The Invention of Nature

Having always prided himself on his systematic approach, Humboldt found it difficult to come up with a rational method of studying his surroundings. Their trunks filled so quickly that they had to order more reams of paper on which to press their plants, and sometimes they found so many specimens that they could hardly carry them back to their house. Unlike other naturalists, Humboldt was not interested in filling taxonomic gaps – he was collecting ideas rather than just natural history objects, he said. It was the ‘impression of the whole’, Humboldt wrote, that captivated his mind more than anything.

Humboldt compared everything he saw with what he had previously observed and learned in Europe. Whenever he picked up a plant, a rock or an insect, his mind raced back to what he had seen at home. The trees that grew in the plains around Cumaná, with their branches forming parasol-like canopies, reminded him of Italian pines. When seen from a distance, the sea of cacti created the same effect as the grasses in the marshes in the northern climates. Here was a valley that made him think of Derbyshire in England, or caverns similar to those in Franconia in Germany, and those in the Carpathian Mountains in eastern Europe. Everything seemed somehow connected – an idea that would come to shape his thinking about the natural world for the rest of his life.

Humboldt in South America (Illustration Credit 4.1)

Humboldt had never been happier and healthier. The heat suited him and the fevers and nervous afflictions from which he had suffered in Europe disappeared. He even put on some weight. During the day he and Bonpland collected, in the evening they sat together and wrote up their notes and at night they took astronomical observations. One such night they stood awed for hours as a meteor shower drew thousands of white tails across the sky. Humboldt’s letters home burst with excitement and brought this wondrous world into the elegant salons of Paris, Berlin and Rome. He wrote of huge spiders that ate hummingbirds and of thirty-foot snakes. Meanwhile he amazed the people of Cumaná with his instruments; his telescopes brought the moon close to them and his microscopes transformed the lice in their hair into monstrous beasts.

There was one aspect that dampened Humboldt’s joy: the slave market opposite their rented house, in Cumaná’s main square. Since the early sixteenth century the Spanish had imported slaves to their colonies in South America and continued to do so. Every morning young African men and women were put on sale. They were forced to rub themselves with coconut oil to make their skin shiny black. They were then paraded for prospective buyers, who jerked open the slaves’ mouths to examine their teeth like ‘horses in a market’. The sight made Humboldt a life-long abolitionist.

Then, on 4 November 1799, less than four months after their arrival in South America, Humboldt for the first time felt the danger that might threaten his life and his plans. It was a hot and humid day. At midday dark clouds rolled in and by 4 p.m. thunderclaps reverberated across the town. Suddenly the ground began to tremble, almost knocking Bonpland to the floor as he was leaning over a table to examine some plants, and violently rocking Humboldt in his hammock. People ran screaming through the streets as houses crumbled, but Humboldt remained calm and climbed out of his hammock to set up his instruments. Even with the earth shaking nothing would prevent him from conducting his observations. He timed the shocks, noted how the quake rippled from north to south and took electric measurements. Yet for all his outward composure, Humboldt experienced inner turmoil. As the ground moved beneath him, it destroyed the illusion of a whole life, he wrote. Water was the element of motion, not the earth. It was like being woken, suddenly and painfully, from a dream. Until that moment he had felt an unwavering faith in the stability of nature, but he had been deceived. Now ‘we mistrust for the first time a soil, on which we had so long placed our feet with confidence,’ he said, but he was still determined to continue his travels.

He had waited for years to see the world and knew that he was putting his life in danger, but he wanted to see more. Two weeks later and after an anxious wait to draw money with his Spanish credit note (when it failed, the governor gave Humboldt money from his private funds), they left Cumaná for Caracas. In mid-November Humboldt and Bonpland – together with an Indian servant called José de la Cruz – chartered a small open thirty-foot local trading boat to sail westwards. They packed their many instruments and trunks, which were already filled with more than 4,000 plant specimens as well as insects, notebooks and tables of measurements.