1 The Aristotelian Legacy and the First Printed Fish Books
Historians of natural science agree that the origins of biology, or the scientific discipline that deals with living beings, was essentially shaped by Aristotle (384–322 BC).1 This applies especially to animal biology – generally referred to as zoology. Aristotle combined the speculative approach followed by most of the early Greek philosophers, whose thinking had focused on nature, with the empirical methods that were already used by some of them, developing further, and applying on a large scale, what he had adopted from his philosophical forerunners.
As the Roman scholar Pliny the Elder (23/24–79 AD) later described it, Aristotle had at his disposal ‘some thousands of men in every region of Asia and Greece, comprising all those who followed the business of hunting, fowling, or fishing, or who had the care of parks, herds of cattle, the breeding of bees, fishponds, and aviaries’.2 Like other parts of his works, Aristotle’s biology and zoology never became really obsolete. His work was the beginning of a long tradition and was available to scholars in other regions of the world, even if the scope of what was still known of his writings and the intensity with which they were studied varied over time.3
During the 13th century, the study of Aristotle was forbidden in Western Christianity for some years. However, the same century brought about the Latin translation of Aristotle’s zoological works by Michael Scotus († 1235), translated from Arabic versions of these works (completed before 1220);4 by William of Moerbeke († 1286), translated directly from the Greek (completed before 1260).5 Shortly thereafter, Albertus Magnus († 1280) published a translation under the collective title De animalibus, which was printed for the first time in 1478. It was based on what Michael Scotus had provided and soon this version became authoritative within Western universities.6
Another important landmark was reached when George of Trebizond († 1472 or 1486)7 completed his Latin translation of several of Aristotle’s zoological works, again under the collective title De animalibus in 1450.8 Even more influential was Theodore Gaza’s († 1475)9 Latin translation under the same title.10 Both authors had translated directly from the Greek, but only Gaza’s translation was printed. A reliable printed version of Aristotle’s zoological works was now easily available for the first time in Latin, the language of Western scholars. During the next century, ichthyologists as Rondelet and Salviani used Gaza’s translation in the Venice 1476 and Basel 1520 editions. A number of explanatory commentaries were also published at that time.
Aristotle’s contributions to ichthyology, in particular, was the beginnings of a long tradition. Already Theophrastus, Aristotle’s disciple, partner and successor as head of the Lyceum in Athens (better known for his botanical studies), wrote a book on fishes.11Given these favourable circumstances, it was somewhat upsetting for recent scholars that the renewed attention that was given to the zoological writings of Aristotle since the late fifteenth century appeared ‘strangely uninterested’12 in that part on which the Greek scholar had focused a considerable measure of his research as a naturalist, namely on the study of fishes and the marine fauna of the Aegean and the Black Sea.13
Aristotle mentions more than 100 different fish species by name, approximately one-fifth of all animals described by him.14 But despite this rich ancient heritage, which included a series of other authors and even reasonably identifiable images of fishes and other marine creatures,15 among the incunabula (books printed before 1500), only the Hortus sanitatis of 1491 had an illustrated section dedicated to fishes, which are, barely identifiable if at all [Fig. 2.1].16 Significantly, in the printed edition of Albertus Magnus’ De animalibus of 1478, a section on fishes was added but only much later in a German adaptation.17
Chapter 29 from the anonymous Hortus sanitatis (Mainz, Jacob Meydenbach: 1491), tract “De piscibus”, fol. bbiij, showing, in the right column, ericius, the sea urchin (top), erachoides, the European weather loach (Misgurnus fossilis L.), and exochinus (unidentifiable, bottom)
Beside these encyclopaedic works with special chapters on fishes, there were specialist, practice-oriented books that focused on the work of professional fishermen and the required technical equipment (nets, fish traps, weirs etc.) rather than on specific fishes themselves. Their authors are unknown today, but they seem to have been successful because their books were imitated and translated, for example, the Dutch (Flemish) Boecxken (‘Booklet’) of 1506, which was published in German as Büchlein in 1511 [Fig. 2.2].18
Fisherman with flute player. Anonymous, Dit boecxken leert hoe men mach voghelen vanghen […] (Antwerp, Govert Back: 1506)
In 1520, the Historia aquatilium was printed [Fig. 2.3]. Its author was Nikolaus Marescalcus (Marschalk, c.1470–1525) from the University of Rostock on the Baltic Sea.19 It was the first printed and illustrated book on fishes, rather than on fishing, which had been the subject of the Boecxken and the Büchlein. Marschalk was an outsider in a figurative and literal sense to whom we will return.
Brown trout (Salmo trutta L.), detail from Marschalk Nicolaus, Historia aquatilium latine ac grece cum figuris (Rostock, in edibus Thuriis: 1520), unpaginated appendix
Collection Bnu en dépôt à l’Université de Strasbourg. H 16.58
The most popular fish book, however, of the 16th century and beyond, far ahead of the acclaimed works by Belon, Rondelet, Salviani or Gessner, which appeared three decades later, was published by the Italian Paulus Iovius (Paolo Giovio, 1483–1525) in 1524. Its title was De Romanis piscibus. Giovio had also planned to illustrate his book, but in the end, he failed with this aspect of his project.20
Following on from Marschalk’s and Giovio’s fish books were some more practice-oriented writings about fish but not all of these resulted, in printed books and, and those that were often lacked images, although they did contribute to the knowledge of fish. A well-known description of fish ponds, for example, came from the Bohemian Johannes Dubravius. It was printed in 1547.21 Conrad Gessner later (1559) dedicated a separate treatise to this work.22
Aquaculture and fish ponds had existed since Roman times.23 Later on, they were described in what is today France, Germany and Bohemia during the reign of Charlemagne at around 800. Fish culture was mostly practiced then in monasteries, where fish often served as substitute for meat, not only during Lent. The most eaten fish was the carp (Cyprinus caprio).24
Beginning in the 12th century, fish trade, export, and consumption expanded and evolved into a real industry, especially in the northern parts of Europe, along with carrier guilds and an efficient trading organization, known under its German name Hansa or Hanse.25 Important in development of this industry was the construction of a new type of cargo ship, the Hanseatic cog, and other, even larger types beyond the mid-fifteenth century.26 This made it possible not only to hunt large quantities of fish, but also to preserve and transport them. The herring (Clupea harengus), next to cod (Gadus morhua) was the the most targeted fish during these times. Gessner reports that unbelievable quantities were caught and consumed in boiled or smoked form, and it even seems that there were cases of overfishing.27
Of the large rivers, from an ichthyological perspective, the Elbe was most important, even more so than the Rhine or the Danube. Two descriptions of the Elbe fishes are worth highlighting, although neither of them was printed. Georg Handsch (1529–1578) published a large manuscript entitled “The Elbe fishing in Bohemia and Meissen” in two parts; the first part is a plagiarism of Dubravius’ treatise, but the second part, written at an unknown time after his study of medicine in Padua, 1550 to 1553, is authentic and original.28 In 1556, Johannes Kentmann (1518–1574) wrote an “Ichtyographia” (sic) of the Elbe, which he sent to his friend Gessner in Zurich a few years later.29 Both works, Handsch’s as well as Kentmann’s, are of interest today as a testimony to the former biodiversity in the Elbe.30
Among the large inland waters, Lake Constance played a special role. Here, it was more important than, for example, in fish ponds, to take into account ecological considerations to preserve the fish population. The best known work in this regard is the Fischbuoch by Gregor Mangolt (1498–c.1577) from 1557.31 This book describes, in the format of a monthly calendar, 30 species of fish living in Lake Constance. Special emphasis is placed on spawning behaviour and diseases. Mangolt’s book was printed under dubious circumstances, without the author’s knowledge and permission, in Zurich by Andreas Gessner, a cousin of Conrad Gessner. Conrad Gessner had borrowed the manuscript from Mangolt in order ‘to peruse it at home’. In the original manuscript still preserved today, a rather bewildered Mangolt notes that the text had been completely altered in sequence and illustrated with woodcuts [Fig. 2.4].32
Fishes from Mangolt Gregor, Fischbuoch. Von der natur und eigenschafft der vischen (Zurich, Andreas Gessner: 1557) 33; on top, easily identifiable, a Burbot (Lota lota L.)
München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek – Res/Zool. 348
What is described here, regarding fish literature on both sides of the Alps since the 1520s, shows that by the middle of the 16th century, special knowledge and, above all, originality was needed to stand out from already published books (Marschalk, Giovio, Dubravius, Mangolt) or other circulating manuscripts (Handsch, Kentmann) about fishes. Authentic, naturalistic pictures would be key here since they were absent from all the books up until this time.
In the middle of the century, this deficit of adequately illustrated books was resolved, when four monographs on fishes appeared almost simultaneously – each explicitly referring to Aristotle or Pliny. Two of these books were authored by Frenchmen Pierre Belon (1517–1564)33 and Guillaume Rondelet (1507–1566),34 a third by the Italian Hippolito Salviani (1514–1572)35 and finally Conrad Gessner (1516–1565) from Switzerland, who summed up but also extended the results of his predecessors.36
Between 1551 to 1560, the works of these scholars were published in such close succession that they overlapped each other, and, to make things really difficult, were issued in instalments (in part no longer extant), which were later bundled in separate editions or bound up in one book, but with different titles, separate page numbering and more than one date of publication. Additionally, there are several revisions and translations haunting bibliographical records until today.
All this led to considerable confusion at that time as well as in recent days because the authors occasionally refer to each other in their writings without specifying exactly which book or which instalment they are referring to. E.W. Gudger has tried to disentangle this tangle at least a bit. Another less successful attempt was made by Basford Dean.37 Aside from these bibliographical difficulties, the works of these four authors are considered milestones in the history of ichthyology.38 With them, realism finally began its triumphal march in fish images.39 Examples from these four authors follow to substantiate this statement [Figs. 2.5 to 2.8]. Our guiding criterion is the unambiguous recognition and identification of the respective fish, which is why a modern illustration (FishBase/FAO) is placed next to it.
Sturgeon (Acipenser sturio L.) from Belon Pierre, De aquatilibus libri duo (Paris, Charles Estienne: 1553) 101
Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Göttingen
John dory (Zeus faber L.) from Rondelet Guillaume, Libri de piscibus marinis (Lyon, Macé Bonhomme: 1554) 204
Wikimedia Commons
John dory (Zeus faber L.).
Illustration from FishBase/FAO
Butterfly blenny (Blennius ocellaris L.) from Salviani Hippolito, Aquatilium animalium historiae liber primus, cum eorumdem formis, aere excusis (Rome, Hippolito Salviani: 1558) fol. 217r
Red scorpionfish (Scorpaena scrofa L.) from Gessner Conrad, Historia animalium liber IV: qui est De piscium et aquatilium animantium natura (Zurich, Christopher Froschauer: 1558) 1017. Zentralbibliothek Zürich, NNN 48 | F, https://doi.org/10.3931/e-rara-16853 / Public Domain Mark
Beside these masterworks, there were some other promising efforts that did not result in published books. Simone Porzio (Portius, 1496–1554), an Aristotelian philosopher, who lectured in Pisa from 1546 to 1552, produced a great study on fish entitled De piscibus, which he had begun already in his Neapolitan home region. The images of Porzio’s project were commissioned by Grand Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici and created by the famous painter Francesco Bacchiacca (1494–1557), so they must have been remarkable. Unfortunately, the work remained incomplete, only a manuscript fragment has survived.40 Rondelet visited Porzio and mentions him in his fish book from 1554.
Gysbert van der Horst (Gysbertus Horstius, c.1991–c.1555), a Dutch physician living in Rome (where he also died), was collecting all kinds of fish specimens and had them drawn. Via an intermediary, a part of these drawings reached Conrad Gessner in Zurich, who used them in the fourth volume of his Historia animalium on fishes, which he published in 1558.41
About fifty years later, in the early 1600s, another important work on fish was completed. Its author was the Italian Ulisse Aldrovandi (1522–1605). His De piscibus libri V were posthumously edited in 1613 by Joannes Cornelis Wterweer (Johannes Cornelius Uterverius) and Geronimo Tamburin (Hieronymus Tamburinus). Like Gessner, Aldrovandi summed up and extended what Belon, Rondelet and Salviani had achieved previously.42
2 ‘True’ Images or Portraits versus ‘Dissimilar Similarity’
If we look at how fish literature developed over time, beginning with the works of the ancient Greeks and, above all, Aristotle, a significant change regarding the illustrations in fish books can be observed from the middle of the 16th century. This change is clearly visible in the overview of this progression that was provided in the first section of this article. It can be summarised as a transition from traditional to ‘true’ pictures.
According to the new approach, the author of a fish book and the illustrator who was employed to provide the pictures in the book had to fulfil some baseline requirements. They must have seen the fishes with their own eyes, which often made extensive traveling necessary and the fishes must have been available to them in a good state, that is still fresh, dried, or stuffed.43 And beyond this, the ultimate aspiration was that the author had also dissected the fishes.
