John Lizars’ (1792–1860). A system of anatomical plates of the human body : Artistry and analysis

Abstract

John Lizars’ (1792–1860) 'A System of Anatomical Plates of the Human Body' is widely recognized as one of the finest British anatomical atlases published in the nineteenth century. Lizars’ commentators always praise his illustrations for their artistry and accuracy, but no one ever provides an account of why they are artistically significant or what makes them veracious. The principal aim of this paper is to begin a discussion of both of those subjects and to show how Lizars used the resources of the visual arts as analytical tools to extend his audience's understanding of the human body.

Introduction

As so often happens with prominent people from the past, documents about John Lizars are scant, and the ones that do remain only allow us to put together an abbreviated account of his personal and professional life. My reason for bringing Lizars back to public attention, though, is not principally to expand his biography, but to examine an aspect of his work that is always praised but has never been properly discussed: the illustrations for his anatomical atlas, A system of anatomical plates of the human body, accompanied with descriptions, and pathological, and surgical observations. ¹

In my evaluation, these illustrations are some of the finest in the British anatomical tradition, and if there were a list of the top five anatomical atlases in this tradition, there is no doubt Lizars’ would be on it. The illustrations, which are hand-coloured etchings, are usually praised for their artistry and veracity, but to date, there has been no discussion of why they are artistically noteworthy or how their artistry contributes to the intelligibility of the information they convey. The purpose of this paper is to address both subjects, a task that is facilitated and enriched by the fortunate, and rare, circumstance that most of Lizars’ original watercolour drawings for the plates have survived and are now part of the collection of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh. ²

Family and educational background

John Lizars’ family trade provided a perfect environment for the development of the skills he would require to create drawings as artistically accomplished as the ones we will be discussing. His father, Daniel Lizars Sr, was a publisher and engraver who ran a well-respected and very successful printing business in Edinburgh. Family members would have picked up the artistic skills that go with the trade by helping around the shop. John's brother, William Home Lizars (1788–1859), developed his skills to a very high degree. He studied at the Trustees Academy, an independent art and design school in Edinburgh, that had many famous students, including Sir David Wilkie (1785-1841). William Home was active as an artist in the early years of his career; he often contributed to local exhibitions and in 1812 sent two works to the Royal Academy exhibition in London, which were favourably displayed. ³ This year also marked, though, a significant shift in his artistic fortunes, as their father died and it fell to him to take over the family business. With his career as an artist stymied, his talents were turned to preparing and printing other peoples’ projects, which was fortunate for his brother John, who had William Home do the etchings for A system of anatomical plates of the human body, and William Home deserves some of the praise that traditionally accompanies assessments of this book.

Apprenticeship with John Bell (1763-1820)

We do not know if John Lizars received any artistic training outside of the family business, but as we shall see he took his skills as a draughtsman to very high level. We also do not know why he chose to become a surgeon, but he must have excelled in his medical studies at the University of Edinburgh because he was accepted as an apprentice by the eminent surgeon and anatomist John Bell. ⁴ Although Bell had an incendiary temperament and was prone to conflict with his colleagues, it is generally agreed that he was a good fit for Lizars,

Resolving to follow the medical profession, he was so fortunate as to become the pupil and apprentice of John Bell, the elder brother of Sir Charles Bell … Thus Lizars obtained for his teacher and master one of the most accomplished masters in surgery and anatomy; and being the right pupil for such a preceptor, his progress in these departments, to which he naturally directed his whole attention, was correspondent to his advantages. In short, his professional character was insensibly moulded in that of John Bell, than whom he could not have found a better exemplar. ⁵

Bell was an excellent choice of mentor for another reason: he was also a very good draughtsman, who made his own illustrations and was widely read in the history of Western art and knew its literature, practices and materials thoroughly. ⁶ In a pre-photographic era, when medical professionals had to rely on their own artistic skills to record specimens, it is likely that Bell and Lizars had many discussions about how best to illustrate the complexities of the human body and make them intelligible to their viewers.

