Regarding a comparison between Washington and Bolívar, Montalvo says:
"Washington presents himself to memory and imagination as a great citizen rather than as a great warrior; as a philosopher rather than as a general…. Washington and Bolívar have in common their identity of purpose; both aspired to the freedom of a country and the establishment of democracy. The difference between these two illustrious men in the excessive difficulty one had to conquer and the abundance with which the other carried on his work to the end. Bolívar, during several periods of the war, had no resources at all, nor did he know where to get them; his indestructible love for his country, the sense of honor active in his breast, the fertile imagination, the supreme will, the prodigious activities which formed his character, inspired in him wisdom to turn the impossibility into a reality…. North America was rich, civilized and powerful even before its emancipation from Mother England; if the colonists had not had their leader, one hundred Washingtons would have presented themselves to fill the place, and not at a disadvantage. Washington was surrounded by men as remarkable as he was, if not better: Jefferson, Madison, men of great and deep counsel; Franklin, a genius of Heaven and earth. All these and many others, no matter how great they were, or how numerous, were as one in the service of the cause, were rivals in obedience…. Bolívar had to tame his lieutenants, to fight and to conquer his own fellow citizens, to fight one thousand elements conspiring against him and against independence, at the same time that he fought the Spanish legions and conquered them or was conquered by them…. Washington presents himself to the admiration of the world, more venerable and majestic, and Bolívar, higher and brighter. Washington established a republic which later became one of the greatest countries on earth; Bolívar founded also a great country, but, less happy than his elder brother, saw it crumble down; and though he did not see his work destroyed, he saw it disfigured and diminished. The successors of Washington, great citizens, philosophers and statesmen, never dreamed of tearing up the sacred mantle of their mother in order to cover their scars with rags of purple; Bolívar's companions, all of them, stabbed Colombia order to take for themselves the greatest prize. Washington, his work finished, accepted the trivial presents of his fellow citizens Bolívar refused millions offered by Perú. Washington declined a third presidential term in the United States and, like a patriarch withdrew to live tranquilly in the bosom of private life, enjoying without any mixture of hate the respect of his fellow citizens, venerated by the people and loved by his friends. This singular and happy man had no enemies. Bolívar accepted the tempting command that came to harass his spirit for the third time, and this time from an impure source, he died rejected, persecuted, insulted by many of his contemporaries. Death has erased this small blemish and we see only the light which surrounds the greatest of South Americans. Washington and Bolívar were august men, the glory of the New World."[1]
[Footnote 1: "Simón Bolívar," Juan Montalvo.]
In reality, great men cannot be compared. Each one stands by himself. Washington was an able general, ready to sacrifice himself for his country; a learned man, trained in military affairs; the representative of the will of his fellow citizens, who were behind him in his tremendous fight for freedom. Washington was the Father and the servant of his country.
Bolívar did not receive special training in military affairs. He did not represent the will of his country, for his country had no will. His country really did not exist. Bolívar created it. He was obeying no commands but those of his conscience. He was making something out of nothing, and in his campaigns it was the flash of genius which led him rather than science.
Washington was successful as a military commander and more so as a statesman; Bolívar had remarkable successes and crushing defeat a general, and, as a statesman, he showed a vision which amounted to inspiration—but the creation of his mind and soul, Colombia, was a sad failure. Washington lived in a country of law; Bolívar had to make the law. When Washington was absent from a place, law remained in that place; when Bolívar turned his back, law was violated.
San Martín is a noble figure. He stands alone in the southernmost part of America. He did not begrudge praise given Bolívar, whose superiority he acknowledged by withdrawing in time from the scene in America. Because of this acknowledgment, San Martín grew greater than he had been before their interview in Guayaquil. To endeavor to establish invidious comparisons between him and Bolívar does harm to both heroes and good to no one. Let both stay where they belong, in the hearts of their fellow-citizens, and in the minds of lovers of freedom.
Strong resemblance might be found between Bolívar and Lincoln. Both gave freedom to slaves; both fought a real civil war, for we must not forget that most of the royalists were Americans. Both were men of sorrows. A close examination of Bolívar's pictures and statues will reveal to the observer that in the eyes of the great man of the South is the same inexpressible melancholy which is obvious in those of our own man of sorrows, the beloved Lincoln. Bolívar was insulted and slandered as was Lincoln, and if Lincoln was assassinated by a man, Bolívar escaped the weapon of the assassin only to sink under poisonous treachery and ingratitude. It is true that Bolívar was quick-tempered, at times sharp in his repartee; his intellectual aptness had no patience with stupidity, and occasionally his remarks hurt. But when the storm had passed, he was all benevolence, enduring all, forgiving all, like Lincoln.
He compared himself with Don Quixote, and in many ways this comparison is the best. As Don Quixote, he created Dulcinea. It was not Don Quixote's fault that the lady of his thoughts, the ideal Dulcinea, proved to be just the uncouth peasant girl, Aldonza Lorenzo. Bolívar's Dulcinea was his people, and he was not to blame for all the weakness, the roughness, the grossness of those with whom he came in contact. But the American Don Quixote had a higher virtue than the knight created by Cervantes, for Don Quixote never could transform Aldonza into Dulcinea, while the peoples that Bolívar saw in his imagination, those peoples who at first were hostile to his work, through a century of constant purification, through a century during which Bolívar has become a symbol, a protecting genius, a warning against danger, an irresistible force to conquer difficulties and an imperious finger pointing to higher destinies, are approaching more and more each day what Bolívar thought they ought to be. The Aldonza Lorenzo of America, through Bolívar's sublime madness, rid of her dross, will be the Dulcinea of Bolívar's dream.