THE EVOLUTION OF THE ART OF BOTANICAL ILLUSTRATION
In the art of botanical illustration, evolution was by no means a
simple and straightforward process. We do not find, in Europe, a steady
advance from early illustrations of poor quality to later ones of a
finer character. On the contrary, among the earliest extant drawings,
of a definitely botanical intention, we meet with wonderfully good
figures, free from such features as would be now generally regarded
as archaic. The famous Vienna manuscript of Dioscorides (see pp. 8
and 85) is a remarkable example of the excellence of some of the very
early work. It dates back to the end of the fifth, or the beginning
of the sixth century of the Christian era. It is illustrated with
brush drawings on a large scale, which in many cases are notably
naturalistic, and often quite modern in appearance (Plates I, II,
XV). The general habit of the plant is admirably expressed, and
occasionally, as in the case of the Bean (Plate XV), the characters of
the flowers and seed-vessels are well indicated. In this drawing, also,
the leaves are effectively foreshortened.
There are a number of other manuscript herbals in existence,
illustrated with interesting figures. The Library of the University of
Leyden possesses a particularly fine example[33], which is ascribed to
the seventh century A.D.
[Illustration: _Plate XV_
‘Phasiolos’ = Bean [Dioscorides, Codex Aniciæ Julianæ, circa A.D. 500].
_Reduced._]
This work contains coloured drawings of exceptional beauty, which
are smaller than those in the Vienna manuscript, but quite equally
realistic.
It is however with the history of botanical figures since the invention
of the printing press that we are here more especially concerned. From
this epoch onwards, the history of botanical illustration is intimately
bound up with the history of wood-engraving, until, at the extreme end
of the sixteenth century, engraving on metal first came into use to
illustrate herbals. During the seventeenth century, metal-engravings
and wood-cuts existed side by side, but wood-engraving gradually
declined, and was in great measure superseded by engraving on metal.
The finest period of plant illustration was during the sixteenth
century, when wood-engraving was at its zenith.
Botanical wood-engravings may be regarded as belonging to two schools,
but it should be understood that the distinction between them is
somewhat arbitrary and must not be pressed very far. One of these may
perhaps be regarded as representing the last, decadent expression of
that school of late classical art which, a thousand years earlier,
had given rise to the drawings in the Vienna manuscript. Probably no
original wood-cuts of this school were produced after the close of
the fifteenth century. In the second phase, on the other hand, which
culminated, artistically, if not scientifically, in the sixteenth
century, we find a renaissance of the art, due to a more direct study
of nature.
The first school, of which we may take the cuts in the Roman edition
of the ‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius Platonicus (? 1484) as typical
examples, has, as Dr Payne has pointed out, certain very well-marked
characteristics. The figures of the plants (see Plates IV, V, XVI, and
Text-figs. 1 and 2), which occupy square or oblong spaces, are very
formal and are often represented with complete bilateral symmetry. They
show no sign of having been drawn directly from nature, but look as
if they were founded on previous work. They have a decorative rather
than a naturalistic appearance; it seems, indeed, as if the principle
of decorative symmetry controlled the artist almost against his will.
These drawings are somewhat of the nature of diagrams by a draughtsman
“who generalized his knowledge of the object.” In Dr Payne’s own
words, “Such figures, passing through the hands of a hundred copyists,
became more and more conventional, till they reached their last and
most degraded form in the rude cuts of the Roman _Herbarium_, which
represent not the infancy, but the old age of art. Uncouth as they
are, we may regard them with some respect, both as being the images of
flowers that bloomed many centuries ago, and also as the last ripple of
the receding tide of Classical Art.”
The illustrations of the ‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius were copied from
pre-existing manuscripts, and the age of the originals is no doubt much
greater than that of the printed work. Those here reproduced are taken
from a copy in the British Museum, in which the pictures were coloured,
probably at the time when the book was published.
Colouring of the figures was characteristic of many of the earliest
works in which wood-engraving was employed. In cases where uncoloured
copies of such books exist, there are often blank spaces in the
wood-cuts, which were left in order that certain details might
afterwards be added in colour. The origin of wood-engraving is
closely connected with the early history of playing-card manufacture.
Playing-cards were at first coloured by means of stencil plates, and
the same method, very naturally, came to be employed in connection with
the wood-blocks used for book illustration.
The engravings in the ‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius are executed in black,
in very crude outline. At least two colours, now much faded, were also
employed by means of stencilling. The work was coarsely done, and
the colours only “register” very roughly. Brown appears to have been
used for the animals, roots and flowers, and green for the leaves.
The drawings show some rather curious mannerisms. For instance, in
the first cut labelled “Vettonia,” each of the lanceolate leaves is
outlined continuously on the one side, but with a broken line on the
other. It has been suggested that the illustrations in the ‘Herbarium’
are possibly not wood-engravings, but rude cuts in metal, excavated
after the manner of a wood-block.
[Illustration: _Plate XVI_
‘Dracontea’ [Herbarium Apuleii Platonici, ? 1484].
_The tint represents colouring, which was probably contemporary._]
We have already referred to the imaginative portrait of the Mandrake
(Plate V). Figures of the animals whose bites or stings were
supposed to be cured by the use of a particular herb, were often
introduced into the drawing, as in the case of the Plantain (Text-fig.
1) which is accompanied by a serpent and a scorpion. In this figure the
cross-hatching of white lines on black—the simplest possible device
from the point of view of the wood-engraver—is employed with good
effect. Sometimes the essential character of the plant is seized, but
the way in which it is expressed is curiously lacking in a sense of
proportion, as in the case of “Dracontea” (Plate XVI), one of the Arum
family.
The figures in the ‘Herbarium’ are characterised by an excellent
trait, which is common to most of the older herbals, namely the habit
of portraying the plant as a whole, including its roots. This came
about naturally because the root was often of special value from
the druggist’s point of view. It is to be regretted that, in modern
botanical drawings, the recognition of the paramount importance of the
flower and fruit in classification has led to a comparative neglect of
the organs of vegetation, especially those which exist underground.