When Lizars finished his apprenticeship with Bell he took up a position as naval surgeon; first, on a man-of-war with Sir Charles Napier (1786-1860) and, second, with Lord Exmouth (1757-1833) off the coast of Portugal, where he saw action during the Peninsular War. We have no record of why he began his career in this way, though it is tempting to speculate that he supported Bell's crusade to raise the level of professional training for British naval surgeons, which Bell had judged to be shockingly inadequate. ⁷

When Lizars returned to Edinburgh in 1814, he was elected a fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons and shortly after joined the surgical practice of John Bell and Robert Allan, (1777-1826) further proof of the high esteem that Bell had for his skills (and the esteem was reciprocal: in A system of anatomical plates Lizars makes a few of references to Bell, referring to him in one instance as, ‘the great and dexterous surgeon’, p.164, and in another as ‘my able preceptor’, p. 241). Lizars soon took on a greater role in the practice when Bell was injured in a horse-riding accident in February 1816. Bell never fully recovered and, knowing that the state of his health was tenuous, he moved to Italy to benefit from its gentler climate and to view first-hand, while he could, the works of art he had read about and studied all his life. Bell died in Rome, 15 April 1820, but by then he had written enough that his notes could be compiled into a book, Observations on Italy, which was brought to press by his wife Rosine Bell. ⁸ It is, in my estimation, the best book on art written by a medical professional.

Independent practice and the creation of A system of anatomical plates

When Bell moved to Italy Lizars took on the job of teaching anatomy and physiology at their school, which was now run by Allan, who was responsible for its lectures on surgery. After a few years, Lizars left Allan's school and began giving lectures on anatomy independently at the theatre on Surgeons’ Square, and in a few years, he was lecturing on surgery as well. In this era, most extra-mural anatomical teaching was situated in Surgeons’ Square. As it happened, William Home Lizars owned a piece of land on the north side of the square and in 1825 he built an anatomy school with a lecture theatre for his brother John, which came to be known as No. 1 Surgeons’ Square. ⁹ During the period 1823–26, when he was developing an independent professional presence, Lizars wrote and published in instalments A system of anatomical plates of the human body. Thus, when he was ready to move into the impressive new facilities that had been built for him, he had an equally impressive new textbook ready for his students. They were not the only ones to benefit from it, however, for it was extensively used by British students and medical professionals for decades. ¹⁰

It is worth remembering that this was an era of expansion for extra-mural anatomy schools in Edinburgh, and with that expansion came an increased demand for bodies. As we know, this demand could not be filled by legal means, and so it was addressed by the illicit trade of grave robbing, which brought subjects to dissection rooms, but at a hefty price. Lizars published A system of anatomical plates in part because of the dual problems of scarcity and cost. As he tells the reader in his Preface to Part II, ‘In such a state of things, it is hoped that these Plates will form some substitute for the subject. The original design was to aid the student in dissection, and to assist him in his attendance on lectures; and they are all faithfully drawn by the Author or W. H. Lizars’. ¹¹ A system of anatomical plates was extensively used because it was good, but it was also used because it was a paper substitute for actual subjects. ¹²

In 1831 Lizars’ growing reputation and accomplishments were given institutional recognition when he became a senior operating surgeon at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary and was appointed Professor of Surgery at the Royal College of Surgeons. James Syme (1779-1870) had also wanted the post of Professor of Surgery and it seems that Lizars’ success was at the root of the enmity that lingered between them for decades. ¹³ That Lizars deserved the post is supported by contemporary accounts of his abilities, as in this anonymous obituary from The Lancet that compares him to Robert Liston (1794-1847),

Liston and Lizars taught and operated side by side, rivals and yet friends, for they were too much of a kind not to respect each other … To operate in the same theatre with Liston, and before the same students, was the severest trial to which a reputation could be subjected. But neither of these eminent men threw the other into the shade. Mr Lizars could be equalled as an operator, but he could not be surpassed. ¹⁴

It is part of Liston's reputation that he was an ‘abrupt, abrasive, and argumentative man’, ¹⁵ with a confrontational approach to disagreements with his colleagues. The anonymous writer for The Lancet suggests that, as ‘they were too much of a kind not to respect each other’, Lizars had similar qualities. That he had them to some degree seems clear from the animosity he shared with Syme, for which there is much evidence. In 1838, Lizars published A system of practical surgery in which he attacked an unnamed professor of clinical surgery who operated for a slight fistula of the anus and caused severe haemorrhaging because, according to Lizars, he had not taken the necessary precautions. ¹⁶ Syme recognized himself in this attack and sued. ¹⁷ He won, but the jury was not sympathetic and only awarded a nominal amount in damages. When the position of Professor of Surgery came up for renewal in 1839 Lizars was not reappointed, a development that suggested behind the scenes machinations by Syme, who then successfully lobbied to have the position eliminated. ¹⁸ Lizars never received another public appointment.

