Evening Star Newspaper, July 20, 1930, Page 86

The Stirring Story of Simon Bolivar, Liberator of South America, Whose Flaming Leadership Hurled Dying Men to Victory —Raising the . Banner of Freedom. Eloguence on the Battle- fz'c/(/ and the Bitter End. EDITOR'S NOTE: This year marks the hundredth anniversary of the death of Simon Bolivar, the South American patriot, whose n- spired leadership won freedom for most of the continent from the rule of Spain. Bolivar, one of the most dramatic characters in history, was born July 24, 1783, one hundred and forty-seven years ago this Thursday. Mr. Creel writes this vivid resume of his life and wmili- tary campaigns. BY GEORGE CREEL. O that wild Paris of 1804, when Napoleon killed so ruthlessly and fitted his head to an emperor’s crown, came a young Venezuelan with many gold pieces and a great grief. His child wite had died the year before, even as the honeymoon was at its full, and youthful Simon Bolivar sought the dissipations of the French capital that he might numb the pain of & broken heart. More lavish than a Roman proconsul, careless of everything save forget- fulness, his imperial prodigalities set a thou- sand nights on fire, shaming Russian princes by their superior magnificence. Suddenly those tense nerves snapped, and as he lay ill and more than ever unhappy, the literature of the American Revolution fell into his hands. The flaming sentences of the Declaration of Independence caught his soul and shook it lcose from every selfishness; the story of Washington was a clarion call to high resolve and noble purpose. A visit to the United States strengthened his belief in democracy as the hope of humanity, and when he reached his native land again, patriotism was a passion that consumed him. It was not only that Simon Bolivar, con- secrated to great ideals, gave liberty and laws to Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia, ending three centuries of Spanish rule. His was the hand that waked our own republic from its dream of isolation, and his the courage that fired Americans to hurl the grim phrases of the Monroe Doctrine against the insolent pretensions of Old World autocracy. STRONG ip the faith that the Atlantic Ocean constituted an impassable barrier against the aggressions of European monarchies, James Monroe sat stunned as he watched the Holy Alliance prepare to send armies to South Amer- ica for the subjugation of Spain’s rebellious colonies, led by Bolivar from victory to victory. .England, no less alarmed, proposed con- certed resistance; Jefferson and Madison, called upon for advice, urged immediate acceptance of the offer, and even as the timorous Monroe fussed and fidgeted, the clamor of a mnation filled his flapping ears. From the very first, Americans had fol- lowed Bolivar's campaigns with passionate in- terest, and now there was fierce anger that European despots should gather to strike him down, together with a wholesome fear of what might happen to the United States if the Holy Alliance gained a foothold in the Western Hemisphere. Whereupon Monroe and John Quincy Adams penned the historic message that closed the New World against further colonization by the Old, threatening war if Continental troops ‘ere sent to crush Bolivar and the democratic 'sspirations of his people. Small wonder that the heart of America went out to Simon Bolivar, or that hundreds sailed to fight under his banner. There was a wealth of romantic appeal in the sight of this young aristocrat risking life and great estates to win freedom and justice for humbler souls, and imagination could not fail to be thrilled by spectacular marches that dared comparison with the strategy of Hannibal and Napoleon. His battle line was 3,000 miles, intersected by three pathless Cordillpras, and the snow of every pass in the Andes knew the stain of his army’s bleeding feet. Bolivar’s first chance for revolution came in 1808, when Napoleon put Joseph Bonaparte on the throne of Spain. Quick to realize that Spanish power was now an empty shell, the young patriot joined in a call to arms, and by 1811 the Venezuelan insurgents were suf- ficiently victorious to declare their independence. Even as they exulted, the tide of battle turned, and within the year their forces were scattered, their leaders in flight, and city gutters run- faing withf bidod’ as ‘the Spariidrds‘ racetl’ from massacre to massacre, THE SUNDAY SIAK, WASHINGTON, D. C, JULY 20, 1930. He entered Quito in triumph, walking under flower arches that proclaimed him “The Lightning of War and the Rainbow of Peace.” Now it was that Bolivar showed the in- domitable will, the deathless courage, that lifted him above the fluid souls of lesser men. Escaping to New Granada (now Colombia), he begged aid of a revolutionary group, and in- vaded Venezuela from the west, calling upon the people to rise and strike. They came in & flood, armed only with knives and home-made spears, but catching fire from Bolivar's un- conquerable spirit, these