It was Pierre Belon, gifted with a keen sense for trends. who can be regarded as the first to have fulfilled, in a printed book, at least to some extent, this level the high requirements of personal observation and dissection as a basis for realistic or ‘true’ (vraie) fish pictures. Having made many observations in the Mediterranean, he announces already in the subtitle and again in the preface to his book from 1551 that he is going to offer ‘true portraits’ (vrais portraicts) or ‘true pictures’ (vraies peinctures) of fishes.
Typically, such a true portrait or picture44 shows nothing but a specific single fish without any background, not even fishing equipment or habitat. Nor are there any other requisites intended to convey further information or indicate or symbolise anything. A juxtaposition [Figs. 2.9–2.10] makes evident the difference between Belon’s kind of fish portrait and the old traditions exemplified in the Hortus sanitatis, a work that was iconographically influential for a long time to come.
Common sole (Solea solea L., a marine fish) from Belon Pierre, De aquatilibus libri duo (Paris, Charles Estienne: 1553) 147
Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Göttingen
Common sole and burbot (Lota lota L., a river fish), showing habitat and the sun in allusion to their Latin names (Solea and Solaris) in Hortus sanitatis (Mainz, Jacob Meydenbach: 1491), tract “De piscibus”, chap. 85
Provided by U.S. National Library of Medicine
In Nikolaus Marschalk’s Historia aquatilium of 1520, which has already been introduced here as the first printed and illustrated book ever that dealt with fishes only, the author had also claimed, in his dedication to Duke Albrecht of Mecklenburg, that as a young man he had been ‘eyewitness’ (testis oculatus) to the various fishes in the Atlantic Ocean and the North Sea. Yet Marschalk was not a doctor, but a lawyer, and his pictures seem to contradict his claims.
Most probably, Marschalk could not afford an artist of his own, so some of his pictures were adopted from others, or at least inspired by those that had appeared in the Hortus sanitatis in 1491,45 which has also been mentioned already. The Hortus sanitatis still included a large number of pictures, in turn, either inspired or copied from even older books, such as the medieval bestiaries.46 Gessner, therefore, dismissed Marschalk’s pictures as absurd fantasy products (picturae fictae et absurdae).47
The difference between Belon’s realistic images and the un-realistic (fictional) illustrations in the tradition of the Hortus sanitatis is striking. In Belon’s book a dolphin, for example, looks like a real dolphin, not like a sea goddess or mermaid as in Marschalk’s [Figs. 2.11 and 2.12].48 And if an animal is fabulous, like Neptune’s horse, this is expressly noted by Belon.49
Dolphin (Delphinus delphis L.) in Belon Pierre, L’histoire naturelle des estranges poissons marins (Paris, Regnaud Chaudiere: 1551) fol. 28v and De aquatilibus libri duo (Paris, Charles Estienne: 1553) 9
Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Göttingen
“Dolphin” in Marschalk Nicolaus, Historia aquatilium latine ac grece cum figuris (Rostock, in edibus Thuriis: 1520). No pagination
Collection BNU en dépôt à l’Université de Strasbourg. H 16.583
1.1 Botany in the Leading Role
It’s not a new insight that botany had acquired a leading role with regard to scientific innovation and progress in the 16th century; zoology was lagging at least twenty years behind botany in this period.50 The authors of fish books could, therefore, build on the scientific approach that been developed by the so-called ‘Fathers of Botany’.
One of them was the German scholar Otto Brunfels († 1534). Already in his first publication, the Herbarum vivae eicones (‘Lifelike herb pictures’) of 1530, he had indicated the direction to take and provided the key concepts by declaring that botany was in a poor state and could hardly be taken seriously anymore. He claimed that to revive it, he had ‘done away with the earlier, old-fashioned herbal books and published them anew equipped with pictures that are true to life (vivae) and artfully made like embroidery (acupictae). Furthermore, solid and reliable descriptions provided by the ancient original authors have been added. We have made an effort and taken care of both.’51 This was a clear statement, and it almost went without saying that by old-fashioned herbal books the Hortus sanitatis of 1491 was meant in the first place, along with the German language Gart der Gesundheit (‘Health Garden’, this is also the meaning of the Latin title Hortus sanitatis) of 1485, which had served as a model in producing the Hortus.52 Both books, the Hortus and the Gart were produced in numerous new editions, adaptations and translations and became the leading works of reference for medically oriented studies of nature until Brunfels and the other innovators appeared, who refreshed these studies with regard to descriptions and pictures.53
Detailed explanations of what the intention was in Brunfels’s new herbal book were not needed.54 The new key terms verus (true) and vivus (lifelike) immediately became clear.55 The reference works that were in use at that time included pictures and descriptions which did not serve their purpose. They were not just worthless, but could even be dangerous. This is obvious regarding plants that were above all studied and applied as medical remedies. There are plants, such as the autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale L.), that can have a lethal outcome if falsely identified or administered using an improper dose. On the whole, it was important to thwart the efforts of ‘Landtstreicher und Leutbescheißer’ (vagabonds and quacks who rip off the people), as the Italo-German physician Johann Dantz (Dantzius) from Frankfurt dramatically expressed it in the preface to his herbal book in 1546.56 This was no trivial matter, but a crucial element in terms of pharmaceutical control.57
The new fish books that were published in the middle of the 16th century had been written, like the new herbal books, by physicians or at least by medically educated scholars of natural things. And even though the medical benefit of fish is smaller than that for plants, it clearly existed.58 In any case, it was at least mentioned by the authors in question. For example, wherever appropriate, Salviani included a section on potential medical benefits in his description of a particular fish.
It is, therefore, not surprising that the authors of the new fish books built on the scholarly standards that had by then been established through the works of their botanical forerunners. This meant that these authors tried to back up the fish descriptions they were providing in their books with ‘true’, ‘lifelike’ and ‘similar’ (similis / similitudo) pictures.59,60 They did this, however, without mentioning their forerunners at all. It was obviously sufficient for them to quote those key terms or make use of their meanings.
1.2 Traditional Fish Pictures
True pictures of fishes in the sense that this term had for Belon and other authors in the middle of the 16th century are hardly ever found in the traditional fish books and other literature on natural things. But why was this so? Why were traditional fish pictures usually not detailed and precise enough to allow the reader to identify any particular fish species or learn more about it?
There may be different reasons why a fish or any other object is not depicted in the traditional books in the ways that Belon and the others attempted to. Knowledge about fish may have been insufficient by these authors, and their illustration skills may have been poor, and, perhaps just as important, the purpose of showing fish in a book may not have been as clear to these authors as it was for Belon and his contemporaries.
How the purpose of a book may influence its illustrations can be seen, for example, in the above mentioned Boecxken (‘Booklet’), which was printed in 1506. This book was written about how to catch fish, rather than how to identify various fish species. Accordingly, it provides descriptions and illustrations of fishing equipment, such as nets, traps and weirs. Regarding the fish itself, the author of this manual probably assumed that fishermen would know what fish they wanted to catch and how to identify the species. The fish shown in this book are, therefore, hardly ever identifiable in terms of species.
Another reason why fish would not be represented in a realistic manner by an illustration in a book is more complex. This may be related to symbolism and can be explained as follows. Perceiving a particular object as a symbol means perceiving it as something that stands for or symbolises something else. For example, a lamb symbolises innocence, a lion power, and so on. When an author describes or an illustrator depicts an object that is perceived by them as a symbol, the focus can be on this object or on what it stands for, or both. If the focus is not on the object, providing details about it becomes less important. As long as the illustration of a lamb in a book is somehow recognisable as a lamb, it may well serve the purpose of symbolizing innocence. Recognition may already be ensured by depicting this animal in a conventional, traditional manner. Adding more realistic traits to its illustration is not required, and may even distract from purpose. It seems that Christian symbolism, as it can be found in Western art, as well in the writings of Western philosophers and theologians over a long period of time, was mainly a symbolism of this kind, where the focus was on what an object stood for, rather than on the object itself. This explains how a tradition of depicting natural objects, among them fish, in a non-realistic manner could originate and remain.
This Christian tradition can be traced further back, however, even regarding the lack of interest in a realistic treatment of fish. It has been pointed out that the Bible does not report any names of fishes.61 Thus, a folio from a medieval bestiary would, for example, show the sea with its teeming diversity, but not name any particular fish species or make it otherwise identifiable [Figs. 2.13 and 2.14].
Marine fishes and hybrids in the Harley Bestiary MS 4751 (c.1230–1240)
Courtesy of the British Library, London
‘Water’, the third of the four elements in an epic entitled Die Erlösung (‘The Salvation’), Nuremberg 1465; taken from in Exner M. et al., “Fisch I”, Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte IX (Rome: 1987) 18–88
This can be seen in the Harley Bestiary, a manuscript dating from ca. 1230– 1240, and similarly, in the illustrations of a manuscript from 1465, rendering an epic named The Salvation, where fish are used to represent the element of ‘water’. Even by the biblical ‘whale’ not the marine mammal in the modern zoological sense was meant, but like in the Hebrew original and its Greek (
‘Whale’ in the Harley Bestiary MS 4751
Courtesy of the British Library, London
The same fish as in Fig. 2.16, called Cetus (‘Large fish’, ‘Whale’), in Hortus sanitatis (Mainz, Jacob Meydenbach: 1491), tract “De piscibus”, chap. 19
Provided by U.S. National Library of Medicine URL
When a fish was used in a painting or on a statue as a Saint’s attribute (‘Heiligenattribut’),63 it served to help recognise who this particular saint was, whereas the fish itself remained unidentified. Overall, the extremely rich Christian fish imagery extended, based on the lecture of the Old and New Testament as well as on the writings of the patristic and later Christian theologians, to a large range of subjects, including baptism, the Eucharist, the Passion, resurrection and salvation.64 For example, Christ could be represented as a fish (piscis) and his believers as little fishes (pisculi), all of them living in the water, which could be understood to symbolise the water of baptism. The early Christian philosopher and theologian Tertullian (after 150–after 220) expounded this in the following way: ‘But we little fishes in the succession of our fish, Jesus Christ, are born in the water and by nothing else than dwelling in the water, we are in salvation.’65
Regarding its focus on what an object stands for, rather than on the object itself, this kind of symbolism aligns with a philosophical and theological doctrine that that we would like to call figurative essentialism. According to this doctrine, a distinction is to be made between figura and essentia. This means that the outward appearance and, consequently, the visual representation of any creature is in principle secondary to what it essentially is and, therefore, figuratively denotes.
Figurative essentialism is related to another doctrine, which has been summarised under the term ‘dissimilar similarity’ (dissimilis similitudo,
To get to the point: Figurative essentialism, as well as the concept of dissimilar similarity, rely on conventions for understanding the relationship between the figurative and essential value of an object as well as the similar and dissimilar traits that relate it to another object. For inventing any such relationship, individual ingenuity is required, bordering on arbitrariness. It is in any case, far away from what Belon and others had in mind when they were claiming to present in their books ‘true’ pictures of fishes.
Nevertheless, even these pioneers of realism in representing fishes were still familiar with the ideas and conventions of the traditional approach. At the end of his preface to the reader of the fish book published in 1558, Gessner writes (b3v): ‘[…] and, with nets and the hunting of unreasoning beasts abandoned, let us go forth as reasoning and spiritual hunters and fishers to the glory of God’s eternal name.’67 Gessner thereby refers to Christ’s well-known sentence about the Apostles as fishers of humans.
In the dedication letters and brief prefaces of their fish books, also Belon, Rondelet and Salviani tell the reader about their intention to contribute to the glory of God, the Creator of all natural wonders. Since the addressees of these dedication letters were high and highest divine dignitaries, who excelled as patrons, one might be inclined to think that these references to the Christian sense of fish symbolism were merely conventional bows. It seems, however, that this was not so and that they were meant seriously, but it can neither be confirmed nor disproved, since the authors do not provide any further explanation.
Other purposes of these fish books, according to what their authors wrote in their prefaces and dedications were that they should serve to make the knowledge of the ancients regarding the medical benefits of fishes and their nutritional value useful to their contemporary and future readers, as well as to expand this knowledge.
Regarding the animal world, Aristotle was particularly important to the naturalists of the 16th century. This found expression in a series of extensive commentary volumes on the relevant Aristotelian writings.68 However, these Aristotelian commentators were indulging in philological subtleties and overwhelmingly amounted to nothing more than pure bookish erudition, in particular regarding fishes.69 None of them was of lasting effect, surviving only as archival fossils. Rondelet once remarked on these books that scholars ‘trusted the ancients too much and considered it wrong to accuse them of error, and so they passed on to the remaining people the same opportunity to make mistakes that they had taken from others.’70
The naturalists of the 16th century, especially the fish experts among them, usually were not nearly the gifted draftsmen or knowledgeable theoreticians that Leonardo da Vinci or Albrecht Dürer were, perhaps with the exception of Gessner.71 They were practitioners, who rushed into nearby as well as far-away nature, where they searched for and collected objects, comparing and dissecting what they had found, and also giving these objects names, mostly trying to follow the usage of ancient Rome and Greece. To their descriptions, they added illustrations, which they called ’true’ (verus) or ’lifelike’ (ad vivum).
