THE ATHENS OF SOUTH AMERICA
In the beginning of August, 1538, Gonzalo Jimenez de Quesada, the
conqueror of Cundinmarca, and his followers, after one of the most
remarkable campaigns ever conducted in the New World, assembled on
the present site of Bogatá. Here Quesada dismounted from his charger,
and plucking up some grass by the roots, he announced that he took
possession of that land in the name of the Emperor Charles V. Having
remounted his steed, he drew his sword, and challenged any one to
oppose this formal declaration, which, he declared, he was prepared
to defend at all hazards. As no one appeared to contest his action,
he sheathed his sword, and directed the army notary to make an official
record of what had just been accomplished.
Bogotá was then but a rude village, or, rather, a camp, of a dozen
hastily constructed huts which barely sufficed to shelter the intrepid
sons of Spain. Besides these twelve huts--erected in memory of the
twelve apostles--there had also been constructed a small wooden,
thatch-covered church, on the very site occupied by the present
imposing cathedral of Colombia's fair capital. The first mass was
said in this church the sixth day of August, a few days after the
ceremony of occupation just mentioned--and this is regarded as the
legal date of the foundation of Bogotá. It was then that the work
of the conquest was technically considered as finished. The work of
colonization was to follow without delay.
It was then that Quesada gave to the future city the name of Santa
Fé. [191] Being from Granada, he named the country he had discovered
and conquered Nuevo Reino de Granada--the New Kingdom of Granada--an
appellation it retained until after the War of Independence, when it
received the name it now bears.
There is, indeed, a striking similarity between the elevated plateau,
watered by the Funza, and the charming vega of Granada, fertilized by
the romantic Genil. To one looking towards the west, from a spur of
the mountain at the foot of which Bogotá is situated, as Granada is
located at the foot of its hills, the ridge of Suba is seen towards
the northwest, just as the sierra of Elvira is seen with respect to
the old Moorish capital. And so it is with the relative positions
of Santa Fé en la Vega and the pueblo of Fontibon. The illusion is
complete, and the similarity between these two famous places in Spain
and Colombia must have impressed themselves on the receptive mind of
the illustrious conquistador with peculiar force. Even the heights of
Suacha, in aspect and position, recall the famous hill which is known
as the Suspiro del Moro from the lament of Boabdil, the last king of
Granada, whose tears evoked from his mother, the intrepid Sultana,
Ayxa la Horra, the caustic words, "Bien hace en llorar como mujer lo
que como hombre no supo defender." [192]
Santa Fé, also known as Santa Fé de Bogotá, was for a long period
the capital of the Viceroyalty of New Granada. After the War of
Independence the name was changed to Bogotá--from Bacatá--the name
of the old Chibcha capital, where the zipa, the most powerful of the
Indian caciques, at the arrival of the Spaniards, had his official
residence. The city is nearly two miles in length and of varying
breadth. Its present population is nearly one hundred and twenty-five
thousand. It is situated on a western spur of the great Cordillera
of Suma Paz at an elevation, according to Reiss and Stübel, of eight
thousand six hundred and sixteen feet above sea level--more than half
a mile higher than the summit of Mt. Washington, the highest point
in New England.
The mean annual temperature is 60° F., but, owing to the rarity of the
atmosphere, and to its being shielded from the wind by the mountains
at whose base it is situated, it seems to be higher than this. During
certain seasons of the year one may experience a penetrating cold,
as long as one remains in the shade, but when one passes into the
sunshine it becomes almost uncomfortably warm. During the rainy season,
the newcomer feels the cold very keenly, but, after a short residence
in the city, one becomes acclimated and then fancies that he is in
the enjoyment of perpetual spring.
We were in Bogotá in the early part of June, during which time
it rained every day. Coming directly from the tierra caliente, we
suffered considerably, especially at night, from the low temperature
and the dampness that prevailed. We were, however, informed by the
natives that the season was unusually severe, and that such bad
weather as we encountered was quite unusual: Velasco y Vergara --a
Colombian--tells that it rains the greater part of the year, and that
the sky is almost always covered by clouds. [193] For this reason,
the houses suffer from humidity, and rheumatism and kindred complaints
are very prevalent. Otherwise the climate is considered salubrious.
Bogotá--called by the aborigines Bacatá--is a city in a state of
transition. It has lost, almost entirely, the mediæval, monastic,
mozarabic aspect that characterized it while it was the tranquil
court of the viceroys. But, great as has been the change that it
has undergone during the last few decades, it preserves much of the
quaintness of colonial times. Indeed, it is not difficult, in certain
parts of the city, to fancy oneself carried back to a typical Spanish
town of the time of Charles V or Philip II. As a whole, however,
the Bogotá of to-day does not differ materially in appearance from a
city of the same size in Spain or Mexico. All Latin-American cities
are similar in their leading features, and when you have seen one
you have seen all.
