how to reach Lima? questioned San Martin to himself. Any attempt to lead the army northward to Upper Peru, and over the Andes to Lima, was sure to bring down upon the small body of Patriots, Spain’s seasoned troops who held Upper Peru and a part of Argentina.

The only way, thought San Martin, is to cross the Andes, drive the Spaniards _out of Chile_, then joining our forces with those of the Chilean Patriots, go by sea to Lima, and take her from Spain. Peru will yield, and our continent will be free!

THE MIGHTY ANDES

“What spoils my sleep, is not the strength of the enemy, but how to pass those immense mountains,” said San Martin, as from Mendoza he gazed upon the snow-clad summits of the mighty Andes, whose giant wall separated the wide plains of Argentina from the sunny smiling valleys of Chile on the Pacific.

Terrible seemed the Andes stretching from North to South like an impassable barrier. Near Mendoza, the barren foothills resembled waves of a petrified sea. Above them soared the central lofty mountain-ranges of conical, sharply defined peaks white with everlasting snow. Over the precipices, wheeled the condors at dizzy height. And down the chasm-rent sides of the mountains, rushed dark torrents of melted snow.

San Martin knew of the rugged defiles, the narrow paths winding along the edges of precipices, the ice-choked passages, the gloomy gorges, and the many unbridged torrents to be crossed, torrents tossing rocks about like straws.

Nevertheless, he determined to lead his Army across the Andes, rescue Chile, and go by sea to Lima.

So without haste, he carefully laid his plans in every detail. He spent two years in raising the Army of the Andes and equipping it. He kept his project of crossing into Chile, secret, lest the enemy should hear of it and guard the mountain-passes.

The enthusiastic and loyal men of Mendoza and of the whole Province of Cuyo, helped him with money and labour. Many of them enlisted. Even the children wanted to help; so San Martin, to keep up their Patriotism, formed them into little regiments and let them drill and carry banners. Their mothers, led by San Martin’s wife, a lovely Argentine lady, took off their jewels and sold them. If it had not been for the cheerful spirit of coöperation among the folk of Cuyo, San Martin could not have mobilized his men. For this reason, Mendoza is called “The Nest of the Argentine Eagle.”

_Bartolome Mitre_ (_Retold_)

THE REAL SAN MARTIN

And what was General San Martin like?

Why did the good folk of Mendoza love him and hasten to do all that he asked?

Why did his troops cheerfully submit to terrible privations, and willingly plunge into danger and death if San Martin was with them?

Why, to-day, do the boys and girls of Argentina wish to be like their great and beloved hero--San Martin?

First, because San Martin never thought of himself. The folk of Mendoza offered him a handsome house to live in. He quietly refused it. He gave up to the cause half of his salary as Governor. He accepted the rank of general with the understanding that he might lay it down as soon as Argentina was free. He steadfastly refused all other promotions from his Government. He sent his wife back to Buenos Aires, so that he might live more simply.

He lived frugally, ate little, and worked hard. And what did he look like, this General so strong yet so simple? He wore the plain uniform of the Mounted Grenadiers, with the white and sky-blue cockade in his hat.

He was fine-looking, tall, and muscular. His complexion was olive, his jaw strong, and his lips firm, his black hair thick. His large, jet black eyes looked out from under bushy eyebrows; eyes now kindly and humorous, now piercingly observant. But when he met treachery or cowardice those eyes could frown terribly, and when he faced dangers or great emergencies, they expressed a fiery determined spirit.

A man nobly unselfish, gentle yet forceful, modest, patient, whimsically humorous at times, but always of few words was San Martin. Even strangers who met him were filled with respect and affection for him.

His motto was:--

_Thou shall be what thou oughtest to be, Or thou shall be nothing._

THE FIGHTING ENGINEER OF THE ANDES

Among the Patriots of Mendoza was a begging Friar, named Luis Beltran. He had fought in Chile against the Spaniards. He had returned across the Andes to Mendoza with a kit of tools on his back.

He was a clever fellow, a mathematician, a chemist, an artilleryman, a maker of watches and fireworks, a carpenter, an architect, a blacksmith, a draughtsman, a cobbler, and a physician. He was strong and rugged. San Martin made him chaplain. But on learning of his extraordinary gifts, he appointed him to establish an arsenal.

