Alexander von Humboldt – Page 3 – The Pull Of The Land

Cumaná, Humboldt, Lisbon, and The Inquisition

August 2, 2019August 3, 2019 Richard Barnes

Cumaná, Venezuela, is a beautifully placed city founded in the early 16th century (1515). It is the oldest continuously inhabited city established by Europeans in South America. Refer to the post, Playa Hicacos, 1966, for descriptions and photos of the beaches and mountains in the area, the northeastern coast of Venezuela.

This was the city where the great explorer and naturalist, Alexander Von Humboldt, alighted in the late 18th century.

He arrived just days before a spectacular solar eclipse, which he recorded in precise detail in his 23-volume record of his “equinoctial” journey, a great part of which was through large swathes of Venezuela. This journey consumed about 5 years, the end of which he travelled to the United States before returning to Europe. In the USA, he met several times with Thomas Jefferson and they became warm friends with a good deal of correspondence over the succeeding years. They shared mutual interests, including natural history, geography, and a passion for exploring the Americas. The Lewis and Clark expedition commenced in 1804, just as Humboldt’s Equinoctial journey was ending.

Like Francisco de Miranda (see post, Simón Bolivar III — Influences), Humboldt not only knew Jefferson, but he also met and, for better or for worse, influenced a young Simón Bolivar, who was in Europe when Humboldt returned.

Following other, shorter trips, he set about to record and request scientific challenges to his multifarious observations and conclusions, many of which, including complicated laws governing atmospheric disturbances at higher altitudes, as well as the regularity of ocean currents, stand to this day.

The renowned, 5-year South American expedition laid the foundation for the disciplines of physical geography and meteorology; his effort of recording and documenting, which he believed would take him 2 or 3 years, actually consumed twenty-one years of his life, and remained incomplete at his death in 1859. But the 23-volume record of observations in the Americas was completed.

Humboldt recorded a great solar eclipse which occured on October 28, 1799, just days after his arrival. But, even more momentous than the eclipse, was the “atmospheric phenomena”, as he put it in his journals, that took place before and after. He wrote, “…from the 10th of October to the 3rd of November, at nightfall, a reddish vapor arose in the horizon, and covered, in a few minutes, with a veil more or less thick, the azure vault of the sky…clouds of brilliant whiteness collected at the zenith, and extended towards the horizon…clouds so transparent that they did not hide the stars…I could distinguish so perfectly the spots of the moon….”

But that was not all. These extraordinary phenomena were eventually surpassed by a remarkable meteoric shower he observed and recorded on November 11-12, 1799. This observation became the starting point of modern scientific knowledge about the regularity of this meteoric shower that we now know as the Leonids. Thanks, at least in part, to Humboldt in Cumaná, Venezuela, we now know these showers occur approximately every 33 years, when thousands can be seen per hour.

But Cumaná was not done showing off to Humboldt, she presented him with a terrible earthquake. However, he learned that, as bad as this earthquake was, it was only a shadow of the one that devastated the city thirty-two years before his arrival. Humboldt transcribed the records of the city describing that earthquake of October 21,1766.

“The city of Cumaná was entirely destroyed, the houses were overturned in the space of a few minutes, and the shocks were hourly repeated during fourteen months. In several parts of the province the earth opened, and threw out sulphuric waters. These irruptions were very frequent in a plain extending towards Casanay two leagues east of the town of Cariaco, and known by the name of the hollow ground, (tierra hueca), because it appears entirely undermined by thermal springs. While the ground was in a state of continual oscillation, the atmosphere seemed to dissolve itself into water.”