We now come to a series of illustrations, which may be regarded as
occupying an intermediate position between the classical tradition of
the ‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius, and the renaissance of botanical drawing,
which took place early in the sixteenth century. These include the
illustrations to the ‘Book of Nature,’ and to the Latin and German
‘Herbarius,’ the ‘Ortus Sanitatis,’ and their derivatives, which were
discussed in Chapters II and III.
‘Das půch der natur’ of Konrad von Megenberg occupies a unique
position in the history of botany, for it is the first work in which
a wood-cut representing plants was used with the definite intention
of illustrating the text, and not merely for a decorative purpose.
It was first printed in Augsburg in 1475, and is thus several years
older than the earliest printed edition of the ‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius
Platonicus which we have just discussed. The single plant drawing,
which illustrates it, is probably not of such great antiquity,
however, as those of the ‘Herbarium,’ for its appearance suggests
that it was probably executed from nature for this book, and not
copied and recopied from one manuscript to another before it was
engraved. The illustration in question is a full-page wood-cut, showing
a number of plants, growing _in situ_ (Plate III). Several species
(e.g. _Ranunculus acris_, the Meadow Buttercup, _Viola odorata_, the
Sweet Violet, and _Convallaria majalis_, the Lily-of-the-Valley) are
distinctly recognisable. It is noticeable that, in two cases in which
a rosette of radical leaves is represented, the centre of the rosette
is filled in in black, upon which the leaf-stalks appear in white. This
use of the black background, which gives a rich and solid effect, was
carried much further in later books, such as the ‘Ortus Sanitatis.’
[Illustration: Text-fig. 73. “Brionia” [Herbarius Moguntinus, 1484].]
A wood-cut, somewhat similar in style to that just described, but more
primitive, occurs in Trevisa’s version of the mediæval encyclopædia
of Bartholomæus Anglicus, which was printed by Wynkyn de Worde before
the end of the fifteenth century. It is probably the first botanical
figure illustrating an English book. It is reproduced in Text-fig. 19.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 74. “Ireos vel Iris” [Arnaldus de Villa Nova,
Tractatus de virtutibus herbarum, 1499].]
The illustrations to the Latin ‘Herbarius’ or ‘Herbarius Moguntinus,’
published at Mainz in 1484 (Text-figs. 3, 4, 5, 73), form the next
group of botanical wood-cuts. The figures are much better than those
of the ‘Herbarium’ of Apuleius, but at the same time they are, as a
rule, formal and conventional, and often quite unrecognisable. The want
of realism is very conspicuous in such a drawing as that of the Lily
(Text-fig. 3), in which the leaves are represented as if they had no
organic continuity with the stem. Some of the figures are wonderfully
charming, and in their decorative effect recall the plant designs so
often used in the Middle Ages to enrich the borders of illuminated
manuscripts. This is particularly noticeable in the case of the Briony
(Text-fig. 73). The conventional form of tendril here employed is also
seen in other early work, such as the roof-painting of a Vine in the
Chapel of St Andrew, Canterbury Cathedral, and some “Decorated” stained
glass at Wells, both of which are considerably earlier in date than the
‘Herbarius Moguntinus.’
[Illustration: Text-fig. 75. “Capillus Veneris” = Maidenhair Fern
[Arnaldus de Villa Nova, Tractatus de virtutibus herbarum, 1499].]
A more interesting series of figures, also illustrating the text of the
Latin ‘Herbarius,’ was published in Italy a little later. The wood-cuts
are believed to be mostly derived from German originals. Text-figs. 6,
57, 65, 74, 75 and 76 are taken from a Venetian edition of 1499. These
drawings are more ambitious than those in the original German issue,
and, on the whole, the results are more naturalistic. The fern called
“Capillus Veneris,” which is probably intended for the Maidenhair,
is represented hanging from rocks over water, just as it does in
Devonshire caves to-day (Text-fig. 75). Another delightful wood-cut,
almost in the Japanese style, is that of an Iris growing at the margin
of a stream, from which a graceful bird is drinking (Text-fig. 74).
[Illustration: Text-fig. 76. “Cuscuta” = Dodder [Arnaldus de Villa
Nova, Tractatus de virtutibus herbarum, 1499].]
In the very symmetrical drawing of the Peony (Text-fig. 57) there is
an attempt to represent the tuberous roots, which are indicated in
solid black. The no less symmetrical Waterlily (Text-fig. 65) is
remarkable for its rhizome, on which the scars of the leaf bases are
faithfully represented. This drawing is of interest, also, on account
of its frank disregard of proportion. The flower stalks are drawn not
more than twice as long as the breadth of the leaf! We may, I think,
safely conclude that the draughtsman knew quite well that he was not
representing the plant as it was, and that he intentionally gave a
conventional rendering, which did not profess to be more than an
indication of certain distinctive features of the plant. This attitude
of the artist to his work, which is so different from that of the
scientific draughtsman of the present day, is seen with great clearness
in many of the drawings in mediæval manuscripts. For instance, a plant
such as the Houseleek may be represented growing on the roof of a
house—the plant being about three times the size of the building. No
one would imagine that the artist was under the delusion that these
proportions held good in nature. The little house was merely introduced
in order to convey graphic information as to the habitat of the plant
concerned, and the scale on which it was depicted was simply a matter
of convenience. Before an art can be appreciated, its conventions must
be accepted. It would be as absurd to quarrel with the illustrations
we have just described, on account of their lack of proportion, as
to condemn grand opera because, in real life, men and women do not
converse in song. The idea of naturalistic drawings, in which the
size of the parts should be shown in their true relations, was of
comparatively late growth.
In 1485, the year following the first appearance of the Latin
‘Herbarius,’ the very important work known as the German ‘Herbarius,’
or ‘Herbarius zu Teutsch,’ made its appearance at Mainz. As we pointed
out in Chapter II, its illustrations, which are executed on a large
scale, are often of remarkable beauty. Dr Payne considered some of
them comparable to those of Brunfels in fidelity of drawing, though
very inferior in wood-cutting. They are distinctly more realistic than
even those of the Venetian edition of the Latin ‘Herbarius,’ to which
we have just referred. It is interesting, for instance, to compare the
drawings of the Dodder (Text-figs. 76 and 77) in the two works.
