The Tale of the Horse: A History of India

on Horseback Yashaswini Chandra

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 CONTENTS

List of Illustrations
List of Maps
Prologue: In Horse Country

PART I: THE HORSE IN INDIA

1. Droves after Droves of Horses
2. The Sea Horse
3. The Fine Horses Bred in Different Parts of the Country
4. The Mughals on Horseback

PART II: THE RAJPUT AND THEIR HORSE

5. Cattle Rustlers and Horse Raiders
6. The Romance of the Horse in Rajasthan
7. Colonel Tod and His Horse Warriors

PART III: THE HORSE AT THE DESERT FRONTIER

8. Bandits at the Horse Fair
9. Soldiers, Slaves, Stable Hands and Bridegrooms

Epilogue: The Horse as a Fable

Acknowledgements
Notes
Bibliography
Index
 List of Illustrations

Black & White Illustrations

‘Plaque with galloping horse and rider’. Uttar Pradesh, Gupta period,
fourth–fifth century. Terracotta with red pigment, 21.3 × 25.5 × 7.3
cm. The Art Institute of Chicago, gift of Paul F. Walter and Marilyn
Walter Grounds.

The tomb of Ibrahim Khan in Narnaul, Haryana. Photo by Ishita

Gupta.

Nur Mahal, near Jalandhar in Punjab, India. Photo by Yashaswini

Chandra.

Outer wall, Ramachandra Temple, Hampi, Karnataka. Photo by Toby

Sinclair.

The sea trade in horses. Wall painting in the gopuram interior,

Narumpunatha (Shiva) temple, Tiruppudaimarudur, Tamil Nadu, circa
seventeenth–eighteenth century. Photo by Crispin Branfoot.

Mounted archer. Wall painting in the Vairochana Temple

1/Shakyamuni Lhakhang, Mangyu monastery, Ladakh, circa
eleventh–twelfth century. Photo by Peter van Ham.

‘An archery competition’. Mughal, circa 1600. Opaque watercolour,

ink and gold on paper mounted on paperboard, 43.7 × 31.4 cm
(overall). Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, National Museum of Asian Art,
Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC, purchase – Smithsonian
Unrestricted Trust Funds, Smithsonian Collections Acquisition
Program, and Dr Arthur M. Sackler, S1986.428.
Hero stone, Jodhpur, Rajasthan. Photo by Yashaswini Chandra.

Revanta, Rohetgarh stables, Pali, Rajasthan. Courtesy of Sidharth

Singh.

Horse-headed hilt of a dagger. Mughal, late seventeenth–early

eighteenth century. Nephrite, 12.4 × 7 cm. The Metropolitan Museum
of Art, New York, Rogers Fund, 1915.

‘The Battle of Haldhighati in 1576’. Attributed to Chokha, from the

James Tod collection, Udaipur, Rajasthan, circa 1820. Opaque
watercolour on paper, 20.3 × 30.5 cm. Royal Asiatic Society,
London/Wikimedia Commons.

A pair of horses at a watering trough, Pushkar livestock fair,

Rajasthan, 2017. Photo by Dinesh Khanna.

‘Equestrian portrait of Maharana Bhim Singh’. By Ghasi, Udaipur-

Mewar, Rajasthan, circa 1825. Opaque watercolour and gold on
paper, 20.3 × 30.5 cm (overall). The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
purchase, gift of Paul E. Manheim and bequest of Nina Bunschaft,
by exchange, 2006.

Eight anna postage stamp featuring the Kathi or Kathiawari horse

issued by the princely state of Junagadh in 1928. Courtesy of
Divyabhanusinh.

First Colour Section

A horse on the fairgrounds, Pushkar livestock fair, 2017. Photo by

Dinesh Khanna.

‘Kalki avatar, the future incarnation of Vishnu’. Basohli, Jammu, circa

1700–10. Ink, opaque watercolour and gold on paper, 17.1 × 26.7
cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, gift of Cynthia Hazen Polsky.
‘The Prophet Muhammad mounted on Buraq, on his miraculous
night journey from Mecca to Jerusalem’. Deccan, folio 12b from the
Khalili Falnama MSS 979, circa 1610–30. Ink, opaque watercolour,
gold and silver on paper, 41 × 28.4 cm (folio). The Nasser D. Khalili
Collection of Islamic Art, London.

‘A group of eight horse merchants’, consisting mainly of Afghans.

Delhi, folio from the Fraser Album, circa 1816–20. Opaque
watercolour on paper, 22.2 × 30.8 cm. Collection of Prince and
Princess Sadruddin Aga Khan.

‘Group of Afghan figures beneath trees’. Attributable to Ghulam Ali

Khan, circa 1815–20. Opaque watercolour on paper, laid down on
card, 30.4 × 40.2 cm. Collection of William and Olivia Dalrymple.

Riding scene. Wall painting in the Sumtsek, Alchi monastery,

Ladakh, circa late eleventh–early thirteenth century. Photo by Peter
van Ham.

‘A nobleman returns to the hunt’. Deccan, circa 1680. Opaque

watercolour and gold on paper, 33 × 21.4 cm. Philadelphia Museum
of Art, 125th Anniversary Acquisition, Alvin O. Bellak Collection,
2004.

‘Chand Bibi hawking with attendants in a landscape’. Attributed to

Deccan, circa 1700. Opaque watercolour, gold and silver on card-
weight paper, 25.4 × 15.9 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
Louis E. and Theresa S. Seley Purchase Fund for Islamic Art, 1999.

‘Textile label depicting a female warrior woman (possibly Rani

Lakshmibai of Jhansi) for Graham’. Bombay, late nineteenth–early
twentieth century. Chromolithograph, 12.8 × 10.5 cm. Courtesy of the
Museum of Art & Photography (MAP), Bengaluru, POP.03138.

‘Female warrior figure, possibly Rani Lakshmibai of Jhansi’. Circa

nineteenth century, opaque watercolour on paper, 50.5 × 40 cm.
Courtesy of the Museum of Art & Photography (MAP), PTG.01585.
‘Akbar welcomes his mother to India in 1557’, detail of bottom-left
corner. Inscribed to Dhanraj, Mughal, folio from an illustrated
Akbarnama, circa 1603–05. Ink, pigments and gold in the nim qalam
style, 43.3 × 26.8 cm (folio). Chester Beatty Library, Dublin.

‘Jahangir’s stirrup is grasped by an angel’. Attributed to Manohar,

Mughal, illustration from a Diwan-i Hafiz, circa 1611. Opaque
watercolour and gold on paper, 9.7 × 7.7 cm. © The British Library
Board, Or.7573, f.218v.

‘Equestrian portrait of Aurangzeb’. Mughal, circa 1660–70. Opaque

watercolour and gold on paper, 30.1 × 24.1 cm (painting). © The
British Library Board, J.3, 4.

‘Shah Jahan receives the Persian ambassador Muhammad Ali Beg’,

1631. Mughal, painting from the illustrated Padshahnama, circa
1633. Opaque watercolour and gold on paper, 30.7 × 20.2 cm. Royal
Collection Trust, UK/ Wikimedia Commons.