rude levies beat down the veterans of Spain. ALL of Bolivar's campaigns had the emo- tional quality of crusades. His addresses before each battle were war songs, and his proclamations rang with an epic passion that wrapped every man in the armor of invincibil- ity. There were to be weary days when the only food was raw meat, put beneath saddles that the horse’s sweat might salt it, yet when he burst into one of his inspiring chants, dying men came to life and fought like Cids. Not all the adoration of plain people, how- ever, could guard Bolivar against the treach- eries of lieutenants, and from first to last he walked a lane of Benedict Arnolds. Even as he planned the future of Venezuela, laying the foundations of freedom, every bright promise was destroyed by envy and intrigue, and 1814 saw a whole population fleeing before the wrath of the victorious Spaniards. Women and chil- dren were in that ghastly hegira, and dying mothers threw their babes into mountain gorges rather than have them fall into the power of the human tigers that pursued. A penniless fugitive in Jamaica, we find Bolivar charming a certain rich man, Brion, into an offer of ships and money; Petion, the black President of Haiti, was no less enthralled by the magnetism and torrential eloquence of the indomitable Venezuelan, and in the Spring of 1817 we find him renewing the revolution, sublimely confident. Yet not one ray of light shot through the darkness before him, for Fer- dinand VII, returned to the throne, had sent 10,000 soldiers to South America, and offered a fortune for Bolivar’s head. This time, however, there was a new ap- proach, for the liberator put the seacoast and its cities behind him, and made a dash for the interior. There Jose Paez had gathered the wild plainsmen into guerrilla bands, and with the Orinoco as his base of operations, Bolivar cried a new challenge to the might of Spain. Defeats alternated with victories; one day he beat at the very gates of Caracas and the next saw him alone and hunted; twice he missed capture by a hair; unruly lieutenants defied his authority; and, forced to recognize the hopelessness of the Venezuelan campaign, Bolivar’s genius marked New Granada as the one battlefield where success might be won. Not in all the annals of warfare is there any equal to this march of unrelieved horror, suffer- ing and death. The rainy season had turned the endless stretch of grassy plain into an in- land sea, and for weary weeks the half-clothed, half-starved men waded through water up to their waists, swimming rivers where alligators took deadly toll. At last the dread Cordilleras rose bef_re them, and now they froze, men falling to death as their numb fingers refused to take firm grip on mountain walls. Like crippled beasts they crawled across the Paramo de Pisba, a lofty desert swept by icy winds, barren of animal or vegetable life, more frightful than any of Dante’s conceptions. Hundreds fell, never to risz again, and as the survivors staggered on, théy beat dhch ‘other Awith 'stéurges that their bllod might not congeal. BOLIVAR, sharing every privation, flung these ambulant corpses against the Span- jards at Boyaca on August 7, 1819, winning a great and decisive victory. A triumphal entry into Bogota and then the union of Venezuela, New Granada and Quito (now Ecuador), into one republic under the name of Colombia. Elected president by acclamation, Bolivar de- voted 1820 to the stabilization of the new gove ernment—creating departments and drawing up a civil code—and then returned to Vene- zuela for one last Homeric battle in which he crushed Spanish power. A Forgotten now were the agonies of the Paramo de Pisba. From Panama came word of successful revolution, and only the South remained to be freed. Some months before, with his usual vision, Bolivar had sent Jose Sucre to Ecuador by sea, and he himself now prepared to join that dashing young general with an army of Colombians. Even today the boldest traveler shrinks from making the journey from Bogota to Quito by land, for first there is a heart-breaking drop of 9,000 feet to the Magdalena Valley, then a sheer climb to the crest of the Andes, after which comes a second descent of 3,000 feet to the vales of Cauca. Of 3,000 men that set out on the march, only 2,000 reached the plain of Bombona in April, 1822, but as at Boyaca, Bolivar’s burning appeals—the call of the Highland chieftain to his clan—lifted the wretched survivors to heights of valor. All day the battle raged on the scarred slopes of the volcano of Pasto, but when a full moon climbed above the snowy peaks, the in- surgents were masters of the field. Even so, their plight was desperate. Outnumbered, sur- rounded, Bolivar turned and twisted in vain attempt to escape, but as he planted his back against the mountain wall for a last stand, word came that Quito had fallen, and the dis- heartened Spaniards begged a truce. Well for the Liberator that he had chosen Sucre for the southern mission. This great