The Argentine revolution had as yet no fixed plan. In so rudimentary a state of society the actual leaders had but little power to direct the latent strength of the people, and even among themselves opinions were divided, some believing that the centralisation of power in the city of Buenos Ayres was the only means of ensuring the success of the revolutionary movement, while to others decentralization seemed the one necessary condition of national life. The revolution arose in the cities; its legality was based upon municipal rights, and could not long maintain its original form. It could only live by a wider popularity based upon the sovereignty of the people at large. Fortunately the men at this time at the helm were the most intelligent, energetic, and foreseeing who ever acted together on this stage.
The first Executive Government, installed on the 25th May, 1810, was a Junta, in imitation of those established in Spain to resist the domination of the French. Modified a year later by the admission of deputies from the provinces, it became a many-headed monster, useless alike for debate and for administration. It was succeeded by a Triumvirate under the name of “The Executive Government,” which, by the aid of those men, saved the State from shipwreck.
Such was the situation of The United Provinces of the River Plate when San Martin landed on Argentine soil.
Twenty-six years before, while yet a child, he had left his native land; now he returned in the ripeness of manhood, tempered in the struggles of life, tutored in the art of war, initiated in the mysteries of secret societies formed for the propagation of the new ideas of liberty. The new champion brought to the American cause tactics and discipline applied both to politics and to war; and, in embryo, a vast plan for a continental campaign which should embrace half a world and should result in its independence.
It has been said that San Martin was not a man but a mission, and, in truth, seldom has the influence of one man upon the destinies of humanity been greater than was his. He was at once the arm and the head of the Argentine hegemony; he combined the evolutions of armies with those of nations, marking each evolution with some achievement either political or military; obtained great results with the least possible means, and without waste of strength; and showed how a people may be redeemed without being oppressed. His character is even yet an historical enigma.
The grandeur of those whose names attain immortality is measured not so much by their deeds or by their talents as by the effect their memory has upon the consciences of men, causing them to vibrate from one generation to another in sympathy with an idea or with a passion. The moral grandeur of San Martin consists in this: that nothing is known of the secret ambitions of his life; that he was in everything disinterested; that he confined himself strictly to his mission; and that he died in silence, showing neither weakness, pride, nor bitterness at seeing his work triumphant and his part in it forgotten.
San Martin was a man of stalwart frame; his face was the reflex of his mind, a fiery spirit hidden under a studious reserve of manner, which at times exploded. His head, which was of medium size, he carried very erect. His thick black hair he always wore cut short; the straight high forehead indicated the presence of a strong and healthy brain. The darkness of his complexion was deepened by exposure; his large black eyes were fringed by long lashes and overhung by heavy eyebrows, which met when he frowned; these eyes were the characteristic feature of his face, disclosing the intensity of his nature, but hiding his purpose. His nose was long, aquiline, and prominent; mouth small, with firm red lips; teeth strong and white. His chin and jaw showed strength of will and the absence of animal passions. His voice was rough, his gestures simple, and his whole person inspired at once respect and sympathy.[7]
San Martin gave verbal orders with great precision, and in ordinary conversation was fond of a joke. He wrote laconically in a style of his own, and was much given to reading French authors. Very reserved and of warm affections, he was a great observer of men, studying how he might best avail himself of such talents as they possessed. Haughty by nature, unobtrusive both by temperament and by system, he forced upon himself a stoical disregard of injuries. He was studiously moderate, and patient in the elaboration of his plans. A slave to duty himself, he was tolerant of human frailty in others, but could be severe when severity was requisite. He was, as with truth and with posthumous justice he has been styled by Vicuña Mackenna, “the greatest of the Creoles of the New World.”
