The viceroy looked questioningly at the conde.
He could not provide any such information, said the latter without looking up from his plate. He spoke only Spanish.
To change the subject, the viceroy asked Humboldt's opinion of the silver mines.
Ineffective, said Humboldt absentmindedly nothing but dilettantism and shoddy work. He closed his eyes for moment, and immediately the stone face appeared in front of him. Something had seen him, he could feel it, and would never forget him. Only the enormous surplus of silver, he heard himself saying, allowed an appearance of efficiency. The methods were antiquated, the theft quotient was gigantic, and the personnel were undereducated.
For a few moments there was silence. The viceroy threw a glance at Andrés del Río, who had turned pale.
Of course he was exaggerating, said Humboldt, shocked at himself. A lot of things had impressed him!
The conde looked at him with a faint smile.
New Spain needed a capable minister of mines, said the viceroy.
Humboldt asked whom he had in mind.
The viceroy said nothing.
Impossible, said Humboldt, raising his hands. He was a Prussian, he could not serve another country.
Only later in the evening did he manage to exchange a few words with the conde. He asked him quietly what he might know about an enormous stone calendar-wheel.
About five ells in radius?
Humboldt nodded.
With feathered snakes, and a staring face at the center?
Yes, cried Humboldt.
He didn't know a thing, said the conde. He wasn't an Indian, he was a Spanish grandee.
Humboldt enquired if nothing was passed down in the family.
The conde drew himself up to his full height, level with Humboldt's chest. His forefather had been kidnapped by Cor-tés. He had begged for his life like a woman, had moaned and wept and finally, after weeks of imprisonment, had changed sides. It was Aztecs who had stoned him to death. If he, the conde of Moctezuma, were to walk out now into the main square, he wouldn't stay alive for five minutes. The conde paused for thought. Perhaps, he said finally, nothing might happen at all. It had all been a long time ago, people scarcely remembered any more. He took his wife by the elbow and looked up at Humboldt with narrowed eyes. Everyone who met him searched his face for a glimpse of the god-king. Everyone who heard his name looked through him and into the past. Could Humboldt imagine what it was like to lead one's life as the shadow of a great relative?
Sometimes, yes, said Humboldt.
Passed down in the family, the conde repeated disapprovingly. He and his wife left without saying goodbye.
In the early morning, Humboldt noticed that Bonpland wasn't there. He immediately went in search of him. The streets were full of traders: one man was selling dried fruit, a second miraculous cures for every illness except arthritis, a third struck off his left hand with an axe, then handed it round for the crowd to examine while he waited in pain until he got it back again. He pressed it against the stump and dripped a tincture over it. Pale from loss of blood, he then banged on the table to show it had reattached itself. The bystanders applauded and bought his entire stock of tincture. A fourth had a miraculous cure for arthritis, a fifth cheaply printed illustrated brochures. One of them contained the story of a miracle-working priest, another the life of the Indian boy to whom the Madonna of Guadeloupe had appeared, a third the adventure of a German baron, who had steered a boat through the hell of the Orinoco and climbed the highest mountain in the world. The pictures were really not bad; Humboldt's uniform in particular was well captured.
He found Bonpland where he thought he might be. The house was expensively decorated, the façade covered with Chinese tiles. A porter asked him to wait. Minutes later Bonpland appeared, his clothes thrown on in haste.
Humboldt asked how often he would have to remind him of their bargain.
It was a hotel like any other, Bonpland replied, and their bargain was unreasonable. He had never agreed to it.
One way or the other, said Humboldt, it was still a bargain.
Bonpland told him to spare himself the homilies.
Next day they climbed Popocatepetl. A path led almost the entire way to the summit: Gómez and Wilson, the mayor of the capital, three draftsmen, and almost a hundred sightseers followed them. Whenever Bonpland cut off a plant, he had to show it around. Most of them came back so manhandled that there was no point in putting them in the specimen box. When Humboldt put on his breathing mask in front of a hole in the ground, there was applause. And while he established the height of the summit with the barometer and let his thermometer down into the crater, traders sold refreshments.
On the way down they were addressed by a Frenchman. His name, he said, was Duprés and he wrote for several newspapers in Paris. He had come because of the Academy's expedition led by Baudin. But now Baudin hadn't appeared and he hadn't been able to believe his luck when he'd learned that someone infinitely more important was in the country.
For a moment Humboldt was unable to suppress a self-satisfied smile. He still hoped, he said, he might join up with Baudin and go with him to the Philippines. He intended to catch the captain in Acapulco, so that the two of them could explore the blessed islands.
The two of them, repeated Duprés. The blessed exploration of the islands.
The exploration of the blessed islands!
Duprés crossed it out, rewrote it, and said thank you.
Then they visited the ruins of Teotihuacán. They seemed too large to have been built by man. A straight highway led them to a square surrounded by temples. Humboldt sat down on the ground to do some calculations, the crowd watched him from a distance. Soon one of them got bored, several of them began to curse, after an hour most of them had gone, after ninety minutes so had the last of them. Only the three journalists remained. Bonpland, covered in sweat, came back from the peak of the largest pyramid.