The city is adorned by a number of broad and beautiful streets and
several plazas and parks. Aside from a few government buildings,
the edifices that attract most attention are the monasteries and
churches. The cathedral is a noble building and compares favorably
with any similar structure in South America. The interior had just
been artistically painted and gilded, at the time of our visit, and
it reminded us somewhat of the exquisite finish of St. John Lateran,
in Rome. An object of interest to the traveler, within these sacred
precincts, is the tomb of the illustrious conquistador, Gonzalo
Jimenez de Quesada.
The residences of the people are usually two stories high, with a
balcony on the second story facing the street. All of the older houses,
as well as many of the modern ones, are of the well-known Moorish
style of architecture, with a single large entrance--porton--and a
patio--courtyard--or two, on which the rooms open. This style of
building is well adapted to tropical climates. It is comfortable
and secures the maximum of privacy. It is in reality, as well as in
fiction, the owner's castle.
We were surprised to see the number of foreign flowers grown in these
patios. One would naturally expect to find representatives of the
rich and beautiful Colombian flora, but the ladies of Bogotá seem
to prefer the exotic blooms of the temperate zone. We found roses,
camellias, pinks and geraniums in abundance, but rarely any of those
floral beauties that had so frequently excited our admiration on
the way from the llanos to the capital. Our hotel, however, was a
notable exception to this rule. Here we were delighted with a veritable
exhibition of orchids of many species and of the most wonderful forms
and colors. Among them were some truly splendid specimens of oncidiums,
cattleyas and odontoglossums. It was then we thought of some of our
orchid-loving friends of New York, who would have fairly reveled in
such marvels of Flora's kingdom.
As nearly all the streets are paved with cobblestones, driving is
anything but a pleasure. As a matter of fact, the only passable
drive in the city is the one that leads to the charming little
suburb of Chapinero. This is one of the show places of Bogotá, and
its houses are in marked contrast with those found in the older part
of the city. Most of them are entirely different in style from the
enclosed Moorish structures of which mention has been made. Here one
is introduced to cozy Swiss chalets in the midst of delightful flower
gardens and picturesque French chateaux, that carry one back to the
Seine and the Loire.
Aside from the churches and monasteries, many of which have been
converted into government offices, there were two buildings that
possessed a special interest for us. One of these was the old Colegio
del Rosario--now known as the School of Philosophy and Letters--founded
in 1553, nearly a hundred years before the University of Harvard. This
institution has long been fondly spoken of by the people of Bogotá
as the country's special glory--la gloria de la patria. The other
building was the astronomical observatory--the first intertropical
structure of the kind--erected in 1803. After the observatory of Quito,
it is said to be the highest in the world.
Some of the streets and houses have been recently lighted by
electricity, but as yet horses or mules are used as the motive power
for the few street cars that traverse the principal thoroughfares. It
were easy to count the number of private carriages in the city. The
only ones we saw were those of the archbishop and the president of
the republic. Indeed, so rough are the streets that most people prefer
walking to using cabs, except in cases of necessity.
The first two objects to arrest our attention, as we approached Bogotá
from the south, were the chapels of Guadalupe and Monserrate, the
former nearly twenty-two hundred feet above the city, and the latter
about two hundred feet lower. Perched high upon the flanks of two
picturesque mountain peaks, they are conspicuous objects from all parts
of the Savanna. Both of these sanctuaries are reached by a foot path,
but, as yet, no attempt has been made to connect them with the city by
a carriage road. Owing to the altitude above sea level of these places,
a pilgrimage to them is quite a task--especially to the newcomer,
who is unaccustomed to the rare atmosphere of the locality. But the
magnificent view afforded one from either of these elevated shrines
well repays all the effort required to reach them. It is, in some
respects, the most beautiful to be found in the whole of Colombia. And
then, there are besides certain historical features connected with
the panorama spread out before one that make it doubly interesting.
Standing in front of the church of Guadalupe, we have before us the
beautiful Savanna of Bogotá [194]--a fertile plain, nine hundred square
kilometers in area. Humboldt, whose opinion has been adopted by many
subsequent writers, regarded this level stretch of land as the bottom
of a lake that formerly existed here, but recent investigators have
called this view in question. Strangely enough, the Chibcha Indians,
at the time of the conquest, had a tradition that the Savanna was
at one time occupied by a lake, but that Bochica, child of the sun,
drained its waters by giving them an exit through the celebrated falls
of Tequendama. [195] The general appearance of the plain, as well as
certain geological features, seemed to confirm this tradition, and
it was not until quite recently that any one ventured to express a
doubt about the tradition, or the long-accepted opinion of the great
German savant.