Soon Friar Beltran had three hundred workmen under him, all of whom he taught. He cast cannon, shot, and shell, melting down church-bells when his metal gave out. He made limbers for the guns, saddles for the cavalry, knapsacks, shoes, and other equipment for the soldiers. He forged horseshoes and bayonets and repaired damaged muskets.

If he stopped to rest at all, he drew designs on the walls of his grimy workshop, for special caissons and wagons to transport army-supplies over the steep passes of the Andes.

Then, he took off his frock, put on the uniform of a lieutenant of the artillery, and became the fighting engineer of the Army of the Andes.

_Bartolome Mitre_ (_Retold_)

THE HANNIBAL OF THE ANDES

I

Everything was ready.

Friar Beltran’s forges, blazing night and day, had turned out thirty thousand horseshoes. His arsenal had produced bullets by the hundreds of thousands. Friar Beltran’s carriages for artillery, specially designed for mountain-passes, stood waiting. The guns themselves were to be carried on the backs of mules. Slings had been prepared to hoist the mules over dangerous places; also sleds of rawhide in which the guns might be hauled up inclines too steep for heavily laden mules to climb.

The women of Mendoza, led by Bernardo O’Higgins’s mother and sister who were exiles from Chile, had prepared a store of bandages and medicines, and had made uniforms for the soldiers.

All was ready--tents, provisions, herds of cattle, saddles, arms, clothes, water-bottles, cables and anchors for a portable bridge, muleteers and artisans. Nothing was overlooked by the vigilant San Martin.

Silent and reserved, he inspected everything. For he knew too well that the mountains over which he was about to lead his Army, were more lofty and dangerous than the famous Alps. He planned to send the Army through two passes, the highest of which was nearly 13,000 feet above sea-level. The troops would be long on the way, he knew, and the dangers would be terrific.

In January 1817--January is summertime in Argentina--the good folk of Mendoza gathered to say farewell to the Army that they had helped to mobilize, and to which so many of their own men belonged, some of whom they should never see again.

The Army broke up its cantonments, and began its march in three divisions, carrying the new flag of the Republic. The women of Mendoza had made it. It was white and sky-blue, like San Martin’s first uniform when he was a boy soldier, while on it was emblazoned the face of the Rising Sun.

So with provisions for many days, with armament, munitions, baggage, and great herds of cattle for food, the Army followed the trails that led through the barren foothills toward the high Andes.

The lofty central ranges of the gloomy mountains frowned down upon the soldiers, while the dark passes seemed yawning pitilessly to devour them. But nothing daunted, they courageously continued to climb the foothills toward the mountains.

Bernardo O’Higgins, the Chilean Patriot, led one of the divisions; for Chile had now joined forces with Argentina against Spain.

Higher and higher the Army climbed, scouts clearing the way before it, until it began to enter the passes of the Cordilleras. Then San Martin, who was still tarrying at Mendoza, wrote to a friend:--

“This afternoon I leave to join the Army. God grant me success in this great enterprise!”

Then saying good-bye to the folk of Mendoza, by whom he was so much beloved, he hastened to join one of the divisions.

Day after day, the troops followed the steep ascents and descents, walking close to roaring torrents, crossing craggy peaks and narrow chasms, skirting edges of precipices, wading through snow, and hauling heavy guns and supplies up steep inclines.

Great mountain-ridges, with cañons between, ran north and south, beside numerous lesser ridges; all these had to be crossed to reach Chile. The intense cold on the summits, killed many of the soldiers. While the rarefied air caused numbers to drop down and die from heart failure and exhaustion. Of the nine thousand two hundred and eighty-one mules and the sixteen hundred horses Friar Beltran had in charge, over half perished.

The soldiers, surrounded by the mountain peaks that seemed to touch the sky with their snow-bound jagged tops, were depressed by the awful loneliness. Now and then, a condor wheeled above them. Strange noises, made by gusts of wind in the cañons, sounded like the wails of lost souls. Every step the soldiers took, convinced them that should they be attacked, it would be impossible to retreat. Such were some of the terrible hardships uncomplainingly suffered by the Army of the Andes.

But the soldiers laughed at despair; a spirit of union and comradeship upheld them. Each corps tried to outdo the others in cheerful endurance.

