DON’T TREAD ON ME!
If the Flag bore such a symbol, it was most appropriate to Paul Jones, for no serpent was ever more ready to strike than he.
At all events, it unrolled to the breeze, and waved over as gallant a young officer as ever trod a quarterdeck.
Fairly afloat—twenty-nine years of age—healthy, well-knit, though of light and slender frame—a commissioned officer in the American Navy the young gardener saw with joy, the shores receding as the fleet steered for the Bahama Isles.
The result of this expedition was the capture of New Providence with a hundred cannon and abundance of military stores.
And the capture was brought about by the perseverance and daring of young Paul Jones.
J. T. Headley (Arranged)
THE FIRST SALUTE
That Flag and I are twins, born at the same hour.... We cannot be parted in life or death. So long as we shall float, we shall float together. If we sink, we shall go down as one.
Paul Jones
June 14, 1777, was a great day for the United States and for Paul Jones.
On that self-same day, Congress passed two famous Resolutions;—and Commander Paul Jones and the Flag of the Nation were “born at the same hour”:—
Resolved: that the Flag of the Thirteen United States be thirteen Stripes, alternate red and white; that the Union be thirteen Stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation.
Resolved: that Captain John Paul Jones be appointed to command the ship Ranger.
Thus it came to pass that the gallant young Scotchman, eager to fight for Liberty, hastened to make the Ranger ready for sea. Then he sailed away under orders for France.
From the harbour of Nantes, he convoyed some American ships to place them under the protection of the French fleet in Quiberon Bay. The commander of the French fleet was Admiral La Motte Picquet, who had been ordered by his Government to keep the coast of France free from British cruisers.
And it was there in Quiberon Bay, that John Paul Jones received the first salute ever given by a foreign Nation to our Stars and Stripes—a salute that recognized the Independence of the United States.
It was on Washington’s Birthday, 1778, that Paul Jones wrote to our Government describing this great event:—
“I am happy in having it in my power to congratulate you,” he said, “on my having seen the American Flag, for the first time, recognized in the fullest and completest manner by the Flag of France.
“I was off their bay, the 18th, and sent my boat in the next day, to know if the Admiral would return my salute.
“He answered that he would return to me, as the senior American Continental officer in Europe, the
same salute which he was authorized by his Court to return to an Admiral of Holland, or of any other Republic; which was four guns less than the salute given.
“I hesitated at this; for I had demanded gun for gun.
“Therefore, I anchored in the entrance of the bay, at a distance from the French Fleet. But after a very particular inquiry, on the 14th, finding that he had really told the truth, I was induced to accept of his offer; the more so as it was in fact an acknowledgment of American Independence.
“The wind being contrary and blowing hard, it was after sunset before the Ranger got near enough to salute La Motte Picquet with thirteen guns, which he returned with nine.
“However, to put the matter beyond a doubt, I did not suffer the Independence (an American brig that was with Paul Jones) to salute till next morning, when I sent the Admiral word, that I should sail through his Fleet in the brig, and would salute him in open day.
“He was exceedingly pleased, and returned the compliment also with nine guns.”
Paul Jones thus had the singular honor of being the first to hoist the original Flag of Liberty on board the Alfred; first probably to hoist the Stars and Stripes, which still wave in pride as our national emblem; and first to claim for our Flag the courtesy from foreigners due to a Sovereign State.
Alexander S. Mackenzie (Retold)
THE POOR RICHARD
Paul Jones gave up the command of the Ranger in order to take command of a larger ship, promised him by the French Government. But he had a long discouraging period of waiting for the new ship.
It was then that he wrote to a French official, those famous words:—
“I will not have anything to do with ships which do not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm’s way.”
After months of desperate waiting and after writing many letters, Paul Jones chanced to be reading a copy of Franklin’s “Poor Richard’s Almanack.” These words caught his eye:—
If you would have your business done, go—if not, send.
So he stopped sending letters, and hastened to Paris to plead his own cause.
With the help of Franklin himself, Paul Jones got his ship at last. He named it Bon Homme Richard, or The Poor Richard.
It was while commanding The Poor Richard, that Paul Jones gained his famous victory over the British ship, the Serapis.