Other excellent drawings are those of the Winter Cherry (Text-fig. 78),
Iris (Text-fig. 7), Lily, Chicory, Comfrey and Peony.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 77. “Cuscuta” = Dodder [Herbarius zu Teutsch,
Mainz, 1485].]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 78. “Alkekengi” = _Physalis_, Winter Cherry
[Herbarius zu Teutsch, Mainz, 1485].]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 79. “Alkekengi” = _Physalis_, Winter Cherry
[Ortus Sanitatis, Mainz, 1491].]
A pirated second edition of the ‘Herbarius zu Teutsch’ appeared at
Augsburg only a few months after the publication of the first at Mainz.
The figures, which are roughly copied from those of the original
edition, are very inferior to them. In fact, the Mainz wood-cuts of
1485 excel those of all subsequent issues.
In the ‘Ortus Sanitatis’ of 1491, about two-thirds of the drawings of
plants are copied from the ‘Herbarius zu Teutsch.’ They are often much
spoiled in the process, and it is evident that the copyist frequently
failed to grasp the intention of the original artist. The wood-cut
of the Dodder (Text-fig. 80), for instance, is lamentably inferior to
that in the ‘Herbarius zu Teutsch’ (Text-fig. 77). There is often a
tendency, in the later work, to make the figures occupy the space in a
more decorative fashion; for instance, where the stalk in the original
drawing is simply cut across obliquely at the base, we find in the
‘Ortus Sanitatis’ that its pointed end is continued into a conventional
flourish (cf. the figures of the Winter Cherry in the two works,
Text-figs. 78 and 79). Among the original figures many, as we have
already indicated, represent purely mythical subjects (e.g. Text-figs.
13 and 17).
[Illustration: Text-fig. 80. “Cuscuta” = Dodder [Ortus Sanitatis,
Mainz, 1491].]
The use of a black background, against which the stalks and leaves
form a contrast in white, which we noticed in the ‘Book of Nature,’ is
carried further in the ‘Ortus Sanitatis.’ This is shown particularly
well in the Tree of Paradise (Text-fig. 12) and also in Text-figs. 10
and 81. No consistent method is followed in the coarse shading which
is employed. In some cases there seems to have been an attempt at the
convention, used so successfully by the Japanese, of darkening the
underside of the leaf, but, sometimes, in the same figure, certain
leaves are treated in this way, and others not. In some of the genre
pictures, Noah’s Ark trees are introduced, with crowns consisting
entirely of parallel horizontal lines, decreasing in length from below
upwards, so as to give a triangular form.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 81. “Botris” [Ortus Sanitatis, Mainz, 1491].]
An edition of the ‘Ortus Sanitatis,’ which was published in Venice in
1511, is illustrated in great part with wood-cuts based on the original
figures. They have, however, a very different appearance, since a great
deal of shading is introduced, and in some cases parallel lines are
laid in with considerable dexterity.
‘The Grete Herball’ and a number of works of the early sixteenth
century derived from the ‘Herbarius zu Teutsch,’ the ‘Ortus Sanitatis,’
and similar sources, are of no importance in the history of botanical
illustration, since scarcely any of their figures are original. The
oft-repeated set of wood-cuts, ultimately derived from the ‘Herbarius
zu Teutsch,’ were also used to illustrate Hieronymus Braunschweig’s
Distillation Book (Liber de arte distillandi de Simplicibus, 1500).
That the conventional figures of the period did not satisfy the
botanist is shown by some interesting remarks by Hieronymus at the
conclusion of his work. He tells the reader that he must attend to the
text rather than the figures, “for the figures are nothing more than a
feast for the eyes, and for the information of those who cannot read or
write[34].”
During the first three decades of the sixteenth century, the art of
botanical illustration was practically in abeyance in Europe. Such
books as were published were chiefly supplied with mere copies of
older wood-cuts. But, in 1530, an entirely new era was inaugurated
with the appearance of Brunfels’ great work, the ‘Herbarum vivæ
eicones,’ in which a number of plants native to Germany, or commonly
cultivated there, were drawn with a beauty and fidelity which have
rarely been surpassed (Text-figs. 22, 23, 24, 25, 66, 82, 83, 84). It
is interesting to recall that the date 1530 is often taken, in the
study of other arts (e.g. stained glass), as the limit of the “Gothic”
period, and the beginning of the “Renaissance.”
[Illustration: _Plate XVII_
Study of _Aquilegia vulgaris_ L., Columbine [Albrecht Dürer, 1526.
Drawing in the Albertina, Vienna]. _Reduced._]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 82. “Asarum” = Asarabacca [Brunfels, Herbarum
vivæ eicones, Vol. I. 1530]. _Reduced._]
Brunfels’ illustrations represent a notable advance on any previous
botanical wood-cuts, so much so, indeed, that the suddenness of the
improvement seems to call for some special explanation. On taking a
broader view of the subject, we find that, at the beginning of the
sixteenth century, there was a marked advance in all the branches of
book illustration, and not merely in the botanical side with which
we are here concerned. This impetus seems to have been due to the fact
that many of the best artists, above all Albrecht Dürer, began at that
period to draw for wood-engraving, whereas in the fifteenth century
the ablest men had shown a tendency to despise the craft and to hold
aloof from it.
The engravings in Brunfels’ herbal and the fine books which succeeded
it, should not be considered as if they were an isolated manifestation,
but should be viewed in relation to other contemporary and even earlier
plant drawings, which were not intended for book illustrations. Some of
the most remarkable are those by Albrecht Dürer, which were produced
before the appearance of Brunfels’ herbal, during the first thirty
years of the sixteenth century. In each of his coloured drawings
of sods of turf, known as “das grosse Rasenstück,” and “das kleine
Rasenstück,” a tangled group of growing plants is portrayed exactly
as it occurred in nature, with a marvellous combination of artistic
charm and scientific accuracy. Prof. Killermann has been at pains to
identify the genus and species of almost every plant represented, and
has described the drawings as “das erste Denkmal der Pflanzenökologie.”
In 1526, Dürer carried out a beautiful series of plant drawings, among
the most famous of which are those of the Columbine, and the Greater
Celandine. The former is reproduced on a small scale in Plate XVII; it
is scarcely possible to imagine a more perfect “habit drawing” of a
plant.
