DOCTOR PHILIPPI.
To find Dr. Philippi I was directed to a house of modest appearance within the precincts of the Quinta Normal. This establishment is intended to combine the functions of a horticultural garden and a model farm, but the greater part of the grounds appears to be laid out as ornamental pleasure-ground. A large handsome building, originally constructed for a great industrial exhibition, has been turned to good account as a museum of natural history. I was received by Professor Federigo Philippi, who now worthily fills the chair of Natural History in the University of Santiago, from which, after a tenure of many years, his father has retired. Between naturalists none of the ordinary formalities of introduction are required, and cordial relations grow up rapidly. Knowing that Dr. Philippi had already reached an advanced age, I was apprehensive that some infirmity might have chilled the ardour of his interest in science; but I was agreeably disabused when from an adjoining room the professor called his father to join our conversation. I found a man who, although in his seventy-sixth year, was still full of vigour of mind, and I had full opportunity on the following morning to assure myself that this is sustained by abundant physical energy.
Time slips by rapidly in a conversation on subjects of mutual interest, and when, after arranging for a short excursion with Dr. Philippi, I returned homeward, the setting sun was lighting up the heavens with the beautiful tints that are more common in the warm Temperate zone than in other regions of the earth. Low as are the houses, they were just high enough to shut out all but occasional glimpses of the Cordillera from the street; but when I reached the great plaza I came to the conclusion, which I still retain, that Santiago is by many degrees the most beautifully situated town that I have anywhere seen. Rio Janeiro, Constantinople, Palermo, Beyrout, Plymouth, all have the added beauty that the sea confers on land scenery; but such a spectacle as is formed by the majestic semicircle of great peaks that curve round Santiago, lit by the varying tints of day and evening, is scarcely to be matched elsewhere in the world. In position, as in plan of building, I was reminded of Turin; but here the Alps are nearly twice as high, and at half the distance. Further than that, the low country at Turin opens to the east, and, although glorious sunrise effects are not seldom visible, they never rival the splendours of the close of day.
CERRO SAN CRISTOBAL.
On the following morning, May 12, I started with Dr. Philippi in a hackney coach for an excursion to the Cerro San Cristobal, an isolated hill rising about one thousand feet above the valley of the Mapocho. We crossed that stream by a very massive bridge, constructed to resist the formidable flood poured down the channel after heavy rains, and for about three miles followed the right bank along a rough road deep in the sand formed by the disintegration of the volcanic rocks. We were glad to leave our vehicle at some mills at the foot of the hill, and spent some three hours very agreeably in clambering up and down the rough slopes. The shrubs were much the same as those which I afterwards saw elsewhere in similar situations, but I was fortunate in being introduced to them by one so familiar with the flora as my excellent companion. Among these, as well as the herbaceous plants, the Compositæ prevail over every other natural order. Two common species belong to the tribe of Mutisiaceæ, unknown in Europe, and almost confined to South America. The bushy species of Baccharis, a genus very widely spread in the New World, but not known elsewhere, were also very common. An acacia (A. Cavenia) approached more nearly to the dimensions of a tree. It has stiff, spreading, and very spiny branches, and is widely spread throughout the drier parts of temperate South America. Among the few herbaceous plants in flower I was fortunate in seeing the pretty Gynopleura linearifolia. This belongs to a tribe of the passionflower family, very distinct in habit and appearance, which has been by some eminent botanists ranked as a distinct natural order under the name Malesherbiaceæ. It includes only two genera with ten or twelve species, all exclusively natives of Chili or Peru.
A veil of morning haze or mist, not uncommon at this season, hung over the city and marred the completeness of the grand view from the summit of the Cerro. Though easily explained, the seeming opacity of a thin stratum of vapour seen from above, as I have often noticed in the Alps, is remarkable. Before we started, and after our return, the haze over the city was scarcely perceptible. Not only did the sun shine brightly in the town, but the outlines of the neighbouring peaks were perfectly distinct. Looking down from the upper station, the slight differences in the intensity of the comparatively feeble light proceeding from the various objects on the surface, by which alone they are made visible, were concealed by the haze which reflected a portion of the comparatively strong light received from the sky, just as when looking from the outside at a window which reflects the light from the sky, we cannot distinguish objects within.
In the afternoon Mr. Swinburne was good enough to accompany me in a visit to Don Benjamin Vicuña Mackenna, one of the most conspicuous and remarkable of the contemporary public men of Chili. His career has been in many ways singular. In early life he took part in two attempts of a revolutionary nature. Fortunately for themselves, the Chilians have gained from their own and their neighbours’ experience a fixed aversion to revolution, and, while acknowledging the existence of abuses, have felt that violent change is certain to entail worse evils. Both attempts failed, and the leaders were condemned to death, the sentences being judiciously commuted to temporary exile.
Since his return, Mr. Mackenna has done good service as head of the municipality of Santiago, has been a prominent member of the legislature, and was, in 1881, the unsuccessful candidate for the presidency of the republic. But it is chiefly by his fertility as a writer that Mr. Mackenna has secured for himself an enduring reputation. Gifted with keen intelligence and a marvellously retentive memory, his readiness to discuss in turn the most varied topics, whether by speech or pen, is quite phenomenal. Besides being a constant contributor to newspapers and periodicals, he has published over a hundred volumes, most of them devoted either to illustrate the history or to promote the progress of his native country. I was most kindly received, and my only regret, on this and subsequent occasions, was that the shortness of my stay prevented me from enjoying more fully the society of this interesting man. From the room—in itself a library—reserved for the spare copies of his own works, I selected four volumes out of the many which he was kind enough to place at my disposal.
DON BENJAMIN V. MACKENNA.
On the following day Mr. Vicuña Mackenna was kind enough to devote several hours to taking me to various objects of interest in the city, beginning with the natural history museum at the Quinta Normal. Rightly supposing that they would be of interest, my guide afterwards took me to see the most remarkable trees of the city, each of which possesses some historic interest. In an old and rather neglected garden attached to the palace of the archbishop is the finest known specimen of the peumo, the most important indigenous tree of Central Chili. Popular tradition affirms that under this tree, in 1640, Pedro de Valdivia, the founder of Santiago, held a conference with the native Indian chiefs, in which they agreed to allow the strangers a certain territory for settlement. It is undoubtedly very ancient, and is divided nearly from the ground into a number of massive branches spreading in all directions, so as to form a hemisphere of dark green foliage rather more than sixty feet in diameter. The tree belongs to the laurel family (Cryptocarya Peumus of botanists), and is densely covered with thick evergreen leaves impenetrable to the sun. The red oval fruits are much appreciated by the country people, but they have a resinous taste unpalatable to strangers.