MICKLE’S THE MISCHIEF HE HAS DUNE
With seven ships in all—a snug little squadron for Jones, had the different commanders been subordinate—he set sail in the Richard from France, and steered for the coast of Ireland. The want of proper subordination was soon made manifest, for in a week’s time the vessels, one after another, parted company, to cruise by themselves, till Paul Jones had with him but the Alliance, Pallas, and Vengeance.
In a tremendous storm he bore away, and after several days of gales and heavy seas, approached the shore of Scotland.
Taking several prizes near the Firth of Forth, he ascertained that a twenty-four-gun ship and two cutters were in the roads. These he determined to cut out, and, landing at Leith, lay the town under contribution.
The inhabitants supposed his little fleet to be English vessels in pursuit of Paul Jones; and a member of Parliament, a wealthy man in the place, sent off a boat requesting powder and balls to defend himself, as he said, against “the pirate Paul Jones.”
Jones very politely sent back the bearer with a barrel of powder expressing his regrets that he had no shot to spare.
Soon after this, he summoned the town to surrender, but the wind blowing steadily off the land, he could not approach with his vessel.
At length, however, the wind changed and the Richard stood boldly in for the shore. The inhabitants, as they saw her bearing steadily up towards the place, were filled with terror, and ran hither and thither in affright; but the good minister, Rev. Mr. Shirra, assembled his flock on the beach, to pray the Lord to deliver them from their enemies. He was an eccentric man, one of the quaintest of the quaint old Scot divines, so that his prayers, even in those days, were often quoted for their oddity and roughness.
Having gathered his congregation on the beach in full sight of the vessel, which under a press of canvas, was making a long tack that brought her close to the town, he knelt down on the sand and thus began:—
“Now, dear Lord, dinna ye think it a shame for ye to send this vile pirate to rob our folk o’ Kirkaldy; for ye ken they’re puir enow already and hae naething to spare.
“The wa the wind blaws he’ll be here in a jiffie, and wha kens what he may do! He’s nae too good for ony thing. Mickle’s the mischief he has dune already. He’ll burn their hooses, tak their very claes, and tirl them to the sark. And waes me! wha kens but the bluidy villain might tak their lives? The puir weemen are maist frightened out o’ their wits, and the bairns skirling after them.
“I canna think of it! I canna think of it! I hae been lang a faithful servant to ye, Lord; but gin ye dinna turn the wind about and blaw the scoundrel out of our gate, I’ll nae stir a foot. But will just sit here till the tide comes. Sae tak ye’r will o’t.”
Now, to the no little astonishment of the good people, a fierce gale at that moment began to blow, which sent one of Jones’s prizes ashore and forced him to stand out to sea.
This fixed for ever the reputation of good Mr. Shirra. And he did not himself wholly deny that he believed his intercessions brought on the gale, for whenever his parishioners spoke of it to him, he always replied:—
“I prayed, but the Lord sent the wind.”
J. T. Headley (Arranged)
PAUL JONES HIMSELF
Paul Jones was slight, being only five feet and a half high. A stoop in his shoulders diminished still more his stature. But he was firmly knit, and capable of enduring great fatigue.
He had dark eyes and a thoughtful, pensive look when not engaged in conversation; but his countenance lighted up in moments of excitement, and in battle became terribly determined. His lips closed like a vice, while his brow contracted with the rigidity of iron. The tones of his voice were then haughty in the extreme, and his words had an emphasis in them, which those who heard never forgot.
He seemed unconscious of fear, and moved amid the storm of battle, and trod the deck of his shattered and wrecked vessel, like one who rules his own destiny. He would cruise without fear in a single sloop, right before the harbours of England, and sail amid ships double the size of his own.
But with all his fierceness in the hour of battle, he had as kind a heart as ever beat.
To see him in a hot engagement, covered with the smoke of cannon, himself working the guns, while the timbers around him were constantly ripping with the enemy’s shot; or watch him on the deck of his dismasted vessel, over which the hurricane swept and the sea rolled, one would think him destitute of emotion. But his reports of these scenes afterwards, resembled the descriptions of an excited spectator. He was an old Roman soldier in danger, but a poet in his after accounts of it.
