From The Eye of the Lynx by David Freedberg
From The Eye of the Lynx by David Freedberg |
In 1603, at the tender age of 18, Federico Cesi founded the Lincean (or Lyncean) Academy. Cesi expected his followers — who all shared his home in the academy's earliest days — to be "slaves neither of Aristotle nor any other philosopher, but of noble and free intellect in regard to physical things." Together with three friends, Johannes Heckius, Francesco Stelluti and Anastasio de Filiis, Cesi chose the sharp-eyed lynx as a totem, and set the ambitious goal of seeing, understanding and classifying every last corner of nature. Needless to say, the Linceans failed to do this. But what the group did achieve was remarkable.
The Lincean Academy was quite possibly the first scientific academy of the modern era. Though the group's members never numbered more than a few dozen, they produced important works in botany, zoology, geology, and astronomy — a research library. Linceans used the microscope to make beautifully detailed illustrations of fungi roughly 40 years before Robert Hooke's famous Micrographia. Linceans reproduced 16th-century illustrations of New World flora and fauna for European scholars by publishing Francisco Hernandez's Thesaurus Mexicana. While a number of Lincean works were published during the 17th century, however, many more of their supporting notes and illustrations were eventually scattered among private collections throughout Europe, many of them winding up in the Royal Collection at Windsor. Fortunately, much of the group's work was preserved in a "paper museum" assembled by academy member Cassiano Dal Pozzo, and purchased by King George III in 1762. The paper museum had limited circulation, but it was studied by scholars throughout Europe in the 17th century.
The Linceans enjoyed an early boost, both in morale and prestige, through the admission of Giambattista Della Porta. Considered the greatest naturalist of his age, Della Porta was also an accomplished playwright, and his erudite comedies dominated the Italian stage for years. His (not very reliable) notion that one's character could be determined from facial features persisted for centuries. Della Porta was a product of old, rather than new, science. He retained the Renaissance reverence for the works of classical authorities. He supported the ideas of antipathies and sympathies, and the doctrine of signatures (the belief, for example, than an herb resembling a scorpion is the perfect remedy for a scorpion sting). He discussed in detail the difference between "evil" magic and "natural" magic. By the time of Della Porta's death in 1615, Cesi had lost much of his admiration for the elderly savant. By then Della Porta had been eclipsed by a new academy member.
The astronomer Galileo became the sixth member of the Lincean Academy, and afterwards proudly displayed the lynx logo on his publications. In return, the academy stood by Galileo after his patrons, Maffeo Barberini (Pope Urban VIII) and the pope's nephew Cardinal Francesco Barberini, deserted him. The Barberinis did support the Lincean Academy from time to time (Francesco Barberini himself was a Lincean), and this caused an odd paradox. Though the academy wanted to accurately depict nature, it also had to sufficiently flatter its patrons. Sometimes, this worked well. Producing flowery treatises on the trademark Barberini bees — using the "little eyeglass" Galileo invented — induced the Linceans to draw exquisite bee illustrations in microscopic detail. On the other hand, Lincean Johannes Faber found himself reluctantly describing Dracunculus Barberinus, shown below — a probable forgery but something he had to take seriously because it belonged to Francesco. (Athanasius Kircher also depicted a similar dragon in Mundus Subterraneus.) This utter dependence on aristocratic patronage was typical of the time.
 From The Eye of the Lynx by David Freedberg |
The Linceans carried out some of the Western world's first serious research in paleobotany, concentrating on fossil wood found near Acquasparta. The Linceans were divided on the issue of fossil origins, but examination of the fossil wood deposits caused Stelluti, who carried on with Cesi's research after his death, to conclude that fossil wood had formed inside the earth. Considering the varying preservation states of the fossils examined, and the fact that much of the wood was transported away from its original locality without any fossil leaves, the Linceans' mistake was understandable. And regardless of their conclusions, they produced field illustrations of unprecedented quality.
Though illustrations comprised some of the Linceans' most important contributions to science, Cesi eventually realized that illustrations alone couldn't work. Too many different organisms showed superficial resemblances. The Linceans turned to dissection to better understand their subjects, and Cesi himself began working on "phytosophical" tables to classify nature. He continued working on these tables even on his deathbed.
Although born to privilege, Cesi never enjoyed an easy life. His hedonistic, anti-intellectual father had fellow Linceans Heckius and Stelluti expelled from Rome, and the transient Heckius — never possessed by a stable temperament — eventually lost his mind. After his father disinherited Cesi, Pope Paul V named the young man Prince of Sant'Angelo and San Polo. This improved Cesi's social position, but did little to help his ailing family. Six of Cesi's children died in infancy, and Cesi himself died in 1630, unable to finish the work he loved, or see Galileo through his trial by the Roman Inquisition. How much the Linceans actually would have accomplished had Cesi lived longer is hard to tell. Ancient philosophy still influenced Lincean works throughout the 17th century, and fear counterbalanced any desire to understand nature. Before publishing any book, scholars had to seek imprimatur from a paranoid papacy, so research whose implications might contradict Scripture had to be described carefully, if not avoided altogether. Yet Cesi was the ultimate diplomat and, while alive, he succeeded in keeping papal suspicions at bay.
Though financial support for the Linceans disappeared after Cesi's death, the academy enjoyed several comebacks, including strong support in the 19th century from — ironically — the conservative Pope Pius IX, who renamed it the Pontifical Academy of the New Lincei. During that time, the academy admitted a relatively rare phenomenon: a female botanist, Countess Elisabetta Fiorini. But the Linceans lost many members in the unification of Italy in 1870, and in the 1930s, almost all of the Linceans succumbed to political pressure and declared allegiance to Italy's fascist regime. (In 1944, the academy reformed without its fascist appointments.) The Linceans remain today, but enjoy little governmental funding, and because "full" membership is capped at 150 members, scientists can wait decades for full membership. The average membership age is 76.
For more information:
The Eye of the Lynx by David Freedberg
"Federico Cesi and His Field Studies on the Origin of Fossils Between 1610 and 1630" by Andrew C. Scott in Endeavour Magazine, September 2001 issue
Science and the Secrets of Nature by William Eamon
Possessing Nature by Paula Findlen
"Time for an Italian Renaissance?" by Alison Abbott in Nature Magazine, April 3, 2003 issue
Amazing Rare Things by Attenborough, Owens, Clayton and Alexandratos
Fossil Woods and Other Geological Specimens by Andrew C. Scott and David Freedberg
Revolutionizing the Sciences by Peter Dear
The Lying Stones of Marrakech by Stephen Jay Gould
"A Roman Correspondence: George Ent and Cassiano Dal Pozzo, 1637-55" in Notes and Records of the Royal Society by Alan Cook, 2005
"Rome and the Royal Society, 1660-1740" in Notes and Records of the Royal Society by Alan Cook, 2004
The Lore of the Unicorn by Odell Shepard
The Scarith of Scornello by Ingrid D. Rowland
The Occult Tradition by David S. Katz
Instruments of the Imagination by Hankins and Silverman
Linnaeus in Italy edited by Beretta and Tosi
Seen|Unseen by Martin Kemp
Matters of Exchange by Harold J. Cook
Narrative text and graphic design © by Michon Scott - Updated February 16, 2008