Mr. Rivadavia was bred to the law. He has been represented to me as a man of strong passions, with nothing of the courtier in his manners, which, at times, approach to abruptness. The three years he was in office have proved that he possesses first rate talents as a statesman. Political as well as personal enemies every man must expect, in a situation like his; and though such a consideration might not have intimidated him from again accepting office, very possibly it might have had some influence, conceiving, that, as the foundation was laid for a good system of government, they should not reproach him with clinging to office for the sake of power and emolument.
Mr. Rivadavia has visited both France and England in a public capacity, and has again sailed for Europe, in the Walsingham packet, in part to superintend the education of his son, who is now, I believe, in the college of Stonyhurst. He will carry with him a distinguished name; before, he was in a manner unknown. He speaks a little English, and very good French.
In person, Mr. Rivadavia has some peculiarities; and were he much before the public in London, I fear, he would not long escape the wicked pencils of our caricaturists: should it be so, he cannot complain; he will find the king, and the first people in the realm, not spared by them. His figure is short and thick, with a dark complexion; and he generally walks with one arm behind him. He wears black clothes, with tight pantaloons, displaying Herculean limbs.
As an orator, Mr. Rivadavia is not very imposing; he has a deep sonorous voice, and is eloquent—but not exactly a Cicero.
In October, 1820, two persons were shot in the Plaza, near the Fort, for state offences connected with the revolution of the period—one a military officer, and the other a drum-major. The former was executed in a poncho, in which disguise he was taken. They were conducted from the Fort in heavy irons, each holding a small cross, and accompanied by friars on each side, to whom the criminals eagerly listened. At the fatal spot their sentence was read: they were placed on seats, and tied; the priests slowly withdrew, still whispering comfort to the unhappy men; an officer waved his handkerchief—and they were no more. The band struck up the tune of “The Downfall of Paris,” as the troops marched past the bodies. A number of females witnessed the appalling sight from the neighbouring balconies.
On the night or morning of the 19th March, 1823, an attempt was made at another revolution, upon the plea that the religion of the country was in danger. Gregorio Taglé, a lawyer, and a man of some talent, was the chief of this conspiracy: he had been formerly one of the state ministers; and, after its failure, he escaped to Colonia. The disturbance began by some hundreds of Gauchos from the country galloping into the town, shouting “Viva la religion!” &c. &c. They overpowered the guard at the Cabildo, released the prisoners, and began to toll the bell; and at that hour (two o’clock in the morning) it did certainly frighten the town “from its strict propriety.” In the Plaza they were received by a discharge of musquetry from a few troops, who had advanced out of the Fort, and who, after killing and wounding several, put the rest to the rout. Garcia, a Colonel, implicated in the plot, was shot a few days afterwards: he met his fate with firmness.
This execution was followed by two more, those of Colonel Peralto and Urien. The latter had been an officer both in the Buenos-Ayrean and Peruvian services, and now suffered for a participation in the conspiracy, and a murder committed some years ago. He was in confinement at the Cabildo, awaiting his sentence for the latter offence, and being a relation of Mr. Rivadavia, interest was making to save him, when the conspirators released him. Strict search was made for the escaped criminal; and in a few days, he surrendered himself, upon a promise of pardon on condition of his making discoveries of those concerned in the late conspiracy. Several were arrested upon his depositions; amongst them, an English shopkeeper named Hargreaves, whom he accused of selling fire-arms to the rioters at one and two in the morning of the 19th March. An examination proved that all the accusations were false: the accused were released, and Urien desired to prepare for death.
Urien was well known in the coffee-houses of Buenos Ayres; he was much in debt, and some of his creditors were Englishmen. The murder of which he was convicted, was committed in conjunction with a female, the wife of the murdered man, and the body had been cut in pieces, and buried at different times. Since the murder, he had been in Peru, and had also lived in Buenos Ayres, unsuspicious of discovery. Having a fine person and countenance, he was a favourite with the ladies, and a complete “man upon town.”
The execution of Urien and Colonel Peralto took place between ten and eleven o’clock in the morning: they were conducted from the Cabildo prison, ironed, and under a strong guard. They moved slowly along the Plazas to the appointed spot, near the Fort, where they were both uncovered, each holding a cross, and attended by priests: the person of Urien attracted much attention, on account of his tall figure, and dark expressive countenance. He was dressed in a silk levita, or frock-coat, and walked unsupported, and with great firmness; a smile now and then appeared upon his face, as he conversed with the priests. He would have gained universal sympathy, but for his great crimes; as it was, disgust was mingled with pity, that such a man should be so guilty. The other wretched man, Peralta, covered with a large great coat, with his head bound up, and supported by his friends and the priests, seemed the picture of misery. At the arch which parts the Plazas, the sentence was read to the prisoners; and again near the fatal place, at which it was some time ere they arrived, from the slowness with which the procession moved. Near the Fort, Urien eyed the artillerymen at their guns, upon the ramparts: his resolution appeared to falter, and he apparently wished to prolong the time at the place of execution by conversation with those about him. At length he was seated. His companion, during this delay, had taken his seat, and, at this last trying moment, was more composed than Urien. The soldiers fired: Peralta fell dead; but Urien still kept his seat, appearing only slightly wounded. The drums, which began to beat, were stopped, and a horrible scene ensued. Several soldiers placed their musquets at the head of Urien: they missed fire, one after the other; at last, one exploded, which, from the report it made, could only have been slightly charged. The poor wretch fell upon the ground, but was not dead; and he endeavoured to raise himself up upon his elbow. Other musquets were discharged, and Urien moved no more. The feelings of the spectators, during this appalling spectacle, may well be conceived. The hearse and coffin were in attendance; and, after the troops had passed, the bodies were placed in them, and taken for interment. A great concourse attended the execution. Peralta was much pitied, having borne an excellent character. The ceremony altogether was terrible; and the part in which the magistrate reads the sentence appears singular to a stranger: a man repeats every word after him in a loud voice; he is selected, I presume, for this qualification.