In Italy, Leonardo da Vinci’s exquisite studies of plants, of which
Plate XVIII is an example, must also have pointed the way to a better
era of herbal illustration. In his work, the artistic interest
predominates over the botanical to a greater extent than is the case
with Dürer’s drawings. It is strange to think that numerous editions of
the ‘Ortus Sanitatis’ and similar books, with their crude and primitive
wood-cuts, should have been published while such an artist as Leonardo
da Vinci was at the zenith of his powers. If internal evidence alone
were available, it might plausibly be maintained that the engravings
in the ‘Ortus Sanitatis’ and the drawings of Leonardo da Vinci were
centuries apart.
[Illustration: _Plate XVIII_
Study of _Ornithogalum umbellatum_ L., Star of Bethlehem, and other
plants [Leonardo da Vinci, 1452-1519. Drawing in the Royal Library,
Windsor].]
We are thus led to the conclusion that, though the engravings in
Brunfels’ herbal are separated from previous botanical figures by an
almost impassable gulf, they should not be regarded as a sudden and
inexplicable development. The art of naturalistic plant drawing had
arrived independently at what was perhaps its high-water mark of
excellence, but it is in Brunfels’ great work that we find it, for the
first time, applied to the illustration of a botanical book.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 83. “Kuchenschell” = _Anemone pulsatilla_
L., Pasque-flower [Brunfels, Herbarum vivæ eicones, Vol. I. 1530].
_Reduced._]
The illustrations in Brunfels’ herbal were engraved, and probably
drawn also, by Hans Weiditz, or Guiditius, some of whose work has been
ascribed to Albrecht Dürer. The title ‘Herbarum vivæ eicones’—‘Living
Pictures of Plants’—indicates the most distinctive feature of the book,
namely that the artist went direct to nature, instead of regarding
the plant world through the eyes of previous draughtsmen. This
characteristic is best appreciated on comparing Brunfels’ figures with
those of his predecessors. His picture of the Waterlily (Text-fig.
66), for example, contrasts notably with that of the same subject from
the Venetian ‘Herbarius’ (Text-fig. 65). In the former the artist has
caught the exact look of the leaves and stalks, buoyed up by the water.
Throughout the work, the drawing seems to be of a slightly higher
quality than the actual engraving; the lines are, to use the technical
term, occasionally somewhat “rotten” or even broken.
In one respect the welcome reaction from the conventional and
generalised early drawings went almost too far. Many of Brunfels’
wood-cuts were done from imperfect specimens, in which, for example,
the leaves had withered or had been damaged by insects. This is clearly
shown in Text-fig. 84. The artist’s ambition was evidently limited to
representing the specimen he had before him, whether it was typical
or not. The notion had not then been grasped that the ideal botanical
drawing avoids the peculiarities of any individual specimen, and
seeks to portray the characters really typical of the species. These
characters can sometimes only be arrived at by a comparison of numerous
specimens.
From the figures here reproduced a good idea of the style of Weiditz
can be obtained. His line is usually firm and broad, and but little
shading is employed. The chief merit of the drawings lies in their
crisp and virile outlines.
Regarded from the point of view of decorative book illustration, the
beautiful drawings of the period under consideration sometimes failed
to reach the standard set by earlier work. The very strong, black,
velvety line of many of the fifteenth-century wood-engravings, and
the occasional use of solid black backgrounds (cf. Text-fig. 81)
give a great sense of richness, especially in combination with the
black letter type, with which they harmonise so admirably. A page
bearing such illustrations is often more satisfying to the eye than
one in which the desire to express the subtleties of plant form, in
realistic fashion, has led to the use of a more delicate line. However,
the primary object of the herbal illustrations was, after all, a
scientific and not a decorative one, and, from this point of view, the
gain in realism more than compensates for the loss in the harmonious
balance of black and white.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 84. “Lappa” = _Arctium_, Burdock [Brunfels,
Herbarum vivæ eicones, Vol. II. 1531]. _Reduced._]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 85. “Scolopendria” = Hart’s-tongue Fern
[Rhodion, Kreutterbůch, 1533].]
Our chronological survey of the chief botanical wood-cuts brings us
next to those published by Egenolph in 1533, to illustrate Rhodion’s
‘Kreutterbůch.’ These have sometimes been regarded as of considerable
importance, almost comparable, in fact, with those of Brunfels. A
careful examination of these wood-engravings leads, however, to the
conclusion that practically all the chief figures in Egenolph’s book
have been copied from those of Brunfels, but on a smaller scale, and
reversed. It is true that the style of engraving is different, and
that, as Hatton has pointed out, Egenolph’s flowing, easy, almost
brush-like line is very distinct from that of Weiditz. But the fact
of the plagiarism remains. The two figures here reproduced—the Lesser
Celandine (Text-fig. 33) and the Hart’s-tongue Fern (Text-fig. 85)—are
reduced copies from Brunfels.
It is interesting to notice that, as the third part of Brunfels’ great
work had not appeared when Egenolph’s book was published, the latter
must have been at a loss for figures of the plants which Brunfels had
reserved for his third volume. We find that in the case of one such
plant, the Asparagus, he solved the problem by going back to the old
familiar wood-cut which had done duty in the ‘Ortus Sanitatis’ and the
‘Herbarius zu Teutsch.’
In the third volume of Brunfels’ herbal (which appeared after his
death) there is a small figure, that of “Auricula muris,” which differs
conspicuously in style from the other engravings, and which appears
to represent a case in which the tables were turned, and a figure was
borrowed from Egenolph.
In his later books, Egenolph used wood-cuts pirated from those of Fuchs
and Bock, which we must now consider.
In the work of Leonhard Fuchs (Frontispiece) plant drawing, as an art,
may be said to have reached its culminating point. It is true that, at
a later period, when the botanical importance of the detailed structure
of the flower and fruit was recognised, figures were produced which
conveyed exacter and more copious information on these points than did
those of Fuchs. Nevertheless, at least in the opinion of the present
writer, the illustrations to Fuchs’ herbals (‘De historia stirpium,’
1542, and ‘New Kreüterbůch,’ 1543) represent the high-water mark of
that type of botanical drawing which seeks to express the individual
character and habit of each species, treating the plant broadly as
a whole, and not laying more stress upon the reproductive than the
vegetative organs.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 86. “Dipsacus albus” = Teasle [Fuchs, De
historia stirpium, 1542]. _Reduced._]
Fuchs’ figures are on so large a scale that the plant frequently had
to be represented as curved, in order to fit it into the folio page.