In 1851, there was another eruption with Syme. Lizars published a book on urethral strictures in which he once again criticized Syme's approach to operating. ¹⁹ Syme responded with a vitriolic attack on Lizars’ character and professional behaviour. ²⁰ Lizars sued and lost, to the dismay of his supporters. The unfavourable outcome might in part have been a consequence of changes that Lizars’ personality had undergone in the years preceding, for after this battle with Syme, ‘His private practice, already in difficulties from his bluntness of speech and considerable eccentricity of manner, declined’. ²¹ Lizars died 21 May 1860, ‘not without suspicion of laudanum’. ¹³

Whatever the reasons for Lizars deterioration in the latter years of his life, there is no doubt that at the height of his career he was a leading surgeon and anatomist in the Scottish medical world. He pioneered operations for ovariotomy (at the time highly controversial), the removal of the upper jaw, exposing and tying the innominate artery, neurotomy for trigeminal neuralgia, and other operations. He also wrote books and articles that were consequential in his era, the most important of which was A system of anatomical plates of the human body, and he was a popular and a good teacher. ²²

Artistry and analysis

A system of anatomical plates is a book that is universally praised by Lizars’ commentators, especially for its illustrations, which are celebrated for their artistry and veracity. ²³ Unfortunately, as I stated at the beginning of this article, none of Lizars’ commentators provide an account of why they are artistically significant or what makes them veracious. Most often, these claims are simply put forward as assertions. GT Bettany (1850-1891) provides a good example. In Eminent doctors, he says that Lizars’ etchings, ‘especially those on the brain and nervous system, can scarcely be surpassed for artistic excellence. It was really a magnificent work for its day and had a very large sale; and as regards a great portion of the contents, since they show actual facts, they cannot be superseded’. ²⁴ But what marks their artistic significance? And what does it mean to say they ‘show actual facts’? Bettany, like so many commentators, is the victim of a naive realism that see illustrations as unmediated windows through which the plain truth is revealed. The situation, though, is quite the opposite: illustrations are highly edited constructions that employ all the resources of the visual arts to present their subject matter in a way that is clear and convincing, in relation to a specific purpose. ²⁵

The questions of artistry and veracity are inter-related in the process of representation, and that is how I will address them in my discussion of Lizars’ illustrations. The first, and perhaps most obvious, way to make this point is to note that there is no approach to representation that is independent of style. Imagine if we could summon from their eras an early Italian Renaissance painter like Piero della Francesca (?-1492), a Ming Dynasty classical Chinese painter like Dong Qichang (1555-1636), and a French Impressionist painter like Claude Monet (1840-1926). Imagine, further, that we could give them the task of representing a rugged, northern Canadian landscape. The result would be three strikingly different depictions of the same scene, though each painting would be immediately recognizable as belonging to a particular visual tradition. ²⁶ What, then, if we asked them to paint the scene again, but this time without a style and only depicting, as Bettany might put it, the ‘actual facts’? This is an unintelligible task, unless we designate a particular approach to depiction as the desired ‘non-style’, and provide a clear definition of what is to count as an ‘actual fact’. But a ‘non-style’ is still obviously a style, and a definition of an ‘actual fact’ is still obviously a prescription indebted to a particular theoretical position. There is no escape to neutrality, or from style.

Lizars’ representations of the ‘actual facts’ of the human body are in the style of the British neoclassicism of the early nineteenth century, as we might find in a sculpture by John Flaxman (1755-1826) or a painting by Angelica Kauffman (1741-1807). ²⁷ Figure 1 provides a good example of how it shaped his approach to illustration.

Figure 1.

John Lizars and William Home Lizars, Plate XXXIII, muscles of the back, A system of anatomical plates, etching with watercolour, 1830. With the permission of the Osler Library of the History of Medicine, McGill University.

As an artistic style, neoclassicism gave predominance to line and the delineation of form through line. Colour was subservient both to the accurate depiction of one's subject and to the creation of beauty. Line was thought to be a more intellectually reliable tool for the representation of reality because it is oriented to capturing the more measurable, objective properties of distance and dimension, unlike colour, which is more ephemeral and dependent upon the viewer and the conditions of viewing. This division between line and colour corresponds, of course, to the distinction between primary and secondary qualities that was so fundamental to British Empiricism and philosophical articulation in works such as John Locke's (1632-1704) Essay on human understanding. ²⁸ As a medical professional working in an age committed to the empirical investigation of the natural world, it is not surprising that Lizars would have seen neoclassicism as a better visual vehicle to illustrate his descriptions of the anatomy of the human body.