In the morning, when the Savanna is covered by a mist, as often
happens, the observer from Monserrate or Guadalupe does indeed seem
to be looking down upon a vast lake. The hills, which here and there
rise above the fog, look like islands and strengthen the illusion. But
this effect is all dissipated as soon as the sun makes his appearance
above the crest of Suma Paz. One then has before him one of the
most lovely panoramas in the world. The wide verdant expanse is
intersected with rivers and streams, all tributaries of the Funza,
and dotted with towns and hamlets and haciendas, lakes and lakelets,
large herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, troops of horses, mules and
burros. All this is enclosed by lofty ramparts of gneiss and granite,
which shield the inhabitants of city and plain from the tempestuous
moisture-laden winds that would otherwise often sweep over the Savanna
with the fury of a Kansas cyclone.
Aside from the Eucalyptus and Humboldt oak--Quercus Humboldtii--there
are no large trees in the Savanna of Bogotá. The Eucalyptus, however,
is everywhere visible, in the streets and in the gardens of the
capital, along the thoroughfares of the country and around every house,
however humble, and quinta, as far as the eye can reach. These trees
were introduced from Australia only a few decades ago, and now one
finds them in all parts of the republic. We saw them all along our
route from the llanos to Bogatá. The people, especially those living
on the eastern slopes of the Oriental Andes, are firmly convinced that
their presence wards off paludismo--malaria--and, as a consequence,
they are considered as indispensable around the house as the plantain
or calabash tree. [196]
There is nothing more delightful than a stroll along the Rio San
Francisco, which flows between Monserrate and Guadalupe and thence
through the city of Bogotá. The scenery is thoroughly Alpine in
character and, at times, picturesque beyond description. As one
follows the narrow path, always near the musical, crystal waters of the
impetuous stream, one is delighted at every step by the appearance of
some new flower of brightest hue, or some strange shrub of richest
foliage. The ground is fairly carpeted with anemones, hepaticæ,
gentians, valerians, geraniums, campanulæ, lupines and buttercups. Like
similar plants on the Alps, and on the heights of our Rockies, their
stems are very short and they seem like so many rosettes attached to
the earth, or the rocks that rise up on both sides of our narrow path.
One sees well illustrated here the dividing line between the flora
of the paramo and that of the tierra fría. The plants of the latter
creep up timidly from the Savanna until a certain point, and then,
as if afraid to venture further into the region of frost, halt on
the lower edge of the paramo. In a similar manner the plants of the
higher altitudes cautiously descend to the upper belt of the tierra
fría and there come to a standstill. They meet on a common zone in
limited numbers, but this zone is often extremely narrow. One of
the agreeable surprises to the traveler in the Andes is to note the
sudden and extraordinary changes in the character of the vegetation
as he ascends or descends the mountain near the line of demarcation
between two zones.
The plateau of Guadalupe is the home of two remarkable tree ferns. One
of these is the Cyathea patens, from ten to twelve feet high, with a
beautiful, umbrella-shaped crown. The other is the Dicksonia gigantea,
which, according to the naturalist, Karsten, is probably the most
vigorous and luxuriant tree fern in South America. Its massive,
columnar trunk bears forty and more dark-green fronds, from three
to four feet wide and from six to seven in length. To get a close
view of even one of these noble cryptogams fully repays one for the
arduous climb up to its favorite habitat.
Any city in the United States or Europe, having in its immediate
vicinity such attractions as has Bogotá, would immediately put them
within easy reach of the public. Thus both Monserrate and Guadalupe
would, without delay, be connected with the city by a funicular
railway, and near by would be a number of restaurants and pleasure
resorts.
An electric railway would also be constructed to the great water
falls of Tequendama--the largest in Colombia and among the most
celebrated in South America. Although only thirty-six feet wide,
the main fall is three times the height of Niagara Falls. [197]
But the volume of water carried over the precipice of Tequendama is
incomparably less than that which plunges into the colossal whirlpool
of Niagara. In appearance it somewhat resembles Vernal Falls in the
Yosemite Valley, or the lower fall of the Yellowstone. What, however,
gives to the Colombian cataract a beauty all its own is its setting of
luxuriant tropical vegetation. In this respect our northern waterfalls,
however attractive they may be in other respects, cannot be compared
with Tequendama.