The illustrations here reproduced (Text-figs. 30, 31, 32, 58, 69, 70,
86, 87, 88) do not give an entirely just idea of their beauty, since
the line employed in the original is so thin that it is ill-adapted
to the reduction necessary here. If the drawings have any fault,
it is perhaps to be found in the somewhat blank and unfinished look,
occasionally produced when unshaded outline drawings are used on so
large a scale. This is the case for instance in the figure of the Aloe.
It may be that Fuchs had in mind the possibility that the purchaser
might wish to colour the work, and to fill in a certain amount of
detail for himself. The existing copies of this and other old herbals
often have the figures painted, generally in a distressingly crude and
heavy fashion. The colouring in many cases appears to have been done
at a very early date. In the octavo edition of Fuchs’ herbal published
in 1545, small versions of the large wood-cuts appeared. It is perhaps
invidious to draw distinctions between the work of Fuchs and that of
Brunfels, since they are both of such exquisite quality. However,
merely as an expression of personal opinion, the present writer must
confess to feeling that there is a finer sense of power and freedom
of handling about the illustrations in Fuchs’ herbal than those of
Brunfels.
Sometimes in Fuchs’ figures a wonderfully decorative spirit is shown,
as in the case of the Earth-nut Pea (Text-fig. 87) which fills the
rectangular space almost in the manner of an “all-over” wall-paper
pattern. It must not be forgotten, when discussing wood-cuts, that
the artist, who drew upon the block for the engraver, was working
under peculiar conditions. It was impossible for him to be unmindful
of the boundaries of the block, when these took the form, as it
were, of miniature precipices under his hand. These boundaries
marked out the exact limit of space which the figure could occupy.
It is not surprising, under these circumstances, that the artist who
drew upon the block should often seem to have been obsessed by its
rectangularity, and should have accommodated his drawing to its form
in a way that was unnecessary and far from realistic, though sometimes
very decorative. This is exemplified in the figure of the Earth-nut
Pea, to which we have just referred and also in Text-figs. 41, 44, 62,
92, 95, 101, etc. The writer has been told by an artist accustomed,
in former years, to draw upon the wood for the engraver, that to
avoid a rectangular effect required a distinct effort of will. At the
present day, when photographic methods of reproduction are almost
exclusively used, the artist is no longer oppressively conscious of the
exact outline of the space which his figure will occupy.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 87. “Apios” = _Lathyrus tuberosus_ L.,
Earth-nut Pea [Fuchs, De historia stirpium, 1542]. _Reduced._]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 88. “Arum” = _Arum maculatum_ L., Wild Arum
[Fuchs, De historia stirpium, 1542]. _Reduced._]
The figures here reproduced show how great a variety of subjects were
successfully dealt with in Fuchs’ work. The Cabbage (Text-fig. 30)
is realised in a way that brings home to us the intrinsic beauty of
this somewhat prosaic subject. In the Wild Arum (Text-fig. 88) the
fruit and a dissection of the inflorescence are represented, so that,
botanically, the drawing reaches a high level. Fuchs’ wood-cuts are
nearly all original, but that of the White Waterlily appears to have
been founded upon Brunfels’ figure.
We have so far spoken, for the sake of brevity, as if Fuchs actually
executed the figures himself. This, however, was not the case. He
employed two draughtsmen, Heinrich Füllmaurer, who drew the plants from
nature, and Albrecht Meyer, who copied the drawings on to the wood, and
also an engraver, Veit Růdolf Speckle, who actually cut the blocks.
Fuchs evidently delighted to honour his colleagues, for at the end of
the book there are portraits of all three at work (Text-fig. 89). The
artist is drawing a plant with a brush fixed in a quill.
The drawing and painting of flowers is sometimes dismissed almost
contemptuously, as though it were a humble art in which an inferior
artist, incapable of the more exacting work of drawing “from the life,”
might be able to excel. The falsity of this view is shown by the fact
that the greatest of flower painters have generally been men who also
did admirable figure work. Fantin-Latour is a striking modern instance,
and one has but to glance at the studies of Leonardo da Vinci (e.g.
Plate XVIII) and Albrecht Dürer (e.g. Plate XVII) to feel that the
finest plant drawings can only be produced by a master hand, capable
of achieving success on more ambitious lines. The wood-engravings in
Fuchs’ herbal are a case in point. The portraits which also illustrate
the book (Frontispiece and Text-fig. 89) show that the talents of the
artists whom he employed were not confined to plant drawing, but were
also strong in the direction of vigorous and able portraiture.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 89. The Draughtsmen and the Engraver employed
by Leonhard Fuchs [De historia stirpium, 1542]. _Reduced._]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 90. “Wintergrün” = _Pyrola_, Wintergreen
[Bock, Kreuter Bůch, 1546].]
Fuchs’ gratitude to his assistants is expressed in the preface
to ‘De historia stirpium,’ where he makes some remarks upon the
illustrations, which may be translated as follows:—
“As far as concerns the pictures themselves, each of which is
positively delineated according to the features and likeness of the
living plants, we have taken peculiar care that they should be most
perfect, and, moreover, we have devoted the greatest diligence to
secure that every plant should be depicted with its own roots, stalks,
leaves, flowers, seeds and fruits. Furthermore we have purposely and
deliberately avoided the obliteration of the natural form of the plants
by shadows, and other less necessary things, by which the delineators
sometimes try to win artistic glory: and we have not allowed the
craftsmen so to indulge their whims as to cause the drawing not to
correspond accurately to the truth. Vitus Rudolphus Specklin, by far
the best engraver of Strasburg, has admirably copied the wonderful
industry of the draughtsmen, and has with such excellent craft
expressed in his engraving the features of each drawing, that he seems
to have contended with the draughtsman for glory and victory.”
How dull and colourless the phrases of modern scientific writers
appear, beside the hot-blooded, arrogant enthusiasm of the sixteenth
century!