In Figure 1, we can see how line has been given the leading role in delineating the forms of the muscles of the back, though they would not be that clearly demarcated in an actual dissection. Modulations of colour and light have a secondary role, but the primary indications of volume and dimension are expressed by clear contour lines and patterns of curved lines. ²⁹ The striations of the muscles themselves help to facilitate this approach, and while colour does have a role in suggesting volume it could be replaced by black and white cross-hatching, without a loss of visual information.

Another feature of Lizars’ illustrations that aligns them with neoclassical aesthetics is their tendency to move away from particular specimens to more abstracted, if not idealized, bodies. Following Lorraine Daston and Peter Galison, we could say that in this regard Lizars is good example of an early nineteenth-century researcher attempting to create a new set of ‘reasoned images’ for his discipline—images that abstract from the endless profusion of individual particularity to construct ideal types or typical instances that can then educate and guide the vision of the discipline's practitioners. ³⁰ There is no doubt that A system of anatomical plates fills this role and fits squarely within the epistemic tradition that Daston and Galison call ‘truth-to-nature’, and the presuppositions that characterize that approach are important to understanding Lizars’ project, but my interest is in the artistry of his illustrations, and that is where my focus will remain.

While Lizars’ illustrations are ‘reasoned images’, it is not quite right to describe them as ideal types, as they are not perfected representations of the human body that have been arrived at by induction and abstraction. Rather, they are typical instances that have been shaped by an aesthetic that understands idealization in terms of line and the elegant simplification of form, i.e. Figure 1 is not an ideal type of the human back, but a human back that has been depicted using the visual language of idealized classical sculptures, such as the Apollo Belvedere. The stylistic language of neoclassicism is an important determinant in the appearance of Lizars’ illustrations.

Lizars’ neoclassical aesthetics stand in marked, if not violent, contrast to the illustrations made by his ‘able preceptor’, John Bell, for Engravings, explaining the anatomy of the bones, muscles and joints. ³¹ These dark, stark and unsettling images that follow a body through the stages of dissection are one side of an apparent paradox in the works of Bell, for in his writings about art and aesthetics he is a committed classicist. The paradox can be resolved, though, by considering the different purposes that Bell assigns to anatomical illustration and the fine arts. ³² One purpose of the Engravings was to serve as the textbook for Bell's newly established school of surgical anatomy, a neglected subject in Edinburgh medical education. Bell wanted illustrations that conformed to the harsh realities of the dissection room, so that when a student consulted the book, he would see pictures that fit what lay before him on the table. Thus, his pupils would be given, ‘that close comparison which the student seeks, and misses with a disappointment which is constantly renewed’, ³¹ in older anatomy textbooks.

Lizars intentions were different. He saw his book as a British contribution to the great European tradition of anatomical atlases with, as he states in the first line of the Preface, three principal differences: ‘The Author was induced to undertake this Work, chiefly because the expense of all the foreign works rendered them accessible only to a few individuals; while hitherto we have no complete system of Anatomical Plates, and those already published do not embrace surgical anatomy’. ¹ To those who are familiar with Lizars’ atlas the first reason for publishing it might come as a surprise, as the book is not a modest dissection manual but an elephant format folio with hand-coloured illustrations on good quality paper. Nevertheless, having it published by the family business and limiting the extent of the hand-colouring (or omitting it entirely if the purchaser preferred) would have made it more financially accessible. As for its content, the book does provide a more complete system of anatomical plates than the works that preceded it, and its attention to surgical anatomy made it an important contribution to the subject pioneered by his mentor. Bell would have referred to Lizars’ atlas as a ‘plan’. A plan is a design or scheme of arrangement, which can be more or less complex, as anyone familiar with plans of city streets knows, and accordingly can be more or less helpful. The same is true of anatomical atlases. Bell described Albinus’ illustrations for Tabulae sceleti et musculorum corporis humani ³³ as ‘merely plans’, with too few of the irregularities of real bodies, and too few traces of glands, fat and cellular substances to be of use to the surgeon. Bidloo's illustrations for Anatomia humani corporis are better at capturing these realities, ³⁴ but ‘wanting in regularity and order, they want altogether the clearness of a plan’. ³¹ Lizars’ etchings have none of the above shortcomings: the level of naturalism is suitable to the subject, and the visual editing that has gone into the construction of the images provides a clear plan of the anatomical structures under consideration.