At last, after more than three weeks, the Army began to defile from the passes into Chile. Then San Martin and O’Higgins, in the great battle of Chacabuco and later at Maipu, won the victory and drove the Spanish Army from Chile.

_General Miller and Bartolome Mitre_ (_Retold_)

II

Thus was accomplished one of the most heroic military feats in history. “The passage of the Andes by the Army of San Martin,” says Lord Bryce, “has been pronounced by military historians of authority to have been one of the most remarkable operations ever accomplished in mountain warfare. The forces which he led were no doubt small compared ... to those which Hannibal and Napoleon carried across the Alps. But ... the passes to be crossed were much higher.”

Lord Bryce also says that San Martin comes nearer than any one else to being “the George Washington of Spanish America.”

And San Martin has been called, “the Hannibal of the Andes.”

NOT FOR HIMSELF

Honours were showered on San Martin after the battle of Chacabuco. News of his successful crossing of the Andes and of his victory, reached Buenos Aires. All day long shouts sounded through the streets. Cannon roared from the fort and from the squadron in the roadstead. San Martin’s portrait was hung where all could see it, draped in flags captured from the enemy.

The Argentine Government decreed a sword and badge for San Martin, and struck medals for his soldiers. They voted a pension of six hundred dollars a year for his little daughter, Maria Mercedes. They also sent him a commission as Brigadier-General, the highest rank in the Argentine service.

San Martin accepted the pension for his little daughter, and laid the money aside for her education. But he refused the commission, asking only for more arms, money, and men, to carry on the campaign.

Meanwhile, the grateful Chilean Government offered to make him ruler of all Chile. But this honour, too, he declined. So his friend and companion-at-arms, Bernardo O’Higgins, in his stead, was elected Supreme Ruler of the country.

COCHRANE, EL DIABLO

“On to Lima! On to Lima!” was now the cry of the Argentine and Chilean soldiers. “Let us drive out the Spaniards! Let us expel them from Spanish America for ever!”

“On to Lima by sea,” was San Martin’s decision. Meanwhile, O’Higgins was busy equipping a fleet to carry the troops to Peru.

There was, at that time, in England a dauntless, dashing naval-officer, Lord Thomas Cochrane, who was famous for his extraordinary courage and adventures. He gladly accepted the invitation of San Martin and O’Higgins, to become Admiral of the Chilean Navy. And because excitement and danger were as meat and drink to him, he hastened to Chile.

He was welcomed with great rejoicings. His beautiful young wife became one of the belles of Santiago. English, Irish, and American officers, drawn by the fame of Lord Cochrane’s daring exploits, arrived in numbers offering their swords to Chile to help win her Freedom.

Then, with the single-star Flag of Chile nailed to his mastheads, Admiral Cochrane swept the Pacific clean of Spanish war-vessels. And so fiery were his attacks, that the Spaniards nicknamed him, “_El Diablo_.” “For the very Devil himself, he is,” said they.

OUR BROTHERS, YE SHALL BE FREE!

“The Peruvians are our brothers,” proclaimed San Martin to his soldiers.

“Remember that you are come not to conquer but to liberate a People!” he proclaimed as soon as the Liberating Army was landed in Peru. For Lord Cochrane had brought them safely thither aboard the Chilean fleet.

Then to the Peruvians, San Martin sent broadcast a proclamation:--

_You shall be free and independent. You shall form your government and your laws according to the spontaneous wish of your own representatives. The soldiers of the Army of Liberation, your brothers, will exert no influences, military or civil, direct or indirect, in your social system. Whenever it suits you, dismiss the Army which marches to protect you. A military force should never occupy the territory of a Free People, unless invited by its legitimate magistrates._

This proclamation aroused the patriotism of many Peruvians, who brought quantities of food and supplies to the Army. While numbers of them joined the Army, including six hundred slaves, to whom San Martin promised their freedom.

Then San Martin prepared to invest Lima, with the help of Lord Cochrane’s fleet.

THE FALL OF THE CITY OF THE KINGS

Lima, “the City of the Kings,” stands not far from the sea on a plain near the foot of the Cordilleras.

When San Martin landed in Peru, Lima the proud, the rich, was the seat of the Spanish Viceroy’s Court with all its pomp and vices. She was shut in by walls above which rose her turrets and domes. Many of her people were slaves, Indians, or freedmen; the rest were haughty Spanish grandees and rich royalists. Lima was the civil, and military, despot of all Spanish America.

