Equinoctial Regions of America, vol 1 | Page 4

ties which link together
all the phenomena of nature. The classification of the species, which
must be considered as the fundamental part of botany, and the study of
which is rendered attractive and easy by the introduction of natural
methods, is to the geography of plants what descriptive mineralogy is
to the indication of the rocks constituting the exterior crust of the globe.
To comprehend the laws observed in the position of these rocks, to
determine the age of their successive formations, and their identity in
the most distant regions, the geologist should be previously acquainted
with the simple fossils which compose the mass of mountains, and of
which the names and character are the object of oryctognostical
knowledge. It is the same with that part of the natural history of the
globe which treats of the relations plants have to each other, to the soil
whence they spring, or to the air which they inhale and modify. The
progress of the geography of plants depends in a great measure on that
of descriptive botany; and it would be injurious to the advancement of
science, to attempt rising to general ideas, whilst neglecting the
knowledge of particular facts.
I have been guided by these considerations in the course of my
inquiries; they were always present to my mind during the period of my
preparatory studies. When I began to read the numerous narratives of
travels, which compose so interesting a part of modern literature, I

regretted that travellers, the most enlightened in the insulated branches
of natural history, were seldom possessed of sufficient variety of
knowledge to avail themselves of every advantage arising from their
position. It appeared to me, that the importance of the results hitherto
obtained did not keep pace with the immense progress which, at the
end of the eighteenth century, had been made in several departments of
science, particularly geology, the history of the modifications of the
atmosphere, and the physiology of animals and plants. I saw with regret,
(and all scientific men have shared this feeling) that whilst the number
of accurate instruments was daily increasing, we were still ignorant of
the height of many mountains and elevated plains; of the periodical
oscillations of the aerial ocean; of the limit of perpetual snow within
the polar circle and on the borders of the torrid zone; of the variable
intensity of the magnetic forces, and of many other phenomena equally
important.
Maritime expeditions and circumnavigatory voyages have conferred
just celebrity on the names of the naturalists and astronomers who have
been appointed by various governments to share the dangers of those
undertakings; but though these eminent men have given us precise
notions of the external configuration of countries, of the natural history
of the ocean, and of the productions of islands and coasts, it must be
admitted that maritime expeditions are less fitted to advance the
progress of geology and other parts of physical science, than travels
into the interior of a continent. The advancement of the natural sciences
has been subordinate to that of geography and nautical astronomy.
During a voyage of several years, the land but seldom presents itself to
the observation of the mariner, and when, after lengthened expectation,
it is descried, he often finds it stripped of its most beautiful productions.
Sometimes, beyond a barren coast, he perceives a ridge of mountains
covered with verdure, but its distance forbids examination, and the
view serves only to excite regret.
Journeys by land are attended with considerable difficulties in the
conveyance of instruments and collections, but these difficulties are
compensated by advantages which it is unnecessary to enumerate. It is
not by sailing along a coast that we can discover the direction of chains
of mountains, and their geological constitution, the climate of each
zone, and its influence on the forms and habits of organized beings. In

proportion to the extent of continents, the greater on the surface of the
soil are the riches of animal and vegetable productions; the more
distant the central chain of mountains from the sea-shore, the greater is
the variety in the bosom of the earth, of those stony strata, the regular
succession of which unfolds the history of our planet. As every being
considered apart is impressed with a particular type, so, in like manner,
we find the same distinctive impression in the arrangement of brute
matter organized in rocks, and also in the distribution and mutual
relations of plants and animals. The great problem of the physical
description of the globe, is the determination of the form of these types,
the laws of their relations with each other, and the eternal ties which
link the phenomena of life, and those of inanimate nature.
Having stated the general object I had in view in my expeditions, I will
now hasten