general, reaching Ecuador, found the revolution- ists quarreling like street dogs over bones, and whipping the Spaniards was a far easier task than quieting the clash of mean ambitions. It was not until January, 1822, that he was able to set out for the conquest of Quito—a march worthy of Bolivar himself—for the way led across the summit of the Andes. Gaining the upland valleys. Sucre crawled along the sides of Cotopaxi, crawled through the lava beds of Pichincha in a midnight of storm, and from the heights above Quito struck the blow that ended Spanish rule in Ecuador. It was this victory that saved Bolivar as he stood at bay in the mountains to the north. As one risen from the grave he entered Quito in triumph, walking under flower arches that proclaimed him “The Lighting of War and the Rainbow of Peace.” The Republic of Colombia, creation of his courage and vision, was now free of the oppressor, and to brim his cup of joy, the United States braved the wrath of Spain and extended recognition. This was the dramatic hour selected by fate for his meeting with Jose San Martin, South America’s other great man. NO’I‘ only had San Martin led the armies of Buenos Aires in successful rebellion, but sweeping across the Andes had won the free- dom of Chili in two fierce battles. Handing control of the republic to Bernardo O’Higgins, the Lion of the Andes now turned attention to Peru. Lord Cochrane, an Englishman driyén from his own land, gathered & navy that swept Spanish vessels from the sea, and San Martin, attacking by land, was master of the seacoast by 1820. The Spaniards, however, held fast to the interior, and his visit to Bolivar was for the discussion of Peru’s complete eonquest. Tragically enough, although naturally, these two tremendous personalities clashed at the outset. Bolivar, ever the aristocrat despite his passionate democracy, was imperious in argu- ment, and the very self-confidence that gave bim such driving force, also made him incapa- ble of sharing command. San Martin, seeing that co-operation was an impossibility, put patriotism above pride, and agreed to return to Chili, leaving the Peruvian campaign entirely to Bolivar and his Colombians. Dearly indeed was the Liberator to pay for his blindness. Various uprisings kept him in Ecuador for a year, and when he reached Callao he found the Spaniards victorious everywhere and the Peruvians torn by factional dissensions. So- called presidents littered the country, and even as he labored to restore unity, word came that the Holy Alliance had promised aid to Spain, and that armies would soon be on the seas for South America. Bolivar knew it as the death of hope, but as though the gates of heaven opened, Monroe's message shot light into his despair. Flaming with all of his old energy, the Libe erator rose superior to treachery and deser- tion; troops were begged from Chili and Buenos Aires, and, although fever dragged him to the grave's edge, he waved death away and led an army across the Andes. A pitiful army, ill- equipped and outnumbered by the trained vet- erans of Spain, but at Junin, on August 6, 1824, Bolivar cried to the men in the name of Boyaca and Bombona, poured the wine of his own fierce resolve into their weary veins, and night saw the field in possession of the patriots. The Battle of Ayachuco, some months later, marked the end of struggle. Sucre, caught in & trap by vastly superior forces, rose to new heights of genius even as his soldiers raised new standards of valor. Stabbling their horses to banish every thought of flight, they gave themselves superbly to Sucre’s dazzling strategy, and at the battle’s end 2,000 Spaniards lay dead or dying, and La Serna, last victory to Peru, gave up his'sword in unconditional surrender. ‘What an opportunity for Bolivar! “Soldiers!” he cried, “South America is cov- ered with the trophies of your bravery, but Ayacucho, like CHimborazo, towers proudly over all. Colombians! Hundreds of victories lengthen your days to the end of the world.” With noble generosity he hailed Sucre as the “liberator of Peru,” “his right arm,” “the soul of the army” and waved to him the golden laurel wreaths and jeweled gifts that an ador- ing people brought. And when Upper Peru declared itself an independent republic under the name of Bolivia, it was for Sucre that he asked the presidency. E were his happiest times. Like the iron-framed Washington, Bolivar could ride all day and dance all night, and there were balls and laughter and flower-bearing maidens. Nor was Lima less joyous, for a frenzied con- gress made him President of Peru for life, and would have named him Emperor of the Andes but for his stern rebuke. “The soil of Amer- ica,” he cried with his usual inability to speak plain prose. “illumined by the flame; of lib- erty, would devour thrones.” To him, at this time, through the medium of .La Fayette, came a miniature of George . Washington, contaiping; & lock . of the; dead President’s hair, and with tears the Liberator