Jones had great defects of character; but most of them sprang from his want of early education. He was not a mere adventurer—owing his elevation to headlong daring—he was a hard student as well as a hard fighter, and had a strong intellect as well as strong arm. He wrote with astonishing fluency considering the neglect of his early education. He even wrote eloquently at times, and always with force. His verses were as good as the general run of poetry of that kind.
Paul Jones was an irregular character, but his good qualities predominated over his bad ones. And as the man who first hoisted the American Flag at sea, and received the first salute ever offered it by a foreign Nation, and the first who carried it victoriously through the fight on the waves, he deserves our highest praise and most grateful remembrance.
With such a Commander to lead the American Navy, and stand before it as the model of a brave man, no wonder our Navy has covered itself with glory.
J. T. Headley (Condensed)
SOME OF HIS SAYINGS
I will not have anything to do with ships which do not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm’s way.
(During the fight with the Serapis) Don’t swear, Mr. Stacy, we may at the next moment be in Eternity; but let us do our duty.
I have not yet begun to fight!
I have ever looked out for the honour of the American Flag.
I can never renounce the glorious title of a Citizen of the United States.
I can accept of no honour that will call in question my devotion to America.
JULY 24
SIMON BOLIVAR OF VENEZUELA
THE LIBERATOR
Colombians! All your beauteous Fatherland is now free.... From the banks of the Orinoco River to the Peruvian Andes, the Army of Liberation, marching triumphantly, has covered all the territory of Colombia with its protecting arms. ...
Colombians of the South! the blood of your brothers has redeemed you from the horrors of War!
Bolivar
BOLIVAR
Build up a Column to Bolivar!
Build it under a tropic star!
Build it high as his mounting fame!
Crown its head with his noble name!
Let the letters tell like a light afar,
“This is the Column of Bolivar!”
Raise the Column to Bolivar!
Firm in peace, and fierce in war!
Shout forth his noble, noble name!
Shout till his enemies die in shame!
Shout till Colombia’s woods awaken,
Like seas by a mighty tempest shaken,—
Till pity, and praise, and great disdain
Sound like an Indian hurricane!
Shout as ye shout in conquering war,
While ye build the Column to Bolivar!
Barry Cornwall (Condensed)
Bolivar was born in Venezuela, July 24, 1783
Formed the Republic of Great Colombia, 1819
He died in exile, December 17, 1830
His full name was Simon Jose Antonio de la Santisima Trinidad de Bolivar y Palacios. But he was known as the citizen, Simon Bolivar
Bolivar’s name is pronounced, Seemon Boleevar
The old-fashioned English way was to pronounce it Bollevaar, as in the poem above.
THE PRECIOUS JEWEL
Two boys were playing a royal game of tennis in the royal tennis court at Madrid in Spain. The rich American boy, Simon de Bolivar, from Venezuela, was serving swift ball after swift ball to Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias and heir to the Spanish throne. The Queen-mother was looking on.
The Prince saw that he was losing, and grew angry. Bolivar, small, alert, with dark eyes flashing, played on, still winning until the Prince refused to play any longer.
But the Queen-mother sternly bade her son finish the game.
So the Prince had to play on, and he lost.
“Some day,” exclaimed Bolivar in triumph, “I will deprive Prince Ferdinand of the most precious jewel in his Crown!”
. . . . . . . . . .
Years before this tennis-game, a great thing had happened in Venezuela.
On July 24, 1783, a baby boy was born to a rich, noble citizen of the city of Caracas—a baby destined to deprive Prince Ferdinand of the most precious jewel in his Crown.
He was christened Simon Jose Antonio de la Santisima Trinidad de Bolivar, and with his mother’s name added as they do in Spanish America, y Palacios.
A long name for a baby.
Little Bolivar had everything money could buy, and slaves to wait upon him whenever he called. Before he was ten years old, his father and mother died and he was left heir to several large fortunes. He owned many hundreds of slaves and a rich plantation called San Mateo.
He was a restless, adventurous, self-willed boy, small but very alert and bright. He did not like to study much; but he was always ready to sit and listen to his tutor Rodriguez, whom he adored. His black eyes sparkled as his tutor told him of lands where people governed themselves. Sometimes Rodriguez explained the meaning of Equality, Fraternity, and Liberty. And the little boy began to dream of Liberty and Independence for his own Venezuela.