He hadn't imagined it was so high!
Humboldt, sextant in hand, nodded.
Four hours later, evening was already well advanced, he was still sitting there in the same position, hunched over the paper; Bonpland and the journalists, freezing cold, had dropped off to sleep. Shortly afterward, as Humboldt packed up his instruments, he knew that on the day of the solstice, the sun when seen from the highway rose exactly over the top of the largest pyramid and went down over the top of the second-largest. The whole city was a calendar. Who had thought it up? How well had these people known the stars, and what had they wanted to convey? He was the first person in more than a thousand years who could read their message.
Why was he so depressed, asked Bonpland, awakened by the sound of the instruments being closed.
So much civilization and so much horror, said Humboldt. What a combination! The exact opposite of everything that Germany stood for.
Maybe it was time to go home, said Bonpland.
To the city?
Not this one.
For a while Humboldt stared up into the starry night sky. Good, he said eventually. He would learn to understand these terrifyingly intelligently arranged stones, as if they were natural phenomena. After that he would let Baudin leave on his own for the Pacific and take the first ship to North America. From there they would go back to Europe.
But first they went to Jorullo, the volcano that had suddenly erupted fifty years before in thunder, a storm of fire and a blizzard of ashes. As it appeared in the distance, Humboldt clapped his hands in excitement. He must climb it, he dictated to the journalists, it would provide the final refutation of the theory of Neptunism. When he thought of the great Abraham Werner, he spelled out the name, he almost felt sorry for him.
At the foot of the volcano they were received by the governor of the province of Guanajuato with a great retinue, including the first man to climb it, Don Ramón Espelde. He must insist on leading the expedition. It was too dangerous to be left to laymen!
Humboldt said he had climbed mor
e mountains than anyone else on earth.
Unmoved, Don Ramón advised him not to look directly into the sun and every time he set down his right foot to pray to the Madonna of Guadeloupe.
They dragged along slowly. They kept having to wait for this one or that; Don Ramón in particular kept losing his footing or getting so exhausted he couldn't go on. Humboldt regularly, to universal astonishment, went down on all fours to listen to the rock with his ear-trumpet. Once at the top, he let himself down into the crater on a rope.
The fellow was totally mad, said Don Ramón, he'd never seen anything like it.
When Humboldt was pulled up again he was streaked with green, coughing piteously and his clothing was scorched. Nep-tunism, he called out, blinking, was officially buried as of today!
A tragedy really, said Bonpland. It had had a certain poetry.
In Veracruz they took the first ship back to Havana. He had to admit, said Humboldt as the coastline sank away into the haze, he was happy that it was all coming to an end. He leaned against the rail and squinted up into the sky. It occurred to Bonpland that for the first time he didn't look like a young man any more.
They were lucky: in Havana a ship was just leaving to head up the continent, then up the Delaware to Philadelphia. Humboldt went to the captain, showed his Spanish passport one more time, and requested passage.
My God, said the captain, you!
Heavens, said Humboldt.
They stared blankly at each other.
He didn't think it was a good idea, said the captain.
But he had to get north, said Humboldt, and promised not to check any of their positions during the voyage. He trusted him completely. The ocean crossing back then had stayed in his memory as a brilliant feat of seamanship. Despite the disease, the incompetent ship's doctor, and all the false calculations.
And Philadelphia of all places, said the captain. If it were up to him, all rebellious settlers could drop dead, the ones over there and the ones here.
He had fourteen chests full of rock and plant samples, said Humboldt, plus twenty-four cages of monkeys and birds and some glass cases with insects and spiders, which needed special handling. If it was all right, they could begin loading immediately.
This was a busy port, said the captain. Another ship would certainly turn up soon.
He himself would have no objection, said Humboldt. But he had this passport from their Catholic majesties, and they expected him to hurry.
Humboldt kept to his promise and didn't meddle in the navigation. If a monkey hadn't escaped and succeeded on its own in eating half the supplies, loosing two tarantulas, and reducing the captain's cabin to tatters, the voyage would have been without incident. He spent the journey on the afterdeck, sleeping more than usual and writing letters to Goethe, his brother, and Thomas Jefferson. When the chests were unloaded in Philadelphia, the captain and he said another round of farewells.
He very much hoped they would meet again, said Humboldt stiffly.
Certainly no more than he, replied the captain, in his uniform with its scarecrow repairs.
Both saluted.
A coach was waiting to take them into the capital. A messenger delivered a formal invitation: the president asked to have the honor of offering them hospitality in the newly built government residence; he was most eager to learn everything and then more about Herr von Humboldt's already legendary journey.
Uplifting, said Duprés.
Too feeble a word, said Wilson. Humboldt and Jefferson! And he was going to be there too!
And just how was it Herr von Humboldt's journey, asked Bonpland. Why not the Humboldt-Bonpland journey? Or the Bonpland-Humboldt journey? The Bonpland expedition? Could somebody explain it to him just once?
A backwoods president, said Humboldt. Who cared what he thought!