‘Shah Jahan on horseback’. By Payag, Mughal, folio from the Shah

Jahan Album, dated here to circa 1631–33. Ink, opaque watercolour
and gold on paper, 38.9 × 25.7 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
purchase, Rogers Fund and The Kevorkian Foundation Gift, 1955.

Equestrian portrait of Shah Jahan. Mughal, seventeenth century. Ink,

opaque watercolour and gold on paper, 31.4 × 21.3 cm. The
Metropolitan Museum of Art, gift of Alexander Smith Cochran, 1913.

Equestrian portrait of Maharaja Ranjit Singh. By Imam Bakhsh

Lahori, Lahore, Punjab, circa 1843. Watercolour painting with gold,
26.9 × 20.4 cm (without frame). Royal Collection Trust, UK.

Second Colour Section

Details of a phad or cloth scroll painting depicting the epic of Pabuji.

By Rajendra Joshi, Shahpura, Bhilwara, Rajasthan, circa 1990.
Collection of Rupayan Sansthan, Jodhpur, photos by Kuldeep
Kothari.

Jahangir playing polo. Attributed to Manohar, Mughal, illustration

from a Diwan-i Hafiz, circa 1611. Watercolour on paper, 9.7 × 6 cm.
© The British Library Board, Or.7573, f.218v.

Prince Aurangzeb faces the elephant Sudhakar, 1633. Mughal,

painting from the illustrated Padshahnama, circa 1635. Opaque
watercolour and gold on paper, 24.3 × 40.2 cm. Royal Collection
Trust, UK.

Equestrian portrait of a woman on a white stallion in a courtyard.

Wall painting in the Chitrashala, Taragarh fort, Bundi, Rajasthan,
circa mid-eighteenth to mid-nineteenth century. Photo by Dinesh
Khanna.

‘Maharaja Man Singh playing polo with royal ladies’. By Shivdas

Bhatti, Jodhpur-Marwar, Rajasthan, circa 1827. Opaque watercolour
and gold on paper, 38.7 × 54.5 cm. Courtesy of the Mehrangarh
Museum Trust and His Highness Maharaja Gaj Singh of Jodhpur.

‘The stallion Kitab’. By Bhavani Das, Kishangarh, Rajasthan, circa

1735. Transparent and opaque watercolour and gold on paper, 25.4
× 33.3 cm. Philadelphia Museum of Art, 125th Anniversary
Acquisition, Alvin O. Bellak Collection, 2004.

A Turki horse and its rider. By Maharaj Kumar Sawant Singh,

Kishangarh, mid-eighteenth century. Drawing on paper, 24 × 17.4
cm. Nitin Bhayana Collection, New Delhi.

A Rajput connoisseur in his court studies a Shalihotra manuscript on

horses. Attributed to Kota, Rajasthan, circa 1820. Opaque
watercolour on paper, 30.8 × 24.3 cm. Private Collection.

Two illustrations of horses from a Shalihotra manuscript. Rajasthan,

nineteenth century, 23 × 18.5 cm (folio). Rajasthan Research
Oriental Institute, Jodhpur, MS 8566.

‘Maharana Amar Singh II riding a Jodhpur horse’. Attributed to the

Stipple Master, Udaipur-Mewar, circa 1700–10. Opaque watercolour
and ink on paper, 33.5 × 27.3 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
Cynthia Hazen Polsky and Leon B. Polsky Fund, 2002.

An advertisement for Chetak bidi. Tin plate, 24 × 16 cm. Collection of

Gavin Morris.

‘Maharana Sarup Singh inspects a prize stallion’. By Tara, Udaipur-

Mewar, 1845–46. Opaque watercolour, ink and gold on paper, 42.5 ×
57.8 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Cynthia Hazen Polsky
and Leon B. Polsky Fund, 2001.

‘A horse and his trader’. Attributed to Bagta, Devgarh, Rajasthan,

circa 1800. Opaque watercolour and gold on paper, 19.36 × 24.7 cm.
Los Angeles County Museum of Art, purchased with funds provided
by Joseph Koepfli (M.79.69)/Wikimedia Commons.

Painting of a horse with its groom. Inscribed to Bagta, Devgarh, circa

1800. Opaque watercolour on paper, 28 × 21.5 cm. Nitin Bhayana
Collection.

A polo player from Manipur in traditional dress, nineteenth century.

Imasi: The Maharaj Kumari Binodini Devi Foundation, Manipur.

Maharaja Churachand Singh of Manipur (1891–1941) with Engineer

Blackie at the Mapal Kangjeibung polo ground in Imphal. Imasi: The
Maharaj Kumari Binodini Devi Foundation.

Front Cover
Mian Mukund Dev of Jasrota and others on ‘a leisurely ride’. By
Nainsukh, Pahari painting, circa 1740–45. Opaque watercolour and
gold on paper, 27.5 × 42.5 cm (without border). Victoria and Albert
Museum, London/ Wikimedia Commons.
Back Cover
‘The horse Mira Bagas’. By Bagta, Devgarh, circa 1800. Opaque
watercolour, heightened with gold, 22.9 × 28.6 cm, image 18.6 ×
10.3 cm. Williams College Museum of Art, Williamstown, MA, gift of
Catherine and Ralph Benkaim (18.17.2).
 List of Maps

Map 1: India and surrounding regions of Central Asia, the Middle

East and Tibet

Map 2: Rajasthan, the western frontier and surrounding areas

 Prologue

In Horse Country
‘Let a blessing abide in every abode that possesses a stable for a steed!’
– Sadaat Yar Khan ‘Rangin’, Farasnama-i Rangin1