San Martin had now but one thought and aim--to drive the Spaniards from Lima, and make the city independent. He besieged her by sea and land. Through proclamations sent far and wide, he urged the Peruvians to rise up and help gain their own Freedom. Peruvian Colonists, Indians, and slaves flocked to his standard.

The siege began to tell on Lima. Her pride was humbled to the dust. Her food was exhausted. Fresh supplies were cut off by the blockade. The poor suffered dreadful want. The rich were deprived of their luxuries. Rich and poor alike lived in terror of their lives. To add to the miseries of the unhappy city, her officials, who should have protected her, fell to quarrelling among themselves.

On the Fifth of July, universal terror reigned. The Spanish Viceroy had announced that he was about to abandon the city to her fate. Every one believed that San Martin’s troops would fall upon her to pillage and burn. At dawn the Viceroy marched out with his troops.

There was one mad rush to escape to Callao, the port of Lima, several miles away. All the people who could, hastened to leave. Crowds of fugitives hurried along the highways, people on foot, in carts, on horseback; men, women, and children, with bundles and household goods, with horses and mules, and with slaves bending under heavy burdens of baggage and treasure.

Inside the city, there was pandemonium. Women were seen fleeing toward the convents. The narrow streets were choked with loaded wagons and mounted horsemen.

By midday, scarcely a person was to be seen. Those who had been forced to remain, had barred their doors and closed their shutters, and were waiting with fear and trembling for San Martin’s troops to fall upon the city.

In the midst of this confusion, the few officials who had not fled, gathered together to consult as to what should be done. They feared an uprising of the slaves or an attack by a mob. But greater still was their fear of the multitude of San Martin’s armed Indians, savage and undisciplined, who were surrounding the city. For though the Indians were under the command of San Martin’s officers, they seemed likely at any moment, to break loose from restraint and massacre the helpless people of Lima. The Indians were so near that they could plainly be seen, perched on the heights that overhung the city.

The officials, in great terror of mind, wrote a letter to San Martin, entreating him to enter Lima and protect her. The letter was despatched by a messenger.

All night long, a profound silence brooded over the city.

The next morning San Martin’s answer came.

It was brief. He would enter the city, he said, only if it was the real wish of the People of Lima to declare their Independence. He had no desire to enter as a conqueror, he declared, but would come only if invited by the People.

And added he, that the People, in the meanwhile, might give whatever orders they desired to his troops surrounding the city; and the orders should be obeyed.

His answer stunned the officials. They could not believe that a conquering general could be so humane to a helpless foe. They thought that San Martin was mocking them. But to put the matter to the test, they sent an order to a commanding officer of a regiment stationed near the city gate, asking him to withdraw his men to a spot a league away. The officer immediately withdrew them.

The good news flew through the city. People went almost mad with joy. Confidence was restored; and parties of picked soldiers were invited in to guard the city.

In a day or two everything was as before. The shops were opened again. Women were seen stealing from the convents. Men ventured into the square to smoke their cigars. The streets were lined with refugees returning to their homes, bringing back bundles, trunks, and treasures. The street criers were bawling their wares; and the city was restored to its usual noise and bustle.

Then a deputation of citizens waited upon San Martin to invite him to enter Lima and proclaim her Independence.

_Captain Basil Hall_ (_Retold_)

SAN MARTIN THE CONQUEROR

_A Retreat_

The people watched eagerly to see San Martin enter in state as a conquering general should. The day passed, and he did not come. When it began to grow dark, he rode in through the gate attended by a single aide-de-camp.

And he would not have come then, if he could have helped it. It was his plan to slip unobserved into the city early in the morning before people were up.

But the reason why he had to enter at evening, was this:--

He was tired, and he had just settled down for the night in the corner of a little cottage outside the walls. He was blessing his stars that he was well out of the reach of business, when in came two Friars, who had discovered his hiding place.

Each one made him a long tedious speech; one likened him to Cæsar and the other to Lucullus.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed San Martin, when the Friars had left. “What are we to do? This will never answer!”

“O sir,” replied the aide-de-camp, “there are two more of the same stamp close at hand.”

“Indeed! Then saddle the horses again, and let us be off!” exclaimed San Martin.