Rariorum plantarum historia
Rariorum plantarum historia was the magnum opus of one of the most eminent botanists of the European Renaissance: Carolus Clusius. It is a 364-page botany book, published in 1601 in Antwerp, Netherlands. Clusius was a scholar: physician, collector, and botanist. He held different positions throughout his life, but ended his career as a professor at the University of Leiden and head of the new botanic garden. He was a highly influential figure in the emerging study of plants with his gardens, correspondences, and publications, such as the Rariorum plantarum historia. Clusius may be best know for his work cultivating tulips in the botanic garden, the basis for the centuries-long Dutch fascination with tulips.
I got to see early botanical books like this one at the rare book room of the Missouri Botanical Garden during a visit in 2012. Amazingly, they have original, 400-year-old books in excellent condition. At the time, paper was made from cotton and linen rags rather than wood pulp. Paper made that way has a neutral pH and frequently contains calcium carbonate, which prevents the creation of acid that would destroy the paper. Seeing these original books made me giddy with excitement, like I’d drunk five shots of espresso. I physically trembled. This has happened to me a few times in my life when I experienced something that felt life-altering and incredibly right.
I was at the Missouri Botanical Garden library shivering from the allure of the books. These books were at once so similar and so different from the botanical books of today. Take this print of the common hazelnut, Corylus avellana. That is what a hazelnut looks like, and it even has the same genus and species names as today, but it is rendered strange by the lines of the wood cut and the Latin words. The flailing arms of the sheath covering the nut appear as fanciful as a unicorn from a tapestry. If I did not know what a hazelnut looks like, I would assume this was drawn based on hearsay from a syphilitic sailor rather than reality.
In addition to the physical miracle of their existence, these books present a direct connection to the beginning of the study of plants and a time when botany was at the vanguard of natural science. Books and printing were high tech. Looking at the books is like time traveling to the birth of botany. You have to understand a bit of the historical context:
During Clusius' lifetime, botanical knowledge was undergoing enormous expansion, partly fueled by the expansion of the known plant world by New World exploration, and is thought of as a botanical Renaissance. Europe became engrossed with natural history from the 1530s, and gardening and cultivation of plants became a passion and prestigious pursuit from monarchs to universities. The first botanical gardens appeared as well as the first illustrated botanical encyclopaedias, together with thousands of watercolours and woodcuts… Collecting became a discipline, specifically the Kunst- und Wunderkammern (cabinets of curiosities) outside of Italy and the study of naturalia became widespread through many social strata. The great botanists of the sixteenth century were all, like Clusius, originally trained as physicians, who pursued a knowledge of plants not just for medicinal properties, but in their own right. Chairs in botany, within medical faculties were being established in European universities throughout the sixteenth century in reaction to this trend, and the scientific approach of observation, documentation and experimentation was being applied to the study of plants.
Looking at these books, I felt a connection to people and and a worldview that plants are endlessly fascinating and worthy of study—a worldview that I still share. In botany and plant ecology, plant collecting is as relevant as ever. It is humbling to think of using the same approach to the discipline continuously since that time. There are dried plant specimens from the 16th century preserved in collections. Pressed, dried plant specimens are stored in collections called herbaria. The name herbarium itself feels semi-mystical, perhaps alchemical, and harks back to the time when Latin was the language of science. Science has moved on to new frontiers, with myriad new techniques, but plant collections still have a role in science and the history of biodiversity.
While seeing them online may not give you the heady rush of seeing it in person, you can explore Rariorum plantarum historia yourself: http://bibdigital.rjb.csic.es/ing/Libro.php?Libro=4983
There are many books like it in the online library database: https://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/
It is easy to assume that we already know all there is to know, and all the plants were found by botanists of the past. However, new species are found all the time—and we will not know what we don’t know until we find it. There will always be more to see and learn. Nature is infinite relative to our capacity to know and understand it, and the act of looking at plants remains a grand aadventure.