THE HORSE WAS bound to be valourized in India, obtained as it was by

the gods themselves. Conferring on the colossal heights of Mount
Meru, they hatched a plan to perform the samudramanthana, the
great churning of the cosmic ocean, to recover the elixir granting
immortality that lay at the bottom of the waters.2 They turned to the
asuras for help – although, later, they wouldn’t have many qualms
diddling their collaborators out of their fair share. It was Ananta, Lord
Vishnu’s serpent, who began the proceedings, uprooting Mount
Mandara, the ‘most eminent of mountains’, overgrown with forests
and teeming with animal and bird life.3 The gods then plunged it into
the ocean such that it rested on the gigantic back of Akupara, the
king of tortoises. Next, the snake Vasuki was flung around the
mountain, the asuras holding its head firmly as the gods caught hold
of its tail. They took turns tugging at the snake, its mouth venting the
fire and fumes which coalesced into clouds flashing with lightning,
falling as rain on the toiling gods. The mountain swung wildly, the
cosmic waters swirling and crashing against it until they were
transformed into milk and the milk into butter. The force and friction
of this titanic act wreaked death and destruction as the beings living
in the waters perished and fires raged on Mount Mandara. But, one
by one, the ocean imparted its treasures and from its depths
emerged not only the magical elixir, but also the sun and the moon,
the goddesses of wealth and liquor, the brilliant Kaustubha jewel,
and Uchchaishravas, ‘that priceless jewel of a stallion’, dazzlingly
white, eternally youthful, immensely strong.4 The horse wasted no
time in picking sides, and, ‘swift as thought’, sped in the direction of
the gods.5
While the great epic poems of ancient India, the Ramayana as
well as the Mahabharata, bear testimony to the emergence of the
horse from the ocean, another origin myth that has stood the test of
time chronicles the descent of horses from the heavens. The legend
identifying horses as originally winged celestial creatures is mainly
preserved within the Shalihotra or Ashvashastra (the discipline of the
horse) genre of Indian literature.6 Although it is difficult to discern the
historical evolution of this tradition, diffused across manuscripts
which continued to be produced until the nineteenth century in
different languages, it is conventionally traced back to the
eponymous Shalihotra, an ancient sage who is supposed to have
been the fountainhead of horse knowledge in India. Shalihotra
transferred this knowledge to his protégé, Nakula, one of the two
youngest Pandava brothers from the Mahabharata, along with his
twin, Sahadeva. All five Pandava brothers were considered the sons
of King Pandu, when in fact they were fathered by different gods.
The older brothers – Yudhishthira, Bhima and Arjuna – were born of
Kunti, the senior queen, while the younger ones were the sons of
Madri, the second consort. Nakula had horses in his blood, as did
Sahadeva, having been fathered by the godlings Ashvins – also
twins, associated with horses, besides birds, plants, youth, beauty,
speed, light and healing, and represented as horse-headed.7 Even
though Sahadeva is not known to have distinguished himself as an
equine expert as such, it is no wonder that Nakula fell in with
Shalihotra and recorded the evolution of horses on earth.
In most versions of the myth, the celestial progenitors of the horse
lost their wings at the hands of Shalihotra.8 Eager to do Indra, the
king of gods, a good turn, he clipped their wings so they could pull
Indra’s chariot and serve in his army. In another iteration of the
legend, they were mischievous and wild, managing to irritate Indra,
who tore off their wings and banished them forevermore to earth.9
Thus, the horse appeared from both the ocean and the heavens, and
it is as if these two myths allude to two of the main arenas from
where horses arrived in India. Through much of the history of the
subcontinent, horses sailed across the Arabian Sea from the Middle
East while also travelling overland from Central Asia, where the
earth is said to meet the sky and soar towards heaven.
But before different parts of India fell into a pattern of importing
horses as well as producing their own, the subcontinent began on an
almost clean slate. The native population of wild horses had
disappeared by 8000 BCE,10 and it was only the ancestors of the
Indian wild ass or ghor khar, particularly associated with
northwestern and western India, that survived. The infusion of
horses since then can be ascribed to the Indo-Aryans, speakers of
an Indo-European language that evolved into Sanskrit, who migrated
to the subcontinent from the north and the west in waves from circa
1500 BCE. There is limited evidence of the horse from the earlier,
Bronze Age, Harappan or Indus valley civilization. Many of the
famous terracotta seals to be recovered from Harappan sites are
engraved with various animals, but there is no sign of the horse. A
few remains such as terracotta toys and figurines, teeth and bone
fragments which could be identified with horses have done little to
dispel the view that horses were hardly available or domesticated
until the late Harappan phase.11 Any traces of the horse from the
later period could have been an outcome of early rounds of migration
or an older history of the commingling of the peoples of Harappa,
Central Asia and Iran/Persia. Recent excavations at Sanauli in Uttar
Pradesh have yielded three chariots with solid wheels dated to
2000–1800 BCE, which might have been pulled by horses.12 While
these findings may shed new light on the matter, the scholarly
discourse locating them within the context of the Indian Bronze Age
is still evolving. The picture becomes clearer with the Indo-Aryans,
since it is well known that the horse and the horse-drawn chariot with
spoked wheels were integral to their way of life in India. By the time
the Indo-Aryans began their migrations into the subcontinent, the
Harappan civilization was in decline, coming to a slow and protracted
end across its large expanse. Using horses and chariots as their
main means of transport and war, the Indo-Aryans spread across
north India and established themselves.
The greatest achievement of the Indo-Aryans, since their equine
contributions, was the composition of the Vedas, four compendiums
of hymns and incantations, considered the oldest Hindu texts. This
was also the beginning of an outpouring of ancient scriptures and
epic poetry, which were transmitted orally before they were all written
up and codified, becoming the basis for the Vedic religion and,
subsequently, Hinduism. The oldest, the Rig Veda, itself attests to
the cultic importance of horses to ancient Indian culture. It might
surprise us to find that the horse is mentioned in it 215 times, thirty-
nine times more than the cow, which has come to be widely revered
in India.13 The hymn to arms depicts the horse as a vital component
of the Vedic martial ethos and brings alive classical scenes of heroic
warriors hurtling forth in horse-drawn chariots.14 It idealizes the
warrior chief: ‘His face is like a thundercloud, when the armoured
warrior goes into the lap of battles.’ It eroticizes his bow, comparing it
to a female companion: ‘She comes all the way up to your ear like a
woman who wishes to say something, embracing her dear friend;
humming like a woman, the bowstring stretched tight on the bow
carries you safely across the battle.’ It extols the horses drawing his
chariot: ‘Neighing violently, the horses with their showering hoofs
outstrip everyone with their chariots. Trampling down the foes with
the tips of their hoofs, they destroy their enemy without veering
away.’ The hymn was recited by priests to bring down blessings on
the heads of warriors at the onset of battle or the equally fearsome
ashvamedha yajna or horse sacrifice, which encapsulates the
ritualistic significance of the horse. The ultimate royal ceremony
performed by the greatest of kings, the ashvamedha yajna was
believed to ensure the sanctity of their rule and is immortalized in
both the Ramayana and the Mahabharata.
Considering all the different rules, rituals and preparations relating
to the sacrifice that came to be listed in the Dharmashastra texts, it is
not surprising that it was rarely conducted even in ancient times.15
Elaborate as it was, the exercise culminated with the sacrifice of a
horse especially selected for the purpose. The sacrificial animal had
to be all white and fast, much like the mythical Uchchaishravas. The
reference to dark spots and patches suggests that a piebald or
skewbald horse was also acceptable for its striking appearance.16 Or