But Bolivar did not spend all his time dreaming, he was far too passionately fond of outdoor sports for that. He fished, swam, and learned to shoot. He joined the White Militia of the Valleys of Aragua.
When he was sixteen, his guardian sent him to Spain. There he went to school and lived with his uncle, who was a favourite at Court.
And there, he beat the sulky Prince Ferdinand at tennis.
And there, he met and loved a noble, little Spanish maid, Maria del Toro, just fifteen years old. So Bolivar forgot for a while his threat to deprive Prince Ferdinand of his most precious jewel.
Bolivar and Maria were married, and went on their honeymoon to Venezuela. They reached the lovely plantation of San Mateo, where they lived and were very happy. But, alas! in a few months the girl-bride sickened and died of a fever.
Then the passionate heart of young Bolivar almost broke. He vowed in his grief never to marry again. Soon after Maria’s death, he went back to Europe to try to forget his sorrow in travel and study.
In France he endeavoured to drown his sad memories in gay living, but he could not forget Maria. Then he met Rodriguez, his old tutor, who had been banished from Venezuela.
This Rodriguez was a strange, rough fellow, with many wild ideas and some good ones too. From childhood, Bolivar had confided all his sorrows and joys to him. And, now, as a young man, he was led by his advice.
Rodriguez saw that Bolivar was wasted and consumptive. He persuaded him to go on a walking trip. Knapsack on shoulder, the two set off for their tramp. In Milan, they saw Napoleon crowned King of Italy. They visited many historical spots to which Rodriguez took Bolivar on purpose to arouse again his eager interest in Equality, Fraternity, and Liberty.
Together they climbed Mount Sacro in Rome. And there Bolivar remembered his threat to deprive Prince Ferdinand of the most precious jewel in his Crown. He seized Rodriguez’s hand and swore a solemn oath to wrest Venezuela from the Crown of Spain.[6]
For Venezuela—in fact all Spanish America—was the vast treasure-house of Spain, the most precious jewel in her Crown.
THE FIERY YOUNG PATRIOT
Young Bolivar returned to his estates in Venezuela. But he stayed there only for a little while. He soon gave up the easy indulgent life of wealth to serve the Patriot cause.
He was sent on a mission to England. In London he met Miranda, the Flaming Son of Liberty, whose burning, persuasive words blew into a flame, the sparks of Liberty which Rodriguez had kindled in Bolivar’s bosom.
Bolivar joined Miranda’s secret society. He urged Miranda to return at once to Venezuela and strengthen the Patriot cause.
And thus it came about that the Flaming Son of Liberty went back to his native land, and was made Commander-in-Chief of the Venezuelan forces. Then it was, that the struggle for Venezuela’s Independence began to make Spain tremble for the most precious jewel in her Crown.
How the fiery young Bolivar betrayed General Miranda, has already been told in The End of the Romance, on page [344]. After which Bolivar fled into exile; and Spain confiscated his estates.
But Bolivar never gave up his determination to free Venezuela. And when opportunity offered, he returned and became the head of the Patriot Army.
It is not possible here to tell of all which he and his valiant troops accomplished. They fought against the Spanish forces, they suffered defeats, and they won victories. English, Irish, Scotch, and American men, were volunteers in Bolivar’s Army, and many of them fighting bravely, shed their blood for Venezuela’s Freedom.
It was a terrific war! Nowhere else in all Spanish America was there waged a more ferocious campaign. The wake of the Spanish Generals, Monteverde and Boves, was strewn with the corpses of innocent non-combatants and with the ruins of pillaged towns and burned villages.
“It is war to the death!” exclaimed Bolivar fiercely, in answer to these atrocities.
And war to the death it was, on both sides—a war of ruthless retaliation on prisoners and neutrals.
So the struggle went on. All the sufferings that accompany warfare were the portion of the miserable people, ruined homes, weeping wives and mothers, sick and dying children, crippled men, starvation, disease, and sorrow-stricken hearts.
SEEING BOLIVAR
High adventure and spicy dangers were awaiting the first corps of hot-headed young Englishmen who volunteered to fight for Venezuela.