Incredible as it may seem, but few Colombians have ever seen the falls
of Tequendama. Although the people of Bogotá love to talk about them,
as among the greatest wonders of their country, it is rarely that one
is found who has actually visited them. And yet they are not more than
twelve miles from the capital. Even the peons living on the plains
only a few miles from the cataract can give the traveler little or
no information as to the best way to reach them. How different this
would all be if the place were easy of access, and if the visitor,
on arriving there, could find the creature comforts to be obtained
in similar places in the United States and Europe!
I have alluded to the interesting historical associations connected
with the city and plateau of Bogotá. It will suffice to speak of but
one of them; but this one is so remarkable that it is like a chapter
taken from the Arabian Nights. I refer to the meeting of the three
distinguished conquistadores, Gonzalo Jimenez de Quesada, Nicholas
Federmann and Sebastian de Belalcazar.
Quesada had left Santa Marta in 1536, having under his command,
according to Oviedo, eight hundred men and one hundred horses. He
went part of the way by land and part by the Rio Grande, now known
as the Magdalena. After reaching the Opon, he followed that river as
far as it was navigable, and eventually made his way to the plateau
of Bogotá--the land of the Chibchas.
His march was, in some respects, the most difficult and remarkable
in the annals of the conquest. He had to contend against relentless
savages, dismal swamps and almost impenetrable forests, where he had
to cut his way through the tangled vines and bushes, and where it
was often impossible to make more than a league a day. His men were
decimated by disease and starvation. When he at last arrived at the
Valle de Alcazares, near the present site of Bogotá, he could count
but one hundred infantry and sixty cavalry. But with this handful
of men he had conquered the Chibcha nation, numbering, according to
the old chroniclers, one million people and having twenty thousand
soldiers in the field.
Scarcely, however, was his campaign against the aborigines successfully
terminated, when information was conveyed him of a new danger in the
person of a German competitor, who had just arrived from the llanos.
Five years previously, Federmann, in the service of the Welsers,
had left Coro in Venezuela, with four hundred well-armed and
well-provisioned men. After wandering over trackless plains and
through dark and almost impenetrable forests, enduring frightful
hardships of all kinds, he finally got word of the Chibchas and of
their treasures of gold and precious stones. He forthwith changed his
route and crossed the Eastern Cordilleras, where the traveler André
assures us it is now absolutely impossible to pass. [198]
Thus, almost before Quesada was aware that Federmann was in the
country, he was constrained by policy to receive him and his one
hundred ragged and famished followers--these were all that remained of
his gallant band--as his guests. The Spanish conquistador knew that
the German leader would put in a claim for a part of the territory
that they had both been exploring, and which, until then, each of them
had regarded as his own by right of conquest. He was then naturally
eager to effect a settlement with his competitor on the best terms
possible, and get him out of the country with the least possible
delay. Federmann agreed to renounce all his claims in consideration
of his receiving himself the sum of ten thousand pesos, and of having
his soldiers enjoy all the rights of discoverers and conquistadores
accorded to those of Quesada.
Scarcely, however, had these negotiations been happily terminated,
when another and a more formidable rival appeared on the scene,
on his way from the distant South. This was Sebastian de Belalcazar,
[199] the famous lieutenant of Francisco Pizarro. He was then governor
of Quito and the conqueror of much of the territory now included in
Ecuador and Southern Colombia. Hearing casually of El Dorado and of
the marvelous riches this ruler was reputed to possess, the Spanish
chieftain lost no time in organizing an expedition to the country of
gold and emeralds, of fertile plains and delightful valleys. Setting
out with the assurance of an early and easy victory, and of soon
becoming the possessors of untold wealth and all the enjoyment that
wealth could command, the soldiers, in quest of El Dorado, exclaimed
with unrestrained enthusiasm:
"Nuestros sean su oro y sus placeres,
Gocemos de ese campo y ese sol." [200]
But anticipation is not fruition. This the Spaniards soon learned
to their sorrow. Like Quesada and Federmann and their followers,
Belalcazar and his men had to endure frightful hardships during
the long and painful march of many months from Quito to the
plateau of Bogotá. According to Castellanos, who wrote while many
of these adventurers were still living, and who had received from
them directly an account of their privations and sufferings and the
countless obstacles that at times rendered progress almost impossible,
their journey was made through mountains and districts that were
inaccessible and uninhabitable, through gloomy forests and dense,
tangled underbrush; through inhospitable lands and dismal swamps,
where there was neither food nor shelter for man or beast. [201]
This extraordinary and accidental meeting of the three conquistadores,
coming from so great distances, from three different points of the
compass, is one of the most interesting episodes in the history of
the conquest. It was a critical moment for the Europeans. If they
had failed to agree, and had turned their arms against one another,
those who would have escaped alive would have been at the mercy of
the Indians, who would at once have rallied their forces to repel
the invaders. But, fortunately, wise councils prevailed and a clash
was averted.