[Illustration: Text-fig. 91. “Rautten” = _Botrychium_, Moonwort [Bock,
Kreuter Bůch, 1546].]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 92. “Castanum nuss” = _Castanea_, Chestnut
[Bock, Kreuter Bůch, 1546].]
Fuchs’ wood-cuts were extensively pirated, especially those on a
reduced scale, which were published in his edition of 1545. As we
have mentioned on p. 55, Hieronymus Bock [or Tragus] undoubtedly
made use of them in the second edition of his ‘Kreuter Bůch’ (1546)
which was the next important, illustrated botanical work to appear
after Fuchs’ herbal. An examination of the wood-cuts in Bock’s herbal
seems, however, to show that his illustrations have more claim to
originality than is often supposed. The figures of Wintergreen
(Text-fig. 90), Moonwort (Text-fig. 91), and Strawberry (Text-fig. 27),
here reproduced, are markedly different from those of Fuchs, although,
in the case of the first, Fuchs’ wood-cut may have been used to some
extent. The artist employed by Bock, as he himself tells us, was David
Kandel, a young lad, the son of a burgher of Strasburg. His drawings
are often of interest, apart from their botanical aspect. For instance,
the picture of an Oak tree includes, appropriately enough, a swine-herd
with his swine, the Chestnut tree gives occasion for a hedgehog
(Text-fig. 92) and, in another case, a monkey and several rabbits are
introduced, one of the latter holding a shield bearing the artist’s
initials. The wood-cut of _Trapa_, the Bull-nut (Text-fig. 29), is a
highly imaginative production which clearly shows that neither the
artist nor the author had ever seen the plant in question.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 93. “Fungi” = Toadstools [Mattioli,
Commentarii, 1560]. _Reduced._]
In general character, Bock’s illustrations are neater and more
conventional than those of Brunfels or Fuchs. The crowns of the trees
are often made practically square so as to fit the block (Text-fig.
92). The figures in earlier works, such as the ‘Ortus Sanitatis,’ are
recalled in Kandel’s disregard of the proportion between the size of
the tree, and that of the leaves and fruits.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 94. “Rosaceum” [Mattioli, Commentarii, 1560].
_Reduced._]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 95. “Suber Primus” [Mattioli, Commentarii,
1565]. _Reduced._]
In point of time, the illustrations to the early editions of Mattioli’s
Commentaries on the Six Books of Dioscorides follow fairly closely on
those of Fuchs, but they are extremely different in style (Text-figs.
41, 42, 93, 94). Details such as the veins and hairs of the leaves
are often elaborately worked out, while shading is much used, a
considerable mastery of parallel lines being shown. The general effect
is occasionally somewhat flat and dull. Some of the drawings suggest
that they may have been done from dried plants, and in others the
treatment is over-crowded. But, in spite of these defects, they form a
markedly individual contribution, which is of great importance in the
history of botanical illustration.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 96. “Tragorchis” = _Orchis hircina_ L., Lizard
Orchis [Dodoens, Pemptades, 1583].]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 97. “Aconitum luteum minus” = _Eranthis
hiemalis_ L., Winter Aconite [Dodoens, Pemptades, 1583].]
Numerous editions of Mattioli’s work appeared in various languages. In
its earlier form the book had only small figures (e.g. Text-figs. 41,
42, 93, 94), but in some later editions, notably that which appeared at
Venice in 1565, there are large illustrations which are reproduced
on a reduced scale in Text-figs. 43, 44, 95. These wood-cuts resemble
the smaller ones in character, but are more decorative in effect, and
often remarkably fine. Whereas in the work of Brunfels and Fuchs, the
beautiful line of a single stalk is often the key-note of the whole
drawing, in the work of Mattioli, the eye most frequently finds
its satisfaction in the rich massing of foliage, fruit and flowers,
suggestive of southern luxuriance. Many of his figures would require
little modification to form the basis of a tapestry pattern.
Another remarkable group of wood-engravings consists of those published
by Plantin in connection with the work of the three Low Country
herbalists, Dodoens, de l’Écluse and de l’Obel. In the original
edition of Dodoens’ herbal (‘Crǔ deboeck,’ published by Vanderloe in
1554), more than half the illustrations were taken from Fuchs’ octavo
edition of 1545. But eventually, as we have pointed out in Chapter
IV, Vanderloe parted with Fuchs’ blocks. After this, Plantin took
over the publication of Dodoens’ books, and in his final collected
works (‘Stirpium historiæ pemptades sex,’ 1583) the majority of the
illustrations were original, and were carried out under the author’s
eye (Text-figs. 37, 38, 96, 97). A few (namely those marked in the
Pemptades, “Ex Codice Cæsareo”) are copied from Juliana Anicia’s
manuscript of Dioscorides to which we have more than once referred.
Some are also borrowed from the works of de l’Écluse and de l’Obel,
since Plantin was publisher to all three botanists, and the wood-blocks
engraved for them were regarded as, to some extent, forming a common
stock. In fact it is often difficult to decide to which author any
given figure originally belonged. This difficulty is enhanced by the
fact that some were actually made for one and then used for another,
before the work for which they had been originally destined was
published.
There is little to be said about de l’Obel’s figures, which partook
of the character of the rest of the wood-cuts for which Plantin made
himself responsible. The Yellow Waterlily (Text-fig. 67) is given here
as an example.
The wood-cuts illustrating the comparatively small books of de l’Écluse
are perhaps the most interesting of the figures associated with this
trio of botanists. The Dragon Tree (Text-fig. 98), “_Sedum majus_”
(Text-fig. 59) and Job’s Tears (Text-fig. 39) are examples from his
book on the plants of Spain, which appeared in 1576.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 98. “Draco arbor” = _Dracæna_, Dragon Tree [de
l’Écluse, Rariorum ... per Hispanias, 1576].]
The popularity of the large collection of blocks got together by the
publishing house of Plantin is shown by the frequency with which they
were copied. Dr B. Daydon Jackson has pointed out that the wood-cut of
the Clematis, which first appeared in Dodoens’ ‘Pemptades’ of 1583,
reappears, either in identical form, or more or less accurately
copied, in works by de l’Obel, de l’Écluse, Gerard, Parkinson, Jean
Bauhin, Chabræus and Petiver. The actual blocks themselves appear to
have been used for the last time when Johnson’s edition of Gerard’s
herbal made its final appearance in London in 1636.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 99. “Cyclaminus” [Camerarius, De plantis
Epitome ... Matthioli, 1586].]