He went on to write that the period prior to the earthquake and the months of after-shocks was accompanied “by varied phenomena such as flames and vapors mixed with sulphureous acid shooting from arid sands; geysers of water mixed with petroleum; hot, muddy masses issuing from huge crevices which would close and grow into elevated hills. These phenomena were accompanied by loud, monster-like noises: subterranean, rolling thunder; continuous, thud-like sounds, as of large quantities of sand mixed with water, thrown against a giant wall; extremely loud hissing, as if the earth had become a mighty, pressurized kettle which had finally been compelled to allow accumulated steam to violently escape…. The people of Cumaná, upon sensing what was afoot, ran into the streets, many crying, ‘Misericordia! Misericordia!’ (Mercy! Mercy!). Sometimes the sounds came after or during the earthquake. At other times they preceded the earthquake, thereby alerting the people to run into the streets seeking to avoid entombment in their houses or places of business.”

There is a great paradox to the 1766 earthquake: reports describe the complete destruction of the city; however, there is no mention of deaths. A possible explanation: the earthquake hit at 4:45 AM. Almost all the people of Cumaná were in the habit of leaving their homes at 4 AM to attend the first morning mass. This hypothesis, if true, would mean that the church structures withstood the initial waves, allowing people to run out in safety. But this is conjecture.

Residents encamped in the streets and, when the after-tremors decreased to about once per month, began to rebuild and recover surviving livestock, much of which had managed to escape southwards, away from the ocean.

There is evidence that the 1766 earthquake was felt as far as Quito in northwestern South America. Hard to believe, but evidently true. One result of the terrible earthquake was that none of the 16th century architecture survived. Over thirty years later, when Humboldt visited, the people of Cumaná and as far away as Caracas commemorated the day annually with a solemn procession on its anniversary.

As for Mr. Humboldt, I knew, or thought I knew, much about him as I was growing up. My father had some of his writings and drawings, particularly as they related to Venezuela. The almost-to-be magnificent Humboldt Hotel atop Mt. Ávila was built during my childhood, I learned about the Humboldt Current, and heard of the Parque Nacional Alejandro de Humboldt in Cuba, and the Humboldt Redwoods State Park in California. His name was ubiquitous. Few know about him today.

As for the earthquake, it took place eleven years after the Great Lisbon Earthquake of 1755, which some call “The First Modern Disaster.” Why call it that? It seems it was the first disaster where man sought to explain an event by divorcing it from the hand of God. Hence, this earthquake had a significant impact on the development of philosophy and theology in succeeding generations. The earth began to be seen not as a “house with an owner”, but rather as one ruled by chaos.

One final tidbit: there was a Jesuit priest in Lisbon who was alarmed by the godlessness of the reasoning being used to “explain” the earthquake. He was not against science; he was against atheism. He was burned at the stake by the Inquisition under the direction of the powerful first minister, known to history as the Marquês de Pombal, who then ordered all Jesuits expelled from Portugal and its empire, including Brazil.

The irony is that Voltaire, who utterly despised Christianity, mocked the burning at the stake as yet another instance of religious superstition provoked by the Lisbon Earthquake. As a thoroughly modern man, he neatly inverted the truth: the priest was cruelly executed, not in the Name of the Triune God, but in the name of reason. In other words, the Inquisition was an instrument of the State which insisted on its own definition of the truth and denial of faith. Dissension to political correctness carried the priest to the auto da fé. Best to consider anything Voltaire (or his ilk) says with a couple boulders of salt.

We’ll have more to say about Cumaná, Mr. Humboldt, and The Great Lisbon Earthquake in future posts.

https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/03-07-02-0011 Letter from Thomas Jefferson to Alexander von Humboldt, December 6, 1813

Castillo San Antonio de la Eminencia, old Spanish fort overlooking the city and ocean.

Cumaná Cathedral. Built in the 18th and early 19th centuries; much was destroyed in a 1929 earthquake but restored in the 1930’s.

German engraving depicting the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755, eleven years before the Cumaná earthquake. This earthquake had a vast influence in the development of modern philosophy and even theology in subsequent generations. Some call it “the first modern disaster.” Why? Man began to divorce “natural” disasters from the hand of God. Yet most insurance policies, even today, still refer to “Acts of God.” More on this in future posts.

Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), 1694-1778. Encouraged his like-minded acquaintances to not discuss their atheism within the hearing of the servants, lest they abandon belief in God and rob their masters. But his ideas eventually did seep to the rest of us. The results have not been pretty.

Alexander von Humboldt, 1805 depiction by Charles Wilson Peale, American artist who met Humboldt when he visited the USA in 1804 (*Wikipedia*).

Simón Bolivar

April 26, 2019April 26, 2019 Richard Barnes

Readers will have noticed something of a reluctance to go much into the mystique of Simón Bolivar (Bolivar) in these posts.

A cursory look at the countless Bolivar-related videos or sites in the internet universe will help explain why this blog has skirted around and about Bolivar. Reactions to Bolivar are often loud if not violent. This does not encourage overall understanding.

Be that as it may, it is simply impossible to consider Venezuela, or South America for that matter, without grappling with Bolivar, one of the most enigmatic figures in history, much more so than Napoleon, in my opinion.

Napoleon at least recognized that a people who could not govern themselves individually could not legitimately seek to be self-governing as a whole. Reading through Bolivar’s voluminous declarations, letters, orders, and musings, one sees that at times he appeared to agree with Napoleon in this regard; at times he disagreed, and vehemently so.

When one reads Bolivar’s denunciations of those who sought to be loyal to Spain, one is perplexed. Perplexed because Spain had devolved greater amounts of self-government to its American colonies than the British crown had devolved to its own. And Spain continued to concede more self-government, while England, a quarter century earlier, was reducing such.

So, where was the beef with Spain?

This is a subject that requires setting aside, or at least tamping down a bit, some anti-Spanish prejudices which Northern Europeans and North Americans have cultivated over five centuries.

It will require questioning the propagandistic reporting of Bartolomé de las Casas, who did far more than the British and the Dutch to besmirch his own country. What he reported was, to put it mildly, highly questionable. And if one takes the time to read through a fraction of his writings, one would see that much of what he said was designed to incite hatred towards Spain.

The British and the Dutch used him to good effect, especially the engravings of the Dutchman, Theodor de Bry. But in so doing, they managed to obfuscate much of South American history for centuries after. And this obfuscation, in turn, facilitates our superficial understanding of Bolivar.

By the way, las Casas’ actions, denunciations, and writings, and the use of such by Spain’s enemies bear a vivid resemblance to today’s use of “narrative” in propaganda and public debate. Nothing new under the sun indeed!

But we need to break away from the mainstream, popular narrative and be as fair as we can in looking back and judging how that narrative has molded our thinking and, where necessary, we need to revise such thinking to be more just. Just thinking will result in just action. To borrow the old Arthur Andersen motto: “Think Straight, Act Straight”.

Did you ever hear that the Spanish colonies in South America enjoyed more political self-government than the North American colonies?

Have you ever wondered why the South American revolutions spilled far more blood than the American? Hint: it’s not because of Spain.

Have you ever questioned why the South Americans rebelled against Spain? Hint: the causes, thought processes, and models they sought to imitate are not a mirror image of those of the North American colonies.

As for Bolivar, at one point he laments the destruction of three centuries of civilization (civilization cultivated by Spain). At another, without so much as a pause for an irony alert, he condemns Spain for having kept the Americas in prehistoric conditions. Well, which is it?

At one point, he condemns Spain for heartlessness; at another, he orders the execution of helpless prisoners.

His military exploits are a wonder. He rivals Hannibal in his crossing of the Andes. Twice.

Some of his writings reach stratospheric heights and are deeply moving and prescient.

But a man is known by his fruits. And it can be argued that the fruits of South American revolution are not a compliment to any man.

I grew up admiring Bolivar. I still admire him because he possessed much that is worthy of admiration and imitation. But we must recognize that he also possessed much that is not. His actions and reactions towards Spain require understanding and mature analysis.