"While the clergy and the religious," writes Acosta, "were going
to and from the different camps endeavoring to prevent a rupture,
the three parties of Spaniards, coming from points so distant, and
now occupying the three apices of a triangle, whose sides measured
three or four leagues, presented a singular spectacle. Those from
Peru were clad in scarlet cloth and silk, and wore steel helmets and
costly plumes. Those from Santa Marta had cloaks, linens and caps
made by the Indians. Those, however, from Venezuela, like refugees
from Robinson Crusoe's island, were covered with the skins of bears,
leopards, tigers and deer. Having journeyed more than thirteen hundred
leagues through uninhabited lands, they had experienced the most
cruel hardships. They arrived poor, naked, and reduced to one-fourth
of their original number.
"The three chiefs," continues Acosta, "were among the most
distinguished men who ever came to America. Belalcazar, son of
a woodman of Extremadura, attained by his talents and valor the
reputation of being one of the most celebrated conquistadores of
South America and was endowed in a degree far above the other two
with political tact and observing genius. As soon as he became
aware of the agreement entered into between Quesada and Federmann,
he nobly waived his rights, and declined to accept the sum which
Quesada offered him. He stipulated only that his soldiers should
not be prevented from returning to Peru, when they might desire to
do so, or when Pizarro should demand them, and that Captain Juan
Cabrera should return to found a town in Neiva, a territory which,
along with Timana, was to be under the government of Popayan, which
it was his intention to solicit from the Emperor. In the meantime he
agreed to accompany Quesada to Spain." [202]
The three went to Spain together, as had been arranged, each of them
confident of receiving from the Spanish monarch a reward commensurate
with his labors and services to the crown. Each one aspired to the
governorship of New Granada and used all his influence to secure the
coveted prize.
The net result of their efforts was a sad experience of the vanity
of human wishes. All were disappointed in their expectations. The
guerdon all so eagerly strove for was awarded to another, who had
taken no part in the conquest that had rendered the three aspirants
to royal favor so famous.
Only Belalcazar received any recognition whatever. He was made
adelantado of Popayan and the surrounding territory. As for Quesada
and Federmann, they fell into disfavor. The latter soon disappeared
from public view entirely, but long afterwards, Quesada was able
to return to the land where he had won so many laurels. And it was
fitting that, after his death, his remains should repose in the noble
cathedral that adorns the capital of which he was the founder. [203]
In adventure and achievement, the three conquistadores above mentioned
take rank with Cortes, Pizarro and Orellana. Given a Homer, their
wanderings and deeds would afford themes for three Odysseys of
intense and abiding interest. Given even an Ercilla, we should have
a literary monument, which, in romantic episode and dramatic effect,
would eclipse the Araucana, the nearest approach to an epic that
South America has yet produced.
The Bogotános have long claimed for their city the distinction of
being the Athens of South America. And considering its past and present
culture, and the attention which the arts, the sciences and literature
have always received there since the foundation of the capital, few,
I think, will be disposed to impugn the justness of this claim.
Bogotá's first man of letters was none other than the licentiate
Gonzalo Jimenez de Quesada himself--a man who could wield the pen
with as much skill as the sword. Indeed, the detailed knowledge that
we have of many features of his memorable campaigns we owe to his
fertile pen. He is really the first and, in some respects, the most
important chronicler of the events in which he took so conspicuous a
part. How unlike, in this respect, is he not, to Pizarro and Almagro,
who were unable to sign their own names?
Among the other early writers of New Granada was Padre Juan de
Castellanos, the poet-historiographer, who has been so frequently
quoted in the preceding chapters. The extent of his work may be
gauged by the fact that it contains one hundred and fifty thousand
hendecasyllabic verses--more than ten times as many as are in the
Divina Commedia--and more than are found in any other metrical work,
except the Hindu epic known as the Mahabharata, which contains no
fewer than one hundred and ten thousand couplets.
It is interesting to note that in Colombia, as in Spain, Portugal
and Mexico, the nun in the cloister has found time to devote to
literature as well as to contemplation and works of charity. Among
these successful imitators of St. Theresa, whose works, both in prose
and verse, have long been the admiration of the literary world, may be
mentioned Sor Francisca Josefa de la Concepcion, of Tunga. Although
she wrote in prose, she, by her purity of language and delicacy of
sentiment, is entitled to rank with such distinguished ornaments of
the cloister as Sor Junana Ines de la Cruz, of Mexico; Sor Maria de
Ceo, of Portugal; Sor Gregoria de Santa Teresa, of Seville; and Sor
Ana de San Jeronimo, of Granada, Spain. [204]
The names of the poets and prose writers of Colombia, that have
achieved distinction, make a long list. Many of them enjoy an
international reputation, and their productions compare favorably with
the best efforts of the writers of the mother country--Spain. [205]
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 [206] 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." [207]
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 [208] 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.