it had to sport a mane that appeared midnight blue. It should have
been allowed to wander about for a year accompanied by a
complement of four hundred of the king’s men, including a hundred
royal princes. They were required to guard the consecrated animal
and defend its right to stray into the territories of other kings, over
whom their lord could now claim suzerainty. The sacrifice was
performed on a ground soaked with the blood of the masses of
different domestic animals previously slaughtered there in
preparation for the final act.17 Various methods seem to have been
adopted to execute the horse. It would have had to be restrained by
two men as it was killed by the executioner.18 It might also have
been strangled to hasten its death.19 The chief queen had to perform
a particularly lurid role, obligated to lie beside the dead horse under
a covering in an act of uniting with the animal – symbolically, if not in
the actual sense. Needless to say, the horse could not have known
that, sacrificed in this gory way, he was supposedly destined for
heaven to beseech the gods to shower the king with blessings and
expiate his sins. ‘You do not really die through this, nor are you
harmed. You go to the gods on paths pleasant to go on . . . Let this
racehorse bring us good cattle and good horses, male children and
all-nourishing wealth. Let Aditi free us from sin [including the sin of
killing the horse]. Let the horse with our offerings achieve sovereign
power for us.’20
If the earliest literary tradition of India is Vedic, much of the oldest
art that has come to us is Buddhist. Buddhism might have declined
in the land of its birth, from where it had travelled all over Asia to
become the first world religion, but it left a potent legacy of art that
endures in the form of ancient stupas, monumental mounds built to
contain relics of the Buddha or to commemorate him, and fading wall
paintings in caves cut into rock faces. One of the most splendid
stupas that has survived intact is the Great Stupa of Sanchi in
central India, the foundations of which are dated to the third century
BCE – attributed to Ashoka, the great Mauryan emperor – while the
last phase of its development is supposed to have been completed
in the first century CE. The central mound of the stupa is surrounded
by a circumambulatory path fenced by a sandstone railing,
intersected by four doorways in the cardinal directions. These
entrances are composed of two columns topped by three crossbars
each, covered with fine relief sculpture carved by the ivory workers
of the ancient trading town of Vidisa to gain religious merit. Featuring
vibrant human, animal and plant figures, framed by decorative motifs
and auspicious symbols, the carvings are actually narrative in
nature. They represent the two key themes in Buddhist art: the
Jataka tales – the legend of the previous lives of the Buddha – as
well as the life of the historical Buddha, who was born a prince
named Siddhartha Gautama. The life of the Buddha was divided into
‘eight great episodes’ and canonized by his followers. One of these
episodes is the ‘great departure’, symbolized at Sanchi and in early
Buddhist art as a horse.21
During the miraculous pregnancy of Siddhartha’s mother, Queen
Maya, his father, King Suddhodana, the chief of the Shakya clan of
the Kshatriya warrior caste, is said to have summoned astrologers to
his palace in Kapilavastu in eastern India to predict the unborn
child’s future. The seers offered a mixed report: the prince would
either grow up to be a chakravartin or universal monarch, or turn his
back on royal privilege and become one of the foremost religious
leaders the world would ever know. In spite of his father’s best efforts
thereafter to shield his son from the realities of life that might jolt him
to take a drastic step, Siddhartha decided to escape the palace and
seek eternal knowledge after witnessing the four sights that
convinced him of the futility of worldly existence. He departed in the
dead of a night to begin the spiritual journey that would lead to his
enlightenment, transforming him into the Buddha, and culminating in
his parinirvana, the death that released him from the cycle of rebirths
in a world of delusion and suffering. It was his horse, Kanthaka, who
carried him away from his life as a warrior prince into his true destiny
as the Buddha, the gods manifesting to hold the mount up in order to
silence the hoof beats that might have alerted the palace of the
departure.
As a Kshatriya prince, of course Siddhartha had a horse, surely
one of many, but the association of the horse with renunciation turns
on its head the Vedic symbolism of war and violence exemplified by
the horse sacrifice, fittingly for a religion that at first rejected the
elaborate rituals and the caste system that were the pillars of
Hinduism. Nonetheless, Buddhist art often portrays the seven signs
or possessions of the all-powerful monarch: the horse, the elephant,
a queen, a minister, a general, the dharma or law (represented as
the Buddhist wheel of law), and wealth (depicted as a gem). The
Buddha was incorporated into the Hindu pantheon as one of the
dasavatara or ‘ten incarnations’ of Vishnu, professed to have wilfully
led ancient Hindus astray by offering them an alternative to test their
Vedic faith. Kalki, the last messianic incarnation, is awaited to drag
the world out of the current age of lawlessness, Kali Yuga, and into
the next epoch of righteousness – expected to manifest as the rider
of a white horse holding a sword, sometimes represented as horse-
headed or simply a horse.22 The horse as a motif would only grow in
profile and find different forms and meanings across a range of
regional traditions,23 the process coinciding with the rise of the horse
also as a weapon of war.
Chariots were a fixture on the battlefields of India until the
beginning of the Common Era, overturned by the seventh century,
after horses had come to be ridden into war. The cavalry was a vital
arm of the forces of India’s first great empire, ruled by the Mauryan
dynasty, which lasted from the early fourth to the late second century
BCE. It is from this period that we get an idea of the major centres of
horse breeding and the trade in horses from distant lands.24 The
best horses by Mauryan reckoning were procured from parts of what
is now Afghanistan, and, by extension, Central Asia, as well as
northwestern India. Less reputed horses were being bred in Gujarat.
On the one hand, by the first few centuries of the Common Era,
batches of Central Asian-Afghan horses were crossing the north
Indian heartland to reach the ports of Bengal, from where they were
re-exported to southeast Asia.25 On the other, horses from Tibet
were being imported into Bengal from quite early on.26 Horses from
Arabia were also rated highly by Mauryan standards and were
imported through overland routes connected to northwestern India,
before they began to be shipped to Indian ports from at least the
eleventh century.27
Since the Mauryan period, the spread of cavalry warfare in India
seems to have been uneven, and plenty of land armies depended
more on their infantry and elephant corps instead. The elephant
registered its considerable presence as a war animal and became
the heavyweight of many a force.28 After all, there was no matching
it for the sheer impact of its appearance and the sound of its
bellowing on the battleground. Native to India, its use in warfare was
prolific through the ancient to the medieval period. Used to smash
enemy formations and assault strongholds, elephants were trained
‘to such a pitch that, lifting with their trunks a horse with his rider, and
whirling him in the air, they [would] dash him to the ground’.29 The
cavalry became paramount only with the dissemination of horseback
archery on a large scale and associated battle tactics by Central
Asian Turks in the eleventh century.30 But for a few instances of the
prevalence of the mounted form in earlier periods such as the Gupta
period (circa fourth to sixth century),31 the use of archery, mounted
or otherwise, had been limited. Raiding and invading north India from
bases in Afghanistan, the Turks fielded armies that featured
mounted archers and included heavy cavalry. They were able to
conquer large swathes of India, leading to the formation of the Delhi
Sultanate and other Indo-Islamic states. Yet the Turks were not
always known by their Indian adversaries as Muslims, who would
refer to the Ghaznavid rulers of Punjab, for example, as ashvapatis
or ‘the lords of the horse’, acknowledging their prowess in cavalry
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than as something antecedent to the first progress towards
systematic knowledge.

