John Bartram, touted as America’s first professional botanist, had a son named William in 1739. William followed closely in his father’s footsteps by keenly understanding botany. He also demonstrated adeptness at drawing and penning the details of his observations. He decided in 1765 to document plant life in the new Spanish-acquired territory of Florida.
His explorer streak whetted, William set out again in 1773 on a nearly-four-year botanizing journey that involved collecting seeds and specimens, sketching comprehensive drawings of flora and fauna, and making notes about habitats, growth patterns, etc. But William concentrated just as much on people and culture. His intuitive writings take us with him on well-worn footpaths, atop a borrowed mount on native peoples’ horse trails, or inside canoes down rivers and streams.
He shares personally and enthusiastically each time he approaches a new species: “The Cupressus disticha [bald cypress] … its majestic stature is surprising; and on approaching it, we are struck with a kind of awe, at beholding the stateliness of the trunk, lifting its cumbrous top towards the skies.”
But William doesn’t just appreciate nature, he credits unabashedly the Creator. “The world, as a glorious apartment of the boundless palace of the sovereign Creator, is furnished with an infinite variety of animated scenes, inexpressibly beautiful and pleasing, equally free to the inspection and enjoyment of all his creatures.”
He often thanks God when considering perils, such as lightning storms or aggressive alligators. “I now, with a high sense of gratitude, presume to offer up my sincere thanks to the Almighty, the Creator and Preserver.”
And, while William could have embellished and boasted when he completed his arduous journey, he instead presented his book in 1791 as a literary hybrid of natural history, travelogue, and religious allegory that is boyish in wonder and humility. For instance, his fascination with meeting American Indians never waned. “They all whooped in chorus, took me friendly by the hand … and laughing aloud, said I was a sincere friend of the Siminoles [Seminoles].” “The prince is the chief of Whatoga [Cherokee], a man universally beloved, … and revered for his exemplary virtues.”
William left us his account so that even in modernity we can journey at any time with him to a less adulterated America.
The original title of Bartram’s book was close to 50 words long. Over the more than two centuries of multiple printings, the book’s title has been shortened to either “Travels of William Bartram” or “Bartram’s Travels.”
----
“Travels of William Bartram,” edited by Mark Van Doren (Dover Publications, 1955).