But the people, in their desire to honor their hero, have not been
satisfied with statues alone. Coins bear his name and image, towns and
states are named after him. More than this, his name has been given
to one of the South American republics--Bolivia--a republic, formerly
a part of Peru--Upper Peru--which owes its very existence to him.
But who was Simon Bolivar, one will ask, and what has he done to
achieve such distinction and to command recognition in such diverse
ways and in regions so widely separated?
His admirers say that he was the Washington of South America--the one
who secured the independence of the Spanish colonies, after three
centuries of misrule and oppression. According to them, he was one
of the world's greatest geniuses in military science, a genius in
state-craft, a genius in everything required to make a great and
successful leader of men.
Sr. Miguel Tejera does not hesitate to characterize him as one who was
"Bold and fortunate as Alexander, a patriot like Hannibal, brave and
clement like Cæsar, a great captain and a profound statesman like
Napoleon, honorable as Washington, a sublime poet and a versatile
orator, such was Bolivar, who united in his own mind all the vast
multiplicity of the elements of genius. His glory will shine in
the heaven of history, not as a meteor that passes, and is lost
in the bosom of space, but as a heavenly body, whose radiance is
ever-increasing." [209]
Even more extravagant are the claims made for his hero by Don Felipe
Larazabel in his bulky two-tome Vida de Bolivar.
"A noble and sublime spirit, humane, just, liberal, Bolivar was one of
the most gifted men the world has ever known; so perfect and unique
that in goodness he was like Titus, in his fortune and achievements
like Trapan, in urbanity like Marcus Aurelius, in valor like Cæsar,
in learning and eloquence like Augustus....
"He was a poet like Homer, a legislator like Plato, a soldier like
Bonaparte.... He taught Soublett and Heres diplomacy, Santander
administration, Gual politics, Marshal Sucre military art.
"Like Charlemagne, but in a higher degree, he possessed the
art of doing great things with ease and difficult things with
promptness. Whoever conceived plans so vast? Whoever carried them to a
more successful issue? A quick and unerring glance; a rapid intuition
of things and times; a prodigious spontaneity in improvising gigantic
plans; the science of war reduced to the calculation of minutes,
an extraordinary vigor of conception, and a creative spirit, fertile
and inexhaustible, ... such was Bolivar.
"'Deus ille fuit, Deus, inclyte Memmi.' He was a god, illustrious
Memmius, he was a god." [210]
Col. G. Hippisley, who served under Bolivar in the War of Independence,
does not give such a flattering estimate of the Liberator. "Bolivar,"
he writes, "would willingly ape the great man. He aspires to be
a second Bonaparte in South America, without possessing a single
talent for the duties of the field or the cabinet.... He has
neither talents nor abilities for a general, and especially for
a commander-in-chief.... Tactics, movements and manoeuvre are as
unknown to him as to the lowest of his troops. All idea of regularity,
system or the common routine of an army, or even a regiment, he is
totally unacquainted with. Hence arise all the disasters he meets, the
defeats he suffers and his constant obligations to retreat whenever
opposed to the foe. The victory, which he gains to-day, however
dearly purchased ... is lost to-morrow by some failure or palpable
neglect on his part. Thus it is that Paez was heard to tell Bolivar,
after the action at Villa del Cura, that he would move off his own
troops, and act no more with him in command; adding, 'I have never
lost a battle wherein I acted by myself, or in a separate command;
and I have always been defeated when acting in connection with you
or under your orders.'" [211]
Gen. Holstein, who was the Liberator's chief-of-staff and who was,
therefore, in a position to have intimate knowledge of the man, is
even more pronounced in his strictures on the character and capacity
of the commander-in-chief of the patriot forces.
