In July 1807 Martín de Alzaga, a wealthy merchant of Spanish antecedents, was alcalde of the city of Buenos Aires. When the city was threatened by the English forces under General Whitelocke, Álzaga decided there was time to fortify it, and his preparations were an important contribution to the defeat of the invaders. Thus Álzaga was one of the heroes of the day. Almost exactly five years later he was arrested on charges of conspiring against the revolutionary government, summarily tried, convicted, and executed.
In the main, despite the scanty evidence presented against Álzaga, Argentine historians have accepted the charges against him as valid, citing his conservative background and close ties with other Spaniards opposed to the independence movement. Álzaga’s role in the defense against the English has also been played down in many accounts of the period.
Now, however, Enrique de Gandía, one of the most prolific of Argentine historians, has devoted the second volume of his multi-volume Historia de las ideas políticas en la Argentina to the rehabilitation of Álzaga as “el hombre que preparó e hizo posible la Reconquista” (p. 40), and to repudiating the leyenda negra that he was a traitor. In this reviewer’s opinion Gandía has made an excellent case for Álzaga on both counts, but his volume would have benefited from judicious editing. Indeed, he takes the reader around the same mulberry bush so many times that it requires perseverance to reach page 779!
Despite his extended defense of Álzaga in Volume II, Enríque de Gandía takes up the cudgels once more for his hero in Volume III, with additional comments on the failure of other Argentine historians to grasp “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth” as the author, a determined revisionist, sees it. Gandía insists that “Es indudable que la historiografía argentina está viviendo una crisis. Nuestros esfuerzos han tenido siempre a romper las visiones limitadas y los resabiados dogmatismos. Creemos necesario fomentar la discusión. Somos unos convencidos que de la discusión sale la luz, pero también sabemos que muchos buhos de la historia más luz reciben, menos van.” (III, 17).
Gandía unlimbers his heaviest guns against the traditional interpretation that the events of May 1810 actually constituted “revolution” and that the proclamations of loyalty to the Spanish crown were merely feigned to cover up the plans for independence of the leaders of Mayo. He makes an excellent case for distinguishing between the events of May 1810 and the events of 1811, when the idea of actual independence from Spain had gained much ground. The author’s persistent research into and critical analysis of other previously accepted viewpoints has uncovered many inconsistencies in the historiography of Mayo. Even more than in Volume II, however, this reviewer found himself wishing for a patient and wise editor to spare the reader so much repetition.
Gandía apparently thrives on controversy, and these two volumes should stir up some interesting reactions from among his fellow Argentine historians. Although he does not overlook lesser writers, Gandía’s principal targets include some of Clio’s most luminous Argentine disciples—Raúl A. Molina, Roberto H. Marfany, and Guillermo Furlong, S.J., for example, among present-day writers, as well as Ricardo Levene and Paul Groussac from the past. Occasionally he distributes words of approval for certain writers, including some whom he crticizes. In view of the enthusiasm for “discusión” which Gandía has demonstrated in dealing with the relatively calm period of Mayo, this reviewer is looking forward to publication of his volumes on the Rosas and post-Rosas eras. They should really stir up things in the River Plate!