The information thus collected by the unsystematic writers is of

various kinds; and relates to the economical and medicinal uses of
plants, their habits, mode of cultivation, and many other
circumstances: it frequently includes some description; but this is
always extremely imperfect, because the essential conditions of
description had not been discovered. Of works composed of
materials so heterogeneous, it can be of little use to produce
specimens; but I may quote a few words from Theophrastus, which
may serve to connect him with the future history of the science, as
bearing upon one of the many problems respecting the identification
of ancient and modern plants. It has been made a question whether
the following description does not refer to the potato. 12 He is
speaking of the differences of roots: “Some roots,” he says, “are still
different from those which have been described; as that of the
arachidna 13 plant: for this bears fruit underground as well as above:
the fleshy part sends one thick root deep into the ground, but the
others, which bear the fruit, are more slender 363 and higher up, and
ramified. It loves a sandy soil, and has no leaf whatever.”
12 Theoph. i. 11.

13 Most probably the Arachnis hypogæa, or ground-nut.

~Correction to text in the 3rd edition.~

The books of Aristotle and Theophrastus soon took the place of

the Book of Nature in the attention of the degenerate philosophers
who succeeded them. A story is told by Strabo 14 concerning the fate
of the works of these great naturalists. In the case of the wars and
changes which occurred among the successors of Alexander, the
heirs of Theophrastus tried to secure to themselves his books, and
those of his master, by burying them in the ground. There the
manuscripts suffered much from damp and worms; till Apollonicon, a
book-collector of those days, purchased them, and attempted, in his
own way, to supply what time had obliterated. When Sylla marched
the Roman troops into Athens, he took possession of the library of
Apollonicon; and the works which it contained were soon circulated
among the learned of Rome and Alexandria, who were thus enabled
to Aristotelize 15 on botany as on other subjects.
14 Strabo, lib. xiii. c. i. § 54.

15 Ἀριστοτλίζειν.

The library collected by the Attalic kings of Pergamus, and the

Alexandrian Museum, founded and supported by the Ptolemies of
Egypt, rather fostered the commentatorial spirit than promoted the
increase of any real knowledge of nature. The Romans, in this as in
other subjects, were practical, not speculative. They had, in the
times of their national vigor, several writers on agriculture, who were
highly esteemed; but no author, till we come to Pliny, who dwells on
the mere knowledge of plants. And even in Pliny, it is easy to
perceive that we have before us a writer who extracted his
information principally from books. This remarkable man, 16 in the
middle of a public and active life, of campaigns and voyages,
contrived to accumulate, by reading and study, an extraordinary
store of knowledge of all kinds. So unwilling was he to have his
reading and note-making interrupted, that, even before day-break in
winter, and from his litter as he travelled, he was wont to dictate to
his amanuensis, who was obliged to preserve his hand from the
numbness which the cold occasioned, by the use of gloves. 17
 16 Sprengel, i. 163.

17 Plin. Jun. Epist. 3, 5.

It has been ingeniously observed, that we may find traces in the

botanical part of his Natural History, of the errors which this hurried
and broken habit of study produced; and that he appears frequently
to have had books read to him and to have heard them amiss. 18
Thus, 364 among several other instances, Theophrastus having said
that the plane-tree is in Italy rare, 19 Pliny, misled by the similarity of
the Greek word (spanian, rare), says that the tree occurs in Italy and
Spain. 20 His work has, with great propriety, been called the
Encyclopædia of Antiquity; and, in truth, there are few portions of the
learning of the times to which it does not refer. Of the thirty-seven
Books of which it consists, no less than sixteen (from the twelfth to
the twenty-seventh) relate to plants. The information which is
collected in these books, is of the most miscellaneous kind; and the
author admits, with little distinction, truth and error, useful knowledge
and absurd fables. The declamatory style, and the comprehensive
and lofty tone of thought which we have already spoken of as
characteristic of the Roman writers, are peculiarly observable in him.
The manner of his death is well known: it was occasioned by the
eruption of Vesuvius, a.d. 79, to which, in his curiosity, he ventured
so near as to be suffocated.
18 Sprengel, i. 163.

19Theoph. iv. 7. Ἔν μὲν γὰρ τῷ Ἀδρίᾳ πλάτανον οὐ φασὶν εἶναι

πλῆν περὶ το Διομήδους ἱερόν, σ π α ν ί α ν δὲ καὶ ἐν Ἰταλίᾳ πάσῃ

20 Plin. Nat. Hist. xii. 3. Et alias (platanos) fuisse in Italia, ac

nominatim Hispania, apud auctores invenitur.
 Pliny’s work acquired an almost unlimited authority, as one of the
standards of botanical knowledge, in the middle ages; but even more
than his, that of his contemporary, Pedanius Dioscorides, of
Anazarbus in Cilicia. This work, written in Greek, is held by the best
judges 21 to offer no evidence that the author observed for himself.
Yet he says expressly in his Preface, that his love of natural history,
and his military life, have led him into many countries, in which he
has had opportunity to become acquainted with the nature of herbs
and trees. 22 He speaks of six hundred plants, but often indicates
only their names and properties, giving no description by which they
can be identified. The main cause of his great reputation in
subsequent times was, that he says much of the medicinal virtues of
vegetables.
21 Mirbel, 510.

22 Sprengel, i. 136.

We come now to the ages of darkness and lethargy, when the

habit of original thought seems to die away, as the talent of original
observation had done before. Commentators and mystics succeed to
the philosophical naturalists of better times. And though a new race,
altogether distinct in blood and character from the Greek,
appropriates to itself the stores of Grecian learning, this movement
does not, as might be expected, break the chains of literary slavery.
The Arabs 365 bring, to the cultivation of the science of the Greeks,
their own oriental habit of submission, their oriental love of wonder;
and thus, while they swell the herd of commentators and mystics,
they produce no philosopher.

Yet the Arabs discharged an important function in the history of

human knowledge, 23 by preserving, and transmitting to more
enlightened times, the intellectual treasures of antiquity. The
unhappy dissensions which took place in the Christian church had
scattered these treasures over the East, at a period much
antecedent to the rise of the Saracen power. In the fifth century, the
adherents of Nestorius, bishop of Constantinople, were declared
heretical by the Council of Ephesus (a.d. 431), and driven into exile.
In this manner, many of the most learned and ingenious men of the
Christian world were removed to the Euphrates, where they formed
the Chaldean church, erected the celebrated Nestorian school of
Edessa, and gave rise to many offsets from this in various regions.
Already, in the fifth century, Hibas, Cumas, and Probus, translated
the writings of Aristotle into Syriac. But the learned Nestorians paid
an especial attention to the art of medicine, and were the most
zealous students of the works of the Greek physicians. At
Djondisabor, in Khusistan, they became an ostensible medical
school, who distributed academical honors as the result of public
disputations. The califs of Bagdad heard of the fame and the wisdom
of the doctors of Djondisabor, summoned some of them to Bagdad,
and took measures for the foundation of a school of learning in that
city. The value of the skill, the learning, and the virtues of the
Nestorians, was so strongly felt, that they were allowed by the
Mohammedans the free exercise of the Christian religion, and
intrusted with the conduct of the studies of those of the Moslemin,
whose education was most cared for. The affinity of the Syriac and
Arabic languages made the task of instruction more easy. The
Nestorians translated the works of the ancients out of the former into
the latter language: hence there are still found Arabic manuscripts of
Dioscorides, with Syriac words in the margin. Pliny and Aristotle
likewise assumed an Arabic dress; and were, as well as Dioscorides,
the foundation of instruction in all the Arabian academies; of which a
great number were established throughout the Saracen empire, from
Bokhara in the remotest east, to Marocco and Cordova in the west.
After some time, the Mohammedans themselves began to translate
and 366 extract from their Syriac sources; and at length to write
works of their own. And thus arose vast libraries, such as that of
Cordova, which contained 250,000 volumes.
23 Sprengel, i. 203.