"The dominant traits in the character of General Bolivar are
ambition, vanity, thirst for absolute, undivided power and profound
dissimulation.... Many of his generals have done far more than he has
to free the country from the Spaniards.... The brightest deeds of all
these generals were performed in the absence of Bolivar. Abroad they
were attributed to his military skill and heroism, while, in fact,
he was a fugitive a thousand miles from the scenes of their bravery,
and never dreaming of their success.... General Bolivar, moreover, has
never made a charge of cavalry nor with the bayonet; on the contrary,
he has ever been careful to keep himself out of danger." [212]
Elsewhere in his work, Holstein claims to "prove that Bolivar, the
Republic of Colombia and its chieftains, are indebted to strangers
and their powerful support for their existence, if not as a free,
at least as an independent people." There were, according to some
estimates, fully ten thousand European soldiers in the republican
army, and among the officers were Englishmen, Germans, Irishmen, Poles
and Frenchmen. It was, according to Holstein, the Irish legion that
gained the great battle of Carabobo, which secured the independence of
Venezuela. [213] It was the British legion, declares the same writer,
that won the decisive victory of Boyacá, which broke the power of
the Spaniards in New Granada. Sucre, the victorious general in the
battle of Pichincha, which liberated Ecuador, was also the victor
in the battles of Junin and Ayacucho--the Waterloo of colonial rule
in South America--which gave freedom to Peru. Bolivar had the honor
of gaining both victories, although he was ill during the battle of
Ayacucho, and a hundred miles from the field of action during the
struggle on the plateau of Junin.
In view of all this, Holstein does not hesitate to declare that Bolivar
rules "with more power and absoluteness than does the autocrat of
Russia or the Sultan of Constantinople," and that, compared with George
Washington, Simon Bolivar was but a Liliputian. Sr. Riva Aguero, the
first president of Peru, goes farther and assures us that the terrible
characterization, given by Apollocorus, of Philip of Macedon, father of
Alexander the Great, is but a true portrait of the Liberator Bolivar.
These estimates of Bolivar, so different from those of Tejera and
Larrazabel and many of Bolivar's other biographers--remind one of
what Montesquieu says about the contradictory accounts which partisan
writers have given us regarding certain potentates of antiquity. As
instances he cites Alexander, who is described as the veriest poltroon
by Herodian, and extolled as a paragon of valor by Lampridius; and
Gratian, who by his admirers is lauded to the skies and by Philostorgus
compared to Nero.
"But, how is it possible, the question naturally arises, that General
Bolivar should have liberated his country, and preserved to himself
the supreme power, without superior talent?"
"If by liberating his country," replies Gen. Holstein, in answer to
his own question, "it be meant that he has given his country a free
government, I answer that he has not done so. If it be meant that
he has driven out the Spaniards, I answer that he has done little
towards this; far less certainly than the meanest of his subordinate
chieftains. To the question, How can he have retained his power without
superior talent? I answer, in the first place, that the reputation
of superior talent goes a great way.... The stupid management of
the Spanish authorities has facilitated all the operations of the
patriots. The grievous faults of Bolivar and some of his generals
have been exceeded by those of his adversaries. It is not strange,
therefore, that Bolivar should have been able to do all he has done
with very limited talents." [214]
Such a marked divergence of views respecting the character of Bolivar
and the position he should occupy among the great chieftains of
history admits of an explanation, but such an explanation would of
itself require a volume. It is safe to say, however, that no reliable
biography of the Liberator has yet appeared, and that, when it does
appear, it is most likely that Bolivar will occupy a position much
below that claimed for him by some of his over-enthusiastic eulogists
and above that assigned to him by those who have manifested less
admiration for his policy and achievements.
To write a definitive biography of Bolivar will not be an easy
task. It will require a man of broad sympathies; one entirely free
from all national antipathy and religious bias; one with a judicial
mind, who can sift and weigh evidence without prejudice, and render
a verdict strictly in accordance with the facts in the case. Most,
if not all, who have hitherto written about Bolivar, have exhibited
a partisan spirit and allowed themselves to be swayed by political
and other considerations, which have so greatly detracted from the
value of their work that it cannot be accepted as authentic history.
To do full justice to the subject in all its bearings will require
impartial judgment, ripe and varied scholarship, and above all, a keen
and comprehensive historic sense. The writer will have to discuss
the relation of Spain to her colonies, and consider various social,
political, racial, economical and religious questions that are as
difficult as they are complicated and conflicting. He must have an
intimate and accurate knowledge of the character and aspirations of the
different peoples with whom Bolivar and his lieutenants had to deal. He
must be familiar with the history and traditions of the various South
American presidencies and viceroyalties and captaincies-general, and
take note of the passions and prejudices and jealousies that have been
the cause of so many sanguinary revolutions and have contributed so
much to retard intellectual progress and material advancement. Only
when such an one appears, and completes the colossal task, shall we
have a definitive life of Simon Bolivar, and an authentic record of
the War of Independence.
