ril was overthrown, and in less than twenty-four hours a fiddler had become a general, a lame cobbler was making laws, and a clown deciding the fate of a country. One Maradona, a pretended old nobleman, was found to give some show of decency to the plebeian mob; and, unfortunately, deluded priests, believing it to be a question of religion, placed the cross at the head of this insurrection,—the beginning of the long series of crimes which brought the Republic to its present condition of barbarism. Two hundred citizens fled to Mendoza, and besought aid from the brave soldiers who had returned from Chili and Peru, Felix Aldao among the rest. He hesitated, and asked himself why he should leave the asylum in which both his glory and his shame were hidden; but finally consented, and under the command of his brother José, marched to San Juan at the head of a company which obtained an easy victory over the plebeian crowd, without a leader or officers capable of directing its enthusiasm.
The Aldao brothers returned to Mendoza covered with laurels, and provided by their friends with money obtained by exorbitant contributions imposed upon their enemies. But the Aldaos had acquired in the expedition something more than fame and money,—the knowledge of their own power,—and formed a brotherly league for the purpose of obtaining their ends. All three were colonels, all brave, intelligent, and capable.
This triumvirate has exercised a most pernicious influence in the Argentine Republic, never yet fully appreciated. After reconquering Chili, San Martin
