The first book devoted to the representation of insects in the history of art and science might seem an unlikely place to find a quotation from the Scriptures. Yet inscribed on the verso shown here is the ninth verse of Psalm 145:

The Lord is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made. (v.9)

This opening belongs to a stunning late sixteenth-century manuscript created by the Netherlandish polymath Joris Hoefnagel. It forms part of his project known as the Four Elements: a visual encyclopaedia of nature’s creatures spread across four volumes, which together contain some three hundred illuminated folios and over one thousand inscriptions. The small scale and oblong format of the manuscripts indicate that they were meant to be held and studied up close. It is precisely this kind of sustained contemplation that Hoefnagel’s insect volume rewards.

On the recto opposite the excerpt from the psalm, a congregation of specimens suggests just how far God’s compassion extends. The two butterflies seem at first to be engaged in conversation. On closer inspection, the disagreement in the shadows that they cast places them realms apart. The red admiral at centre stands in profile within a space of implied depth, while the small tortoiseshell below seems to be resting on the surface of the page. Both are labelled with the number ‘1’ as if to indicate their affinity.

Nonetheless, the distinct spatial worlds they inhabit further compel us to observe the subtle differences in their colour and patterning, which appear all the more marked beside the third and final insect within the frame. How to account for this lumbering little beast with its burrowing claws, pointy snout, and beady eyes? If God is good to all his creatures, then even the inelegant mole cricket exists by divine grace.

On the second folio of Joris Hoefnagel’s Four Elements, we find the mole cricket in a rather compromised state. On the first folio, he appeared upright. He now lies inert and overturned on the parchment, his squat limbs and underbelly exposed. Beside him are two butterflies who have taken the place of their counterparts on the preceding folio—dark green fritillaries aptly named for the verdant tint of their hindwings. 

Keeping to the same compositional structure, but changing subjects and shifting pose, Hoefnagel animates his insects across successive frames. The manuscript transforms from a collection of studies into a microcosmic world that comes alive at the touch and before one’s eyes.

With the turn of the page, Hoefnagel also continues the exegesis of Psalm 145 which began on the previous verso. The tenth verse of the hymn now appears in the upper register of the verso:

All your works shall give thanks to you, O Lord, and all your faithful shall bless you. (v.10)

We might interpret this line in relation not only to the trio depicted in the adjacent image but also to Hoefnagel’s own endeavour of making the manuscript itself.

The prostrate mole cricket exposes the process that underlay the workings of Hoefnagel’s inquiring hand. Only close study of dead specimens would have allowed him to capture his subjects in such precise detail. But only rarely do his miniatures so explicitly lay bare the labour and virtuosity required to re-enliven a lifeless body on the page.

To study nature in the sixteenth century meant to seek an understanding of the infinite design and astounding diversity implicit in a realm that God created. In this respect, Hoefnagel’s painstaking studies reflect a practice at once empirical and devotional. At every turn, his efforts compelled admiration for the divine artifex from whom he understood all his subjects, and his own artistic talent, to derive.

Among the remarkable aspects of Joris Hoefnagel’s insect volume is its attention to a category of living organisms in which Renaissance naturalists had only just begun to take an interest. The first published treatise devoted to insects was not published until after Hoefnagel’s death in 1600. 

In creating the other volumes of the Four Elements, Hoefnagel was able to borrow models from existing illustrations of birds, fishes, reptiles, and mammals. But when it came to insects, Hoefnagel had to rely almost exclusively on his own scrutiny of specimens first-hand.

At the same time, the combination of text and image through the manuscript makes clear that Hoefnagel was not pursuing the construction of a clear taxonomy, or engaging with his subjects as would an entomologist today. Nowhere in any of the volumes is there a key identifying the names of the particular species depicted, even despite the occasional numbers that appear alongside them. 

The texts that Hoefnagel chose for inclusion in the volumes instead form a commentary of a very different sort. They reflect the lessons that might be derived from the investigation of the natural world, and a conviction that even the tiniest insect that exists has something to teach us.

‘The Lord is faithful in all his words, and gracious in all his deeds’ (v.13) reads the line from Psalm 145 that Hoefnagel selected to accompany the three butterflies arranged within the ovular frame shown here. Their symmetry on the page—as on the pages treated elsewhere in this exhibition—puts the uniqueness of each individual specimen into greater relief. By displaying all three in profile, Hoefnagel allows for observation of the distinctions not just in the colouring but also in the shape of their wings.

Pairing words of divine praise with examples of God’s wondrous deeds, we simultaneously read and see the faithful investment in every living thing that the verse proclaims.