The Nestorians are stated 24 to have first established among the

Arabs those collections of medicinal substances (Apothecæ), from
which our term Apothecary is taken; and to have written books
(Dispensatoria) containing systematic instructions for the
employment of these medicaments; a word which long continued to
be implied in the same sense, and which we also retain, though in a
modified application (Dispensary).
24 Sprengel, i. 205.

The directors of these collections were supposed to be intimately

acquainted with plants; and yet, in truth, the knowledge of plants
owed but little to them; for the Arabic Dioscorides was the source
and standard of their knowledge. The flourishing commerce of the
Arabians, their numerous and distant journeys, made them, no
doubt, practically acquainted with the productions of lands unknown
to the Greeks and Romans. Their Nestorian teachers had
established Christianity even as far as China and Malabar; and their
travellers mention 25 the camphor of Sumatra, the aloe-wood of
Socotra near Java, the tea of China. But they never learned the art
of converting their practical into speculative knowledge. They treat of
plants only in so far as their use in medicine is concerned, 26 and
followed Dioscorides in the description, and even in the order of the
plants, except when they arrange them according to the Arabic
alphabet. With little clearness of view, they often mistake what they
read: 27 thus when Dioscorides says that ligusticon grows on the
Apennine, a mountain not far from the Alps; Avicenna, misled by a
resemblance of the Arabic letters, quotes him as saying that the
plant grows on Akabis, a mountain near Egypt.
25 Sprengel, i. 206.

26 Ib. i. 207.

27 Ib. i. 211.

It is of little use to enumerate such writers. One of the most noted

of them was Mesuë, physician of the Calif of Kahirah. His work,
which was translated into Latin at a later period, was entitled, On
Simple Medicines; a title which was common to many medical
treatises, from the time of Galen in the second century. Indeed, of
this opposition of simple and compound medicines, we still have
traces in our language: 367

He would ope his leathern scrip,

And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.
Milton, Comus.

Where the subject of our history is so entirely at a stand, it is

unprofitable to dwell on a list of names. The Arabians, small as their
science was, were able to instruct the Christians. Their writings were
translated by learned Europeans, for instance Michael Scot, and
Constantine of Africa, a Carthaginian who had lived forty years
among the Saracens 28 and who died a.d. 1087. Among his works, is
a Treatise, De Gradibus, which contains the Arabian medicinal lore.
In the thirteenth century occur Encyclopædias, as that of Albertus
Magnus, and of Vincent of Beauvais; but these contain no natural
history except traditions and fables. Even the ancient writers were
altogether perverted and disfigured. The Dioscorides of the middle
ages varied materially from ours. 29 Monks, merchants, and
adventurers travelled far, but knowledge was little increased. Simon
of Genoa, 30 a writer on plants in the fourteenth century, boasts that
he perambulated the East in order to collect plants. “Yet in his Clavis
Sanationis,” says a modern botanical writer, 31 “we discover no trace
of an acquaintance with nature. He merely compares the Greek,
Arabic, and Latin names of plants, and gives their medicinal effect
after his predecessors:”—so little true is it, that the use of the senses
alone necessarily leads to real knowledge.
28 Sprengel, i. 230.

29 Ib. i. 239.

30 Ib. i. 241.

31 Ib. ib.

Though the growing activity of thought in Europe, and the revived

acquaintance with the authors of Greece in their genuine form, were
gradually dispelling the intellectual clouds of the middle ages, yet
during the fifteenth century, botany makes no approach to a scientific
form. The greater part of the literature of this subject consisted of
Herbals, all of which were formed on the same plan, and appeared
under titles such as Hortus, or Ortus Sanitatis. There are, for
example, three 32 such German Herbals, with woodcuts, which date
about 1490. But an important peculiarity in these works is that they
contain some indigenous species placed side by side with the old
ones. In 1516, The Grete Herbal was published in England, also with
woodcuts. It contains an account of more than four hundred
vegetables, and their 368 products; of which one hundred and fifty
are English, and are no way distinguished from the exotics by the
mode in which they are inserted in the work.
32 Augsburg, 1488. Mainz, 1491. Lubec, 1492.

We shall see, in the next chapter, that when the intellect of Europe
began really to apply itself to the observation of nature, the progress
towards genuine science soon began to be visible, in this as in other
subjects; but before this tendency could operate freely, the history of
botany was destined to show, in another instance, how much more
grateful to man, even when roused to intelligence and activity, is the
study of tradition than the study of nature. When the scholars of
Europe had become acquainted with the genuine works of the
ancients in the original languages, the pleasure and admiration
which they felt, led them to the most zealous endeavors to illustrate
and apply what they read. They fell into the error of supposing that
the plants described by Theophrastus, Dioscorides, Pliny, must be
those which grew in their own fields. And thus Ruellius, 33 a French
physician, who only travelled in the environs of Paris and Picardy,
imagined that he found there the plants of Italy and Greece. The
originators of genuine botany in Germany, Brunfels and Tragus
(Bock), committed the same mistake; and hence arose the
misapplication of classical names to many genera. The labors of
many other learned men took the same direction, of treating the
ancient writers as if they alone were the sources of knowledge and
truth.
33 De Natura Stirpium, 1536.
 But the philosophical spirit of Europe was already too vigorous to
allow this superstitious erudition to exercise a lasting sway.
Leonicenus, who taught at Ferrara till he was almost a hundred
years old, and died in 1524, 34 disputed, with great freedom, the
authority of the Arabian writers, and even of Pliny. He saw, and
showed by many examples, how little Pliny himself knew of nature,
and how many errors he had made or transmitted. The same
independence of thought with regard to other ancient writers, was
manifested by other scholars. Yet the power of ancient authority
melted away but gradually. Thus Antonius Brassavola, who
established on the banks of the Po the first botanical garden of
modern times, published in 1536, his Examen omnium Simplicium
Medicamentorum; and, as Cuvier says, 35 though he studied plants in
nature, his book (written in the 369 Platonic form of dialogue), has
still the character of a commentary on the ancients.
34 Sprengel, i. 252.

35 Hist. des Sc. Nat. partie ii. 169.

The Germans appear to have been the first to liberate themselves

from this thraldom, and to publish works founded mainly on actual
observation. The first of the botanists who had this great merit is
Otho Brunfels of Mentz, whose work, Herbarum Vivæ Icones,
appeared in 1530. It consists of two volumes in folio, with wood-cuts;
and in 1532, a German edition was published. The plants which it
contains are given without any arrangement, and thus he belongs to
the period of unsystematic knowledge. Yet the progress towards the
formation of a system manifested itself so immediately in the series
of German botanists to which he belongs, that we might with almost
equal propriety transfer him to the history of that progress; to which
we now proceed.
 CHAPTER III.