Let us turn more directly to questions about the construction of Lizars’ images. One subject that has been only implicit in our discussion so far has been the question of how medium influences depiction. The medium one chooses to make one's images is just as important as the style. Woodcut, the oldest technique in the Western tradition for creating multiple reproductions, has very distinctive limitations. Because an image is created by carving away areas of a block of wood, the amount of detail that can be included in an image is restricted by the strength of the wood, for if too much wood is removed, the areas that remain will not have sufficient strength to survive the pressure of the printing press. Woodcut is a ‘positive’ medium because it is the wood that has not been cut away that prints the image. An excellent example from the history of anatomy of how far this medium can be pushed is Vesalius’ De Humani corporis fabrica. ³⁵

Woodcut's limitations led to the development of metal plate engraving. Copper plates were most commonly used because of their relative softness (in comparison, for instance, to steel), which made carving easier and allowed for a more fluid treatment of motifs. The medium permitted a considerable increase in detail, but the approach to creating it was still predominately linear, as the principal engraving tool was a burin. This greatly limited the kinds of surface qualities and textures that could be captured by the artist, though at a later date spiked wheels and other devices were invented that could be rolled over the plate to pockmark the surface and create softer shading effects. Engraving is a ‘negative’ medium in the sense that it is the engraved lines that carry the ink and print the image. An excellent example from the history of anatomy is William Hunter's (1718-1783) The anatomy of the human gravid uterus exhibited in figures. ³⁶

Etching, the medium used by William Home Lizars for A system of anatomical plates, was a further improvement on engraving. With this technique, a metal plate is covered with wax and the image is carved into the hardened wax down to the surface of the metal. Next, the plate is placed in an acid bath and left until the acid eats into the metal to the depth desired by the artist. The wax is then removed, and the plate is used to print, following the same process as engraving. Carving into wax instead of metal is obviously a less restrained approach to image-making and it allows for a greater use of a draughtsman skills, though it is still primarily a linear medium.

The best way to see the influence that the medium of etching had on the appearance and content of the illustrations for A system of anatomical plates is to compare the plates with John Lizars’ original watercolour drawings, which, fortunately and remarkably, survive in the collection of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh. Consider the drawing (Figure 2) for Plate XXVI (Figure 3).

Figure 2.

John Lizars, blood vessels and nerves of the lower leg and foot, watercolour drawing, c1823–26. With the permission of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh.

Figure 3.

John Lizars and William Home Lizars, Plate XXVI, blood vessels and nerves of the lower leg and foot. A System of Anatomical Plates, etching with watercolour, 1830. With the permission of the Osler Library of the History of Medicine, McGill University.

The most striking difference is the loss of the subtle, reddish muscle tones of the original (unfortunately, there are no reproductions of Lizars watercolour drawings available online or in print, though we can hope that in the future the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh will add them to their online collections.). The translation of these tones into the black and white medium of etching forcefully conveys just how much the viewer must suspend belief to see the etching as a ‘realistic’ image of the lower leg. But it is not just the colour that has been lost in translation, Lizars’ careful watercolour modelling of the muscle masses has been turned into linear patterns of hatching lines that do not reflect the actual textures of the muscles (though in some places they do suggest striations that would be present). The predominately linear nature of the medium also gives the anatomical elements clear boundaries they would not have in reality; for example, compare the distinctness of the nerves in the etching with their treatment in the watercolour.

This unnatural distinctness is a consequence of the process of etching, but it is at the same time a desired effect. It is one aspect of the approach to visual editing that Lizars employs to turn untidy organic specimens into readable ‘plans’ that can be used to instruct students and guide medical professionals. We see this in all his plates, where elements that are often difficult to distinguish in the watercolours—and more so in reality—are given clear edges and well-demarcated forms. This has the additional consequence that the amorphous, organic specimens captured in the watercolours look more solid and geometrical in the etchings, an impression reinforced by the tighter, more regular lines. The impression is further strengthened by the hand-colouring applied to the etchings, which unfortunately is difficult to discern in our black and white reproductions. Unlike the watercolours, the hand-colouring is not modulated to create form and three-dimensionality; rather, those qualities are created by patterns of cross-hatching that the washes of colour are then laid over. The hand-colouring was added as an inexpensive way to enhance the naturalism of the images, but the uniform expanses of colour also inadvertently reinforce their geometrical appearance (if a name had to be found for the style of Lizars’ anatomical illustrations, I would suggest ‘schematic naturalism’).