Alexander von Humboldt, the great 18th and 19th century explorer and naturalist, told of an encounter with a savage looking Indian who startled him as he knelt to take some water from a narrow stream deep in the Venezuelan jungle. The Indian stood across the stream. As Humboldt rose, ready to defend himself, the Indian raised his hand and spoke to him in perfect Spanish. He then proceeded to lead the explorers to a mission not far away. The great explorer wrote that he was amazed at finding such a creature speaking a civilized tongue in the middle of nowhere.

As we shall see in future posts, Humboldt was a creature of the Enlightenment; he was no friend of Christianity (though, ironically, he was a product thereof) and this more often than not blinded him to the obvious. For example, he reported that the Waraos lived atop stilts on the shores of the Orinoco in order to keep missionaries from reaching them. This is so preposterous that one marvels how despising Christianity can make intelligent people dumb! However, even Humboldt was complimentary of the work of the Spanish missionaries with the Indians in South America. (The Waraos lived in huts on stilts for protection against the massive Orinoco floods, in case you’re wondering.)

Notwithstanding my comments above, I greatly respect Humboldt, as you shall see in future posts. And I am a fan of the English also, but not uncritically so.

Spain did a phenomenal work in the Americas. Not at all perfect. Sometimes terribly imperfect. But it deserves a more just assessment.

And that assessment will serve to help us better understand Bolivar. And Venezuela.

There will be more posts on Bolivar. And Humboldt. And Spain.

One of the many engravings by Theodor de Bry, a Dutch Protestant who fled Spanish-controlled Netherlands and dedicated his life to denouncing Spain. He never visited the Americas but (gleefully?) took Bartolomé de Las Casas at his word and engraved accordingly. Notice how he and Las Casas have the Spanish doing what the Aztecs did. This is quite a feat of inversion. The Spanish, at great loss of life to themselves, succeeded in stopping the Aztecs’ systematic human sacrificial system and cannibalism. This very well known FACT should have at least caused folks to question the veracity of the reporting and the accompanying engravings. Truly, one believes what he wants to believe.

Waraos on the Orinoco. They now wear clothing, thanks to Spanish and, later, Protestant missionaries.

Alexander von Humboldt at 74 in 1843. He died in 1859

Bolivar at 47, shortly before his death in 1830

Mining II

April 20, 2019April 24, 2019 Richard Barnes

To add to the prior post, I thought it good to tell a bit more about El Pao’s background and impetus as something of a microcosm of the myriad mining and petroleum camps dotting Venezuela in the 1950’s.

As noted in the Time Magazine article cited in the previous post, El Pao was a Bethlehem Steel iron ore mining camp built in the 1940’s in the Venezuelan southeastern interior, within a low and gentle mountain range in an area of dense, seemingly infinite jungles, just beyond the Gran Sabana prairies and plains whose boundaries seemed to melt with the sky.

The company, along with US Steel had negotiated concessions with the government of Marcos Pérez Jimenez, the shortest-lived of the numberless military dictatorships in Venezuela’s history. Actually, these concessions were signed prior to Jimenez’s official assumption of the presidency, but “everybody knew” he was actually in charge a few years before his official ascension in 1952. Perez Jimenez sought to enhance Venezuela’s independence by promoting oil and ore concessions and improving and expanding the transit infrastructure. He insisted, wherever possible, the companies build “open cities” as opposed to closed camps. US Steel did just that, which impelled the phenomenal growth of the thriving metropolis of Puerto Ordaz, at the confluence of the Orinoco and Caroní rivers. As for Caracas, it was modernized with skyscrapers, including the symbolic Humboldt Hotel, overlooking the capital city from atop Mt. Ávila. The hotel was named after the famous naturalist and explorer, Alexander Von Humboldt, who explored and studied much of Venezuela in the late 18th century. We’ll be seeing more of him in later posts. Construction projects were launched to build large public housing projects, bridges, and South America’s finest highway system, most of which would still be in use into the 21^stcentury, including the then spectacular La Guira – Caracas expressway in 1953 and the Tejerías – Caracas expressway in 1954.