What exactly they meant by these terms was not explained by them. From their point of view, the results obviously spoke for themselves. If we translate their dazzling key terms ’true’ and ’lifelike’ using the words ’realistic’ or ’naturalistic’, which are familiar to us, but were unknown within the Latin of their time, it becomes clear what the traditional illustrations they were opposed to were not in their eyes: not realistic, but rather fictitious and insufficient, in other words, they were not ‘true’,
This is, I argue, the spiritual and intellectual dimension of the situation that authors of fish books experienced during the middle of the 16th century. But behind all this, on closer inspection, also an emotional dimension of personal ambition and wounded vanity comes to the fore. This will be topical in what follows.
3 Culture of Debate and Personal Animosities
Conrad Gessner furnished the fourth volume of his Historiae animalium on fishes and other aquatic animals (1558) with an extensive preface to the reader. Right at the beginning of this preface, Gessner quotes in Greek the last of a hexameter verse that remains untranslated without any information about author and work. As the only indication, Gessner had added the heading Aemulatio bona et mala (Good and bad competition) in the margin. The verse reads with translation:
ἀγαθὴ δ’ ἔρις ἥδε βροτοῖσιν (Noble competition is wholesome for men)
It can be assumed that most readers were neither familiar with the author, nor with a translation or the context. Gessner took the opportunity here to address a current conflict that weighed on him, shrouded in extremely erudite scholarship for experts. What was the context and what was this verse about?
The author of the cited verse was the Greek poet Hesiod (around 700 BC), and the quotation is taken from Works and Days, line 24, basically a didactic poem intended to instruct about agriculture. Before Hesiod turns to his basic topic, however, he takes the reader back in time to the birth of the gods, to theogony. Hesiod talks about Eris (
However, Hesiod places at her side – an innovation of his own – a good (
Both Hesiod and Gessner had reasons to recall the difference between evil and useful rivalry. Hesiod wanted to admonish his brother Perses with his work to acquire wealth only through honest, rural work, not through intrigue and overreaching:
Gessner was also in an uncomfortable situation. In his work on fishes, he had relied heavily on direct or slightly modified citations from the fish books of Belon, Rondelet, and Salviani, which had recently appeared. Gessner appreciated all three authors very much and knew Belon and Rondelet personally.73 He felt, therefore, compelled to comment on a public controversy that was simmering in particular between Rondelet and Salviani, and he did so by referring to the above cited line 24 from Hesiod, whereby he articulated his disapproval of ‘publicly exposing science to ridicule by mutual wrangling and bad competition’.74
Gessner, an always friendly and balanced character, instead wished for a productive contest of arguments, ideas, and convincing creations, for ‘if quarrelsome eagerness, reproaches and slander, ambition and self-love prevail all too much, this kind of competition displeases every honest man.’75 As will be shown, exactly such an embarrassing bickering among educated men was the situation that prevailed between Rondelet and Salviani.
4 Rondelet’s Attacks and Salviani’s Defence
The French physician Guillaume Rondelet (1507–1566) – according to a biography written by his faithful but not uncritical student and successor as chancellor of the Faculty of Medicine at the University of Montpellier, Laurent Joubert – was a complex person. Nancy Siraisi76 condensed some of Joubert’s assessments to form a revealing personality profile, showing that Rondelet was on the one hand a generous, hospitable and convivial man, but on the other hand careless, credulous and easily deceived. In addition, Rondelet was erratic in his scientific interests and literary activities, with the result that he barely finished anything ready for the press. It is well known that Carolus Clusius had to help him with the completion of his two fish books, but it is less known that another person, Johannes Molinaeus, from the Low Countries, had to help as well. And if all that was not enough, Rondelet was also reported to be irascible, which may explain why during the writing of his big fish book project, he started a quarrel not only with his Italian competitor Salviani but also with his other rival, his French compatriot Pierre Belon (1517–1564).
From his perspective, Rondelet had plenty of reason to be upset with Belon. Belon, as well as Rondelet, vied for the favour of their common patron, Cardinal François de Tournon (1489–1562),77 and both worked on books about fishes. But while Rondelet was unable to publish his first volume until 1554 (as said, only with the help of others), Belon had already in 1551 and 1553 presented illustrated fish books in French and Latin. When finally, in 1554, the first volume of his Libri de piscibus marinis came out, Rondelet attacked Belon twice. In the preface, he ridiculed Belon’s two fish books as ‘booklets’ (Belon’s second book De aquatilibus of 1553 covered nearly 500 pages). Then again in the middle of the text, he contemptuously referred to Belon as a ‘druggist’ (
Shortly after this unfriendliness towards Belon, the situation for Rondelet worsened. After spending more than 10 years working on his fish book at great personal expense,79 he had to realise that his colleague and former friend (as he called him), Hippolito Salviani, was about to publish a fish book of his own with pictures made with a novel technique, pictures by which Salviani ‘surpasses all by the accurate beauty of the copper engravings’, as Gessner stated in 1558.80 Thus, not only was Belon chronologically ahead of Rondelet, boasting of more extensive expeditions than Rondelet had ever undertook, it was also no longer sufficient to produce good, nature-like fish images in the usual woodcut manner. Rondelet had ‘only’ the certainty of having provided most high-quality descriptions of fishes but not the best images artistically possible. In this unpleasant situation, which for Rondelet was apparently hard to bear, he decided in the second volume of his fish book (1555) to move on from malice and innuendo, as in the case of Belon, to open, personal hostility in order to present his own achievements in the proper light. In the following, we first let Rondelet speak, then proceed with Salviani’s reply.
4.1 Documents Part I: Rondelet’s Attacks
4.1.1 Text 1: Rondelet, Libri de piscibus marinis (1554)
From the “Preface to the reader” (“Praefatio operis ad lectore”, fol. a5v).
In his preface, Rondelet attacked contemporary authors of fish books without referring to anyone in particular. He accuses some of them of exploiting his writings for their own works, thus having committed plagiarism. But such alleged plagiarism has been carried out by them in such an inadequate manner, he says, their books provide no benefit to the reader at all.
And also those who have recently published booklets on the same subject did not deter me from writing a history of. fishes.81 Among them are some who, after inspecting my sheets, driven by the novelty of the matter and the beauty of the pictures and eager to snatch away the glory I deserve, cobbled together much of their writings from mine; but so unprepared in the matter to be treated that they only babble most disgracefully82 when describing the parts of the fishes that are necessary for their understanding, and make grave mistakes in naming the different kinds of fishes as well as in providing quotes from ancient authors and carelessly adapting them to meanings of their own so that after reading their books the reader comes out not a bit wiser.
4.1.2 Text 2: Rondelet, Libri de piscibus marinis (1554)
On the Mugilis niger,83 chapter 6, book 15, pp. 423–424.
Rondelet’s attacks continue later on in his fish hook of 1554, in the account of a particular fish, the Mugilis niger. Here he names individual authors and identifies others by giving personal details. Regarding the fish pictures in his books, he accuses two authors, Belon and Salviani, of copying them after obtaining them from him ‘with lies and deceit’.
Before that, however, he praises two other authors, who behaved in a friendly and honourable manner towards him, Simone Porzio, who had sent him a specimen of the fish that this chapter is about, and Conrad Gessner, who sent him fishes from the Danube. Whereas these two are referred to by their names, Belon is just contemptuously called ‘a druggist’, as already mentioned above.
This fish is unknown in our waters, and it is a rather rare fish that we present here. It is scaly, the appearance of the body very similar to the Mugilis, but completely dark, and has black stripes that stretch from the gills to the tail: I called it Mugilis niger for this reason. It has a strongly protruding lower jaw and, therefore, a wide gaping mouth. On its back it carries seven or eight separate spines, which are connected by no membrane, followed by a small fin.84
This fish, given to me for drawing by Porzio85 in Pisa, one of the most eminent philosophers who, as he combined an extraordinary erudition with a singular humanity, has created a collection not only including this fish, but also many others to take a look at;86 that is why I always will be very grateful to him, for it is proper for a noble-minded and decent man to admit from whom he has received a benefaction. Of the same generosity towards me was the highly educated Gessner, who was anxious to send me fishes from the Danube, which he had collected with great zeal and effort, who can be sure that I will always think of him and be indebted whenever I can assist him with any service.87 However, those were not of this attitude towards me who, after copying my fish pictures with lies and deceit, preferred to be guilty of the crime of plagiarism instead to acknowledge gratefully that they have received something from me.
One of these people was a druggist with whom I worked to prepare medicines for the celebrated Cardinal François de Tournon.88 When this man noticed that I often wrote about fishes and exchanged pictures of fishes with friends, he inquired about their names and picked out some pictures, and finally published them, some time after having been on a journey (which is something that I really very much approve of [424] if he had only combined a certain scholarship with his eagerness to see a lot of things), without letting me know and without mentioning my name even once.
After dealing with Belon, Rondelet takes on Salviani, again not introducing this author by name, but still clearly identifying him as the personal physician to the Cardinal who later became Pope Marcellus II. He blames Salviani not only for having stolen his own intellectual property, but also criticises his lifestyle. Rondelet concludes his attacks by again charging his rivals with having committed plagiarism while not having produced anything of value. He then asks the reader to judge his books in comparison to theirs. This is something Salviani would follow up on in his defence.
In the same way, the personal physician of the Cardinal of the Holy Cross89 was injurious to me, to whom I had left my sheets in Rome for inspection, when the physician, attracted by the novelty of the matter as well as by the variegated manner of depicting the fishes, suddenly gathered up for printing a great deal of my fish pictures as well as some others he had obtained incidentally, as I hear, and this at the Cardinal’s expense. Is it surprising that Salviani is able to provide some commentaries of his own about fishes, for he has been travelling for long periods on different parts of the sea, has had the opportunity unremittingly to dissect fishes and inspect their parts, and to elaborate all this with commentaries and distinctions, but who spends whole days welcoming, receiving and escorting courtiers in order to earn a living?
These people tried, with the greatest zeal, to forestall me and did not want to admit honestly from whom they had obtained something in order to acquire a certain fame by a new treatment of the matter as well as by concealing my name. But they only achieved to produce blind puppies just like stray dogs. I say this to demonstrate the truth and to enable you to form a more reliable and better judgment of their and my writings, you should indeed believe, honourable reader.
4.2 Documents Part II: Salviani’s Defence and Counterattack
In the 16th century, woodcuts dominated in illustrated books, while the seventeenth and eighteenth century has been called the age of copper engravings.90 A remarkable exception to this general rule was Salviani, who was the first naturalist to use copper engravings in a book on natural science. He deserves the honour of being a true innovator and not – as commonly claimed91 – Fabius Columna (Colonna), another Italian naturalist.92 Actually, Columna, published as late as 1592 a work entitled Phytobasanos (‘A painstaking inquiry into plants’), which included mainly images of plants, but also two images of a fish and a sea star.
Unlike Rondelet, Salviani was financially independent93 and could afford to publish his fish images as copper engravings – a technique that was extremely costly at the time, as each copperplate had to be integrated separately and could not be printed together with the text, as in the case of woodcuts.94 Therefore, Salviani hired a skilled artist (pictor), Bernardus Aretinus, and print everything at his own expense. The images made such an impression on Antonio Lafreri (Antoine Lafréry, 1512–1577), a French cartographer and publisher active in Rome, that he in 1559 decided to publish with Salviani’s approval a separate edition containing only the copperplates (but not all), so that other painters and illiterate people without education could also ‘delight nonetheless in drawings engraved and printed in copper’.95 In 1593, this text-free edition was published again, entitled Eicones piscium.
Salviani and Rondelet knew each other personally, and the Italian believed he was his French colleague’s friend. However, it was Rondelet who started a severe controversy (instead of the reverse),96 referring to Salviani not by name, yet unequivocally for insiders, as ‘Medicus Cardinalis à Sancta Cruce’, that is, the personal physician of the Cardinal of the Holy Cross, who was later to become Pope Marcellus II,97 and accusing him of plagiarism. Salviani could not allow this to rest.98
4.2.1 Text 3: Salviani, Aquatilium animalium historiae (1558)
Historia octogesima septima: De Callaria (History no. 87: On the Callarias)99 fols. 231r–232r.
Like Rondelet, Salviani uses his fish book to engage in the debate. In a chapter about a particular fish (the Callarias) he tells the reader how he obtained and read the book in which Rondelet had launched his attack. This caught him by surprise, Salviani says, since he had taken the French author to be a friend.
When in writing these histories I had arrived at the 87th history, which is dedicated to the 93rd fish,100 I got hold of Guillaume Rondelet’s books on marine fishes, which had then been delivered for the first time to Rome and which I received with incredible affection and amazing benevolence as those of a man who, as I believed, was extremely experienced in fish matters and most friendly-minded towards me. And after interrupting entirely the task of writing also the very few of our stories that had remained, I immediately began to read these books with the greatest desire and incomparable pleasure, and did not stop until I had read them all carefully.
After examining these books in a friendly and benevolent manner, I realised that my opinion had very much deceived me. For, as he renders some things, said with all due respect to him, unclearly, treats certain other things in a shortened manner, and most of them really falsely, he did not prove himself to be so excellent in this field as the opinion of himself exhibited in his ostentatious and boastful behaviour in the presence of almost all people. And what I find even more remarkable is that I should ever have believed, judging him in my own way, that he was a particularly good friend of mine. I realised that his mind is more hostile than friendly towards me, and this without any fault whatsoever on my side.
