Latin America: Its Rise and Progress

by Francisco García Calderón

Montalvo in Ecuador represented the same liberal effort as Bilbao and Lastarria. But this democrat had read Montaigne and Voltaire; he was a master of satire, irony, and sarcasm. His contradictory nature united Lamartine's faith in democracy with the scepticism of the eighteenth century. He was not a politician merely, but a man of letters. His wide culture was revealed by the multiple forms in which his intellectual activity found an outlet. As an essayist, by his lyrical disorder, he recalled Carlyle. His harsh criticism of the national clergy in La Mercurial Eclesiastica is as lively as an Italian conte. He imitated Cervantes with perfection; he could make a clever pastiche of Don Quixote. He knew his Byron, Milton, Lamartine, Racine, and the Latin and Spanish classics, and would have been the completest type of the humanist which the Latin New World has produced had not his restless spirit yielded too readily to the solicitations of politics.

In contrast to Garcia-Moreno, the Catholic dictator, Montalvo was the liberal free-lance; he could not forgive the caudillo his long tyranny, his intolerant faith, his submission to the Pope as a supreme monarch. The Ecuadorian polemist believed in liberty and the republic; he detested the theocracy implanted by the Christian President.

But his activities were not destructive; Montalvo was a believer in the manner of the revolutionists of 1848. "A sane and pure democracy has need of Jesus Christ," he wrote in his liberal enthusiasm; he loved Christianity because it was the religion of the democracy. Democracy would be the law of the nations "if some day the spirit of the Gospel were to prevail." He eulogised the stoicism and virtue of the Roman Republic, in the image of which he wished to construct the Chilian democracy, and in a magnificent essay he exalted the nobility of these qualities. He was not a radical like Bilbao; a forerunner of pragmatism, he accepted all useful ideas, even Catholicism, so that it did not become a political tyranny. "There is nothing to be gained by attacking certain beliefs," he wrote, "which by virtue of being general and useful to all will eventually become verities, even if the curious and courageous investigation of bygone things could constitute a motive for doubting them."

An American thinker, he applied Latin ideas to the affairs of the continent. In his Seven Treaties, his capital work, are some superb passages upon the heroes of South American emancipation. His cult was that of Carlyle, religious and full of lyrical passion. "In what is he inferior to the great men of antiquity?" he asks of Bolivar. "Only in this, that no long centuries flow between us, for only time, the great master, can distil in his magic laboratory the chrism with which the princes of nature are anointed." He traces a parallel between Bolivar and Napoleon, between Bolivar and Washington. "In Napoleon there is something more than in other men; a sense, a wheel in the mechanism of understanding, a fibre in the heart. He looks across the world from the Apennines to the Pillars of Hercules, from the pyramids of Egypt to the snows of Russia. Kings tremble, pallid, and half-lifeless; thrones crack and crumble; the nations look up and regard him and are afraid, and bend the knee before the giant." Montalvo admires Napoleon, but he judges Bolivar the superior, because the work of the former was destroyed by mankind, while the work of the latter still prospers. "He who realises great and lasting undertakings is greater than he who realises only great and ephemeral things."

Montalvo believed in the American race, in the mestizos, "in the high, lofty spirit and the stout heart which make the aristocracy of South America." His prophetic enthusiasm exalts the future inhabitants of America, "who will be our descendants when the traveller shall sadly seat himself to meditate upon the ruins of the Louvre, the Vatican, or St. Paul's." To his work of criticism of Garcia-Moreno and the clericals we must add this religious Americanism, this tenacious faith in the destinies of the democracy.

Without the lyric fervour of Montalvo, heavy and dusty as an ancient palimpsest, Vigil represents the struggle of Peruvian liberalism against the power of the Church. Born in 1792, he was a priest, and abandoned his calling, but without retaining, like Renan, the unction of the seminarist. A stoic in his life, the champion of liberty in several Congresses, he devoted his riper years to a long campaign against ecclesiastical privilege. His admirable erudition served him in this propaganda. He defended the State against the encroachments of the clergy. An idealist, he preached universal peace, the union of all American nations, and expounded the excellencies of the democracy, in whose Christian virtues he, like Montalvo, firmly believed. He won respect, as did Bilbao, by the austerity of his life and the sincerity of his exhortations: a Socratic master whose life was harmonious as a poem.

An Argentine thinker, genial and tumultuous, Sarmiento represented a liberalism less coherent than that of Echeverria, but as a champion of the ideal and the intellectual life in the democracy tyrannised over by Rosas he deserves to be placed beside Lastarria and Montalvo. Menendez Pelayo called him the gaucho of the Republic of Letters; for his pugnacious individuality, his barbaric impetuosity, and his semi-culture, which was mitigated by admirable intuition, were inimical to all classic order or discipline. Sarmiento was a romantic by temperament; he attacked Spanish culture in the name of French liberalism, and condemned tradition, which led to slavery; he believed in the virtuality of ideas, the mission of education, and the greatness of democracy. He applied to the United States for models of popular education, and for political examples of federal life. He was a teacher, a journalist, a pamphleteer, and a President.

He analysed Argentine life and the American revolutions; in 1845 he published El Facundo, an evocation of the Argentine civil wars, with all the passion and lyrical fervour of a Michelet. Sarmiento was the enemy of Rosas, as Montalvo was the eloquent rival of Garcia-Moreno. In El Facundo are pages of pitiless criticism of the tyranny of the federal caudillo. Exiled, he founded a review in Chili, in 1842, in which he still attacked Rosas, but he did not confine himself to ephemeral journalism. He discovered eternal elements in the battles of the time; he studied the American man and the American soil, as in the prologue to El Facundo. He then studied the racial problem, and in another book described the ideal republic of which he dreamed. His work is profoundly American.

American liberalism, between 1830 and 1860, was inspired by French ideas. One revolution, that of 1789, explained in part the movement for the conquest of political liberty. Another, that of 1848, found echoes even in these distant democracies, and disturbed them by the insinuating eloquence of a new gospel. A curious parallelism may be observed between the claims of French socialism and American radicalism.

In France the Revolution of 1848 had not only a political tendency, but also a social aspect. An extension of electoral capacity was desired, and the right to work was proclaimed; men fought for the sovereignty of the people, and workshops were founded in which the State assured the subsistence of the working-classes. While the republican parties were fighting against the monarchy of Louis Philippe, Icarians and Communists were preparing for the social revolution; the proletariat was rising against the bourgeoisie, as the Third Estate rose against the nobility of old. A note of equalitarian fervour was noticeable in the protest of the crowd. The leaders of the movement against Guizot and his oligarchy of property-owners were socialists: Louis Blanc, Pierre Leroux, Blanqui, and Ledru-Rollin; they supplemented their democratic victories by a programme of social reform.