Formation of a System of Arrangement of Plants.

Sect. 1.—Prelude to the Epoch of Cæsalpinus.

T HE arrangement of plants in the earliest works was either

arbitrary, or according to their use, or some other extraneous
circumstance, as in Pliny. This and the division of vegetables by
Dioscorides into aromatic, alimentary, medicinal, vinous, is, as will
be easily seen, a merely casual distribution. The Arabian writers, and
those of the middle ages, showed still more clearly their insensibility
to the nature of system, by adopting an alphabetical arrangement;
which was employed also in the Herbals of the sixteenth century.
Brunfels, as we have said, adopted no principle of order; nor did his
successor, Fuchs. Yet the latter writer urged his countrymen to put
aside their Arabian and barbarous Latin doctors, and to observe the
vegetable kingdom for themselves; and he himself set the example
of doing this, examined plants with zeal and accuracy, and made
above fifteen hundred drawings of them. 36
36 His Historia Stirpium was published at Basil in 1542.

370 The difficulty of representing plants in any useful way by

means of drawings, is greater, perhaps, than it at first appears. So
long as no distinction was made of the importance of different organs
of the plant, a picture representing merely the obvious general
appearance and larger parts, was of comparatively small value.
Hence we are not to wonder at the slighting manner in which Pliny
speaks of such records. “Those who gave such pictures of plants,”
he says, “Crateuas, Dionysius, Metrodorus, have shown nothing
clearly, except the difficulty of their undertaking. A picture may be
mistaken, and is changed and disfigured by copyists; and, without
these imperfections, it is not enough to represent the plant in one
state, since it has four different aspects in the four seasons of the
year.”

The diffusion of the habit of exact drawing, especially among the

countrymen of Albert Durer and Lucas Cranach, and the invention of
wood-cuts and copper-plates, remedied some of these defects.
Moreover, the conviction gradually arose in men’s minds that the
structure of the flower and the fruit are the most important
circumstances in fixing the identity of the plant. Theophrastus speaks
with precision of the organs which he describes, but these are
principally the leaves, roots, and stems. Fuchs uses the term apices
for the anthers, and gluma for the blossom of grasses, thus showing
that he had noticed these parts as generally present.

In the next writer whom we have to mention, we find some traces

of a perception of the real resemblances of plants beginning to
appear. It is impossible to explain the progress of such views without
assuming in the reader some acquaintance with plants; but a very
few words may suffice to convey the requisite notions. Even in plants
which most commonly come in our way, we may perceive instances
of the resemblances of which we speak. Thus, Mint, Marjoram, Basil,
Sage, Lavender, Thyme, Dead-nettle, and many other plants, have a
tubular flower, of which the mouth is divided into two lips; hence they
are formed into a family, and termed Labiatæ. Again, the Stock, the
Wall-flower, the Mustard, the Cress, the Lady-smock, the Shepherd’s
purse, have, among other similarities, their blossoms with four petals
arranged crosswise; these are all of the order Cruciferæ. Other
flowers, apparently more complex, still resemble each other, as
Daisy. Marigold, Aster, and Chamomile; these belong to the order
Compositæ. And though the members of each such family may differ
widely in their larger parts, their stems and leaves, the close study of
nature leads the botanist irresistibly to consider their resemblances
as 371 occupying a far more important place than their differences. It
is the general establishment of this conviction and its consequences
which we have now to follow.

The first writer in whom we find the traces of an arrangement

depending upon these natural resemblances, is Hieronymus Tragus,
(Jerom Bock,) a laborious German botanist, who, in 1551, published
a herbal. In this work, several of the species included in those
natural families to which we have alluded, 37 as for instance the
Labiatæ, the Cruciferæ, the Compositæ, are for the most part
brought together; and thus, although with many mistakes as to such
connexions, a new principle of order is introduced into the subject.
37 Sprengel, i. 270.

In pursuing the development of such principles of natural order, it

is necessary to recollect that the principles lead to an assemblage of
divisions and groups, successively subordinate, the lower to the
higher, like the brigades, regiments, and companies of an army, or
the provinces, towns, and parishes of a kingdom. Species are
included in Genera, Genera in Families or Orders, and orders in
Classes. The perception that there is some connexion among the
species of plants, was the first essential step; the detection of
different marks and characters which should give, on the one hand,
limited groups, on the other, comprehensive divisions, were other
highly important parts of this advance. To point out every successive
movement in this progress would be a task of extreme difficulty, but
we may note, as the most prominent portions of it, the establishment
of the groups which immediately include Species, that is, the
formation of Genera; and the invention of a method which should
distribute into consistent and distinct divisions the whole vegetable
kingdom, that is, the construction of a System.

To the second of these two steps we have no difficulty in assigning

its proper author. It belongs to Cæsalpinus, and marks the first great
epoch of this science. It is less easy to state to what botanist is due
the establishment of Genera; yet we may justly assign the greater
part of the merit of this invention, as is usually done, to Conrad
Gessner of Zurich. This eminent naturalist, after publishing his great
work on animals, died 38 of the plague in 1565, at the age of forty-
nine, while he was preparing to publish a History of Plants, a sequel
to his History of Animals. The fate of the work thus left 372 unfinished
was remarkable. It fell into the hands of his pupil, Gaspard Wolf, who
was to have published it, but wanting leisure for the office, sold it to
Joachim Camerarius, a physician and botanist of Nuremberg, who
made use of the engravings prepared by Gessner, in an Epitome
which he published in 1586. The text of Gessner’s work, after
passing through various hands, was published in 1754 under the title
of Gessneri Opera Botanica per duo Sæcula desiderata, &c., but is
very incomplete.
38 Cuvier, Leçons sur l’Hist. des Sciences Naturelles, partie ii. p.
193.

The imperfect state in which Gessner left his botanical labors,

makes it necessary to seek the evidence of his peculiar views in
scattered passages of his correspondence and other works. One of
his great merits was, that he saw the peculiar importance of the
flower and fruit as affording the characters by which the affinities of
plants were to be detected; and that he urged this view upon his
contemporaries. His plates present to us, by the side of each plant,
its flower and its fruit, carefully engraved. And in his communications
with his botanical correspondents, he repeatedly insists on these
parts. Thus 39 in 1565 he writes to Zuinger concerning some foreign
plants which the latter possessed: “Tell me if your plants have fruit
and flower, as well as stalk and leaves, for those are of much the
greater consequence. By these three marks,—flower, fruit, and seed,
—I find that Saxifraga and Consolida Regalis are related to Aconite.”
These characters, derived from the fructification (as the assemblage
of flower and fruit is called), are the means by which genera are
established, and hence, by the best botanists, Gessner is declared
to be the inventor of genera. 40
39 Epistolæ, fol. 113 a; see also fol. 65 b.