He then goes on to narrate how he and Rondelet had once met in Rome, where Salviani had introduced his supposed friend to his collection of anatomic showpieces. In return, Rondelet had shown him one of his illustrated fish books.
For when, at the papal transition during which Julius III was elected Pope,101 he had come to Rome as a travelling companion of the most famous and honourable Cardinal de Tournon and found that I was not only skilled in dissecting bodies through much practice over a long period of time, but also preserved at my home certain most beautiful anatomic showpieces, he made an effort – in the same way as other learned men had wished before and afterwards to see our anatomic showpieces upon coming to Rome, not only Italians, but also Frenchmen, Germans, Hungarians102 and Spaniards, due to their humanistic education and interest in the fine arts – to see our objects as well, driven by the same zeal and desire.
When, therefore, during the same interregnum,103 Rondelet and three other highly learned French physicians, in the company of other venerable French Cardinals, had assembled in a friendly atmosphere of my house, I showed them excellently drawn single parts of the human body. Then I showed a human skeleton, constructed with such skill and care that it could be deconstructed into several pieces and kept in a cupboard of two cubits, and again, when needed, on the spot and quite easily could be put together from all parts and erected as a whole. Finally, we presented four-cubit-sized statues in which the position, origin, course, insertion of sinews, appearance, size, and natural colour of each of the muscles of the human body were represented extremely lifelike and distinct, according to the judgment of scholars, who had seen the same, an outstanding and useful work, created with the greatest labour of my own and at no small expense.
After having looked and weighed these things, Rondelet said: as you have done with dissecting bodies, I have spent many years with the exact knowledge of fishes, and I have faithfully painted pictures of almost all the fishes, which I will show you, if you like. And I answered him that nothing better could happen to me, for, as well as regarding flying and terrestrial beasts, I have always most enjoyed findings about aquatic animals, even though, distracted by anatomy, I have not devoted much effort to this highly distinguished field of philosophy.104
When Salviani had looked at the fish pictures in Rondelet’s book, so he lets the reader know, he was disappointed by their poor quality. He commissions an Italian artist with producing something better, which is in fact accomplished, and shows the results to Rondelet before the latter leaves Rome. In the following years, Salviani continues with his fish studies and eventually publishes an illustrated fish book of his own.
But I added that since Marcellus Cervinus, the most honoured cardinal priest of the Titular Church of the ‘Basilica the Holy Cross in Jerusalem’,105 my most benevolent lord, is exceedingly interested in all the fine arts and highly appreciates learned men, you could show the pictures, if you agree, to him and me at the same time, so that you would not only bias me even more towards you through this complacency, but will become better acquainted with this great man. Rondelet liked this idea and we determined a day. On the appointed day, Rondelet was kindly and cordially received by Cardinal Marcellus (in whom I had previously been an advocate of his merit and education), and he brought along a very large book full of numerous fish pictures which he showed one at a time to the Cardinal in my presence.
These pictures were, however, besides not being painted with the natural colours, but merely with black ink, crude and [231v] inappropriate, so they did clearly not reflect in any way the appearance of the fishes they portrayed. So we were not a little surprised to have shown them by a man with such a big name. Wishing, therefore, to find out whether this had happened because of the difficulty of the subject or rather due to his negligence, I had the excellent painter, Bernardus Aretinus,106 paint a mullet and a moray on the following day. When this was done as desired, I wanted him to paint two other fishes as well. And after a likewise rather outstanding work had successfully been accomplished, I hired, captivated by the elegance of the painting, this same Bernardus, having agreed on a monthly salary. He lived with me for two years and would still be living with me if he had not died prematurely after two years.
After providing the reader with this background, Salviani sets out to refute Rondelet’s allegations one after another. First, he deals with having been blamed by Rondelet of interfering, through his fish studies, in the French scholar’s business.
All this was not unknown to Rondelet. In fact, when I showed him, before his departure from the city, twenty pictures of fishes that had already been drawn, he even admired their excellent quality. But when, after his departure, the number of drawings increased day by day, not only from indigenous people, but also from the help of friends, and from foreign fishes, the interest became stronger, and no longer satisfied with the pleasure of the mere pictures alone I also turned to tracking the ancient names of the fishes as well as their investigation in every other respect. And finally, things went so far that I did not shy away from making public those things on which I had been working day and night for a full seven years.107
These are the facts, and we want to investigate unbiasedly whether Rondelet rightly or wrongly accuses me. In the sixth chapter of his fifteenth book on marine fishes, he says: ‘In the same way, the personal physician of the Cardinal of the Holy Cross was injurious to me.’108 Since he accuses me of having done something wrong with these first words, he says that in order not to appear as a slander, he will publicly announce what injustice he has suffered from me: ‘After I had left to him my sheets in Rome for inspection, the physician, attracted by the novelty of the matter as well as by the variegated manner of depicting the fishes, suddenly gathered up for printing a great deal of my fish pictures as well as some others he had obtained incidentally, as I hear, and this at the Cardinal’s expense.’ But regarding the first, it is utterly ridiculous and childish to accuse my person of any injustice just because I should have begun, lured by the novelty of the matter, to deal with this same matter, which he had already been working on for a long time.
For even if it were so, who would therefore hold it against me, given that it has always been noble and worthy of every praise to burn for the passion of supporting the Republic of Letters? Or who will accuse me of injustice towards him, since if our elaborations are inferior to his, he will obviously earn a lot more of praise, but if ours prevail, he had better congratulate me for this than be angry with me, as much as the public benefit is to be preferred to the praise of one’s own, where both cannot be achieved, by an honourable man?
Then he replies to Rondelet’s claim that Salviani had committed plagiarism regarding his fish pictures. Salviani’s line of defence is clear here and refers to the outstanding achievement in the history of ichthyology at that time: true pictures, the emergence of realistic fish images. The pictures in his own books are ‘drawn superbly lifelike’, Salviani says, whereas Rondelet’s pictures are only ‘crude illustrations’. There is, according to Salviani, really no indication that he might have ‘stolen’ anything from the French author.
As for the next point: How wrong the claim is that I had stolen many of his fish images is not only evident from the fact that I have seen only once – as he himself knows and testifies – a larger quantity and, as it were, in passing, but can also be clearly recognised by comparing his pictures with mine. For no one will be so stupid that he will not notice very easily that our pictures are drawn superbly lifelike,109 representing the fishes with such a great similarity110 impossibly to be taken from his crude illustrations.
Rondelet had furthermore criticised Salviani’s dependence on patronage and his courtier-like lifestyle. Salviani takes the opportunity to explain why Rondelet is wrong here, too.
Finally, he adds: ‘and this at the Cardinal’s expense’, but this does not amount to an injustice towards him, nor puts shame on me, but rather reflects his honesty. For if to be praised by a praised man is no unimportant praise, how much more is my honour enlarged by the fact that Marcellus Cervinus not only honoured me quite often, as many know, with his most honourable appreciation in front of a great number of people, but always helped me out as well in a most generous manner at his own expense, regarding other domestic difficulties of mine, but also in our production of these illustrations and histories of fishes? He has deservedly been admired by all not only because of the most elevated dignity of being a Cardinal, but much more because of the purity of his life, the integrity of his mind, his observance of the Christian faith, his outstanding knowledge of all things, his benevolence towards all good and learned men, his compassion for the poor, and finally, because of his truly human attitude towards all men of whatever kind or rank. And as he was at last elected pope to the incredible joy of all, so he died prematurely and unexpectedly on the twenty-first day of his pontificate to the incomparable sorrow of almost the whole world.111
Salviani is confident that not only the pictures in his books, but also his descriptions of the different fishes clearly outdo what Rondelet has to offer. He even announces that he will publish another book shortly, in which he will deal in more detail with Rondelet’s shortcomings regarding the study of fish.
But as Rondelet vilified me with these words, so he persecutes me, not satisfied with his calumnies, to show his hostile attitude towards me even more, with injuries and maledictions, adding them to what he had already written [232r]: ‘Is it surprising that Salviani is able to provide some commentaries of his own about fishes?’112 But how bold this admiration from his side is, becomes clear through the matter itself. For as our fish pictures, in the opinion of all, surpass so much his own that they could or should in no way be compared to them, so we have no doubt that in the judgment of the scholars our history of fishes will prove to be more complete, better explained and more true. With the same boldness, he also says: ‘Someone who has been travelling for long periods on different parts of the sea, who has had the opportunity to dissect fishes and inspect their parts, and to elaborate all this with commentaries and distinctions.’ How much more efforts and diligence I have actually spent in doing all this, can also be clearly seen from our present reports; and in addition it will be very evident in our next book, which we will publish immediately after this issue, entitled Critique of Guillaume Rondelet’s books on fishes.113 For the errors that we have certainly noticed in many of his books could not be unfurled in our reports, partly because much of them had already been printed when his books reached us, partly because we considered it inappropriate to confuse our reports with rebuttals of Rondelet’s mistakes and to increase their size; in the special book we have collected and refuted the mistakes. We have not done this out of malignity or envy, but rather in a friendly spirit, so that the truth may shine even brighter.
In contrast to what Rondelet holds against him, Salviani finally claims that he is not neglecting his duties as a scholar and physician in favour of courteous obligations, depending on other people’s benevolence and support. As a renowned and valued physician, so the reader is told, he is well able to earn himself and his family a living. Then he returns to the subject matter of the current chapter in his book, the Callarias fish.
So that it does not look in the end as if Rondelet had judged me by mistake, I quote the pretext for his opinion; he says: ‘someone who spends whole days welcoming, receiving and escorting courtiers just in order to earn a living.’ With these last words, he is guilty not only of insult and temerity, but also of mendacity. For besides the fact that this does not happen in Rome, where the equally highly regarded and venerable Cardinals, as well as the best and most distinguished Fathers of Christendom, are always accompanied by learned, noble, and honoured men, no one will be able to testify having seen me at any time, and even less during whole days, busy with such things. I am always fully occupied with my daily and nocturnal studies and visitations of the sick.
And finally I am not someone who, if I am forced by Rondelet’s impertinence to talk about myself, I implore you, honest reader, to take all of this not as complacency yet, would depend on earning himself some extra money, or who, if in need of anything, would have to obtain it by greeting and escorting. For in this city, I have such a good reputation, for which I thank God, as much as I can, that, as I have already been a full professor of practical medicine (as it is called) at this beneficial institution, the Gymnasium Romanum,114 for many years and still continue to do so, so some of the most well-known cardinals, many bishops and a great number of Roman and foreign noblemen will gladly call upon my services if they require medical help. As a result, I have enough income to feed my whole family honourably.
But since I might have said more in defence of my honour against Rondelet’s slanders than has been adequate, so let’s drop this topic and return to the fish on our 93rd plate.
Reading Rondelet’s and Salviani’s texts, one gets the impression that, as in a court case, one word stands against another in the argument between the two opponents. It is difficult to form an objective, unbiased picture of the contrary statements, since there are no other testimonies, e.g., from eyewitnesses of the meeting between Rondelet and Salviani.
Instead of one-sided partisanship, I would like to try in the next section a simple approach that still promises more verifiability, which already Salviani had proposed: to contrast the fish images themselves, as they are available in their books. This comes down to a juxtaposition of Rondelet’s woodcuts and Salviani’s copper engravings. For reasons of space, such a comparison cannot be based on all or even many images of the two opponents. An exemplary comparison of two images representing the same species must suffice.
5 Rondelet’s and Salviani’s Pictures of the Flying Gurnard Compared
We would now like to put what Rondelet and Salviani are asserting, as well as the artistry of the draftsmen they employed, to the test and compare the pictures of a certain, outwardly not plain fish to see whether a suspicion of dependency (plagiarism) is justified and which picture is qualitatively more demanding. We have chosen the Flying gurnard (Dactylopterus volitans L.) and place Rondelet’s woodcut by Georges Reverdy opposite to Salviani’s copper- engraving by Bernhardus Aretinus [Figs. 2.17 and 2.18].
Flying gurnard erroneously called Hirundo (‘Swallow’) from Rondelet Guillaume, Libri de piscibus marinis (Lyon, Macé Bonhomme: 1554) 284. The name Hirundo was usually reserved for the Tropical two-wing flyingfish (Exocoetus volitans L.), even in Rondelet’s time
Bibliothèque Nationale de France
Flying gurnard called Milvus (‘Hawk’, ‘Kite’) from Salviani Hippolito, Aquatilium animalium historiae liber primus, cum eorumdem formis, aere excusis (Rome, Hippolito Salviani: 1558) fol. 187v. Also called Milvus by Belon, De aquatilibus libri duo (Paris, Charles Estienne: 1553) 197. Rondelet’s Milvus in Rondelet, Libri de piscibus marinis (Lyon, Macé Bonhomme: 1554) 297, in turn, shows the Grey gurnard (Eutrigla gurnardus L.)
Bibliothèque Nationale de France
Rondelet’s picture is not bad, in any case good enough to clearly identify the species. What one could criticise is that the two long spines in front of the dorsal fin are a bit sparse compared to those in Salviani’s picture (red arrows). These two spines are important, they are the distinguishing mark of the Flying gurnard, as can be seen when comparing Salviani’s picture with a modern drawing [Figs. 2.19 and 2.20].
