Bolivar was insulted and slandered as was
Lincoln, and if Lincoln was assassinated by a man, Bolivar escaped the
weapon of the assassin only to sink under poisonous treachery and
ingratitude. It is true that Bolivar 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. Bolivar'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
Bolivar 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 Bolivar 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 Bolivar thought they ought to be. The Aldonza Lorenzo
of America, through Bolivar's sublime madness, rid of her dross, will be
the Dulcinea of Bolivar's dream.
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