They shipped from England. And after thrilling escapes on the coast of Spanish Florida and among the West Indies, after many feasts of venison, wild turkey, turtle, parrots, “tree-oysters,” and lizard, they reached Venezuela.
There, higher adventures and spicier dangers were waiting.
They were convoyed by brig and launches up the swift river Orinoco. They were marched through tropic forest and across llanos or plains, to join Bolivar.
As their boats were rowed through the deep water or poled through the shallows of the Orinoco, they saw most wonderful sights.
Lining the banks, the giant mangrove trees shooting their gnarled banyan-like roots into the water, were linked together by living chains of vines, festooned with brilliant flowers as big as saucers or teaplates. Herds of red monkeys with little ones clinging to their shoulders, chattered, howled, and leaped from tree to tree, following the boats along. Pink flamingoes, gigantic cranes, pelicans, and spoonbills were wading about fishing. Overhead, flocks of red, blue, green, and yellow parrots and macaws flashed to and fro filling the air with screams; while the metallic note of the bellbird, sounded now close to the ear and now far away.
From island to island in the river, glided evil-looking, light-green snakes, lifting their heads and part of their bodies out of the water. And under the roots of trees and in the stream, basked man-eating alligators watching for their prey, only their eyes and nostrils showing above the water.
And waiting to drop upon the young Englishmen if their boats came too near, were venomous snakes glittering like jewels, coiled on the mangrove limbs or hanging from the branches like shining tinsel ribbons.
Mosquitoes, too, were lively, piercing through the young men’s blankets and cloaks, so thirsty were the insects for a taste of fresh, red English blood.
And the young men were forced to keep a careful lookout at night for fear of a visit from a python, jaguar, alligator, or electric eel. When the sun set, night instantly fell like a black curtain, for there is no twilight in the tropics. Then the howling of wild beasts made the place hideous.
Finally, after passing Indian villages and towns pillaged and burned by the Spanish soldiers, after water-trip and march, the young Englishmen caught up with Bolivar on a plain near the Apure River.
The young men had long been eager to see that remarkable General whose extraordinary energy and perseverance had already liberated a large portion of Venezuela. And it was a picturesque scene that now burst on their sight—a band of tropic warriors in a tropic setting.
Bolivar was surrounded by his officers, many of them mounted. A magnificent wild-looking band they were in shirts of brilliant colours worn over white drawers which reached below the knee. Bright bandanas were tied about their heads to keep off the sun. Over these handkerchiefs were set wide sombreros or hats made of split palm-leaves, decorated with plumes of variegated feathers. One of the officers wore a silver helmet instead of a sombrero, and another had on a casque of beaten gold. Some had silver scabbards, and heavy silver ornaments on their bridles. Almost all wore huge silver or brass spurs fastened to their bare feet.
As soon as they saw the young Englishmen approaching, these wild-looking chiefs spurred their horses forward uttering shrill shouts of welcome. They embraced the young men, like long absent friends, and examined their weapons and uniforms.
Bolivar, reigning in his horse, stood looking on in silence. He was a small man, with a thin and careworn face, which had upon it an expression of patient endurance. He appeared refined and elegant although simply dressed. He wore a dragoon’s helmet. His uniform was a blue jacket with red cuffs and gilt sugar-loaf buttons; coarse blue trousers; and sandals of split aloe-fibre. As the young men came up, he returned their salute with a peculiar melancholy smile, and then rode on.
He carried in his hand a lance from which fluttered a small black banner, embroidered with a white skull and cross-bones, and the motto:—
Death or Liberty
When they halted for the night, the young men were presented to Bolivar as he sat in his hammock under the trees. He expressed great joy at seeing Englishmen in his army, who might train and discipline his troops. After asking questions about the condition of affairs in Europe, he dismissed them in the charge of his officers. These gave the young men lances and fine horses.
Thus the English lads became a part of Bolivar’s Army. They and their countrymen, forming the English Legion, performed such brave deeds and made such gallant charges on the battle-fields, that without them Bolivar could not so soon have won Venezuela’s Independence. Retold from the account by one of the young Englishmen.