Milvus (mirrored) in Salviani Hippolito, Aquatilium animalium historiae liber primus, cum eorumdem formis, aere excusis (Rome, Hippolito Salviani: 1558) fol. 187v., showing Flying gurnard (Dactylopterus volitans)
Bibliothèque Nationale de France
Flying gurnard (Dactylopterus volitans) in Šoljan T., Fishes of the Adriatic (Belgrade – Washington: 1963) 159
Basically, the comparison of Rondelet’s and Salviani’s pictures shows, as every unbiased viewer will surely admit that Salviani’s copperplate is not a plagiarism of Rondelet’s woodcut, it’s not even inspired by it. It is obviously more plastic, more filigree, in short overall better.
Regarding Salviani’s engravings, we regretfully know no more than the name of the artist whom he had hired. It was, as we already mentioned, a certain Bernhardus Aretinus. We are better informed about the artist who was responsible for Rondelet’s woodcuts. It was Georges Reverdy (?–1564/1565), who started as a woodcutter, but later also worked successfully as a copper-engraver.115 Reverdy was, for sure, always a professional and not a bungler.
One would also have to take into account, of course, the general advantages of copper engravings over woodcuts. According to a standard work on techniques of graphics116 these are among others:
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A more flexible layout of lines, allowing greater accuracy and richness in the reproduction of details and a greater variety of shapes
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The option of superimposing strokes, allowing smooth transitions as opposed to the typical hard contrast of light and dark in woodcuts
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A better rendering of surface qualities
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Sharper prints and copies.
6 Rondelet’s and Salviani’s Achievements Assessed by Later Scholars
Philippe Glardon117 has endeavoured to arrive at a balanced assessment of the positions of the persons (Belon, Rondelet, Salviani and Gessner) involved in the debate that we have presented here. Other modern scholars have also tried to evaluate Rondelet’s and Salviani’s achievements.
On the whole, not many testimonies have survived that comment on the quality of Rondelet’s fish images; fortunately, many more assessments of Salviani’s pictures are available. We have already quoted what impression Salviani’s copper engravings made on the publisher Lafreri in Rome, as well as Gessner’s praise for the unsurpassed beauty of these images.118 In addition to these immediate praises, similar ones were added over time, as by the ichthyologist Bashford Dean: Salviani’s plates ‘in accuracy and beauty surpass any figures published in the next 100 years’119 or by historians such as Claus Nissen: Salviani’s engravings ‘far outstrip the poor characters of Rondelet’120 or Laurent Pinon: Salviani is ‘too little known and too often forgotten by historians of science, this magnificent work deserves to be studied more closely’.121
These acknowledgments can be contrasted with critical statements, all of which lack comprehensible justification. Thus the German zoologist Julius Victor Carus remarked (clearly adopted from Georges Cuvier, see below): ‘The most important merit of Salviani lies in the technically beautiful execution of the illustrations, which, however, are not entirely useful with respect to natural history.’122 Even more apodictically judged the historian Katharina Kolb, claiming that Salviani’s ‘realistic aspect is sometimes deceptive’ (examples would have been useful);123 and similarly unsubstantiated decrees another historian, Gillian Lewis, praising ‘Rondelet’s decisive woodcuts of strongly individualized fishes’ against ‘Salviani’s handsome, decorative and rather stylized pictures’124 – again, as long as no examples are provided, this remains a blank, polemic assertion.
Neither the praise nor the criticism are really helpful or enlightening. The only expert who dealt more seriously with Rondelet’s and Salviani’s images was Georges Cuvier in the 19th century, even though in the end he remained in a peculiar manner ambivalent and irresolute.
Cuvier has dealt with Rondelet and Salviani twice. In the first volume of his monumental Histoire naturelle des poissons he writes (1828): ‘The figures of Salviani are less numerous, but much more beautiful [than those of Belon and Rondelet], and engraved in intaglio, on a fairly large scale: there are several that have not been surpassed in more recent works’ (here and below the emphasis in italics is mine).125 A few years later, in the second volume of his Histoire des sciences naturelles (1841), Cuvier revises his earlier statement:
If the characters of the fishes were sufficiently expressed, the work of Salviani would leave nothing to be desired. But for a painter to apply his talent perfectly to history, it is necessary for him to know for himself what to project; otherwise, it is indispensable that the naturalist who employs him should pay attention to the details which he must bring out. At the time of which we speak, no one thought that it would become important one day to count the rays of the fishes, the small serrations or spines that may exist in the bones of their heads; these peculiarities are not sufficiently represented in the figures of Salviani. Apart from that, the whole is perfect, and these are the best designs we had until our time.126
Comparing Salviani’s achievements to Rondelet’s, he asserts that Rondelet’s woodcuts lack a bit of finesse (‘manquant un peu de finesse’). Regarding the representation of crucial details (small serrations, spines, bones etc.), however, he believes that they are much better (‘beaucoup mieux’) than Salviani’s copper-engravings.
As Cuvier accuses Salviani of a lack of attention to detail, we would finally like to see whether he himself leaves nothing to be desired in terms of accuracy.
Cuvier has dealt extensively with the Dactylopteridae in the fourth chapter of his Histoire naturelle des poissons (1829).127 He distinguishes between several species, one of which, named Cephalacanthus spinarella by Cuvier, is identical to Salviani’s Milvus, i.e. to the Flying gurnard or Dactylopterus volitans.128 As a comparison with Salviani’s illustration of this species shows [Figs. 2.21 and 2.22], Cuvier lacks the two spines in front of the dorsal fin, the hallmark of this species; furthermore the typical triangular head shape is not reproduced, neither the distinctive fan-like pectoral fin [Fig. 2.22].
Cuvier’s Cephalacanthus spinarella, showing the Flying gurnard (Dactylopterus volitans) in Cuvier Georges – Valenciennes Achille, Histoire naturelle des poissons, vol. 4 (Paris: 1829) 138, depicted on plate 73
Cuvier’s Dactylopterus orientalis, the Oriental flying gurnard (today renamed Dactyloptena orientalis Cuvier, 1829) in Cuvier Georges – Valenciennes Achille, Histoire naturelle des poissons, vol. 4 (Paris: 1829) 134, depicted on plate 76
All of these features are perfectly rendered, however, in Cuvier’s illustration of the Oriental flying gurnard, an extremely similar, close relative of the Flying gurnard [Fig. 2.22]. In contrast to this one, Cuvier’s picture of the Flying gurnard [Fig. 2.21] can only be judged as complete failure – it’s not a ‘true’ picture.129 Here his criticism of Salviani falls back on himself.
It is obvious that Cuvier’s requirements are well met by Salviani, occasionally even better than by Cuvier himself. This attention to detail can be found in nearly all of Salviani’s images, which are regularly accompanied by a meticulous anatomical description. This impression is supported by another indicator: the number of pictures in Belon and Rondelet that cannot readily be identified (at least to family) is about 18%, while that in Salviani is zero.
In summary, according to our findings, two statements can be made:
-
In the controversy with Rondelet, Salviani credibly defended himself against the accusation of plagiarism by his French opponent.
-
Cuvier’s criticism that Salviani’s images lacked anatomical precision appears unwarranted when at least one of Cuvier’s images (e.g., Dactylopterus volitans) is less accurate than Salviani’s.
Finally, we would like to refer to Linnaeus, who valued Salviani and also defended him against Rondelet. When Linnaeus began to identify all known fishes and to give them unique names in the 10th and 12th editions of his Systema naturae (1758 and 1766), he referred to 80 of the 88 descriptions and images provided by Salviani. In doing so, Linnaeus relied on the preparatory work of Peter Artedi (1738), who had also consulted Salviani’s images.130
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Zoller H., “Zum Wandel der Pflanzendarstellung während der Renaissance. Vom Beginn des 15. Jahrhunderts zu Leonardo da Vinci, Albrecht Dürer und Conrad Gessner”, Bauhinia 9 (1989) 109–123.
Zucker A., “Zoologie et philologie dans les grands traités ichtyologiques renaissants”, Kentron 29 (2013) 135–173.
See Bäumer Ä., Geschichte der Biologie. Vol. 1: Biologie in der Antike bis zur Renaissance (Frankfurt: 1991) 32–89 or Mayr E., The growth of biological thought. Diversity, evolution, and inheritance (Cambridge, MA – London: 1982) 87–94.
Pliny, Naturalis historia 8.17.44.
For an overview of how the knowledge and assessment of Aristotle’s zoological writings developed, see, inter alia, Thompson D’Arcy W., On Aristotle as a biologist with a prooemion on Herbert Spencer (Oxford:1913); Lang H.S., “Aristotle and Darwin”, International Philosophical Quarterly 23 (1983) 141–153; Gotthelf A., “Darwin on Aristotle”, Journal of the History of Biology 32 (1999) 3–30; Gaukroger S., The emergence of a scientific culture. Science and the shaping of modernity 1210–1685 (Oxford: 2006), chap. 2 and 3; Zimmermann H., “Die Bedeutung des Aristoteles vom Mittelalter bis zur Renaissance”, Forum Classicum 53 (2010) 211–218; Leroi A.M., The lagoon. How Aristotle invented science (London: 2014) 353–358, 466. Between 1495 and 1498 a five-volume edition of the works of Aristotle in the original Greek (editio princeps) was published by Aldus Manutius in Venice, see Sicherl M., Handschriftliche Vorlagen der Editio princeps des Aristoteles (Mainz: 1976); Grendler P.F., The Universities of the Italian Renaissance (Baltimore – London: 2002) 272, 274. The zoological writings are contained in volume 3 of 1497, see Anonymous, Gesamtkatalog der Wiegendrucke. Herausgegeben von der Kommission für den Gesamtkatalog der Wiegendrucke. Vol. 2 (Stuttgart – New York: 1968) 551–560 for details on the contents.
On Michael Scotus and his Aristotle translation, see Van Oppenraay A.M.I., “The Reception of Aristotle’s History of Animals in the Marginalia of Some Latin Manuscripts of Michael Scot’s Arabic-Latin Translation”, Early Science and Medicine 8 (2003) 387–403 and Berger F., Die Textgeschichte der Historia animalium des Aristoteles (Wiesbaden: 2005) 52–54. Scotus applied a form of literal translation, as opposed to a so-called “analogous” translation aiming at the sense of a word or name that later became customary (Gaza, see below).
On Moerbeke’s way of translation, see Berger, Textgeschichte 182, Beullens P., “Quelques observations sur la traduction de l’Histoire des animaux d’Aristote par Guillaume de Moerbeke”, Bulletin de Philosophie Médiévale 34 (1992) 181–196 and idem, “Aristotle, his translators, and the formation of ichthyologic nomenclature”, in: Goyens M. – De Leemans P. – Smets A. (eds.), Science translated. Latin and vernacular translations of scientific treatises in medieval Europe (Louvain: 2008) 105–122; Singer C., Greek biology and Greek medicine (Oxford: 1922) 155, 166, 169 manages to judge Moerbeke both critically and positively. Moerbeke has translated all zoological writings as well as several other works by Aristotle (listed by Schmitt C.B., Aristotle and the Renaissance (Cambridge: 1983) 166).
See Berger, Textgeschichte, 53 and the introduction and translation in the Albertus Magnus, On Animals. A Medieval Summa Zoologica, eds. K.F. Kitchell – I.M. Resnick (2 vols.) (Baltimore: 1999); finally Bäumer, Biologie in der Antike 136–159. Singer, Greek biology 73 noted that Albert, even though he knew Aristotle only in the Latin translation of Michael Scotus, productively continued his Greek protagonist’s zoological studies, for example in his description of fish embryos.
On Trebizond, see Harlfinger D. (ed.), Graecogermania. Griechischstudien deutscher Humanisten. Die Editionstätigkeit der Griechen in der italienischen Renaissance (1469–1523) (Weinheim – New York: 1989) 10–13.
This translation remained unprinted and was of little importance and influence (Beullens P. – Gotthelf A., “Theodore Gaza’s translation of Aristotle’s De Animalibus: content, influence, and date”, Greek, Roman and Byzantine studies 47 (2007) 469–513).
On Gaza, see Harlfinger, Graecogermania 14–18.
For more on Gaza’s way of translation in contrast to that of George of Trebizond, see Beullens, Aristotle translators.
The surviving fragments are documented by Sharples R.W. (ed.), Theophrastus of Eresus, Commentary Volume 5: Sources on biology (Leiden: 1995) 84–89. The second famous pupil who explored fishes, was Alexander the Great (Beullens, Aristotle translators). Lennox J.G., “The Disappearance of Aristotle’s Biology: A Hellenistic Mystery”, Apeiron 27 (1994) 7–24 has argued that in the Hellenistic world Aristotle’s zoology, understood as a research project, had disappeared until Albertus Magnus’s revitalisation, but regarding the study of fishes Polek N., “Die Fischkunde des Aristoteles und ihre Nachwirkung in der Literatur”, in Hilberg I. – Jüthner J. (eds.), Primitiae czernovicienses. Festgabe zur 50. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner in Graz (Czernowitz: 1909) 35–57 conveys a different, less pessimistic view.