40 Haller, Biblio Botanica, i. 284. Methodi Botanicæ rationem

primus pervidit;—dari nempe et genera quæ plures species
comprehenderent et classes quæ multa genera. Varias etiam
classes naturales expressit. Characterem in flore inque semine
posuit, &c.—Rauwolfio Socio Epist. Wolf, p. 39.
Linnæus, Genera Plantarum, Pref. xiii. “A fructificatione plantas
distinguere in genera, infinitæ sapientiæ placuisse, detexit
posterior ætas, et quidem primus, sæculi sui ornamentum,
Conradus Gessnerus, uti patet ex Epistolis ejus postremis, et
Tabulis per Carmerarium editis.”
Cuvier says (Hist. des Sc. Nat. 2e pe, p. 193), after speaking to
the same effect, “Il fit voir encore que toutes les plantes qui ont
des fleurs et des fruits semblables se ressemblent par leurs
propriétés, et que quand on rapproche ces plantes on obtient
ainsi une classification naturelle.” I do not know if he here refers to
any particular passages of Gessner’s work.
 373 The labors of Gessner in botany, both on account of the
unfinished state in which he left the application of his principles, and
on account of the absence of any principles manifestly applicable to
the whole extent of the vegetable kingdom, can only be considered
as a prelude to the epoch in which those defects were supplied. To
that epoch we now proceed.

Sect. 2.—Epoch of Cæsalpinus.—Formation of a System of

Arrangement.

If any one were disposed to question whether Natural History truly

belongs to the domain of Inductive Science;—whether it is to be
prosecuted by the same methods, and requires the same
endowments of mind as those which lead to the successful
cultivation of the Physical Sciences,—the circumstances under
which Botany has made its advance appear fitted to remove such
doubts. The first decided step in this study was merely the
construction of a classification of its subjects. We shall, I trust, be
able to show that such a classification includes, in reality, the
establishment of one general principle, and leads to more. But
without here dwelling on this point, it is worth notice that the person
to whom we owe this classification, Andreas Cæsalpinus of Arezzo,
was one of the most philosophical men of his time, profoundly skilled
in the Aristotelian lore which was then esteemed, yet gifted with
courage and sagacity which enabled him to weigh the value of the
Peripatetic doctrines, to reject what seemed error, and to look
onwards to a better philosophy. “How are we to understand,” he
inquires, “that we must proceed from universals to particulars (as
Aristotle directs), when particulars are better known?” 41 Yet he treats
the Master with deference, and, as has been observed, 42 we see in
his great botanical work deep traces of the best features of the
Aristotelian school, logic and method; and, indeed, in this work he
frequently refers to his Quæstiones Peripateticæ. His book, entitled
De Plantis libri xvi. appeared at Florence in 1583. The aspect under
which his task presented itself to his mind appears to me to possess
so much interest, that I will transcribe a few of his reflections. After
speaking of the splendid multiplicity of the productions of nature, and
the confusion which has hitherto prevailed among writers on plants,
374 the growing treasures of the botanical world; he adds, 43 “In this
immense multitude of plants, I see that want which is most felt in any
other unordered crowd: if such an assemblage be not arranged into
brigades like an army, all must be tumult and fluctuation. And this
accordingly happens in the treatment of plants: for the mind is
overwhelmed by the confused accumulation of things, and thus arise
endless mistake and angry altercation.” He then states his general
view, which, as we shall see, was adopted by his successors. “Since
all science consists in the collection of similar, and the distinction of
dissimilar things, and since the consequence of this is a distribution
into genera and species, which are to be natural classes governed
by real differences, I have attempted to execute this task in the
whole range of plants;—ut si quid pro ingenii mei tenuitate in
hujusmodi studio profecerim, ad communem utilitatem proferam.”
We see here how clearly he claims for himself the credit of being the
first to execute this task of arrangement.
41 Quæstiones Peripateticæ, (1569,) lib. i. quæst. i.

42 Cuvier, p. 198.

43 Dedicatio, a 2.
 After certain preparatory speculations, he says, 44 “Let us now
endeavor to mark the kinds of plants by essential circumstances in
the fructification.” He then observes, “In the constitution of organs
three things are mainly important—the number, the position, the
figure.” And he then proceeds to exemplify this: “Some have under
one flower, one seed, as Amygdala, or one seed-receptacle, as
Rosa; or two seeds, as Ferularia, or two seed-receptacles, as
Nasturtium; or three, as the Tithymalum kind have three seeds, the
Bulbaceæ three receptacles; or four, as Marrubium, four seeds,
Siler four receptacles; or more, as Cicoraceæ, and Acanaceæ have
more seeds, Pinus, more receptacles.”
44 Lib. i. c. 13, 14.

It will be observed that we have here ten classes made out by

means of number alone, added to the consideration of whether the
seed is alone in its covering, as in a cherry, or contained in a
receptacle with several others, as in a berry, pod, or capsule.
Several of these divisions are, however, further subdivided according
to other circumstances, and especially according as the vital part of
the seed, which he called the heart (cor 45 ), is situated in the upper or
lower part of the seed. As our object here is only to indicate the
principle of the method of Cæsalpinus, I need not further dwell on
the details, and still less on the defects by which it is disfigured, as,
for instance, the retention of the old distinction of Trees, Shrubs, and
Herbs.
45 Corculum, of Linnæus.

375 To some persons it may appear that this arbitrary distribution

of the vegetable kingdom, according to the number of parts of a
particular kind, cannot deserve to be spoken of as a great discovery.
And if, indeed, the distribution had been arbitrary, this would have
been true; the real merit of this and of every other system is, that
while it is artificial in its form, it is natural in its results. The plants
which are associated by the arrangement of Cæsalpinus, are those
which have the closest resemblances in the most essential points.
Thus, as Linnæus says, though the first in attempting to form natural
orders, he observed as many as the most successful of later writers.
Thus his Legumina 46 correspond to the natural order Leguminosæ;
his genus Ferulaceum 47 to the Umbellatæ; his Bulbaceæ 48 to
Liliaceæ; his Anthemides 49 to the Compositæ; in like manner, the
Boragineæ are brought together, 50 and the Labiatæ. That such
assemblages are produced by the application of his principles, is a
sufficient evidence that they have their foundation in the general
laws of the vegetable world. If this had not been the case, the mere
application of number or figure alone as a standard of arrangement,
would have produced only intolerable anomalies. If, for instance,
Cæsalpinus had arranged plants by the number of flowers on the
same stalk, he would have separated individuals of the same
species; if he had distributed them according to the number of
leaflets which compose the leaves, he would have had to place far
asunder different species of the same genus. Or, as he himself
says, 51 “If we make one genus of those which have a round root, as
Rapum, Aristolochia, Cyclaminus, Aton, we shall separate from this
genus those which most agree with it, as Napum and Raphanum,
which resemble Rapum, and the long Aristolochia, which resembles
the round; while we shall join the most remote kinds, for the nature of
Cyclaminus and Rapum is altogether diverse in all other respects. Or
if we attend to the differences of stalk, so as to make one genus of
those which have a naked stalk, as the Junci, Cæpe, Aphacæ, along
with Cicoraceæ, Violæ, we shall still connect the most unlike things,