UNCLE PAEZ—THE LION OF THE APURE
Paez was one of Bolivar’s most daring and picturesque generals. It would take a whole book to tell of his romantic adventures and how he was exiled and came to live in New York. There is a painting of him and his dashing cowboys in the Municipal Building of the City of New York.
At first he was a llanero or cowboy of the plains. He was of mighty strength, and was a magnificent horseman. He knew well how to use the llanero’s lance with all its cunning tricks. His men were cowboys, horsemen, and fighters by instinct. They followed him into battle with wild llanero shouts. Uncle Paez, they called him, When Bolivar with his troops reached the Apure River, he could not cross for there were no boats. A few canoes were drawn up on the opposite bank, guarded by six enemy gunboats.
As Bolivar paced up and down impatiently, he exclaimed:—
“Have I no brave man near me, who can take those gunboats?”
“They shall be yours in an hour,” said Paez coolly, who was standing by.
“Impossible!” said Bolivar.
“Leave that to me,” said Paez, and off he galloped. He soon returned with a body of cowboys picked for their bravery.
“To the water, lads!” he cried, which was what he always said when they went swimming.
The men immediately unsaddled their horses, stripped themselves to their drawers, hung their swords about their necks, and stood ready.
“Let those follow Uncle, who please,” cried Paez, and urged his horse into the river.
The men rode in after him straight toward the gunboats.
When the Spanish saw the dreaded cowboys approaching, who never gave quarter, they fired hurriedly and missed. Then seized with panic, some cast themselves into the water, and others escaped in canoes.
Only one prisoner was taken, a woman who fired the last gun at the cowboys, but who could not stop them from boarding the gunboats.
Thus Bolivar gained possession of the region on both sides of the Apure.
Paez is sometimes called the “Lion of the Apure.”
ANGOSTURA
February 15, 1819
Down the upper Orinoco River, Bolivar’s canoe was slipping quietly past wide savannahs, palm-tufted isles, and overhanging trees.
While reclining in the boat, he dictated to his secretary. During the heat of the day they both landed, and Bolivar, lolling in a hammock under the shadow of the giant trees, one hand playing with the lapel of his coat and a forefinger on his upper lip, kept on dictating as the mood seized him.
He was composing a new Constitution for the Republic of Venezuela, which was to be presented at the Congress meeting in the city of Angostura on the Orinoco.
And it was the adoption of this Constitution, that made Angostura famous.
To-day the town is called the City of Bolivar.
And while the Congress was meeting, Bolivar and his chief officers held a council of war, sitting on bleached skulls of cattle slaughtered for army food. They discussed the dangerous plan of crossing the Andes into New Granada, and of helping the Patriots there to drive out the Spanish Army.
They decided to attempt the crossing. And what that terrible march was like, one of the young Englishmen who went with Bolivar, will tell in our next story.
THE CROSSING
This crossing of the Andes was terrible. The hardships which Bolivar’s troops endured are indescribable.
At that time of year, the plains were flooded. The infantry were obliged to march for hours together up to their middle in water. Sometimes the men fell into holes, or stuck fast in the marshes.
Many of the soldiers were bitten in their legs and thighs by little goldfish, brilliant orange in colour and exceedingly voracious. Whole swarms of these little fish came rushing through the water, with their mouths open, showing their broad, sharp teeth like sharks’ teeth. Wherever they bit, they tore away a piece of flesh. They attacked the poor men most savagely.
As the troops approached the mountains, the cold winds began to be felt blowing down from the snowy ridges of the Cordilleras. Soon, violent mountain torrents swept across the Army’s path; and the men on horseback were forced to carry across stream all the arms and baggage of the foot-soldiers. Even Bolivar himself rode again and again through the rushing current, carrying over sick and weak soldiers and even women who had followed their husbands. As the trail began to ascend, the horses used to the level plain, could scarcely keep their footing on the rocky way, and began to flag and fall lame.
The snowy peaks of the Andes were now seen to stretch like an impassable barrier between Venezuela and New Granada. The narrow paths wound their way up among wild crags, and through ancient forests that clothed the mountain-sides with trees so vast and thick that the light of day was almost excluded. At that high altitude, the trees caught and held the passing clouds in their branches. From the clouds distilled an almost incessant rain, making the steep trails slippery and dangerous. The few tired mules that had not perished on the line of march, patiently clambered on. Now and then, one would slip and go plunging over a precipice; its fall could be traced by the crashing of shrubs and trees until its mangled body rolled into a foaming stream far below.