Nissen C., Schöne Fischbücher. Kurze Geschichte der ichthyologischen Illustration. Bibliographie fischkundlicher Abbildungswerke (Stuttgart:1951) 11; see also Hünemörder C., “Die Geschichte der Fischbücher von Aristoteles bis zum Ende des 17. Jahrhunderts”, Deutsches Schifffahrtsarchiv 1 (1975) 185–200, here 193.
See Kullmann W., Aristoteles als Naturwissenschaftler (Berlin: 2014) 81–112 with a discussion of the (controversial) research literature on this topic.
The information on the number of fishes in Aristotle is strangely different. Beullens, Aristotle translators gives 100 as number, while Hünemörder, Fischbücher 186 once speaks of ‘about 100’ fish names, later (Hünemörder C., “Fische”, Der Neue Pauly 4 (1998) 526) of ‘about 133’; Polek, Fischkunde, in turn, speaks indefinitely of ‘numerous passages’ in the work of Aristotle. More recently, Leroi, Lagoon 391–392 presented a list of 43 Aristotelian fish names and their modern Linnaean equivalents, some of them only vaguely identified, whereas Ganias K. et al., “Aristotle as an ichthyologist: Exploring Aegean fish diversity 2,400 years ago”, Fish and Fisheries 18 (2017) 1–18 has a list of about 110 names (including marine mammals), several of them likewise only tentatively identified. Hünemörder, Fischbücher 186 also points out that Aristotle distinguished between fishes in a narrow sense (ἰχθύς) and other animals living in water (τὰ ἔνυδρα sc. ζῷα) and did not collapse them like his successors, especially at Renaissance times under the collective term aquatilia. Finally Thompson, Glossary provided a massive compendium of Aristotelian fishes in the broader sense including sponges, coelenterates (sea-anemones, corals, etc.), echinoderms (starfishes), mollusca (octopuses, cuttlefishes, shell-fishes, slugs, etc.) crustaceans and marine mammals (whales and dolphins); see also Strömberg R., Studien zur Etymologie und Bildung der griechischen Fischnamen (Göteborg: 1943) 19, who claims to know 800 ancient Greek fish names, which is a doubtfully high number.
Reproduced, for example, by Imhoof-Blumer F. and Keller O., Tier- und Pflanzenbilder auf Münzen und Gemmen des Klassischen Altertums (Leipzig: 1889) plate VIII, no. 23; Keller O., Die antike Tierwelt. Vol. 2 (Leipzig: 1913) figure 124 related to p. 393; 511; Singer, Greek biology 8; Sahrhage D. – Lundbeck J., A history of fishing (Berlin – Heidelberg – New York: 1992) 43–55, with images ranging from Minoan (Aegean Bronze Age, 1,500–1,400 BC) to Etruscan times (100 BC). It should be noted that most of this pictorial material did not become common knowledge until much later.
The anonymous Hortus sanitatis (or Ortus sanitatis), printed in 1491 in Mainz by Jacob Meydenbach, was previously often mistakenly attributed to Johann Wonnecke von Kaub or Johannes de Cuba (1430–1503), a German physician from the town of Kaub located on the right bank of the Rhine; fishes were dealt with in book 5. See also Jacquemard C. – Gauvin B. – Lucas-Avenel M.-A. (eds.), Hortus sanitatis. Livre IV. Les poissons (Caen: 2013); additionally Baumann B. – Baumann H., Die Mainzer Kräuterbuch-Inkunabeln “Herbarius Moguntinus” (1484), “Gart der Gesundheit” (1485), “Hortus sanitatis” (1491) (Stuttgart: 2010).
See the Thierbuch Alberti Magni (Frankfurt: 1545) book 3 “Von den Fischen”.
On the different versions of the Boecxken or Büchlein, see Cockx-Indestege Elly, “Van een boekje om vogels en vissen te vangen naar een zeldzame Antwerpse postincunabel, nu in de Library of Congress te Washington”, in: Van der Vekene E. (ed.), Refugium animae bibliotheca. Festschrift für Albert Kolb (Wiesbaden:1969) 109–138; Grimm H., “Neue Beiträge zur Fisch-Literatur des XV. bis XVII. Jahrhunderts und über deren Drucker und Buchführer”. Archiv für Geschichte des Buchwesens 67 (1968) 2871–2887 and Zaunick R., Das älteste deutsche Fischbüchlein vom Jahre 1498 und dessen Bedeutung für die spätere Literatur (Berlin: 1916).
See Marescalcus (Marschalk) Nicolaus, Historia aquatilium latine ac grece cum figuris (Rostock, in edibus Thuriis: 1520). The pictures were printed separately as early as 1517. – The lack of knowledge in ichthyological research about Marschalk and his work is remarkable: thus Bäumer Ä., Geschichte der Biologie. Vol. 2: Zoologie der Renaissance – Renaissance der Zoologie (Frankfurt: 1991) 346–347 translates some names of Marschalk’s localities mistakenly (e.g., Tyle is not Tiel, a town in the middle of Holland, but the ancient name of the Shetland Islands), Glardon P., L’histoire naturelle au XVIe siècle. Introduction, étude et édition critique de La nature et diversité des poissons de Pierre Belon (1555) (Geneva: 2011) 54, who calls Marschalk a ‘médecin méconnu’ (in fact, he was neither unknown nor a physician, but a well-known jurist), finally, Zucker A., “Zoologie et philologie dans les grands traités ichtyologiques renaissants”, Kentron 29 (2013) 135–173, here 140), who refers to a paper by Brian Ogilvie of 2005, who in turn owes his knowledge to a hint (not a publication) from Laurent Pinon. Solid information on Marschalk is provided only by Huber-Rebenich G., “Marschalk, Nikolaus”, in Worstbrock F.J. (ed.), Deutscher Humanismus 1480–1520. Verfasserlexikon. Vol. 2. (Berlin – New York: 2013) 161–203 and Lisch G.C.F., “Buchdruckerei des Raths Dr. Nicolaus Marschalk”. Jahrbücher des Vereins für Mecklenburgische Geschichte und Altertumskunde 4 (1839) 92–133.
Giovio Paolo (Paulus Iovius), De Romanis piscibus (Rome, Francesco Minuzio Calvo: 1524). On Giovio’s fishbook, see Baumann T. (ed. and transl.), Pauli Iovii Novocomensis Medici De Romanis piscibus libellus ad Ludovicum Borbonium cardinalem amplissimum. Text, Übersetzung, Kommentar (Unpublished doctoral thesis University of Mannheim, 1994), chap.V, IX, 122 and Beullens, Aristotle translators. A semi-critical edition of Giovio’s work is available by Travi E. – Penco M. (eds.), De piscibus Romanis, in Dialogi et descriptiones (= Pauli Iovii Opera 9) (Rome: 1984) 3–64.
The treatise of Johannes Dubravius (Jan Skála z Doubravky, c.1486–1553) is available in translation, see Dubravius Johannes, De piscinis et piscium qui in eis aluntur naturis libri quinque (Breslau (Vratislaviae), Andreas Vinglerus: 1547) and Wüstner A. – Kollmann J. (eds. and transl.), Buch von den Teichen und den Fischen, welche in denselben gezüchtet werden. In fünf Büchlein (Vienna: 1906).
Gessner Conrad, Iani Dubravii qui postea Olomucensis episcopus creatus est, De piscinis et piscium qui in eis aluntur naturis libri quinque (Zurich, Andreas Gessner d. J.: 1559).
Higginbotham J., Piscinae. Artificial fishponds in Roman Italy (Chapel Hill – London: 1997).
On the importance of the common carp as edible and farmed fish, see Balon E.K., “The common carp, Cyprinus carpio: its wild origin, domestication in aquaculture, and selection as colored nishikigoi”, Guelph Ichthyology Reviews 3 (1995) 1–55; Benoît P., “La carpe dans l’occident médiéval”, in James-Raoul D. – Thomasset C. (eds.), Dans l’eau, sous l’eau. Le monde aquatique au Moyen Âge (Paris: 2002) 229–236; additionally Sahrhage – Lundbeck, History of fishing 50, 62–64.
Dollinger P., The German Hansa (London – New York: 1999); Hünemörder C., “Fischfang und Fischkunde im Mittelalter”, Deutsches Schifffahrtsarchiv 4 (1981) 183–190.
See Sahrhage – Lundbeck, History of fishing 70, 98; Bennema F.P. – Rijnsdorp A.D., “Fish abundance, fisheries, fish trade and consumption in sixteenth-century Netherlands as described by Adriaen Coenen”, Fisheries Research 161 (2015) 384–399.
Gessner Conrad, Historia animalium liber IV: qui est De piscium et aquatilium animantium natura (Zurich, Christopher Froschauer: 1558) 487 mentions that incredibly huge amounts are caught, to the point that these fishes are reduced to a minimum (copia incredibilis; ingens copia irretitur … adeo imminuti sunt hi pisces). I read this as an indication of overfishing, but the context is unclear; perhaps a fish epidemic was the true cause of the disappearance of herring populations near Heligoland. See also Hendrikx S., “Identification of herring species (Clupeidae) in Conrad Gessner’s ichthyological works: A case study on taxonomy, nomenclature, and animal depiction in the sixteenth century”, in Enenkel K.A.E. – Smith P.J. (eds.), Zoology in early modern culture (Leiden – Boston: 2014) 149–171, who tends to strain Gessner’s endeavours, even if he was unable to carry out research of his own on the herring (how could he have done this in Switzerland?), but, as usual, only stringed together numerous foreign information.
Schubert O., Georg Handsch von Limus’ Die Elbefischerei in Böhmen und Meißen (Prague: 1933), correcting Senfelder L., “Georg Handsch von Limus. Lebensbild eines Arztes aus dem XVI. Jahrhundert”, Wiener klinische Rundschau 1901, 495–499, 514–516 and 533–535 about the authorship of the first part.
Hertel R., “Über die “Ichthyographie der Elbe” des Johannes Kentmann. Eine Studie über die ältesten sächsischen Fischfaunen (Pisces)”, Zoologische Abhandlungen. Staatliches Museum für Tierkunde in Dresden 35 (1978) 75–100; Zaunick R., “Fragmente der ältesten sächsischen Fischfauna des Dr. Johannes Kentmann (1518–1574)”, Sitzungsberichte und Abhandlungen der Naturwissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft Isis 1915: 15–36.
See for example Zarske A., “Autochthone Population oder Faunenverfälschung? Zum Fund der Nase (Chondrostoma nasus [L., 1758]) im oberen Elbegegbiet (Teleostei: Cyprinidae)”, Faunistische Abhandlungen. Staatliches Museum für Tierkunde 20 (1996) 285–294 regarding Chondrostoma nasus L., a carp species.
Mangolt Gregor, Fischbuoch. Von der natur und eigenschafft der vischen (Zurich, Andreas Gessner: 1557).
For more details, see Violand G., “Historische Fischökologie des Bodensees. Das Fischbuch des Gregor Mangolt, 1557”, Österreichs Fischerei 59 (2006) 169–171 and Hakelberg D., “Das Bodensee-Fischbuch von Gregor Mangolt in einem Basler Nachdruck von 1612”, Wolfenbütteler Barock-Nachrichten 36 (2009) 107–114.
Belon’s relevant works on fishes are L’histoire naturelle des estranges poissons marins (Paris, Regnauld Chaudiere: 1551) and De aquatilibus libri duo (Paris, Charles Estienne: 1553).
Rondelet’s relevant works are Libri de piscibus marinis (Lyon: 1554) and Universae aquatilium historiae pars altera (Lyon, Macé Bonhomme: 1555), usually issued bound up in one volume with separate pagination (1554–1555); in 1558 an abbreviated French version of the Latin works appeared: La premiere et la seconde partie de l’histoire entiere des poissons (Lyon, Macé Bonhomme).
Salviani’s work is entitled Aquatilium animalium historiae liber primus, cum eorumdem formis, aere excusis (Rome, “Printed in his own house”: 1554 on the title page and 1557 and 1558 in two different colophons), see Mortimer R., Catalogue of books and manuscripts. Part II: Italian 16th century books. Vol. 2 (Cambridge, MA: 1974) 628–630. In 1559 Aquatilium animalium historiae liber primus, cum eorumdem formis, aere excusis (Rome) and in 1593 posthumously Icones piscium (Rome) solely illustrated editions without any texts came out, of which, in turn, pirated copies by the Meietti printing house in Venice were published in 1600 and 1602; the latter copy has survived, see Salviani, Aquatilium animalium curendum [sic] formis (Venice: 1602).
Gessner’s fish-related works are De piscibus et aquatilibus omnibus libelli III novi (Zurich: 1556), on which see Bäumer Ä., “De piscibus et aquatilibus libelli III novi (Zürich 1556). Ein bisher unbeachtetes zoologisches Werk von Conrad Gesner”, Berichte zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte 13 (1990) 177–181; then Historia animalium liber IV (1558) and Nomenclator aquatilium animantium. Icones animalium aquatilium in mari et dulcibus aquis degentium (Zurich: 1560).
