I see another Alexander taking over the stage! Bursting on to the global scene shortly after the American Revolution, Alexander von Humboldt and his enthusiasm and relentlessness to make sense of the natural world was contagious. The end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth really invited excitement from a public that yearned to understand the world around it. Young Alexander, as portrayed in Andrea Wulf’s The Invention of Nature, was an active youngster, interested in everything and always pursuing the latest adventures of discovery in the woods located in his ancestral estate, the bucolic German countryside. When I think of young Alexander in this book, I cannot help but recall a sentiment shared by an expert commenting in a recent biography of Teddy Roosevelt—that if young Teddy were alive in modern day United States, he would have been given Ritalin and constantly told to slow down. The same could be said of Humboldt, and any number of small, curious children who love to spend hours outside and have a thousand questions about what they see in nature. Lucky for Humboldt, with his charming personality and the right connections, coupled with sheer determination and an extremely punishing work ethic, the world was his to explain.
In this wonderfully vivid narrative, Wulf sets the story to the pace at which Humboldt really lived his life, constantly moving from place to place, with people to see and lectures to deliver. The level of description is exquisite, mirroring the amount of detail Humboldt himself would have taken in while trekking through wild, lush South America, honing his skills in deduction and hypothesis generation. Much of the book creates lively imagery in the reader’s mind; however, Wulf’s description of the thirty-year-old Humboldt’s adventures in Latin America, which took place over a number of years, is a cornucopia for the senses. The heat and humidity, the raw jungle sounds and smells, a jaguar’s snarl, an alligator’s hiss, the buzzing mosquitos, the majesty of rivers joining together, and finally climbing Chimborazo—visions that most of us only dream of, Humboldt lived through it all, all the while joining the framework necessary for his masterpiece, Kosmos, where he attempted to weave together different disciplines, presenting evidence for the interconnectedness of life.
According to Wulf, Humboldt, particularly in his travels through South America, began to understand the effects of human behavior on the ecosystem far earlier than most others, warning against how unregulated growth can wreak havoc in fragile environments. In fact, she says in Venezuela, he was able to see how climate itself was affected when farmers recklessly cleared forests without regard to soil replenishment or vegetation regeneration, or the permanent desiccation in areas where water was channeled away for agricultural use. To Humboldt, everything had a cause and effect, with even minor details in the universe inextricably linked to the larger picture.
This holistic attitude regarding the universe also meant that all disciplines seamlessly meld together. Humboldt, cosmopolitan to the core and the toast of the town because of his famous adventures in Latin America, enjoyed friendships with many great minds of various backgrounds. According to Wulf’s research, he spent a great many months collaborating with Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, fostering a friendship that lasted decades. He also met Simón Bolívar and Thomas Jefferson, enlightened thinkers who shared many commonalities with Humboldt, and inspired a number of younger scientists, including Charles Darwin, and philosophers and writers, such as Henry David Thoreau, and California’s very own naturalist, John Muir. In addition to his scientific contributions, Humboldt ardently supported democracies and abolition. For those who think globalization is a new concept that can easily be tossed aside, Humboldt’s life and influence offer strong alternative evidence.
As scientists, we are constantly trying to figure out structure and order in nature. We are generally good at finding patterns and understanding cause and effect, within limits. To me personally, being a scientist, observing nature and exploring concepts in chemistry and order in ecosystems have given me a deeper appreciation of the arts. You begin to see the role of nature in literature, poetry, art, history and even human nature. I’ve partaken in careers pertaining to both the humanities/social sciences as well as the sciences, singularly; however, when I’m in the middle of one, I always miss the finer points of the other. Perhaps as humans, we innately understand this interlocking to which Humboldt referred, though we never fully realize its meaning. Humboldt certainly did, and his gift to humanity is how exquisitely he weaved together the tapestry of this harmony with Kosmos. Forward thinking, optimistic, and revolutionary, fully capable of inspiring a musical. I would be especially thrilled to see a dance up to Chimborazo, gliding past snowy white clouds, measuring the blueness of the sky, and symbolically carrying human ambition to great heights. Once forgotten, but no longer so.
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