Another school of plant illustration is represented in the work of
Gesner and Camerarius. As we mentioned on p. 92, Gesner’s drawings were
not published during his life-time, but some of them were eventually
produced by Camerarius, with the addition of figures of his own, to
illustrate his ‘Epitome Matthioli’ of 1586 (Text-figs. 72 and 99) and
also his later work. In 1751, C. J. Trew published a collection of
Gesner’s drawings, many of which had never been seen before; but even
then, it proved impossible to separate the work of the two botanists
with any completeness, since Gesner’s drawings and blocks had passed
through the hands of Camerarius, who had incorporated his own with
them. A few wood-cuts however, which appeared as an appendix to
Simler’s Life of Gesner, are undoubtedly Gesner’s own work. One of
these is reproduced in Text-fig. 48.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 100. “Rosa Hierichuntica” = _Anastatica
hierochuntica_ L., Rose of Jericho [Camerarius, Hortus medicus, 1588].]
[Illustration: Text-fig. 101. “Piper Nigrum” = Pepper [d’Aléchamps
Historia generalis plantarum, Vol. II. 1587].]
Professor Treviranus, whose work on the use of wood-engravings as
botanical illustrations is so well known, considered that some of the
drawings published by Camerarius in connection with his last work
(‘Hortus medicus et philosophicus,’ 1588) were among the best ever
produced. Examples are shown in Text-figs. 34, 35, 71, 100. Treviranus
pointed out that one of their great merits lay in the selection of
good, typical specimens as models. These figures are very much more
botanical than those of any previous author; in fact—as Hatton has
pointed out in ‘The Craftsman’s Plant-Book’—they are beginning to
become too botanical for the artist! Camerarius often gives detailed
analyses of the flowers and fruit on an enlarged scale (Text-fig. 99).
Among the illustrations here reproduced will be seen one (Text-fig.
100) in which the seedling of the Rose of Jericho is drawn side by
side with the mature plant, and another (Text-fig. 35) in which the
structure of a germinating Date is shown with great clearness. This
interest in seedlings gives a modern touch to the work of Camerarius.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 102. “Cedrus” = Cedar [Belon, De arboribus,
1553].]
A number of wood-blocks were cut at Lyons to illustrate d’Aléchamps’
great work, the ‘Historia generalis plantarum,’ 1586-7. Many of these
figures were taken from the herbals of Fuchs, Mattioli and Dodoens,
but they were often embellished with representations of insects, and
detached leaves and flowers, scattered over the block with no apparent
object except to fill the space. This peculiarity, which is shown in
the engraving of _Ornithogalum_ reproduced in Text-fig. 51, appears
also in the illustrations of a book on Simples, by Joannes Mesua,
published in Venice in 1581. In certain other wood-cuts in d’Aléchamps’
herbal, solid black is used in an effective fashion. This is the case
for instance in Text-fig. 101, which is also interesting since two of
the leaves bear the initials “M” and “H,” which were possibly those of
the artist.
Among less important botanical wood-engravings of the sixteenth
century we may mention those in the works of Pierre Belon, such as ‘De
arboribus’ (1553). In this book there are some graceful wood-cuts of
trees, one of which is reproduced in Text-fig. 102. The initial letters
used in the present volume are taken from another of Belon’s books[35].
Some specimens of the quaint little illustrations to Castor Durantes
‘Herbario Nuovo’ of 1585 are shown in Text-figs. 45, 68 and 103. It
is interesting to compare his drawing of the Waterlily (Text-fig. 68)
with those of the Venetian edition of the Latin ‘Herbarius’ of 1499
(Text-fig. 65), ‘The Grete Herball’ (Text-fig. 21), Brunfels’ ‘Herbarum
vivæ eicones’ of 1530 (Text-fig. 66) and de l’Obel’s ‘Kruydtbœck’ of
1581 (Text-fig. 67).
The engravings in Porta’s ‘Phytognomonica’ (1588) and in Prospero
Alpino’s little book on Egyptian plants (1592) are of good quality.
Some curious examples of the former, which will be discussed at
greater length in the next chapter, are shown in Text-figs. 109 and
110, and the Glasswort, one of the best wood-cuts among the latter, is
reproduced in Text-fig. 47.
Passing on to the seventeenth century, we find that the ‘Prodromos’
of Gaspard Bauhin (1620) contains a number of original illustrations,
but they are not very remarkable, and often have rather the appearance
of having been drawn from pressed specimens. Two examples of these
wood-cuts will be found in Text-figs. 49 and 62. The former is
interesting as being an early representation of the Potato.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 103. “Lentisco del Peru” = _Pistacia
lentiscus_ L., Mastic Tree [Durante, Herbario Nuovo, 1585].]
Parkinson’s ‘Paradisus Terrestris’ of 1629 contains a considerable
proportion of original figures, besides others borrowed from previous
writers. The engravings were made in England by Switzer. They are poor
in quality, and the innovation of representing a number of species
in one large wood-cut is not very successful. Text-fig. 55 shows a
twig of Barberry, which is but a single item in one of these large
illustrations.
Among still later wood-engravings, we may mention the large, rather
coarse cuts in Aldrovandi’s ‘Dendrologia’ of 1667, one of which, the
figure of the Orange, or “Mala Aurantia Chinensia,” is reproduced in
Text-fig. 104, on a greatly reduced scale.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 104. “Mala Aurantia Chinensia” = Orange
[Aldrovandi, Dendrologia, 1667]. _Reduced._]
In the present chapter no attempt has been made to discuss
the illustrations of those herbals (e.g. the works of Turner,
Tabernæmontanus, Gerard, etc.) in which most of the wood-cuts are
copied from previous books. In the majority of such cases, the source
of the figures has already been indicated in Chapter IV.