Gudger E.W., “The five great naturalists of the sixteenth century: Belon, Rondelet, Salviani, Gesner and Aldrovandi. A chapter in the history of ichthyology”, Isis 22 (1934) 21–40; Bashford D., A bibliography of fishes. Vol. 3 (New York: 1923) 216–217 on Belon, p. 309 on Rondelet and p. 312 on Salviani.
See Cuvier Georges – Valenciennes Achille, Histoire naturelle des poissons. Planches (22 vols.) (Paris: 1828–1849; vol. 1, 1828) 48–55; Bäumer, Zoologie der Renaissance 346–381; Nellen W. – Dulčić J., “Evolutionary steps in ichthyology and new challenges”, Acta Adriatica 49 (2008) 201–232.
On realism in Italian Renaissance painting, see Blunt A., Artistic Theory in Italy, 1450–1600 (Oxford: 1962).
Reproduced by Del Soldato E., “Un catalogo naufragato: il “De piscibus” di Simone Porzio”, in De Bellis E. (ed.), Aristotele e la tradizione aristotelica, Atti del convegno internazionale di studi, Lecce, 12–14 giugno 2008 (Lecce: 2008) 149–176; see also idem, Simone Porzio. Un aristotelico tra natura e grazia (Rome: 2010) 92–100.
The whole story is told by Egmond F. – Kusukawa S., “Circulation of images and graphic practices in Renaissance natural history: the example of Conrad Gessner”, Gesnerus 73 (2016) 29–72.
Aldrovandi Ulisse, De piscibus libri V. et De cetis lib. Unus, ed. Ioannes Cornelius and Geronimo Tamburin (Bologna, Jo. Bapt. Bellagamba: 1613). On Aldrovandi’s voluminous fish book, see Bäumer, Zoologie der Renaissance 96–102; on Aldrovandi’s disciple Uterverius (or Uterwer), a Dutchman from Delft, see Richter C., “Hollandse vissenboeken. De onweerstaanbare kracht van de afbeelding”, Holland 38 (2006) 161–176; Uterverius authored the preface to the reader.
On modes of preserving fishes in early and in more recent times, see Pinon L., “Clématite bleue contre poissons séchés: sept lettres inédites d’Ippolito Salviani à Ulisse Aldrovandi”, Mélanges de l’École française de Rome 114 (2002) 477–492; Tosi A., “Acconciare, seccare, dipingere: pratiche di rappresentazione della natura tra le “spigolature” aldrovandiane”, in Olmi G. – Simoni F. (eds.), Ulisse Aldrovandi. Libri e immagini di Storia naturale nella prima Età moderna (Bologna: 2018) 49–58; Davis P., “Collecting and preserving fishes: a historical perspective”, in MacGregor A. (ed.), Naturalists in the Field (Leiden – Boston: 2018) 149–165 and Carusi C., “Salt and Fish Processing in the Ancient Mediterranean: A Brief Survey”, Journal of Maritime Archaeology 13 (2018) 481–490. This point is of considerable importance with regard to the quality of a depicted fish, especially Salviani was attacked for that. To date, research has failed to provide accurate information on how fishes were kept fresh for more than a few days in the 16th century, especially in the hot Mediterranean climate (Peter Davis, Northumberland, by personal communication).
The equivalent term for ‘Portrait’ in contemporary German or Dutch (Flemish) fish books and especially in herbals was ‘Contrafactur/Contrafayt/Contrefeyung’ or ‘conterfeytsel/geconterfeyt’, from Old German conterfeit, Old French contrefait, derived from Latin contrafacere, ‘to recreate badly’, ‘to adulterate’ (said of metals). However, while in French and English this pejorative meaning was retained (‘counterfeit’/‘contrefaçon’), in Germanic languages it dwindled away and a non-negative meaning remained, for example in Hortus sanitatis (Mainz:1491), in Albertus Magnus (Frankfurt: 1545) or in Otto Brunfels’ Contrafayt Kreüterbuch (Strasbourg: 1532), Latin version Herbarum vivae eicones (Strasbourg: 1530), in Rembert Dodoens’ Den Nieuwen Herbarius (Basel: 1545) and Cruijdeboeck (Antwerp: 1554). ‘Portrait’, in turn, is derived from Latin protrahere, to draw something out, namely the essential characteristics of an individual, see also Woodall J. (ed.), Portraiture: Facing the Subject (Manchester: 1997).
See Timm W., “Die Holzschnitte zu Nikolaus Marschalks Historia aquatilium latine ac grece cum figuris, Rostock 1517–20”, in Anonymous (ed.), Festschrift Gottfried von Lücken (Rostock 1968) 799–802.
On the pictorial (rather than scientific) importance of the medieval illustrated bestiaries for animal works of the Renaissance, see Hassig D., Medieval bestiaries. Text, image, ideology (Cambridge: 1995); Camille M., “Bestiary or Biology? Aristotle’s Animals in Oxford, Merton College, MS 271”, in Steel C. – Guldentops G. – Beullens P. (eds.), Aristotle’s Animals in the Middle Ages and Renaissance (Louvain: 1999) 355–396; James-Raoul D., “Inventaire et écriture du monde aquatique dans les bestiaries”, in James-Raoul D. – Thomasset C. (eds.), Dans l’eau, sous l’eau. Le monde aquatique au Moyen Âge (Paris: 2002) 175–226 and Beullens P., “Aristotle’s Zoology in the Medieval World”, in Boehrer B. – Hand M. – Massumi B. (eds.), Animals, Animality, and Literature (Cambridge: 2018) 29–42.
Gessner in the Enumeratio authorum of his Historia animalium IV of 1558: picturis fictis et absurdis. Nowadays such fantastic creatures would be characterised less pejoratively as a kind of ‘hybrid knowledge’: see Mackenzie L., “French early modern sea-monsters and modern identities, via Bruno Latour”, in Cuneo P. (ed.), Animals and early modern identity (Farnham – Burlington: 2014) 329–349.
Fantastic representations in the Hortus sanitatis tradition were certainly not a serious point of attack. In the case of the dolphin, Belon (L’histoire naturelle 1551: Preface and De aquatilibus 1553: 9–11) said and showed that he intended to take action against faulty images on ancient and contemporary coins. For information on ancient dolphin images, see also Vidali S., Archaische Delphindarstellungen (Würzburg: 1997).
Belon, De aquatilibus 17.
Ogilvie B.W., The Science of Describing: Natural History in Renaissance Europe (Chicago – London: 2006) 49.
In the original: ‘[…] abolitis prioribus ac veteribus Herbarijs, atque de novo vivis et acupictis imaginibus, editis. Deinde solidis ac firmis descriptionibus, ex priscis et autenticis autoribus prolatis, utrunque tentavimus, atque curavimus: Brunfels Otto, Herbarum vivae eicones ad naturae imitationem. Vol. 1. First edition (Strasbourg, Johann Schott: 1530) Dedicatory letter to the Senate of Strasbourg.
Green E.L., Landmarks of botanical history. Vol. 1 (Washington: 1906) 173.
See Rudolph P., Im Garten der Gesundheit. Pflanzenbilder zwischen Natur, Kunst und Wissen in gedruckten Kräuterbüchern des 15. Jahrhunderts (Vienna – Cologne – Weimar: 2020); Funk H., “Jan Černý’s Knieha lekarska (1517): closing a gap in the history of printed illustrated herbals”, Archives of natural history 42 (2015) 153–164.
See Brunfels Otto, Novi Herbarii Tomus II (Strasbourg: 1536) Appendix De vera herbarum cognitione 99. Only today’s scientists have submitted a theoretical justification for such a claim, see e.g. De Angelis S., “Sehen mit dem physischen und dem geistigen Auge. Formen des Wissens, Vertrauens und Zeigens in Texten der frühneuzeitlichen Medizin”, in Jaumann H. (ed.), Diskurse der Gelehrtenkultur in der Frühen Neuzeit. Ein Handbuch (Berlin – New York: 2011) 211–254.
See the impressive list of contemporary herbals with the respective titles in Kusukawa S., “Ad vivum Images and Knowledge of Nature in Early Modern Europe”, in Balfe T. et al. (eds.), Ad vivum? Visual Materials and the Vocabulary of Life-Likeness in Europe before 1800 (Leiden – Boston: 2019) 89–121.
See Dantz Johann, Kreutter Buch. Des Hochberümpten Pedanij Dioscoridis Anazarbei, gründliche vnd gewisse beschreibung aller materien oder gezeugs der Artznei, das ist, nit alleyn der Kreutter, sonder auch alles, was sonst in der artznei gebreuchlich ist; in sechs Bücheren verfast (Frankfurt, Jacob Cyriacus: 1546).
See Nauert C.G., “Humanists, Scientists, and Pliny: Changing Approaches to a Classical Author”, The American Historical Review 84 (1979) 72–85 (here 83) or Watson G., Theriac and Mithridatium. A study in therapeutics (London: 1966) 102–104, 124 on the danger to life from incorrect dosages and on adulteration and quackery including criminal poisoning in Medieval and Renaissance times. See also Leu U.B., Conrad Gessner (1516–1565). Universalgelehrter und Naturforscher der Renaissance (Zurich: 2016) 299–302 on the fierce controversy between Mattioli versus Gessner and others about the identity of the plant ‘Aconitum’ (Aconitum anthora L., Yellow monkshood or Healing wolfsbane).
See Geoffroy Étienne François, Suite de la Matiere medicale de M. Geoffroy. Par Mrs Arnault de Nobleville et Salerne. Vol. 2: Des poissons (Paris, Desaint – Saillant – G. Cavelier – Le Prieur: 1756), who consistently directed the attention to the medicinal benefits of fish. A German translation of the work was published somewhat later: idem, Fortsetzung der Abhandlung von der Materia Medica. Aus dem Französischen übersetzt. Von den Thieren. Vol. 6 (Leipzig, Carl Ludwig Jacobi Wittwe: 1763).
The similarity was measured on mostly clearly visible morphological features such as flowers, leaves and roots in plants and the number and position of the fins in fishes. Kyle S.R., Medicine and humanism in late medieval Italy. The Carrara herbal in Padua. (London – New York: 2017) showed that there were also other purposes, in particular to entertain the readers and keep them in suspense.
Such a similarity is also referred to by Brunfels in the subtitle of the work of 1530 as imitatio naturae. A sufficient similarity between a picture and what it represents can be considered to be a form of appropriateness with regard to subject matter (Übereinstimmung mit der Sache), also more shortly referred to as ‘objectivity’, in the sense that these terms have in modern theories of knowledge in science and the humanities. For a short overview of these theories, see Thiel C., “objektiv/Objektivität”, in Mittelstraß J. (ed.), Enzyklopädie Philosophie und Wissenschaftstheorie. Vol. 6 (Stuttgart: 2016) 8–9, where it is also pointed out that the old meaning of objectivity differs considerably from the modern. While this meaning was still in use at the time when Renaissance scholars claimed to present “true pictures” of fishes, some authors have more recently introduced the term in its modern sense to the discussion about these pictures, see, for example, Daston L. – Galison P., Objectivity (New York: 2007), Egmond F., Eye for detail. Images of plants and animals in art and science, 1500–1630 (London: 2017) 94, 134, or Balfe, Ad vivum.
Pangritz W., Das Tier in der Bibel (Munich – Basel: 1963) 72; a medieval bestiary showing Adam naming the animals contains no fishes Hassig, Bestiaries, Fig. 10, see also James-Raoul, Inventaire. In the Book of Genesis (2:19–20) we read: ‘So out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every beast of the field.’ There is no talk of the animals of the water.
The term ‘whale’ (Jonah 1:17–2:10, Matthew 12:40) was introduced by Luther’s and Tyndale’s translations, respectively. See also Cambier H., “Un grand poisson qui pose question. La baleine au Moyen Âge”, in Huber-Rebenich G. et al. (eds.), Wasser in der mittelalterlichen Kultur (Berlin: 2017) 532–541, ignoring, regrettably, ichthyological questions.
See the numerous examples in Exner M. et al., “Fisch I”, Reallexikon zur Deutschen Kunstgeschichte IX (1987) 18–88.
See the abundance of literary and pictorial evidence in Dölger F.J., Ichthys (5 vols.) (Rome: 1910–1957), Wehrhahn-Stauch L., “Christliche Fischsymbolik von den Anfängen bis zum hohen Mittelalter”, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 35 (1972) 1–68 and Engemann J., “Fisch, Fischer, Fischfang”, Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum 7 (1969): 959–1097.
Quoted from Wehrhahn-Stauch, Fischsymbolik 5, 61.
Raised to doctrine at the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) but originating from centuries before, see Wehrhahn-Stauch, Fischsymbolik 4–7; Bader G, Die Emergenz des Namens. Amnesie, Aphasie, Theologie (Tübingen: 2006) 107; Dingel I. – Daugirdas K. (eds.), Antitrinitarische Streitigkeiten. Die tritheistische Phase (1560–1568) (Göttingen: 2013) 122.
The beginning of Gessner’s wording is a mixture of Latin and Greek: ‘relictisque retibus et venatione τῶν ἀλόγων, λογικοὶ καἰ πνευµατικοἰ venatores ac piscatores’, etc., the Greek part possibly being a quotation.