Although the Army was drenched by rain night and day, it did not experience severe cold until it emerged from the forests into the bleak unsheltered passes between the mountain peaks. Then the piercing cold bit through the soldiers’ thin garments. Many who had worn shoes when they left the plains, were now barefooted. Even some of the officers were in rags, so that they were glad to wrap themselves in blankets.
The view of the Andes at this great height was wildly magnificent. Incessant gusts of wind swept the passes, and whirled the snow in drifts from the summits of the ridges. The whole range appeared to be encrusted with ice, cracked in many places, from which cascades of water were constantly rushing. Huge pinnacles of granite overhung the passes, apparently tottering and about to fall. There was no longer any beaten path; the ground was rocky and broken. Terrific chasms yawned on every hand, appalling to the sight.
A sense of great loneliness seized the men. Dead silence prevailed except for the scream of the condor or the noise of distant waterfalls. The air was so rarefied that many of the soldiers, overcome by drowsiness, lay down and died.
But at last the crest of the Andes was passed, and the Army began to descend on the other side into the valleys of New Granada. The descent was not so difficult because the mountain-side was less rugged than the side they had ascended.
As soon as the Army reached the lowlands, Bolivar lost no time in preparing for battle. With his men, he took his stand at the Bridge of Boyaca.
Never was there a more complete victory. The whole of the Spanish Army with baggage, powder, and military stores, fell into the hands of Bolivar.
The Battle of Boyaca liberated New Granada from Spain, for ever.
Then Venezuela and New Granada united, and became the Republic of Colombia—or Great Colombia.
Retold from the account of a
soldier who accompanied Bolivar
PERU NEXT
Now was Bolivar at the height of his power.
He had liberated Venezuela and New Granada. He had founded the Great Republic of Colombia, and had given it a Constitution. He was practically Dictator of the Republic.
He had sent his favourite General, the heroic Antonio de Sucre, to liberate Quito.
Bolivar now turned his eyes toward Peru. In his ambition he dreamed of a Greater Colombia which should include that country.
But there was an obstacle in his way.
Peru had already declared her Independence. The foundations of her Liberty had been laid by another General and another Army. For Jose de San Martin of Argentina, was Peru’s acknowledged Protector.
Then came the Amazing Meeting, as told on page [272].
After that meeting, Bolivar with his Army entered Peru. He combined his forces with those of the Liberating Army of Peru, and with the aid of the valiant Sucre, completed what San Martin had so well begun, and swept away the last vestiges of Spanish power from South America.
So the great struggle for Independence, which had lasted over twenty years, was finished.
But Bolivar was not allowed to enjoy long the fruits of his victories.
We shall see why.
THE BREAK
Exiled from Venezuela, consumptive, wellnigh penniless, insulted by his own people, was Bolivar only a few years later.
The creation of his genius, the Great Colombia, was rent with revolutions. His own General Paez had abandoned him. His friend Antonio Sucre had been assassinated.
Bitterness filled Bolivar’s soul, his pride was broken, but he still loved Colombia.
His dying words to her people, were:—
Colombians! My last wishes are for the happiness of my native Land. If my death helps to check the growth of factions and to consolidate the Union, I shall rest tranquilly in the tomb.
So passed away the Liberator of Venezuela, the founder of the Republic of Colombia.
Twelve years later Paez, who was ruling in Venezuela, brought Bolivar’s body to Caracas and interred it with honours. But he left the hero’s heart in an urn in the Cathedral of Santa Marta, the city where he had died.
. . . . . . . . . .
Great Colombia, or the Great Republic of Colombia, founded by Bolivar, was a Union consisting of Venezuela, New Granada, and Ecuador. Great Colombia fell; its Union was dissolved. To-day, instead, there exist three independent Republics—Venezuela, Colombia, and Ecuador.
As for Bolivia, it was a part of Upper Peru. It was liberated by the help of Antonio Sucre. It declared its Independence, and took the name of Bolivar. To-day it is the Republic of Bolivia, “rich in all the natural products of the world.”