The city of Washington was a building site. Everywhere was covered in scaffolding, trenches, and mounds of bricks, everywhere was a cacophony of saws and hammers. The government residence, just completed and not yet fully painted, was a classical domed building surrounded by columns. He was pleased, said Humboldt as they climbed out of the coach, to see yet another example of the influence of the great Winckelmann!
A double line of raggedy, saluting soldiers had formed up, a trumpet blast cut through the sky, and a flag bellied in the wind. Humboldt held himself ramrod straight and touched the back of his hand to the rim of his cap. Men in dark morning coats were walking down from the building; first came the president, and behind him their foreign minister, Madison. Humboldt said something about the honor of being here, his respect for the liberal idea, and his joy at having left the sphere of an oppressive despotism.
Had he already eaten, asked the president, clapping him on the shoulder. You must eat something, Baron!
The gala dinner was pitiful, but the dignitaries of the republic had all gathered. Humboldt spoke of the ice cold of the Cordilleras and the mosquito swarms of the Orinoco. He was a good narrator, except that he kept losing himself in facts: he reported in such detail on currents and changes of pressure, the relation of elevation to density of vegetation, the minuscule differences between insect species, that several ladies began to yawn. When he took out his notebook and began to read off measurements, Bonpland gave him a kick under the table. Humboldt took a mouthful of wine and moved on to the burden of despotism and the exploitation of earth's riches, which produce a sterile form of wealth from which the economy could never profit. He spoke about the nightmare of slavery. He felt another kick. He cast Bonpland a dirty look and only then realized that it had come from the foreign minister person.
Jefferson had estates, whispered Madison.
And?
With everything that entailed.
Humboldt changed themes. He talked of the squalid harbor of Havana, the highlands of Caxamarca, of Atahualpa's sunken garden of gold, and of the great stone highways, thousands of miles long, built by the Incas to link their countless high redoubts. He had already drunk more than he was accustomed to, his face was flushed and his movements became more expansive. He had always been on the move, ever since he was seven. He had never spent more than six months in one place. He knew every continent and had seen the fabulous creatures described by Oriental fairytales: flying dogs, hydra-headed snakes, and parrots fluent in every language. Then, laughing quietly to himself, he went to bed.
The next day, despite his headache, he had a long conversation in the elliptically formed study of the president. Jefferson leaned back and removed his spectacles.
Bifocal lenses, he explained, exceedingly useful, one of the many inventions of his friend Franklin. Truth be told, the man had always seemed uncanny to him, he had never understood him. Yes, gladly, of course. Here they are!
While Humboldt examined the spectacles, Jefferson folded his hands on his chest and began to ask questions. If Humboldt digressed, he shook his head gently, interrupted, and repeated the question. A map of Central America was lying as if by chance on the table. He wanted to know everything about New Spain, its transport routes and its mines. He was interested in how the administration worked, how orders were transmitted over land and sea, how the mood of the nobles was, how large the army, how well equipped, how well trained. If one had a great power for a neighbor, one could never have enough information. Nonetheless he must alert the baron that since he had been traveling under the auspices of the Spanish crown, he might well be bound to silence.
Oh why, said Humboldt. Who could it hurt? He bent over the map, whose many mistakes he had already pointed out, and put precise crosses on the location of the most important garrisons.
Jefferson sighed and expressed his thanks. What did they know here? They were a tiny Protestant community on the edge of the world. Unimaginably far from everything.
Humboldt glanced through the window. Two workmen were going past carrying a ladder, a third was shoveling out a gravel trench. To be honest, he couldn't wait to go home.
To Berlin?
Hum
boldt laughed. No one of any intelligence could call that dreadful city home. No, he meant Paris of course. He would never live in Berlin again, of that much he was sure.
THE SON
In a bad temper, Gauss laid down his napkin. The food had not been to his taste. But since he was hardly in a position to complain about it, he began to curse the city. He asked how anyone could stand it here.
It had its advantages, said Humboldt vaguely.
Such as?
Humboldt stared at the tabletop for a few moments. He was imagining, he said, covering the earth with a network of magnetic observation points. He wanted to discover whether the planet's interior held one magnet or two, or multiples. The Royal Society had already offered its support, but he still needed the help of the Prince of Mathematicians.
It didn't require a mathematician of any particular skill, said Gauss. He'd already been working on magnetism at the age of fifteen. Child's play. Could he have a cup of tea?
Humboldt snapped his fingers in consternation. It was early afternoon and the professor had been asleep for sixteen hours. Humboldt, on the other hand, had got up at 5 a.m. as usual, had gone without breakfast to do a couple of experiments on the fluctuation of the earth's magnetic field, before dictating a memorandum about the costs and possible uses of breeding seals in Warnemünde, writing four letters to two Academies, talking with Daguerre about the apparently insoluble problem of fixing images chemically on copper plates, drinking two cups of coffee, resting for ten minutes, and then proofreading three chapters of the account of his journey with their footnotes about the flora of the Cordillera. He had discussed the order of the upcoming evening reception at the Choral Hall with the secretary of the Society of Natural Scientists, written a short memorandum on the pumping of groundwater for the new Mexican prime minister, and replied to letters of enquiry from two biographers. That was when Gauss, sleep-ridden and grumpy, had appeared from the guest room and demanded breakfast.