This brief review of the history of botanical wood-cuts leads us to
the conclusion that between 1530 and 1630, that is to say during the
hundred years when the herbal was at its zenith, the number of sets
of wood-engravings which were pre-eminent—either on account of their
intrinsic qualities, or because they were repeatedly copied from book
to book—was strictly limited. We might almost say that there were
only five collections of wood-cuts of plants of really first-rate
importance—those, namely, of Brunfels, Fuchs, Mattioli, and Plantin,
with those of Gesner and Camerarius, all of which were published in
the sixty years between 1530 and 1590. The wood-blocks of the two
botanists last mentioned cannot be considered apart from one another;
from the scientific point of view they show a marked advance, in the
introduction of enlarged sketches of the flowers and fruit, in addition
to the habit drawings. Plantin’s set included those blocks which were
engraved for the herbals of de l’Obel, de l’Écluse, and the later works
of Dodoens.
At the close of the sixteenth century, wood cutting on the Continent
was distinctly on the wane, and had begun to be superseded by
engraving on metal. The earliest botanical work, in which copper-plate
etchings were used as illustrations, is said to be Fabio Colonna’s
‘Phytobasanos’ of 1592. These etchings, two of which are shown in
Text-figs. 46 and 105, are on a small scale, but are extremely
beautiful and accurate. The details of the flowers and fruit are often
shown separately, the figures, in this respect, being comparable with
those of Gesner and Camerarius, though, owing to their small size,
they do not convey so much botanical information. In a later book of
Colonna’s, the ‘Ekphrasis,’ analyses of the floral parts are given
in even greater detail than in the ‘Phytobasanos.’ Colonna expressly
mentions that he used wild plants as models wherever possible, because
cultivation is apt to produce alterations in the form. The decorative
border, surrounding each of the figures reproduced, was not printed
from the copper.
In the seventeenth century, a large number of botanical books,
illustrated by means of copper-plates, were produced. The majority of
these were published late in the century, and thus scarcely come within
our purview. A few of the earlier ones may, however, be referred to
at this point. In 1611 Paul Renaulme’s ‘Specimen Historiæ Plantarum’
was published in Paris, but though this work was illustrated with good
copper-plates, the effect was somewhat spoilt by the transparency of
the paper. Two years later appeared the ‘Hortus Eystettensis,’ by Basil
Besler, an apothecary of Nuremberg. It is a large work with enormous
illustrations, mostly of mediocre quality. In the succeeding year,
1614, a book was published which has been described, probably with
justice, as containing some of the best copper-plate figures of plants
ever produced. This was the ‘Hortus Floridus’ of Crispian de Passe, a
member of a famous family of engravers. Like Parkinson’s ‘Paradisus
Terrestris,’ into which some of the figures are copied, it is more of
the nature of a garden book than a herbal.
In 1615 an English edition of Crispian de Passe’s work was published
at Utrecht, under the title of ‘A Garden of Flowers.’ The plates are
the same as those in the original work. The artist is particularly
successful with the bulbous and tuberous plants, the cultivation
of which has long been such a specialty of Holland. Plate XIX is a
characteristic example, but only part of the original picture is here
reproduced. The soil on which the plants grow is often shown, and the
horizon is placed very low, so that they stand up against the sky. This
convention seems to have been characteristic, not only of the plant
drawings of the Dutch artists, but also of their landscapes. In the
paintings of Cuyp and Paul Potter, the sky-line is sometimes so low
that it is seen between the legs of the cows and horses. This treatment
was no doubt suggested by life in a flat country, but it was carried to
such an extreme that the artist’s eye-level must have been almost on
the ground!
[Illustration: Text-fig. 105. “Chondrilla” [Colonna, Phytobasanos,
1592].]
The purchaser of ‘The Garden of Flowers’ receives detailed directions
for the painting of the figures, which he is expected to carry out
himself. The book is divided into four parts, appropriate to the four
seasons, and each part is preceded by an encouraging verse intended
to keep alive the owner’s enthusiasm for his task. The stanza at the
beginning of the last section seems to show some anxiety on the part of
the author, lest the reader should have begun to weary over the lengthy
occupation of colouring the plates. It reads as follows:—
“If hethertoe (my frende) you have,
Performde the taske in hand:
With ioy proceede, this last will be
The best, when all is scande.”
As we have already mentioned, it is not our intention to deal with
the books published in the latter part of the seventeenth century.
We may, however, for the sake of completeness, mention two or three
examples in order to show the kind of work that was then being done.
Paolo Boccone’s ‘Icones et Descriptiones’ of 1674 was illustrated with
copper-plates, some of which were remarkably subtle and delicate, while
others were rather carelessly executed. Among slightly later works, we
may refer to a quaint little Dutch herbal by Stephen Blankaart, and
to the ‘Paradisus Batavus’ of Paul Hermann, both of which belong to
the last decade of the century. The latter, which is an “Elzevir” with
very good copper-plates, was published after the author’s death, and
dedicated, by his widow, to Henry Compton, Bishop of London.
In the plates which illustrate Blankaart’s herbal, a landscape and
figures are often introduced to form a background, and the low
horizon, to which we referred in speaking of the ‘Hortus Floridus,’
is a very conspicuous feature. The picture of the Winter Cherry is
here reproduced as an example (Text-fig. 106). As showing the complete
revolution in the style of plant illustration in two hundred years, it
is interesting to compare this drawing with that of the same subject
in the German ‘Herbarius’ of 1485 (Text-fig. 78). It must be confessed
that the fifteenth-century wood-cut, though far less detailed and
painstaking, seizes the general character of the plant in a way that
the seventeenth-century copper-plate somewhat misses.
[Illustration: _Plate XIX_
‘Crocus Byzantinus’ and ‘Crocus Montanus hispan.’ [Part of a plate from
Crispian de Passe, Hortus Floridus, 1614].]
Etching and engraving on metal are well adapted to very delicate
and detailed work, but from the point of view of book-illustration,
wood-engraving is generally more effective. In the latter the lines
are raised, and the method of printing is thus exactly the same as
in the case of type, while in the former the process is reversed and
the lines are incised. As a result, there is a harmony about a book
illustrated with wood-cuts which cannot, in the nature of things, be
attained, when such different processes as printing from raised type,
and from incised metal, are brought together in the same volume.
[Illustration: Text-fig. 106. “Alkekengi” = _Physalis_, Winter Cherry
[Blankaart, Neder-landschen Herbarius, 1698].]