Before closing this chapter some reference seems necessary to what
cannot escape even the most casual student of South American history,
but what, to the observant traveler, seems to be a matter of special
moment. I refer to Bolivar's policy of dividing and weakening Peru,
and to his uniting under one flag the three northern countries of
the continent. The separation of Upper Peru--Bolivia--from Lower Peru
seems, in the light of events since the change, to have been a fatal
mistake and detrimental to the best interests of Bolivia as well as
to those of Peru.
I think, however, he exhibited unusual wisdom and foresight in
combining in one republic--Gran Colombia--the provinces of Quito,
New Granada and Venezuela. I know Gen. Mitre has denounced the idea
as an absurdity--como un absurdo-- [215] but, if this distinguished
writer had had an opportunity to study actual conditions, as they
present themselves to the traveler to-day, and to consult the wishes
and welfare of the large mass of the people at present dwelling
within the confines of Greater Colombia, I think he would have been
disposed to accept Bolivar's plan for a great nation, extending from
the Atlantic to the Pacific, as the best for all concerned.
Had the destiny of Colombia, after the union, been entrusted to the
direction of wise and unselfish patriots, as was the infant Republic
of the United States of North America, one may well believe that the
history of this part of South America, during the last three-quarters
of a century, would have been quite different from what it has been,
and that it would have been spared those countless internecine wars
that have deluged the country in blood and rendered civilization,
in its higher sense, impossible.
The geographical features of the country, and the diverse interests
of its different sections, were, pace Mitre, no more opposed to
the formation of a great and stable republic on the Caribbean than
they were in that vast commonwealth to the north of the Gulf of
Mexico, where the Stars and Stripes have so long been the symbol of
peace, prosperity and national greatness. The people in the southern
continent, were not, it is true, so well prepared for a democratic form
of government as were their brethren in the north, but if, instead
of being cursed with selfish and destructive militarism, they could
have enjoyed the blessings of competent and far-seeing statesmanship,
it is safe to affirm that the Great Colombia, as Bolivar conceived
it, would, ere this, have developed into a flourishing and powerful
republic--worthy of taking a place among the great nations of the
world. [216]
But, sad to relate, Bolivar's creation was short-lived. After a
precarious existence of only eleven years, disintegration took place,
and the Liberator, fallen into disfavor and condemned to exile,
was forced to be a witness of the collapse of the structure that had
cost him so much labor, and which he had fondly hoped would be his
greatest and most enduring monument.
Shortly before his death at the hacienda of San Pedro, near Santa
Marta, where he perished alone,
"Maligned and doubted and denied, a broken-hearted man," he wrote
to General Flores, of Ecuador, a letter in which occur the following
remarkable statements:--
"I have been in power--yo he mandado--for nearly twenty years, from
which I have gathered only a few definite results:--
"1. America for us is ungovernable.
"2. He who dedicates his services to a revolution plows the sea.
"3. The only thing that can be done in America is to emigrate.
"4. This country will inevitably fall into the hands of the unbridled
rabble, and little by little become a prey to petty tyrants of all
colors and races.
"5. Devoured as we shall be by all possible crimes and ruined by
our own ferociousness, Europeans will not deem it worth while to
conquer us.
"6. If it were possible for any part of the world to return to a
state of primitive chaos, that would be the last stage of Spanish
America." [217]
Was the Liberator gifted with a seer's vision when he penned these
prophetic words? It would seem so, for even if he had open before
him the scroll in which has been recorded the chief events of the
history of South America during the past three-quarters of a century,
he could scarcely have spoken with greater truth and precision. Certain
it is, as Mitre well observes, that none of his designs or ideals have
survived him. His political work died with him and all his fond dreams
of a vast Andean Empire vanished like mist before the rising sun.
This is not the place to account for the turmoil and anarchy
which have so long devastated one of the most fertile quarters of
the globe. Considering its immense natural resources and its many
advantages of climate and geographical position, it should be one of
the most prosperous regions of the earth, and its inhabitants among the
happiest and most advanced in culture and the arts of peace. Let it
suffice to reproduce the following paragraph from the work, already
cited, of Sr. Perez Triana:--
"As to the topsy-turviness of things Spanish and Spanish-American,
the story is told that Santiago, the patron saint of Spain, being
admitted into the presence of God, asked and obtained for the
land of Spain and for its people all sorts of blessings; marvelous
fertility for the soil, natural wealth of all kinds in the mountains
and the forests, abundance of fish in the rivers and of birds in the
air; courage, sobriety, and all the manly virtues for men; beauty,
grace and loveliness for the women. All this was granted, but on the
point of leaving, the saint, it is said, asked from God that he would
also grant Spain a good government. The request was denied, as then,
it is said, the Lord remarked, the angels would abandon heaven and
flock to Spain. The story has lost none of its point."