In science, too, Colombia counts many sons who have contributed greatly to our knowledge of nature. It suffices to recall the names of such savants as Francisco Antonio Zea, Francisco José de Caldas and the illustrious Mutis, whom Humboldt called “the patriarch of the botanists of the New World,” and whose name Linnæeus declared to be immortal—“nomen immortale quod nulla aetas unquam delebit.”
There were at one time no fewer than twenty-three colleges in New Granada. The first of these was founded in 1554, for the education of the Indians. The following year another one was established for the benefit of Spanish orphans and mestizos. In one of the colleges was a special chair for the study of the Muisca language. The Royal and Pontifical University began its existence in 1627, thirteen years before the foundation of Harvard College. In 1653 the Archbishop D. Fr. Cristobal de Torres founded the celebrated College del Rosario, which, by reason of its munificent endowment, was able to render such splendid service to the cause of education, and was long recognized as the leading institution of learning in New Granada.
Although the Viceroyalty of Santa Fe was behind Mexico[16] and Lima in the introduction of the printing press, it claims the honor of establishing the first astronomical observatory in America, as Mexico was the first to have a botanical garden, a school of mines, and a school of medicine. It was also among the first, if not the very first, of the capitals of the New World to open a public library.
The number of public and private libraries now existing in the city of Bogotá contribute greatly towards justifying its claim to being the chief centre of South American culture. Another evidence of the intellectual atmosphere that obtains there is the number of secondhand book stores. In browsing among these storehouses of old and precious tomes I quite forgot, for the time being, that I was so far from the busy world of action, and could easily fancy myself among the book shops of Florence, Leipsic or Paris. Indeed, some of the most prized volumes in my Latin-American library I picked up on the book stalls of Bogotá.
Mr. R. B. Cunninghame Graham, in his preface to Sr. Triana’s work, Down the Orinoco in a Canoe, says the capital of Colombia “is in a way a kind of Chibcha Athens. There all men write, and poets rave and madden through the land, and only wholesome necessary revolutions keep their number down.” Again, he declares: “Bogotá to-day is, without doubt, the greatest literary centre south of Panama. Putting aside the flood of titubating verse which, like a mental dysentery, afflicts all members of the Spanish-speaking race, in Bogotá more serious literary work is done during a month than in the rest of the republics in a year.”[17]
Mr. W. L. Scruggs, sometime American minister to Bogotá, writes in the same sense. “Most of the educated classes,” he says, “have, or think they have, the literary faculty. They are particularly fond of writing what they call poetry, and of making post-prandial speeches. The average collegian will write poetry[18] by the yard or speak impromptu by the hour. He never shows the least embarrassment before an audience, and is rarely at a loss for a word. The adjectives and adverbs flow in sluices of unbroken rhythm, and the supply of euphonious words and hyperbolic phrases seems inexhaustible. He always gesticulates vehemently, and somehow it seems to become him well; for no matter how little there may be in what he says, somebody is sure to applaud and encourage him.”
In Colombia there seem to be as many “doctors,” that is, men who have the degree of Doctor of Laws, as there are generals in Venezuela. Most of them are politicians, or contributors to the various newspapers of the country, or “professors”—there are no pedagogues—in the numerous educational institutions of the Republic.
The number of newspapers published in Bogotá is surprising—more than there are in Boston or Philadelphia. Of course, their circulation is extremely limited. They are mostly partisan organs—an independent paper being unknown—or literary journals remarkable, the majority of them, for long poems, verbose editorials and translations of the latest French novels.
On the way down from the chapel of Guadalupe, near the opening of the gorge between the peaks of Monserrate and Guadalupe, one passes what was once the Quinta Bolivar, a gift to the Liberator by one of his wealthy admirers. It is now the property of a thrifty Antioquenian, who has converted it into a tannery. As we pass along the north side of San Carlos’ palace, which contains the office of the ministry of foreign affairs, we observe the historic window from which, as a memorial tablet informs us, Bolivar escaped assassination, Sept. 25th, 1828. In the centre of the principal plaza, called the Plaza Bolivar, is a bronze statue of the Liberator by Tenerani, a pupil of Canova.
Everywhere in Colombia, as in Venezuela, we are reminded of Bolivar and find monuments to his memory. In Ciudad Bolivar and in Valencia and elsewhere there are statues of him. In Caracas there are several, among them a large equestrian statue which is a replica of one in Lima.