See Perfetti S., Aristotle’s zoology and its Renaissance commentators, 1521–1601 (Leuven: 2000).
In Augustinus Niphus’ (Agostino Nifo, † 1538) Expositiones in omnes Aristotelis libros (Venice, Hieronymus Scotus: 1546), to mention an outstanding example, information on fishes are scattered (as in Aristotle) over hundreds of pages, of course without illustrations; on Niphus, see Perfetti, Aristotle’s zoology 85–120.
Rondelet, Libri de piscibus 241.
On Leonardo da Vinci, Dürer and Gessner, see Zoller H., “Zum Wandel der Pflanzendarstellung während der Renaissance. Vom Beginn des 15. Jahrhunderts zu Leonardo da Vinci, Albrecht Dürer und Conrad Gessner”, Bauhinia 9 (1989) 109–123.
Lines 27–30 as translated by Thomas Cooke, The Works of Hesiod (London: 1743).
Gessner had met Rondelet during his stay in Montpellier in 1540 (Fischer H., Conrad Gessner (26. März 1516–13. Dezember 1565). Leben und Werk (Zurich: 1966) 23), Belon visited Gessner in 1557 in Zurich (Barsi M., L’énigme de la chronique de Pierre Belon (Milan: 2001) 21; Glardon P., Pierre Belon, L’histoire de la nature des oyseaux. Édition en fac-similé avec introduction et notes (Geneva: 1997) LII). In a letter of October 15, 1556 to Leonhart Fuchs, Gessner, who was unaware of the details of the rivalry between Rondelet and Salviani, hastily sided with Rondelet. The letter is quoted by Leu, Conrad Gessner 185 and 276–277.
In the original: ‘mutuis inter se rixis et vitiosis aemulantibus’.
Gessner had the misfortune to be involved at the same time in another spectacular case of insults and accusations raging between Melchior Wieland (Guilandinus), a German botanist who lived in Italy, and the famous Pietro Andrea Mattioli (Matthiolus) an irascible and contentious personality like Rondelet (Herrmann S., ‘Ein Preuße in Venedig: Der Botaniker Melchior Wieland (ca. 1520–1589), Pionier der botanischen Feldforschung in der Levante’, Sudhoffs Archiv 99 (2015) 1–14). In general, such public confrontation was an exception, as there was always the danger of attacking along with the opponent his high-ranking patron as well.
Siraisi N.G., History, medicine, and the traditions of Renaissance learning (Ann Arbor: 2007) 126.
On Tournon, see Huppert George, The Style of Paris: Renaissance Origins of the French Enlightenment (Bloomington: 1999) 1–6, 87.
Rondelet, Libri de piscibus fol. a5v and 423.
Joubert, Gulielmus Rondeletius 188–190.
Gessner, Historia animalium IV, Preface, fol. b1r. That is, Belon (1551) and (1553) and the first instalments (?) of Salviani (1554–58). Salviani’s book was not completed until 1557 and published as a whole, according to a second colophon, in 1558.
An allusion to the fish books of Belon and Salviani.
On Rondelet’s term hallucinati (exprimendis turpissime hallucinati sint), see also Glardon (2011: 103–104).
Rondelet’s fish is unidentifiable and does not matter in the subsequent attack on Salviani. The fish name Mugil (or Mugilis) was widely applied in ancient times, see Coney W.C., “Mulled thoughts: Mullus and Mugilis in Pliny’s Naturalis Historiae and the De Re Conquinaria of ‘Apicius’”, Pseudo-Dionysius 18 (2016) 49–58.
The following sections are omitted in the French version: Rondelet, Histoire des poisons 326.
On Simone Porzio, see also the explanations above in the chapter The Aristotelian legacy. Porzio is also mentioned by Rondelet on p. 327. His De piscibus remained incomplete. A fragment has survived and is reproduced by Del Soldato Catalogo naufragato; see also eadem, Simone Porzio 92–100, Perfetti Aristotle’s zoology 123–129 and Lavenia V., “Porzio, Simone”, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani. Vol. 85 (Rome: 2016) 142–145. According to the report of a contemporary (Jacques-Auguste de Thou), Porzio was consumed with envy when in 1554 he realised that Rondelet had preempted him with the publication of his fish book, see Del Soldato, Simone Porzio 92.
The images of Porzio’s De piscibus were made, commissioned by Grand Duke Cosimo I de’ Medici from the famous painter Francesco Bacchiacca (1494–1557), and must have been remarkable.
Gessner, in his Historia animalium IV of 1558, quoted verbatim numerous descriptions of Rondelet, including pictures, among them the first two paragraphs of the present description (1558: 653).
In the 1540s Rondelet was in the service of Cardinal François de Tournon (1489–1562) and undertook many diplomatic journeys with him.
This Cardinal is Marcellus Cervinus (Marcello Cervini, 1501–1555), later Pope Marcellus II; before his accession as Pope he had been Cardinal priest of the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem. Salviani was the personal physician to three popes: Julius III, Marcellus II and Paul IV. On Pope Marcellus II, see Brunelli G., “Marcello II, papa”, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani. Vol. 69 (Rome: 2007) 502–510.
Nissen C., Die zoologische Buchillustration. Ihre Bibliographie und Geschichte. Vol. 2 (Stuttgart: 1978) 125–158.
For example Nissen C., Die botanische Buchillustration. Ihre Geschichte und Bibliographie (Stuttgart: 1966) 125–158 or Blunt W., The art of botanical illustration (Woodbridge: 1994) 99. Pinon L., Livres de zoologie de la Renaissance: une anthologie (1450–1700) (Paris: 1995) 95, however, is correct.
Columna (1567–1640) was a member of the Accademia dei Lincei in Naples, which was famous for its interest in technical novelties.
On Salviani’s biography and earning capacity, see Jaitner-Hahner U., Città di Castello nel Quattrocento e nel Cinquecento: economia, cultura e società (Sansepolcro: 2020) and Andretta E., “Salviani, Ippolito”, in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani. Vol. 90 (Rome: 2017) 22–24; for Salviani’s various medical activities, see Andretta E., Roma medica. Anatomie d’un système médical au XVIe siècle (Rome: 2011) 430–437. Salviani was initially supported by his patron Marcellus Cervinus, both non-materially and financially, but later he was a wealthy man, who also had his own flourishing printing house in which he published his fish book.
See Griffiths A., The Print Before Photography. An Introduction to European Printmaking, 1550–1820 (London: 2016).
Salviani, Aquatilium animalium, Preface.
As stated by Lewis G., “Clusius in Montpellier: A humanist education completed?”, in Egmond – Hoftijzer – Visser (eds.), Carolus Clusius. Towards a cultural history of a Renaissance naturalist (Amsterdam: 2007) 65–98, here 84 and by Perfetti S., “Philosophers and animals in the Renaissance”, in Boehrer B.T. – Kalof L. (eds.), A cultural history of animals in the Renaissance (Oxford, UK – New York: 2007) 147–164, here 161 and idem, Animali pensati nella filosofia tra medioevo e prima età moderna (Pisa: 2012) 125.
Rondelet (1554: 424), cf. my translation above (Text 2).
The public revocation of friendship, as it was done by Rondelet, was no trivial offense, it rather aimed at the moral discrediting and excommunication as a member of the world of honourable scholars (Republic of Letters). On the theory of friendship (amicitia) among sixteenth-century scholars, see Pinon, Clématite and Egmond F., “Clusius and friends: Cultures of exchange in the circles of European naturalists”, in Egmond F. – Hoftijzer P. – Visser R. (eds.), Carolus Clusius. Towards a cultural history of a Renaissance naturalist (Amsterdam: 2007) 9–48, here 36–44; additionally see Pangle L., Aristotle and the philosophy of friendship (Cambridge: 2003).
The Cohen D.M. – Inada T. – Iwamoto T. – Scialabba N., fish is the Forkbeard (Phycis phycis Linnaeus, 1766), for ichthyological details see Cohen D.M., Inada T., Iwamoto T., Scialabba N., Gadiform fishes of the world (Order Gadiformes). An annotated and illustrated catalogue of cods, hakes, grenadiers and other gadiform fishes known to date (Rome: 1990) 65–69. Its identity, however, is of little importance in the controversy.
That is, the Callarias, the subject of Salviani’s 87. history. Its copper engraving (shown above) is prefixed to the history.
After the death of Paul III in a long conclave that began in November 1549, Julius III was elected pope in February 1550.
Salviani uses the name Pannonians (Pannonij) here, according to the name of the former Roman province of Pannonia. This province included much of the Danube basin, which was later on settled by the Hungarians.
The interregnum is the time of conclave after the death of Paul III from 1549 to 1550.
That is, philosophia naturalis. During the Renaissance, natural philosophy comprised what is now recognised as life sciences (including botany and zoology) and inanimate or physical sciences. Natural philosophy was regarded as a preliminary stage of medical studies, see Grendler, Universities 267–268.
Marcellus Cervinus (Marcello Cervini, 1501–1555), later Pope Marcellus II; before his accession as Pope he had been Cardinal priest of the Basilica of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem in Rome (Salviani: “TT.S. ✠ Presbyter Cardinalis”); see also Brunelli, Marcello II.
The life data and more specific circumstances of the artist Bernardus Aretinus (Aretino) are completely unknown. Nissen’s claim (Zoologische Buchillustration 117) that Nicolas Béatrizet (Beatricetto, c.1520–c.1560) in Rome made Salviani’s copper-engravings is based on one single, obscure source from 1950. A highlight of confusion is provided by the Smithsonian Libraries, which identified Salviani’s engraver Bernardus Aretinus with a medieval (!) theologian of the same name (also known as Bernard of Arezzo, † 1342), see https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/bibliography/82337#/summary.
As mentioned, Salviani’s fish book was completed in 1557 and finally appeared in 1558, but presumably pre-publications (instalments?) had been issued since 1554 which, however, have not survived and which Salviani did not connumerate.
This and the following quote are from Rondelet, Libri de piscibus 424, cf. my translation above.
In the original: ‘ad vivum egregie depictas’.
In the original: ‘verissime ipsorum piscium similitudinem repraesentantes’.
Salviani’s portrait of Marcellus Cervinus was no fulsome praise for his patron, but corresponds to our present knowledge of Pope Marcellus II, see Brunelli, Marcello II. After the unexpected death of Pope Marcellus II, Salviani dedicated his fish book to his successor, Pope Paul IV; his unprinted dedication was published by Pollidorus Petrus (Pietro Pollidori), De vita, gestis, et moribus Marcelli II. pontificis maximi commentarius (Rome, Hiermonymus Mainardus: 1744) 85–87.
This and the following quotations are from Rondelet, Libri de piscibus 424 (cf. my translation above).
This book has never been published.
Gymnasium Romanum is the old name of the University of Rome, the later Sapienza, see Schwarz B., Kurienuniversität und stadtrömische Universität von ca. 1300 bis 1471 (Leiden: 2012) 218–220. Salviani taught practical medicine at this university from 1551 to 1568.
Leutrat E., Les débuts de la gravure sur cuivre en France: Lyon 1520–1565 (Geneva: 2007).
Koschatzky W., Die Kunst der Graphik. Technik, Geschichte, Meisterwerke (Munich: 1999).
Glardon P., “The relationship between text and illustration in mid-sixteenth-century natural history treatises”, in Boehrer – Kalof (eds.), A cultural history of animals in the Renaissance 119–145, and idem, Histoire naturelle 95–109.
Gessner, Historia animalium IV, Preface, fol. b1r: ‘iconum in aere expressarum accurata pulchritudine omnes superat.’
Dean, Bibliography 312.
Nissen, Zoologische Buchillustration 117.
Pinon, Zoologie 95.
Victor C.J., Geschichte der Zoologie bis auf Johannes Müller und Charles Darwin (Munich: 1872) 361.
Kolb K., Graveurs, artistes & hommes de science. Essai sur les traités de poissons de la Renaissance (Paris: 1996) 32.
Lewis, Clusius 84.
Cuvier Georges – Valenciennes Achille, Histoire naturelle des poissons (22 vols.) (Paris: 1828–1849) here vol. 1, 1828, 50–51.
Cuvier Georges, Histoire des sciences naturelles depuis leur origine jusqu’à nos jours. Vol. 2. (Paris: 1841) 74–75.
Cuvier – Valenciennes, Histoire des poissons, here vol. 4, 1829, 114–141.
Cuvier’s name is listed here only as an obsolete synonym within today’s valid nomenclature.
Reasons why a picture fails can be, for example, that the fish is (1) illustrated from a poorly preserved and/or damaged specimen; that (2) the illustration may depict a juvenile stage that is morphologically different from the adult; that the fish is (3) illustrated in a hurry by a ship naturalist who may not be experienced rendering fishes and thus is not mindful of the diagnostic significance of certain features.
Artedi Peter, Ichthyologia, sive, opera omnia de piscibus, ed. Carl Linnaeus (Leiden, Conrad Wishoff: 1738) 29, part Bibliotheca ichthyologica, has honoured Salviani’s book as an outstanding ichthyological work. In addition, Linnaeus was of the opinion that Salviani had rightly defended himself against Rondelet’s attacks.