JF Ptak Science Books   Post 318

Carl Linnaeus (1707-1787) was the father of modern botany–he was a Swedish zoologist, physician, and above all, way above all else, he was a botanist. He was also widely recognized  as an accomplished, applied polymath:  Rousseau said of him “Tell him I know no greater man on earth”, and Goethe, one of the greatest of all polymaths and an expert on recognizing another one,  wrote: “With the exception of Shakespeare and Spinoza, I know no one among the no longer living who has influenced me more strongly”.  Pretty strong stuff from giants.

In addition to much else, Linnaeus contributed a template, a grid for identification and discussion,  establishing conventions for the naming of living organisms that became universally accepted in the scientific world—the  the starting point of binomial nomenclature. 

And perhaps it is small of me, but I concentrated a bit on the frontispiece to his greatest books (rather than on the writing)–it is truly a capstone of the botanical canon.  The book is Hortus Cliffortianus plantas exhibens quas in Hortus tam vivis quam siccis… and it was published in Amsterdam in 1737, and it was as beautiful as it was important. The book was basically the product of the desire of the entrepreneur and multiply-rich East India Company investor and Anglo-Dutch banker George Clifford, whose desire to catalog his massive and extraordinary gardens brought him to Linnaeus.  The partnership, or at least the bringing of Linnaeus on-board for this unique and monumental opportunity, was one of the most fortuitous in the history of 18th century science. 

The fine, baroque frontispiece allegorical engraving by Jan Wandelaar pretty well drips symbolism and allegory–which is a good thing since that is what is was supposed to do.  The main figure in all of this is a crowned Europa, seated before the very gates of the Clifford garden, holding a set of keys (to the botanical kingdom).  She is surrounded by activity, including three people representing the continents (Africa, Asia and America) offering  her gifts of plants.  Europa is bathed in light, perhaps because the figure to her right, Apollo, is just now removing a drape or cloak from her (which I guess is the pre-Linnaean coverlet of incomplete  and incorrect botanical knowledge), and providing her with his own source of light (with the torch in his left hand).  Between Apollo’s legs we can see the arm/tentacle of some sort of beast/hydra/dragon, no doubt another representation of incomplete knowledge, or worse. 

Around the edges of the print , beginning in the foregorund, we see a map (represnerting Clifford’s gardens, probably, or the general sense of planning an approrpiate way of growing and displaying plants); to the right of the map are two cherubs/imps sitting before a roaring brazier, one holding a staff of some sort and the other pointing to a (celsius) thermometerm which Linnaeus had a hand in invneting.  Moving up the side of the print we come to my favorite part, the producing banana tree (you can see the bananas if you look closely), which I imagine must’ve been a great rarity in Eruope in the 18th century).  All in all I’d say that the artist accomplished the task of allegorically depicting the importance of the pages that followed.