The Triumvirate then drew up and decreed a constitution of its own, providing for the periodical election of the Executive by a mixed assembly of notables and of representatives of different towns, who should also act as a legislative council until the convention of a National Congress.
These measures were far from satisfying the requirements of the democratic party, who called for the immediate convocation of a National Congress, which would give form and life to the Republic, though government was still carried on in the name of the King. The Triumvirate opposed the convocation of a Constituent Assembly, considering the time for this had not yet come. Hence came about a fourth political evolution, more dangerous and more important than any of the others.
San Martin returned to his native country a man unknown, but with a certain repute as a brave soldier and a skilful tactician. His comrade, Alvear, on the contrary, came of a family already well known in the River Plate. Ambitious of glory and of power, and of a brilliant imagination, he was a great contrast to San Martin, and assumed an attitude of protection to him, recommending him to the Government of the United Provinces as a good soldier.
Eight days after his arrival San Martin was confirmed in his rank as a lieutenant-colonel, and was entrusted with the organization of a squadron of cavalry, in which Alvear held the rank of major and Zapiola that of captain. This was the origin of the famous regiment of mounted grenadiers, which fought in all the battles of the War of Independence, which gave to America nineteen generals and more than two hundred officers, and of which, after shedding its blood and spreading its bones across the continent from La Plata to Pichincha, a remnant returned under the command of a trooper who in thirteen years had fought his way up to the rank of colonel, and brought back their old standard with them.
The experience of San Martin in Spain had taught him that success is not possible in a long war without a solid military organization. He had seen the Spanish armies, ever routed in spite of their heroism, when remoulded under English discipline triumph over the first soldiers of Europe. He knew that Spain, once free from war in the Peninsula, would send her best troops and her best generals to America. Coolly he studied the situation, and came to the conclusion that the war was but commencing, that the armies of the revolution had no consistence, that there was no plan of operations and no preparation for future emergencies. He said nothing of this publicly, but quietly set to work to found a new military school. Under his command the first squadron of the mounted grenadiers became the school of a generation of heroes. He did as Cromwell did in his day; he made one regiment the model for an army. Under strict discipline, which did not repress individual energy, he formed soldier and officer alike, one by one, instilling into them a passion for duty and that cool courage which is the secret of success.
His first work was to instruct the officers, who under his guidance became the monitors of the future school. To the companions of his voyage he added men who had already seen service in the war, preferring those who had risen from the ranks, but took none of higher rank than lieutenant. To them he added cadets, chosen from respectable families of the city of Buenos Ayres. He was their master both in tactics and in the use of arms, and taught them both to study and to manœuvre with heads erect. Their nerves he tried by nocturnal surprises, those who failed being dismissed, as he wished “to have only lions in the regiment.”
He also established a sort of vigilance committee among them, and in extreme cases gave permission to fight duels. On the first Sunday in each month he presided at a meeting of this committee. In an adjoining room each officer wrote on a blank ticket an account of any misconduct he had observed. These tickets were folded and dropped into the hat of the Major, and were then inspected by himself. If among them was any accusation, the accused was sent from the room while the matter was discussed. A committee of inquiry was named and directed to report at a special meeting, where each officer gave his opinion in writing, and a secret ballot decided whether the accused should remain in the corps or not. In the first case the president, in the name of the committee and in their presence, gave a full apology to the accused; in the second, a special committee was appointed to wait upon him and procure his resignation, he being at the same time notified that if he continued to wear the uniform he would be forcibly stripped of it by the first officer he met.
This tribunal had a concise and severe code which classified transgressions worthy of punishment, from the act of ducking the head in danger to that of refusing to fight a duel, be it just or unjust; also striking a woman, even if insulted by her; and included all sorts of personal misconduct.
The troopers were all carefully selected, short men not being admitted. He subjected them to strict discipline, and armed them with the long sabre of Napoleon’s cuirassiers, telling them that with this weapon they could split like a melon the head of any Goth[8] they met. In their first skirmish they gave practical proof of the truth of this lesson. Finally, he gave to each trooper a war-name, forbidding him to answer to any other.
Other squadrons were formed on the model of this one till a regiment was embodied, and Government sent San Martin his commission as colonel with these words:—