Lizars’ approach to visual editing can be seen as well in the way hand-colouring is used to frame or focus a subject. In Figure 3 (Plate XXVI) only the veins and arteries have retained the colours they were given in the watercolour. All the other elements have been rendered in black and white and, accordingly, had their presence lessened, so that the blood vessels Lizars wants to draw our attention to are clearly identifiable. In this way, Lizars’ illustrations function in close correspondence with the subject matter of the text—they are constructed to reveal it.

Lizars’ artistry, especially his sense of composition, works in unison with his visual editing to shape the appearance of his illustrations. Central to the art of composition is the arrangement of elements on a page. Figure 3 provides a simple example of how effective a just placement can be when the right location and the right distances from the borders are found. The lower leg rests relaxed in its isolation; the beauty of its mechanism revealed by an elegant combination of lines that is itself beautiful. To ruin the composition, all one has to do is turn it upside down and the sense of balance, the just placement, is lost. All of Lizars’ illustrations are well-composed, and often the arrangements are more complex, like abstract artworks that carefully resolve the competing forces of their elements. To an artistic viewer, ignorant of anatomy, they have all the elegant, organic beauty of nonrepresentational sculptures by Hans Arp or Henry Moore. Some of Lizars’ drawings are especially beautiful as colour compositions, but that of course is lost in the transition to etching (the drawing for Plate XXXVII is an excellent example, though, unfortunately, it is only available for viewing at the RCPEd).

That Lizars’ artistic sensibility mediates his vision of the body is revealed through the language he uses to describe it. There are dozens of examples in the text. Here are three:

From this attachment [of strong transverse ligaments] as well as the shape of these [tarsal] bones, we observe that an elegant and strong arch is formed. ¹

In each of the bones of the cranium appears one or more nuclei, named the centres or points of ossification, from which the ossific matter branches around like the radii of a circle, presenting a beautifully feathered appearance. ¹

The internal cutaneous nerve … [gives off] numerous nervous threads in its course to the bend of the arm, where its twigs twine in an elegant manner round the basilica nerve … Near the elbow-joint it divides into two branches which pierce the fascia. The nervous threads which supply the skin, divide and meander in a most beautiful serpentine manner. ¹

The phrase ‘a most beautiful serpentine manner’ recalls William Hogarth's (1697-1764) The analysis of beauty, which bases the principles of beauty on the qualities of the serpentine line. ³⁷ Like his mentor and colleague, John Bell, Lizars was aware of the aesthetic discussions of his day, he understood the artist's vocabulary, and it informed his descriptions of the body, as in this passage about the thoracic cavity and the serous surface of the pleura, ‘A painter would comprehend it, were he told that this cavity and its contents were glazed’. ¹

William Home Lizars, as I mentioned earlier, must be given some of the credit for the attractiveness of the etchings, but how he should be credited is not at all clear, for, as the author, John Lizars had ultimate editorial control over the appearance of the illustrations, which he stresses in the Preface: ‘The great aim of the Author being the most scrupulous correctness, he has either drawn the different objects himself, or superintended the drawings made by W. H. Lizars; so that by the pencil of the one, and the careful superintendence of the other, he trusts the Plates will be found worthy of examination’. ¹ This is an old story, common to atlases and illustrated scientific textbooks of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries: readers must be made certain of the veracity of the images, they must be reassured that it was the scientist's rigour—not the artist's imagination—that guided the construction of the images. That John Lizars shared this concern and wanted to control the artist's influence is suggested by the pencilled grid that has been drawn over the watercolour for the blood vessels of the lower leg (barely visible in the reproduction of Figure 3). Several of his watercolours have such grids, a method that was traditionally used to guide drawing, especially in relation to perspective and proportions, and to aid in transferring information from one medium to another. But William Home must have been more than a copyist; after all, he was a recognized painter and the head of the most successful printing firm in Edinburgh. While the extent of his influence is difficult to discern, I think it can be sensed in the transition from Figure 4 to Figure 1, in the cleaner lines and attractive symmetry of the final etching.

Figure 4.

John Lizars, muscle of the back, watercolour drawing, c1823–26. With the permission of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh.

Conclusion

It is commonly recognized that in creating A system of anatomical plates John Lizars and his brother produced one of the greatest monuments of the British anatomical tradition. It is always acknowledged that part of their achievement was the creation of the illustrations for their book. Until now, though, there has been no discussion of why the illustrations are artistically significant or how they contribute to the knowledge provided by the text. The principal aim of this paper has been to begin a discussion of both of these subjects and to show how Lizars used the resources of the visual arts as analytical tools to extend his audience's understanding of the human body. I hope that conversation has now been opened and that others will continue to explore Lizars’ accomplishments.