Furthermore, his tenure saw the creation, in 1956, of cable car transport to the 6,000 ft., Mt. Avila, which stands like an imposing sentinel over Caracas. He also commissioned the building of the even more remarkable cable car system to the 20,000 ft. Pico Bolivar in the Andes in the western state of Mérida. Both systems were built by Swiss engineers and materiel. Venezuela was transformed into the most modern nation of South America: “modern” defined as excellent infrastructure, breathtaking skylines, and a rapidly growing middle class. Today, some old timers say it was the Dubai of the 1950’s.

A telling but quickly forgotten change imposed by Perez Jimenez was the revision of the official name of the nation. Since 1864 the country’s name was “United States of Venezuela”, reflecting Simón Bolivar’s admiration for the United States, but not his conviction that South America should not seek to emulate a similar type government because, as he put it, “the United States form of government will only work for saints, which is what they are [and what we are not]”; Marcos Pérez Jimenez, apparently understanding Bolivar’s admonition, changed the name to “Republic of Venezuela”, a name which stuck until, in the 21^stcentury, another authoritarian politician changed the name yet again, but left Venezuela’s 20 states intact. El Pao was in the large state of Bolivar, to the southeast of the country, bordering on Brazil to the south and British Guiana to the east.

Marcos Perez Jimenez ruled from December, 1952 to 1958, but his following persisted even after his death five decades later, in 2001.

A plebiscite was held in December, 1957 which Jimenez won by a wide margin, but which opponents insisted was a rigged exercise. He went into self-imposed exile in Miami Beach, in 1959, only to be deported later by the Kennedy administration, which vainly believed it could afford to break the United States’ promise of asylum in exchange for the applause of Venezuelan politicians: honor out; applause, in. But, as often happens with asymmetrical swaps, Kennedy succeeded with the former, weightier matter; and failed with the latter, transitory one.

Unbelievably, Jimenez was, in 1968, elected to the Senate, even though he ran in absentia from Spain; however, the Venezuelan politicians succeeded in overturning his election on technicalities. In 1973 his supporters nominated him for the presidency of Venezuela; however, the political parties amended the constitution, in effect prohibiting him from running for president again.

He never returned to Venezuela. Nevertheless, love him or hate him, his administration’s negotiations with the American steel and petroleum industries brought matchless prosperity to the country. This promise of future increase and liberality was reversed by the overturning of his economic policies, which tended to favor free enterprise locally coupled with pragmatic agreements with foreign companies, within a low tax and regulatory environment.

Amazingly, all major projects undertaken by the Perez Jimenez administration still stand, unsurpassed: either still in use, such as in the case of the magnificent, now barely maintained, and, therefore, in some places dangerous expressways, or as silent, empty monuments of a long past era, such as the Humboldt Hotel, alone and padlocked, alternating between stints as a reflector of countless brilliant sparkles of sunlight or as a lone sentry shrouded in clouds atop Mt. Ávila, reminding all who look and wonder, that historical eras ought not be facilely catalogued as bright or dark, evil or good. Much depends on who tells the story, how it’s told, of whom it is told, and, of course, by whom it is told.

But the foregoing was yet in the future. Most, if not all, Americans who came to Venezuela when Pérez Jimenez was either in power or was the power behind the throne, that is, from the late 1940’s through the 1950’s, were quite apolitical and gave little thought to the country’s civil government. Streets were safe, people were courteous, Americans were respected and admired, and work was abundant for both Americans and Venezuelans. What mattered to them, and to their companies, was that Venezuela became their largest supplier of iron ore, by far – ore ultimately incorporated in America’s magnificent bridges, skyscrapers, monuments, homes, and automobiles.

For those of you interested in Marcos Pérez Jimenez, you might want to check out the series of interviews (in Spanish) he granted not too long before his death. The link below is for the sixth of the series.

For those of you interested in the Humboldt Hotel, you might find the documentary linked below to be worth your while