Frontier Naturalist: Jean Louis Berlandier and the Exploration of Northern Mexico and Texas by Russell M. Lawson (review)

Jean Berlandier is well known to scholars interested in the cultural and natural histories of Texas and northeastern Mexico. He spent 24 years--the last half of his life--traveling throughout the region from 1826 to 1851, first as part of the Mexican Boundary Commission and later as a health care professional (to use modern parlance), resident of the region, and peace emissary--always as scientist with an insatiable curiosity. During this time, Berlandier published four books. These works constitute most of what is known about this preeminent man. That so little has been actually written about Berlandier is what makes Frontier Naturalist such an engaging book. In some respects, the book is biographical, but it is also an attempt to understand how Berlandier saw the world in which he lived. It is, accordingly, very geographical.

Following an Introduction that outlines the region, Berlandier’s role on the Comisión de Límites under the leadership of Gen. Manuel Mier y Terán, his residency in Matamoros, and his skills as a physician, zoologist, physicist, astronomer, meteorologist, oceanographer, geologist, cartographer, anthropologist, and geographer, the book is divided into nine substantive chapters that each deal with a specific period and activity. The spotlight of the first chapter focuses on Bandelier’s notes, manuscripts, sketches, and maps, and how a U.S. Army officer, Darius Nash Couch, obtained them from Bandelier’s widow and deposited them in the Smithsonian Institution. These materials are particularly important as they are the underpinnings of this book.

The second chapter highlights Bandelier’s humble upbringing on the Rhone near Fort L’Ecluse and his training under the tutelage of Augustin Pyramus de Candolle in Geneva. Throughout the remainder of the book, trans-Atlantic parallels are drawn--his empathy with impoverished soldiers, his scholarship, and his visceral affiliation with rivers and mountains. As a field scholar, I appreciate these parallels. However, I found myself flinching from time to time as I read about how Bandelier’s familiarity of the Alps made him feel comfortable in the Sierra Madre Occidental and in the Texas Hill Country.

Chapter three covers what is now the state of Tamaulipas, and Bandelier’s earliest travels. There is much here in the way of economic botany, and under-appreciated history. For example, I always wondered why the largest hotel in Tampico is named the Inglaterra, not realizing until I read here of the large English population that resided there in the early 19^th century. The fourth, fifth, sixth, and eighth chapters deal with Bandelier’s travels though east, central, and south Texas, and the Lower Rio Grande Valley, respectively, more or less given that he did much criss-crossing and backtracking. His assessment of the environments around the presidio and mission at Goliad, and sketches made thereof (but not included in this book) are excellent given what we now know about vegetation changes due to the introduction of livestock, and the practice of fire suppression.

My favorite two chapters, however, are seven and nine. The former deals with travels through northern Tamaulipas into Nuevo León. The rivers and their sources are the focus. Some places familiar to Bandelier have changed very little in the past two centuries. He would recognize immediately vegetation, stream sediment loads, farming practices, and vernacular architecture. To wit, I think Bandelier might like a classroom lecture I developed on the tenacity of places based on past and present images of San Carlos.

The final chapter takes the reader along on Bandelier’s last trip through Tamaulipas and his death while crossing a river he doubtless crossed scores of times. Like all dwellers of arid lands, he knew better than to attempt crossing a rapidly flowing stream at flood stage. Irony of ironies. Kudos to Lawson for using...